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commanderquinn · 1 year ago

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Good Space Chapter 1: Flower

! i dont! keep these posts! updated! like i do! ao3!

that means you're going to find typos and shit (and possibly minor detail changes) that don't match the ao3 version! that's because im not going to bother fixing the tumblr posts until i finish good space as a whole. im only uploading them here as a backup tbh

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master list / ao3 chapter link

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She’s the one good thing about trips to medical in the Avenger’s Tower.

Every other day, at her direct insistence, her lab is the only place in the entire wing that he’s willing to go to. It smells warm and safe, nothing like the antiseptic that makes him want to break a limb. For the first two weeks, he tries to tell her that she doesn’t have to do this. He’s been looking after the link from his arm to his brain for years. There’s never been a problem with it that he couldn’t handle, and he’ll come back if anything ever feels off. No matter how much Steve hovers, she doesn’t need to waste her time on this.

By the start of the third week, he can’t bring himself to suggest that anymore.

—

psa: there’s some gross ass (sometimes detailed) nazi medical shit all through this fic, so if lobotomy talk of any kind is a no for you, skim over any brain talk. your best bet is just to skip the lab scenes where you can ❤️

fic title is a song by skrillex! we needed bouncy shit that vague hinted at plot. the chapter title is a moby song to lay out the v i b e s 👾 im always going to list these, so y’all have a song to listen to while reading

all i can think that needs to be said for canon clarity (ill make it all clear over time dw) is post-WS buckaroo got picked up by steve and sam to be taken for a shower and therapy. no civil war, no age of ultron. we're taking parts of it and doing other shit, you'll see. fury’s publicly alive and director again, shield got flushed out because mmmmm i said so i guess. no red room here. its not about nat, the lack of consent history hanging between them isnt something i want with this. i want to focus on other parts of their trauma bond. alsomaybeishipnatwithsomeoneinthis.

im sorry, but i never started wanda content on my end, and AI jarvis is comfy nostalgia i want to play in, so likely not a lot for her here. yes, we will be having shuri bully bucky, ofc, she’s the pin that holds this whole plot together (what else is new)

oh and i treat bucky’s arm as more of an atompunk feel rather than “the nazi’s had bleeding edge limb tech in ww2 that only affects bucky’s arm, definitely not anything else”

other than that, we’re firmly in good ‘ol stark tech magic and too many open wiki pages for all my plot device needs

also my grammar aint the good. i write these mf's in my spare time while baked af, you're gonna have to give a bitch a break babes 👾

—

Febuary 17th, 2018

"That's not what I'm asking about."

Tony throws up his hands from the other side of the conference table, then lets them smack back down against the polished surface dramatically. "Illuminate me then, Rogers. I'm running out of ways to explain that she's the best I've got to offer for this."

Steve pushes a hand through his hair with a frustrated huff. "I'm not a brain surgeon."

"No shit, that's what she's here for."

"I meant that I don't know what the fuck I'm looking at."

"Now I know you're worried if you're willing to," Tony clutches at the front of his shirt in mock horror, "swear in public." Pepper smacks his shoulder without even looking up from her tablet. The sight would make Steve smile under normal circumstances.

"You can hand me any resume you want, Tony. I'm telling you that I won't be able to see a difference. I know you're giving me a team who can do the work; I'm asking if they can do it while it's Bucky."

"Are you worried about his safety or theirs?" Pepper asks, finally looking over. Her tone isn't judgemental. If anything, it's veering towards the gentleness it has when she's talking Tony down.

"I'm not worried about theirs. I will be there every time. Even if he has a bad day, I'll make sure that—look. Nothing's going to happen. It's just...." Steve flips open the folder he's been carrying for a week. The edges of it are starting to wear down at this point. Sighing, he slides his summary notes to their side of the table. "He still doesn't... he doesn't talk about the previous escapes. No matter what his therapist tries. He just can't bring himself to do it. But it's not hard to get a clear picture of what used to happen. He does this every time. He builds himself a strong house, then a fallback point, and then he goes to work trying to fix all the damage alone, which he'll never be able to do. No one could. And there's not going to be a goon squad rolling in to drag him back anymore, so he's just going to—"

"Yeah, yeah, push him to help him; I grasped the concept the first hundred times," Tony cuts in. If he weren't so damn anxious, Steve might honestly feel bad about being so far up everyone's ass over this. "You've got me on board. So, what's the concern here? Will she quit the first time he bites her head off? That's a pretty chauvinist perspective, especially coming from you."

"She's had to put up with Tony long enough to befriend him; that should be proof enough." Pepper smiles as the nightmare himself points toward her in silent agreement.

Steve raises his hands amicably. "I'm not trying to insult anyone's professionalism. I'm sure she's had more than her fair share of problem patients to get where she is today. I'm... I'm more asking if—Christ. I'm sorry in advance, alright? But... Tony, I need you to look me in the eye and tell me that you'd have trusted her to get you home."

A stiff, all-consuming silence falls over the spare meeting room. Pepper and Steve waiting on bated breath; Tony frozen as he looks back at him with an expressionless face.

Steve despises himself for doing this to him. The knowledge of what happened in that cave is something the man is unimaginably protective over. It took years—and a night of blackout drinking on Tony's end—for the story to even slip out of him. Talking about Yinsen is the only time Steve's seen him cry that he can remember. It was just one overflow, barely even two tears that got scrubbed off his cheeks within the first minute, but it was there. It's the only way Steve knows to get his point across.

Tony looks down at the table and adjusts his posture. His head shifts and his lips purse in that signature move of his, the one that comes up when he's forced to be a person. With feelings. Pepper's arm moves, no doubt taking his hand under the table.

He looks back up, meeting Steve's eyes as his posture relaxes. "I wish they could have met. I think Yin would have gotten a kick out of her fashion taste. I think she'd have gotten an even bigger one out of putting him in it."

It's the most ringing endorsement he's ever heard the man give. More importantly, Steve knows just how much weight sits behind the guarded words.

—

"I've got their personnel files if you want them. They all volunteered them to you willingly."

"I'm alright."

"Do you want their names ahead of time?"

"No."

"Not even their first ones?"

"They can tell them to me."

"Okay."

"...."

"...What are they?"

"The ones that'll be behind the glass are Hannah and Wyatt." Of course Steve knows to start there, where his nerves will fixate the most. Asshole. "You probably won't even talk to the two of them today, but your main doctor for this will definitely offer to let you. Her name is Ava. She's going to check in with you for confirmation on a lot of things before she does them. I shadowed her for over a week, asshole. It's not about you; she does it for everyone."

Bucky grunts. "I wouldn't have jumped on her for it."

"No, you'd have sat there brooding like a petulant jackass instead, probably making her feel bad." Steve pauses for a long moment, fiddling with the paper coffee cup in his hands. "You should read Hannah's file, Buck."

"Why?" He shouldn't ask. He can hear the motive sitting in his best friend's voice. It's a fucking trap, and he fucking knows it, but he also can't stop himself.

"Her last name is Schuster."

He absolutely despises the way the situation makes his gut clench. They're dead. They're all dead, and the ones in their place have been declawed for much longer than he's been off ice. He's probably not even going to talk to the woman, at least not today. He might catch the sight of a name on a coat, however. Or on a chart.

He wanted to do this without letting old habits in. He wanted to at least start this feeling like a person, not a weapon. But he gets why the dickhead is trying to baby-step him into it.

Bucky holds out his hand. Steve silently passes him the tablet he keeps. Neither of them says a word as he reads the SHEILD file to himself, line by line. Taking in a stranger's entire professional life. Her family, her known associates, every residence she's ever held. It takes a moment of hovering his finger over the subfolder with her medical records to talk himself down from opening it. Nothing is lingering in those shadows; Steve wouldn't allow it. That's not a line he needs to cross anymore.

He hands it back when he's done. "The other two?"

"Nothing I could think of. Ava's seen your hard limit list—you remember I told you I was gonna give it to one of your—?"

"I remember. It's okay. That's why you have it."

"Yeah." Steve takes another long pause. "You remember that she knows—"

"I know."

"Good. The others don't. She says they don't need to for any of it, and it's never going on record again." He looks over out of the corner of his eye. "She's going to bring it up today."

"I had a hunch."

"I just wanted to make sure it didn't surprise you."

"I know."

"Good." Steve picks up his coffee to drain the last of it in one swig. He tosses the empty cup into a trashcan by the wall a few tables over before looking back at him. He extends his now-empty hand. "Ready?"

"Not in the fucking least." Bucky raises his hand to lock with his best friends momentarily. "Let's go."

There's no wing in this tower—and he's been through all of them by now—that he dislikes more than medical. The place makes his skin feel like a thousand goddamn spiders are crawling all over him, and the smell of it, fuck. It sits in his head like a fog while it burns up the inside of his nose, making him want to break anything touching any part of him. He'd make Steve be here with him no matter what; that's a given. But the fact that there's going to be a doctor poking at him today while he's trying to power through it all makes the guy's presence non-negotiable. Bucky needs the safety net for the good of everyone in that room.

Steve doesn't try for talking to distract him, mercifully enough. There are times when it helps. Today isn't going to be one of them. He doesn't even have to bring it up for Steve to know, and the reminder that he's understood helps his nerves. It's been an incredibly long time since he had an incident. He's proud of every last one of those days. He won't be upset with himself—well. He'll try not to be upset with himself if that streak ends. But he really, really wants that day not to be today.

Bucky treats it like a mission. He's braced and ready for the antiseptic when they first get through the entrance. He doesn't flinch or huff through his nose at the invasion, not even as they make their way to the specialized divisions. He's walked these hallways before; he's walked every single one in the tower. It was the only way he could get himself to sleep during his first week here. Aside from a few trips to the emergency intake, he hasn't had to force himself back.

He's definitely never bothered with meeting the specialists themselves. It took long enough to convince himself not to memorize the names of every staff member in the tower. He doesn't need to do that anymore. That's what his therapist and the Star Spangled Spandex keep insisting, anyways.

The door Steve goes for sticks out against the sleek hallway long before they reach it. It's painted, and not just a solid color; it's covered with a garden scene done by several different hands, going by the skill variation. Bucky runs his thumb over one of the hundreds of flowers as they walk past it to feel how thick the tiny acrylic mountains are. One of the petals cracks under the light pressure of the move, making him frown. The mural's not sealed at all, despite being long dried. Not the kind of thing maintenance usually overlooks.

An absolute shock of color hits Bucky's eyes when he gets his first look at the neurosurgeon's office. The walls he can spot from this side of the entryway are lined with tie-dye hanging cloths, and the floor is covered in fluffed-up, vibrant rugs. There's not a hint of SHIELD regulation left in the architecture, with all the walls that aren't glass holding even more heavy paint globs. Some of the murals are more flowers, but a majority of them are space themed.

The stench of antiseptic fades the farther into the room Bucky goes. By the time the door shuts behind him, it's entirely replaced with the warm aroma of apples and cinnamon. A long, curved desk is off to one corner, pushed against the glass wall overlooking the city and covered in picture frames. An arrangement of chairs piled with pillows matching the rest of the decor sits in the center. Each one of them is fucking massive.

The room itself is separated in half by a thick glass wall. He can spot two doctors sitting behind an array of equipment on the other, equally decorated side behind the glass. There isn't any creative paint in there from what he can spot. If it weren't for that, he could almost forget that he's standing in a medical lab.

Almost.

"Hi there," comes a voice to his right.

The woman it belongs to almost blends in with the office once Bucky turns his head to look at her. The lab coat that comes down to her knees is a solid blue rather than tye-dye, but it's covered in stitched designs. Most of them are shaped like bees. Bucky barely stops his eyebrows from raising at the sight of the outfit underneath. Loose cloth pants hanging low on her hips, with even more bees on them, and a hand-knit top that would have been called obscene during most of the decades he woke up in. The bun she's pulled her hair into must have been done this morning; more than a few bundles are hanging down haphazardly. Bucky hasn't met a lot of brain surgeons that he knows of, but he doesn't remember any of them having glasses as thick as hers. He's pretty sure that good vision is something most of them need for the job. Not that he's nervous.

She walks over with a warm smile, already extending a hand to him. She's a short, round little thing. Barely five feet, if his guess is accurate. It always is. "I'm Dr. Ryder. You can call me Ava. I'm told you're my newest patient."

He accepts the shake with a nod and tries not to think about how sweaty his hand might feel to her. Wiping it against his pants would have been too weird. "James."

"But you prefer Bucky, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Ava," he corrects himself quickly.

"Oooh, someone's stepped on some toes in the new century." Her smile takes on a teasing edge. "I'm originally from Canada; you won't find me taking offense. Ingrained cultural manners are a bitch to hold back."

"Careful, they're the only manners he's got," Steve warns, already heading for one of the chairs.

"Ignore him. I'm house-trained," Bucky assures her. Taking his hand back, he hikes a thumb over his shoulder, needing something to stall with. "You sure you don't want someone to give your door a few clear coats? It'd be a shame to see all that work chip off."

Ava waves dismissively. "We redo it a lot; it's a relaxation project around here. It'll look different pretty soon." She points toward the glass wall separating the two halves of the office. "I've got the rest of the team working on a project to give us some space, but I can bring them in for a minute if you'd like to meet them?"

"I'm... I'm alright for now, thanks. I can meet them—whenever."

She doesn't insist further or comment on the blatant nerves in his voice. Her hand waves at the arranged chairs as she moves to sit in one. "Take your pick of the lineup, then. Typically I'd offer to take you to the corner of the roof that we've claimed for ourselves as an alternative. But, I need to keep you in environmental controls for sanitation, at least for the initial visit."

Bucky nods a few times as he sits in the one next to Steve's. His ass sinks nearly a foot into nothing but pillows, and his spine goes rigid. "Here's fine."

He'd have said no anyways, not that he'll mention that. Too many open sight lines with his anxiety on edge. He'll be revisiting the roof before his next appointment to familiarize himself, though, that's for sure. His last trip up there was long before she was even hired. The mental image of bead strings and tye-dye throw blankets on patio furniture flits through his head. If she decorates the same way everywhere, he's guessing it won't be all that hard to find the space.

Ava pulls up a tablet from the coffee table to rest in the middle of her folded legs. He's guessing she's into yoga in her spare time. One of her eyebrows arches at them in amusement. "You know, I've never actually seen someone fill one of these before now."

"The benefits of dosed living," Steve quips, his tone a little too positive. It makes Bucky's foot start to bounce silently against the floor on instinct.

If she notices, the doctor doesn't mention it as she focuses on Bucky. "Steve tells me you prefer when doctors keep things direct with you."

Bucky shifts his eyes over to the man in question, who busies himself with one of the pillows, picking at the hanging fringe. Fucker's going to be hearing about this later, that's for damn sure.

He looks back at Ava. Time to get it over with, he encourages himself. "Yeah, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. I know Steve's already told you, but I want you to hear it from my mouth. I have The Soldier's activation memorized."

He can't stop the gut instinct to swallow over hearing the words, but he nods. "I'm okay with it."

"It's not in any of my notes; it never will be. My team understands that there is a specific trigger in place; they need to in order to do their job. But they have no indication of what it is. I'll never write the words out or speak them where they can be picked up. Steve helped me with the pronunciation and the order when he first gave me your records, but you have my word that I won't be repeating them."

"You should," Bucky insists immediately. "If anything happens, you should, and you shouldn't hesitate about it."

"She knows, Buck," Steve assures him with a murmur. "I took her through the worst case drill. She's got a panic button on her."

"Steve tells me that my reaction time is fast enough for working on your case safely." Ava's head tilts to the side slightly. "Your comfort is the priority here. We can always run through a silent drill together if you'd like the reassurance."

He thinks about it. Honest to god, he lets himself sit in the idea of putting Steve's training to the test for more than a few moments. Neither of them push him for an answer. "I might take you up on that at some point."

She nods, the hair hanging closest to her face bouncing slightly. "Whenever you want. That offer is permanent. I'm taking this case on because I want to help undo what's been done; I'm not here to let it be continued, not even in research." Her eyes shift to Steve, with a bitter defiance building in them. "I trust that'll be clarified to the director if our work here ever reaches his ears, captain."

Steve nods, finally looking up from where he's moved on to picking at the pillow's stitches. "There's no more mud in that water. Fury understands how far over the line we went."

Ava doesn't look convinced in the least. Bucky doesn't blame her, not with the scattered memories of his role in all of it sitting in his head. When she looks back at him, the distrust leaves her eyes. "I'd like to get a better idea of what we'll be working with. I know that's probably going to be one of the most difficult parts of this, so we can try to get through it now if you'd like. Or we can wait until you're feeling more comfortable. It's entirely up to you."

Shifting slightly to straighten out his shoulders, Bucky nods. "I'm ready now."

It's an outright lie, but that doesn't really matter anymore. There's never going to be a time when he is ready. He still needs to do this.

"I'm going to need to adjust your head a few times today," she tells him with a relaxed, melodic tone as she stands up. She lifts a black briefcase from the coffee table and brings it over to rest on the arm of his chair, where he can easily see it being handled. "Is there anywhere you'd prefer me putting my hands? Or anywhere specific you want me to avoid?"

Bucky sees Steve shift his head slightly in his peripheral and wants to roll his eyes. Asshole. He'd have made a joke at the most; he wouldn't have been insulted. Probably. "I can't think of anywhere to steer you away from. You're good to do whatever you need to do."

She doesn't take him into the other section of the room like he thought she would. She doesn't even make him stand back up. All it takes to get the nightmare he's been dreading for years started is Ava pulling a wired, plastic wreath from the briefcase to put over the top of his head. She doesn't push a cold faceplate over his eye and against his temples; no bite guard gets shoved in his mouth. There's no frigid metal probing into the top of his neck to make his teeth buzz until he wants to rip them out of his jaw. The air around him isn't humid and suffocating like it was in that bunker. He can't hear the hum of electric coils or the squeak of leather boots on linoleum.

He's not in Siberia. He's in New York. This isn't a HYDRA agent strapping him down. This is a hippie, who definitely smoked pot this morning, putting a sensor on his head that barely has any weight.

"Here, hold this for me," she tells him from behind his chair, offering her tablet over his shoulder. He takes it silently, bringing it to rest in both hands. A digital scan of his brain is already being mapped out on the screen. It's the first time he's seen the anchor that wraps around his brainstem since the X-rays HYDRA used to leave up like trophies. "We can get a look at this thing together."

Bucky takes a deep breath in. It's… not a pretty sight. Whatever they put in him isn't registering in the bright blue lights of the rest of his brain. They're all dark spots, primarily lines branching out from the anchor that might as well be a black hole.

"You see that?" Ava leans forward to run her nail up the path of one of the lines. It starts at the anchor, and it's attached to another point further up, but that junction is the source of even more lines that go all over. There's a fucking mechanical spider web in his brain. "That's your motor cortex, and those links are tethered to your arm, starting there. That—the one right there—is what's making your cybernetics work."

"What's the rest of it?" There's a fucking lot of it, whatever it is. A lot more than he remembers being put in.

"Considering the intent of the Nazis that had you, the end goal was probably total control." Her finger moves, tapping several things that look way too fucking important as she keeps talking. "All of those there are connected to your essential functions: breathing, heart rate, consciousness. From there, they branched out into trying for control over your limbs. Jesus." She leans further over his shoulder and pinches at the screen to zoom in. "It looks like they were already building into your entire cognitive process."

"What does that mean?" Steve asks, worry rising in his tone.

"It means they were reckless on top of being cruel. And fucking stupid—pardon my French."

"You're talking to soldiers, doc," Bucky reminds her quietly, his brows drawn in as his eyes trace the black spots in his grey matter.

"Right. In that case, fuck every last one of them and the horses they rode... into whichever circle of hell they're burning in, I guess." Bucky's lips twitch slightly as she zooms back out. "They were venturing into parts of the brain that haven't been studied enough for human testing, even by today's standards. Blindly poking just to see what worked; my guess is because they knew that you could survive it. You see that big scary thing under your hippocampus?"

Bucky nods as she taps at the anchor. "Yeah. Yeah, that was… that was the first part. That got put in, I mean." He clears his throat when it starts to scratch. "I'm. I'm pretty sure it was the first part."

"Do you want to know why you don't feel sure?" she asks gently. Her voice has dropped to something much softer. It makes him sit back in the overly comfortable chair incrementally.

"Yeah," he tells her quietly, honestly. He wouldn't have a year ago.

Ava circles her finger around the center of his brain, where one of the more prominent lines from the anchor holds several thinner, black branches. "That's your limbic system. It controls emotion, memory, behavioral habits, that kind of thing. They fried it at some point trying to get to your memories, I assume. My team has the photograph from your HYDRA file, the one with the X-ray from your initial brain surgery. I've studied it with my own eyes. That serum in your bloodstream is the only thing that brought you back from being a vegetable. The salvaged notes from the initial facility they kept you in mention months of unresponsiveness and varying levels of brain activity.

"There's a reason you can't remember who you were then, Bucky. They wiped you clean because they knew you, out of all their test subjects, could recover from it. There wasn't enough left of your mind to hold memories, much less any kind of higher will." He hears her clothes shuffle behind him and sees Steve turn his head to look back at her from the corner of his eye. "I'm more than willing to testify to that in any court on Earth, captain. So we're clear."

"Understood," Steve replies, his voice thick. "I appreciate that."

Fuck, so does Bucky. Too bad he can't get his throat to open back up at the moment.

"Now, let's talk about the hard part." He hears Ava sigh. "From what I can see, there's no way we can remove any of this. Not by any standard that I'm willing to entertain, at least."

Bucky shakes his head and tries clearing his throat again. It doesn't feel anywhere near as successful this time around. "That's fine. I don't—I don't think I'd… I wouldn't be ready for that. I just want to know it's not…."

"Capable of being controlled remotely?" she offers when he trails off.

"Yeah. Aside from the code. I don't—that's not a problem. They're dead. Anyone else that had it, I mean." Christ, his foot's going to bounce straight out of his boot, right through the leather.

"I can't make any kind of assurances at this stage when it comes to that. But you have my word that it will be my team's primary focus." Her hand pulls back, and he feels four of her fingertips lightly rest on his shoulder. "I'd prefer to check that connection point they left over your spinal cord before you leave today, but the rest of what we need for diagnostics can wait until another time."

Bucky pulls in a heavy breath through his nose. "Yeah. I'm ready to do that."

"I need to get a few things for it and check in with my team." She taps at the side of the wreath lightly. "You don't have to keep looking at the scan, but you should leave this on while I'm gone so we can get some basic readings."

"You're the boss, doc." He tries not to make it look like he's in a hurry to get the thing out of his hand when he dumps the tablet on his leg.

"I'll be back in just a bit," she tells them, calmly shuffling off into the other half of the office. The glass door hisses loudly as she goes through it, confirming it's a sterile lab. The wall frosts over shortly after with the privacy screen activating.

Neither of them says a word for the first few minutes.

"Well," Steve finally offers up, his voice still as thick as when he thanked the doctor. "There's the confirmation you've been waiting for."

"That's not what that was—"

"Alright, you know what? Fuck you very much, Buck—"

"Fuck me? Fuck me? Yeah, I guess that's how it works now, what with you making alll the fucking calls—"

Steve's finger comes sailing into his face. "This affects more than just—" He stops with a short, muted groan and yanks his hand back to shove through his hair. After a moment, he lets it fall to his thigh in a clenched fist. "You want to sit here blaming yourself for it all, fine. I've got no right to tell you to stop when I'm still doing the exact same thing. But I'm pulling you through this whether," his voice goes high and mocking as he turns to glare a hole into the side of Bucky's head, "yooou like it or not. I let you fall once; I'm not fucking doing it again, asshole."

Bucky stares down a lava lamp sitting on the coffee table for a long, silent moment, his face pinched. He counts the number of wiggling blobs floating from the top to the bottom. He takes in their shared color and picks as close to a stupid paint name for it as possible. One by one, his photographic memory goes down the list of stupid colors from that stupid swatch wall at the stupid art supply store that Steve takes him to when he can't sleep at three in fucking the morning. He decides on fuchsia because it sounds extra stupid. There're twelve in total, they're fuchsia, and his best friend is as stupid as the name of their color.

The anger eventually eases up. "You're the asshole."

Steve sits back in his chair with a sigh. "Love you, too."

It takes a long minute of grinding his teeth for Bucky to force out the question that won't stop echoing in his head. "She doesn't know about the others?"

"She knows there were other attempts, but no, I didn't tell her any of them were successful. I left my notes in her file on what's been held back from her, along with the things she knows that her team doesn't. You can tell her whatever you want; that's up to you. I really think you should read through all of their files."

"Yeah?" Bucky snaps mockingly. "I really think you should kiss my ass."

Steve reaches out to grab one of the magazines from a stack on the coffee table. His posture is resigned and absolutely screaming I know better than you right now, idiot. "You should grow the fuck up."

—

There's no way the notes from HYDRA cover all his surgeries, not with this much framework built up inside his brain.

Steve warned her to expect something like this. The bastards passed Bucky around like a science experiment over the decades. Whenever a station was compromised, all of its records were destroyed to safeguard HYDRA's critical secrets, the work and confirmed existence of the Winter Soldier being one of them. Only a handful were raided by SHEILD efficiently enough to prevent further loss of his medical history. What remains is the scattered works of solitary minds spanned across decades.

In Ava's opinion, not one of those minds should have been granted the mercy of seeing daylight again after their senseless, abhorrent, despicable crimes against the sergeant. Never in her life has she been a violent woman, but given a blunt object and five minutes with the lot of them, she'd have been very tempted to rebalance nature with ruthless gusto.

A hand nudges at her arm, pulling her from her distraction with a quick inhale. "Sorry, repeat that?"

Wyatt's eyebrows pull in sympathetically. "Y'can hand this part off to one of us, boss."

"You can hand it off to him," Hannah interrupts briskly, her eyes never moving from where they're pressed against a microscope.

"Y'can hand it off to me," Wyatt rapidly corrects with a warm smile. He drums his stylus against his arm and leans against the lab's center console. The movable hologram program Tony gifted them is already building detail into one of the darkest acts in human history. Right there, in front of one of the most gentle souls Ava's ever met. The contrast makes her stomach drop. "I mean it; y'know me, I got a real sweet touch. Betch'a the sergeant wouldn't even know I'd been there til it was over."

"Don't make me say it, Combs." Hannah almost sounds bored. The former marine is in a good mood today.

Wyatt doesn't even bother with throwing a quip back at her. He's usually wise enough to know when he's in a losing battle. Reaching out, he gives Ava's shoulder a supportive bump. "You said so yourself; he's alright with meetin' us."

Ava shakes her head, bringing her hand up to rub at the bridge of her nose. Her eyes are stinging hard enough to make them water. She shouldn't have pulled an all-nighter before this; it definitely isn't helping her frustration. "He's okay with it; that doesn't mean he's ready for it. You should see the way he's practically vibrating in that chair. There's not one part of this he isn't forcing himself through. I want to try to limit contact until he feels like he's in control of the space around him."

"That won't take long," Hannah comments quietly, reaching for another slide. "There are certain habits infiltrators don't lose."

"Speakin' from your own experience on that one?" Wyatt asks, curiosity creeping into his tone. Their eternal beacon of southern sunshine has yet to give up chasing details about her, unlike everyone else who visits their little medical corner.

"Infiltrator is not the classification I would have given myself. I was never very subtle in my old line of work."

"Yeah, 'cause subtle's definitely the word I'd pick for your blunt ass now." Wyatt rolls his eyes and extends his hand to rapidly spin the projection of Bucky's brain with the flick of a stubby finger. "Either'a you looked at these trenches much yet? There's different cablin' in every major section. None of it's got a set standard, far as I can tell."

"I don't think he ever had the same doctor for more than two surgeries." Ava leans heavily against the console with a sigh, trying not to let herself venture into the mindset of a terrified soldier. She has to stay detached, or this will eat her alive before they're even halfway done. The enlarged hologram already hurts to look at in more ways than one. "Steve confirmed that HYDRA intermittently lost sections of his records through the years. All of this could be fractured by the decades; we won't know until Paige starts getting a read on the programming behind that main port."

"How do you want us to handle data transfer?" Hannah asks.

"Let's keep this off our internal server as much as we can help it. Tony sectioned off a virtual instance that we can burn when needed, but the only time you should be using that is for his scans. Put everything else on an isolated hard copy here in the lab, wherever you can do it without hindering the work. I want the equipment analysis kept as off-record as possible. I don't want this being recreated. By anyone."

"Definitely agreein' with you on that one, boss." Wyatt pokes his finger into the projection's left frontal lobe, halting its slowing spin. "I know we said extraction ain't the goal here, but I'm gonna be runnin' some sims on that when I've got the time. I don't like the idea of leavin' any'a this shit in, even if we do get it identified and nuked."

Ava nods and reaches up to give his shoulder a warm squeeze. "Let me know what initial paths you route; we can build from there. I doubt he'll be ready for any extensive work for years to come, but the least we can do is present him with some options." She takes a deep breath through her nose as she looks over the port connection on the hologram. "Alright, I'll be back after I finish his consultation."

"Good luck, boss," Wyatt encourages with a smile. "Tell the sergeant we said hi."

She waves her hand over her shoulder with a hum and braces herself to face her latest patient again.

The sergeant himself is sitting just as stiffly as he was when she left, but the captain has moved on to relaxing with a magazine in his hands. They both look up at the sound of the door opening, with a laid-back smile on Steve's face and a forced one on Bucky's. She almost wants to tell him that he doesn't have to make an attempt.

"Sorry for the wait; needed a quick check-in with the brain trust." And to not want to throw something heavy through Tony's fancy glass walls. "They wanted me to pass along their hello's. Dr. Combs, in particular, is very excited to meet you."

Bucky huffs a silent laugh through his nose as she returns to stand at the side of his chair. She doesn't try to move behind him for the moment. "Yeah, I'm sure I'm real—"

"Buck," Steve cuts in softly with a side eye in his best friend's direction.

"Fascinating?" Bucky's eyes lift to Ava's at her teasing guess, and his responding nod is sheepish. She smiles at the attempted manners. "Your case is as interesting as it is horrific, that's for sure. Lucky for you, we're a morbid bunch, so you can go for the gallows humor whenever you want." She taps at Bucky's arm with the pad of her index finger, trying to warm him up to repeat physical contact. "However, I'm pretty sure Wyatt is looking forward to asking for your autograph above everything."

The sergeant's eyebrows rocket toward his hairline. "What's he looking for? Love, The Winter Soldier?"

"Bucky." Steve doesn't even look over this time; he just drops one side of the magazine to pinch the bridge of his nose.

The sight of an exasperated Captain America sitting in her office makes Ava snort loudly. She doesn't miss the way it makes Bucky's lips raise at the corners. "He comes from a long line of history buffs who believe accurate preservation is the best tool to prevent it from repeating. The guy grew up with battle models and field testimonials from every major war. I'm guessing he had some Howling Commando envy as a kid, though he won't own up to that on his end."

"He knows I was one of them for all of five minutes, right?"

"None of us were Howlies for long," Steve forcefully insists, one foot coming over to kick Buckys. "But that doesn't change the good we did while we were."

"It also won't stop him from chewing your ear off about it if you let him." Ava crosses her arms over her chest in amusement. "My advice is to stop him early. Definitely before he starts asking what you remember about the maps. You've got a real Milo Thatch working on your brain now." Bucky looks up at her in confusion. "Haven't gotten around to Disney movies yet? Milo's a character from Atlantis, one of my personal favorites. He and Wyatt share a certain level of academic excitement."

"I'll add it to the watch list." A small smile comes up, making her wonder what his cheeks look like when he really lets it go. "And keep the point of no return in mind."

She stops herself from gushing about the beauty of the art behind the movie, wanting to honor his headfirst approach. "You ready to get the last part of today's visit over with?"

His shoulders rise with another resigned intake, making her want to be ferociously violent toward the closest available Nazi. "I'm ready when you are, doc."

"My go-to hardware specialist built a prototype connector based on the scans Tony got during your initial intake. It's only the first iteration for the sake of data extraction, so be sure to speak up if anything feels off. Anything at all, even if it's just minor discomfort. She can work on changing it for the next build. I'm sure Steve can attest to Paige's efficiency at her job by now."

The slightest hint of a blush comes over the captain's cheeks at the teasing mention of his numerous visits to the engineering department. "Ms. Findley—"

"Does she ask you to call her that?" Bucky jumps on his best friend with immediately. Ava would feel bad about chumming the waters, but the banter is making him relax against the chair.

Steve shuts his mouth momentarily. The blush gets a shade darker before he opens it again. "Paige is a very dedicated worker. And a lovely conversationalist. How do you two know each other? Through Tony?"

Now Ava really does feel bad. She puts a hand on her hip and tries to keep her smile from growing. "No, I'm the one who introduced them. She's been my best friend for about fifteen years now."

Steve freezes, and Bucky's grin takes over the lower half of his face. The sergeant sits all the way back, with shoulders that are perfectly at ease. "Oh, good. If I think of anything later, I can just have Stevie drop it off for me. I'd hate to forget between appointments."

Ava pulls the wireless reader and its port connector from the briefcase on Bucky's chair. She steps up behind him and tries not to let her eyes linger on how his smile lights up his face or how it warms her chest to see. Her free hand comes to rest on his left shoulder, leaving the exit door in his right peripherals. "This shouldn't take more than a few minutes at most. Ready?"

"Hit me." It almost doesn't sound forced.

She lifts his hair and runs her thumb over the port once to brace him for the new sensations before lining up the connector. As she'd explicitly requested of Paige, the mechanism doesn't snap into place when she locks it in, meaning there's no responding vibration to move through his skull. The notes from Bucky's therapist that were passed along didn't mention it, but they hardly mention anything at all. There's a lot he's holding back, there has to be, and she's been trying to preempt as much of it as she can.

Bucky's nails dig into the arm of the chair, and he inhales sharply. After a moment, his fingers start to relax one by one. Ava watches them all, her eyes moving between his hands and neck repeatedly, while the reader begins its data harvest. She gives him long enough to get a few steady breaths in.

"Have you started any animated movie binges?" she prods, wanting to stall for time to get a closer look at his implant. With him letting her hold up his hair like this, it might be her only chance for the foreseeable future.

"Sam's gotten me to sit through a few of his picks," he replies tensely.

"Mmm. I'm guessing Mister Feathers is a Pixar fan."

"I know that's an animation studio, but that's the extent of my expertise on the subject. Are they the ones who made Lilo and Stitch?"

"He did not make you watch that one first."

"He did, but that's technically not my first animated movie. We had them back in the 30s, you know."

"Some of us still call it animation's golden age," Steve mutters in the most crotchety old artist fashion, his eyes back on the magazine in his lap.

"Take a look around this room, Rogers," Ava sasses. "Do I look like someone who'd argue with you about its significance?"

"Point taken."

Her eyebrows pull in while she looks over just how much of Bucky's spinal cord is exposed to outside influence. She knows how far the port runs thanks to the scans, but now she's getting an eyeful of movable hatching and flesh that will never get the proper chance to heal.

"How are you handling the daily care of this?" she asks, running her finger around one edge of the port.

"I do it," Bucky tells her simply.

Her eyes lock on the back of his head in disbelief. "You do… what, exactly?"

"I've got a morning routine for it. Clear the excess buildup, sterilize the whole area, work the skin, that kind of thing."

"You understand that this has direct access to your brainstem, right?"

"I know." He shifts his weight in the chair. "I'm careful."

"I have several medical degrees, one of which is entirely focused on the human brain, and even I would hesitate to approach this on my own body. If anything that can give you so much as a hundred-degree fever touches this, you're dead, Bucky." She lets the hand not holding up his hair come to rest on his shoulder. "I'm not trying to scare you with this, but as your doctor, I need to make sure you understand the severity here. I don't want you doing this yourself anymore; I want you to come to my office for it."

"That's not necessary—"

"What time do you want him here in the mornings?" Steve asks, ignoring Bucky entirely.

"I don't need to come here in the mornings—"

"It doesn't have to be every morning," Ava offers, wanting to give him a compromise. She's definitely not letting him go back to doing it himself. "I can set up a stable cleaning routine every other day whenever you have the time to come in."

"I have it handled, really—"

"I wouldn't push it past three days, though."

"Every other morning," Steve agrees. "That's perfect. JARVIS can keep an eye on the schedules for him."

"I've got working fucking eyeballs," Bucky almost shouts, making Ava and Steve finally let up.

She squeezes her hand on his shoulder, half in apology, half in sympathy. "Yes, you do. But they happen to be in the front of your head. My eyes can see the back of your neck without a mirror, and they've got a decade's worth of disgustingly thorough medical training behind them. You came here because you're ready for this to get done. Now you actually have to let me do it."

Bucky lifts a hand as if he's about to argue but then lowers it with a soft sigh. "Yeah... yeah, alright. But I'm not always going to be here in the mornings—"

"She said it doesn't have to be the mornings," Steve cuts in again.

"You know what I mean, jackass. I'm not always going to be here consistently. I have, you know, a job that you try to boss me around on—"

"We can make sure you've got a trained medic to help—"

"No, Grant."

The words are said softly, and it takes a moment for Ava to even remember that it's the captain's middle name, but something happens in the wake of them. Steve's relentless push stops on a dime, and the fight leaves Bucky's shoulders. The two of them relax marginally, and Steve nods once. "Okay. So, we establish the routine here. Get it ironed out; get you practiced with it. Then I'll clear you for doing it yourself on missions. But if you miss even one while you're here, so help me—"

"I got it, I got it."

Steve watches Bucky with a tightly held expression for another long moment. Then he looks up at Ava with a nod. "He'll be here, and I'll make sure he's not cleared for another mission until you two have a stable routine for taking care of this."

Ava gives Bucky's shoulder another light squeeze. "I promise it'll be quick every time. I'll work with Paige on making you a field kit. In the long run, this shouldn't interrupt your normal day-to-day much at all."

"Appreciate the effort, doc." Bucky gives a soft grunt. "Sorry for the. Y'know. Pushback."

"I think the world owes you a little more than patience as backpay, Sergeant. I'm happy to help where I can."

—

Febuary 19th 2018

"I can handle it if you want me to."

"No. No, I... I can do it."

"You're sure?"

"You think I can't?"

"I think you look like you're about to throw up on my shoes."

"I don't like the idea of... starting off like that."

"That's why I'm offering to do it."

"No. It should be me. There are things you won't be able to explain."

"You can always fill in the blanks when she shows up for Soldat training."

"What a great alternative first impression! Hello, ma'am, not only am I a complete jackass, but I also delegate my role as—"

"You're not delegating; you're assigning the right person to the job. And this takes away the need for you to be a jackass."

"Leaving you to be a confrontational bitch in someone's eyes?"

"What's the issue there?"

"That's not what you are, Nat."

"Says who?"

Steve reaches out to smack the side of her arm. "That's one of my closest friends you're ragging on."

"She can take it." Natasha looks over at him, a bored hike to one brow. "Let's stay focused on what the doctor can take. This won't be like the therapists. We can't put him through multiple doctors on this. We'll only get one or two tries before he draws the hard limit."

He nods, turning his eyes back to the closed elevator doors. "Right. Right, it's for a good reason. I can do it."

"You don't have to. I can handle it."

"I know. But it should be me." He knocks the side of his boot against hers. "Thank you."

"Always. Let me know how it goes."

Natasha's off the elevator before the doors are even finished opening, leaving Steve to collect himself alone. He pushes off the back railing with a heavy sigh. No part of this is going to be easy to stomach. He's accepted that. He exits the elevator with a resigned set to his shoulders.

The medical wing is dark this late into the day. JARVIS already confirmed that the doctor is still in the building. From the AI's reports, she pulls late nights like this regularly. It bodes well for what he'll have to ask of her and her team.

He stops to admire the heavy paint on the outside of the lab's door. There's days worth of work here, clearly a labor of love. It takes until he's admiring the fourth flower of his perusal to notice that it's not all the same artist. He scans it a bit quicker after that, trying to take a guess as to how many different hands took part. His best guess is four.

Accepting that he's been inadvertently stalling, Steve pushes it open roughly. He probably should have expected the onslaught of color in the room from seeing the door. It still hits him hard enough to make him do a double-take through his exaggerated annoyance. The doctor sitting on the other side of a very large desk nearly jumps out of her chair.

"Christ Al-fucking-mighty," she swears, one hand coming up to brace against her chest. Steve gets nailed with a furious glare. "Knock much?"

Well, that's one test passed. "Are you Dr. Ryder?"

"I am. Who the hell wants to—oh." Recognition dawns on her face as Steve gets close enough to be illuminated by her desk light. The fury in her shifts toward indignance. "I happen to hold a lot of respect for you, at least during normal business hours. So, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt here and let you have a moment to explain yourself, captain."

He almost starts with an apology, but he catches himself in time. "I've been told you're one of the best neurosurgeons we're in contact with—"

"No, you've been told I am the best." She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair. Her head inclines toward him. "You can continue."

Steve's reservations about her being able to handle Bucky are leaving rapidly. It almost makes him smile. He holds it together with his best captain voice. "I need your expertise on a consultation. A private consultation. Completely off SHEILD books."

"Am I being roped into the organization's second overhaul?" There's bitterness lingering in her tone. The kind Steve remembers feeling on his own end for months leading up to Fury's near-assassination.

"No. When I say private, I mean private. This isn't under SHIELD purview. I'll be expecting discretion if you think you're up to the case, so we're clear."

The doctor's eyebrows sail up, and her head moves back far enough to hit her chair. "I'll be expecting you to hand over some details before I agree to a damn thing. As a follow-up, you can provide me with an explanation as to why this needed to be done an hour before midnight, with no forewarning and definitely no respect. Otherwise, you can turn your happy ass back around and go find the other neurosurgeons you didn't feel like harassing first."

Damn. He really should have gotten Natasha to do this; she's faster with proper comebacks. "You'll be given information as you need to know it. First, I need to make sure that—"

"First, you can fuck off." Her head shifts to one side as he pauses. "I don't respond well to authority, captain. I'm sure whatever's going on is very important if it's got America's Sweetheart making an ass of himself in the middle of my office on a Monday night. But that's not really my problem. It could be, were I given a reason to care about it."

"Does rectifying war crimes warrant your valuable attention, doctor?" The words feel awful leaving his mouth; she doesn't deserve to get barked at like this. But he needs an honest indication of how she'll react to a bad day.

Ava watches him with a slightly open mouth for more than a few tense moments. Then recognition dawns for a second time, and her eyes roll dramatically. "Oh, for god's sweet sake. You could have just asked if I have experience with PTSD patients. Hell, you were clearly sent by Tony, and I met the man at a veteran's benefit, so you could have asked him. Barnes' presence on the Avenger's roster isn't exactly a secret these days."

Steve holds himself still, then shifts his weight to one foot. "You met at a veteran's benefit?"

She nods slowly, with a bit of mockery behind the motion. "Yes. Almost a decade ago. He funds most of my work with the VA."

That hadn't been included in her resume. He didn't want to invade her privacy by pulling her file until she agreed to it. Steve feels heat rise to his cheeks. Then the anger starts to surface. "You know, I'm not one hundred percent sure I was supposed to know that."

"You think?" The words are bone dry, and her posture is still defensive, but there's a smile working its way up from the corners of her lips.

"Look, I...." Steve raises a hand to the back of his neck sheepishly. "I apologize. I promise it's not about doubting your professionalism—"

"It's about protecting family, yeah, I get it." Her arms don't unfold from her chest. But her eyebrows do come back down.

"He's very important to me. I want to make sure he's in good hands, that's all."

"Well?"

Steve's brows draw in. "I wasn't trying to dump the case on you right now—"

"No, idiot." Her eyes roll again, with much less aggression. "I'm asking if I passed."

"Oh." He nods, his cheeks still feeling far too hot. "With flying colors, so far. There's still a lot more to cover before we get Bucky involved, but. Yes, ma'am. I think you'll handle him just fine."

With a sigh, her arms finally lower. She extends a hand out in his direction. "Ava Ryder. It's very nice to meet you, Captain Rogers."

He takes her hand with a firm shake, inclining his head apologetically. "It's very nice to meet you, as well, doctor. You can call me Steve."

"You can call me Ava. So can James whenever I'm finally graced with his presence."

Yeah. She'll do just fine. "He prefers Bucky. And I'm sure he'll provide you with a much more agreeable first impression. All that can wait until you don't look like you're going to fall asleep on your keyboard, though.

Ava smiles warmly at him, falling back against her chair as she takes back her hand. "I'm looking forward to it. You can send me the details on the case at a reasonable hour to make up for scaring the shit out of me."

"Yes, ma'am." He tips his head respectfully, already backing up from her desk. "Sorry for the scare. And for being so disrespectful. He really is—"

"Important to you." She waves her hand dismissively before reaching up to push at her glasses. "I get it, don't worry. I'd be twice as much of a wreck in your shoes. You're doing fine."

Sometimes, on the rarest of occasions, there are benefits to having the worst moments of his life in the history books. "I appreciate that, thank you. You have a good rest of your night, ma'am. I'll send—I'll have JARVIS send you his file—"

"Captain Rogers is unaware of how to forward SHEILD files, doctor," the AI cuts in gleefully.

"I had my suspicions, JARVIS; thanks." She waves her hand again, this time in goodbye, as she looks back at her computer screen. "Please don't trip on my carpet and bust your ass on the way out of my office."

Steve pointedly turns on his heel, glad for the excuse to hide his burning face. He all but races to the door. "I'll be in contact, doc."

"Mhmm."

When he pulls open the painted door, he's almost unsurprised to find Natasha leaning against the other side of the hallway. She doesn't move at all, but one side of her mouth lifts in a smirk.

Steve lets the door shut softly behind him before cocking his head to the side. "Very cute. You two in on it together?"

"No, but sniffing out Tony's bait didn't take long. You'd have noticed, too, if you weren't so far up Bucky's ass." Her head tilts in the opposite direction as his. "Feel better?"

He straightens up with a nod. The motion feels confident. "Much."

—author's end notes, yoinked straight from ao3—

“what’s paige like?” well. to put it simply. she is every last ounce of karma that steve has earned by lovingly terrorizing his best friend 😌

i feel like the overall theme got covered enough with this to tell if the plot is for you or not. flirting starts next, but isn't super blatant until chap 4. i am in zero rush and will have no problem with dedicating an entire chap to cuddling tbh, this is a comfort project im in for the long haul. check back later for * to get full smut taste, current (possibly changing) map has it in chap 9. OR you can check back for kinktober, i have all 31 days outlined for these idiots. i need starfield to be good so i can do smut for that too, bethesda pls

keep in mind this will get sci-fi weird at times, and loosely ref/revolve around greek myth tropes bc iiiii like ‘em ❤️ im a fandom ancient who takes no issue with cleaning out the dickhead comments 😌 also i might edit shit. im still not clear on what ao3 will email about a bookmark (god willing its not edits that dont include a new chapter) but just in case i figured id warn for anyone who doesn't want email spam

im gonna try to keep ava and paige as vague as possible, aside from a few scattered physical details so i have SOMETHING to write. my favorite bucky fic in existence is a reader!fic (safe with me is Ungodly levels of good, and i dont just say that as a fellow west wing addict. i constantly forget that his apartment in it isn't actually canon and there're no m&ms hiding for eternity somewhere) so you wont get any judgment from me on replacing both of them right down to their names, that’s how im writing them!! it just feels unfair to tag it a reader fic with them being given SUCH a heavy “presence" i guess

main pov's (the undated ones) will always flip between bucky and ava. the dated ones are other characters pov's OOOOOOR its a flashback in which case it could be the two of them, but ill always try to make it clear whose headspace is focused up front, so i dont think ive set up a hurdle there

thanks for reading ❤️ i love and appreciate feedback immensely ❤️ feeds the brain chemicals 😌 no worries abt spoilers, i feel like anyone looking there knows what theyre risking lmao

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #chapter update #man the way thats going to be the extend of effort i have when it comes to promoing this damn thing #truly astonishing how little fandom energy i have lmao #i sure as shit aint taggin the other ones with anything but my sorting tags lmao #i do not have the Energy #good space

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actualbird · 3 years ago

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I like your analysis(es?) so much hh, and apparently my brainworm of the day is the NXX crew getting a flowering cactus called Karla, for some reason. It’s a therapy cactus XD. No other thoughts. - Book

thank you, Book!!! and also wait no get back here and tell me more

KARLA!!! KARLA!!! oh i love her already but please understand that i have so many questions and all those questions have accompanying THOUGHTS oh gosh okay let me just hm wordbarf both those things very messily, you know how i do things

what kind of flowering cactus?

there are so many, afterall.

given that vyn is into botany and gardening, i assume he would have a lot of opinions on this.

actually, ive met a lot of botany hobbyists in my life, and the snobbier ones among them actually HATE cacti (and succulents). theyd say stuff like "oh cacti are the in thing with the millenials these days, theyre the plant people get when they dont know anything about plants."

WOULD VYN BE LIKE THAT, LMAO????? he seems like the type to at least THINK IT.

but also deep down i assume vyn is like "a plant is a plant is a plant" bc among the sweeter botany hobbyists ive met, theyve got this notion that "as long as you help it grow strong through the challenges, u did a good job" WHICH....MAKES ME THINK....VYN THINGS....vyn is not going to admit it, he will never admit it, but hm. what a strange plant. shaped to protect itself yet in need of care all the same.....

ANYWAY if anybody is getting a premeditated-bought cactus for the HXX HQ, you bet that vyn will, one way or another, have some kind of say in what the cactus will be. if it isnt premeditated-bought, he'll definitely have many things to say about the cactus' future care

or does the cactus just kind of appear there? is it brought into the NXX HQ in the dead of the night like jesus in the manger? if that's the case, who brought it?

i think it would be artem. or, well, i think it would be FUNNIEST/PATHETIC-EST if it was artem.

let's just say that a non-NXX and non-MC person decides eyyy, artem, got u a gift, it's a cactus! haha, get it! bc ur a prickly unapproachable dude! and artem is like ".........." BUT LIKE IT'S RUDE NOT TO ACCEPT A GIFT EVEN WITH THE BACKHANDED CRITICISM OF HIS GENERAL STATE OF BEING

so he takes the cactus and like leaves it at NXX HQ because if he brings it to his apartment hes going to get vaguely annoyed by the cactus and what it supposedly represents and he'd want to set it on fire

(sidenote: cacti do not burn well, by the way, ive set some on fire for cacti funerals and sigh, you have to put gasoline on them for a good burn)

anyway he brings the cactus there, leaves it vaguely hoping that the air conditioning will like, kill it (cacti live in the desert, right? so cold...bad?) and then somebody else will go "where the fuck did this dead cactus come from, can we throw it away" and then artem can throw it away (ALONG WITH THE REST OF HIS EMOTIONS. artem...GET HELP....)

but that doesnt happen because get fucked, artem wing

who names it Karla?

naming a plant most often comes from somebody who has gotten VERY ATTACHED TO THAT PLANT. i first thought hmmm maybe it's luke, but then i remembered that luke has this HILARIOUS tendency of making comments about eating MANY ORGANISMS HE COMES ACROSS (ssr shape of you, he threatens to cook and eat goose, chara story ep 1, hes very happy at eating the cooked crabs for their crab crimes, sr aquarium date forgot the name, hes like let's eat seafood SURROUNDED BY HAPPY ALIVE FISH, luke....what the fuck?) so maybe it's not luke and that leaves...

marius von hagen getting attached to a cactus and naming it is SO FUNNY TO ME but also makes me soft. hes the first one who sees the cactus in HQ and is like "who the fuck left this here?" //big data lab googling what it is. "well good thing it's fine with cold temps wouldve died if not, you cant just leave a thing in a place...with no warning....with no help...thats tough....huh, thats tough, isnt it, cactus?"

am i saying that marius von hagen gets attached to the cactus because it vaguely reminds him of his own life story of being pushed into very stressful circumstances and essentially left to fend for himself? yeah. yeah. because im deranged

"the cactus' name is karla," marius says at the next meeting, spraying the cactus with a mist bottle. "be nice to her or else im biting you."

who declares it a "therapy cactus"? aka who realizes that literally EVERYBODY else on the team is, one way or another, projecting themselves and/or their desires onto the PLANT???

luke. luke does. luke has the habit of dissociating and spiraling at any given moment when he encounters anything even ADJACENTLY related to what hes going through (again, sr aquarium date, luke u were just looking at the jellyfish, WHY R U GETTING DEPRESSED PHILOSOPHICAL OVER LIFESPANS???? SIR, GET HELP.....), so like lol he can clock that shit in from a mile away because hes the worst offender of that too

he doesnt bring it up of course. i mean, im sure he thinks about it because it's just the right kind of shithead move to pull just in case the others try to push him around again but mc gets mad at him when he goes agent scary at the rest of the boys so okaaayyyy he'll retaliate against getting dunked on in a more...civil way. so he doesnt bring it up. he also doesnt bring it up because...

well, if it makes them happy, then it makes him happy. thats all that matters to him

"keep making them all happy, yeah?" luke absentmindedly says to the cactus one day. "i heard you guys can live for a hundred years."

the cactus, of course, does not reply.

mc gets very into taking care of karla. pls expect many conversations where the boys are talking about the "cactus" (theyre talking about themselves) and mc is just like "okay im 90% sure this is a metaphor, you guys aint slick, but i like this cactus very much and thats true whether it's a metaphor or not."

all the boys: //PLEADING EMOJI WITH HEARTS

thanks for making me go insane over a cactus, Book. it's 8am here.

#tears of themis #vyn richter #artem wing #marius von hagen #luke pearce

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jayeeintheclouds-inactive · 3 years ago

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160 follower crack special ?!?!?!!? idk how do you title shit

based off this thread 😩 @yeetmeoffjueyunkarst here's your food

Summary: Albedo and Kazuha fight over you, but something else happens.

Notes: albedo x reader x kazuha love triangle, keqing x reader, gn reader, crack?, short bullet point scenario because i wrote this in class, teyvat highschool au

a/n: keqing simps thank me via cash /j/j please reblog if you liked it!

although it was not obvious, you could easily tell that your seatmate and best friend were both chasing after you.

albedo, your childhood friend, had shown a few signs that he was interested in you.

he'd carry your stuff, help you out with homework, have dinner with your family more frequently, brush his hand against yours, and let his hand rest on your head a liiiiittle too long.

unfortunately, your poetic and mysterious seatmate kazuha seemed to show the same thing. his poems would always surround you and your "beauty", smile more around you, answer for you when the teacher calls you, and lean too close to you during science lab lessons.

you found it more hilarious than anything honestly. the poor dudes didnt know you were dating the vice-president of the student council 🤡 aka keqing the hottest woman (next to mona but shhh its not about her now she'll have her time later) to exist in teyvat high aka your gf aka your whole world

obviously you aint gonna cheat on your wonderful gf but those dudes still confess to you n e way 😐😐

albedo confesses first when he sees kazuha making a move on you

you say no

his heart cracks

and you say "look albedo you're my b e ST fR i end and i love you so much but sorry lol"

you go whoosh afterwards

rip singlebedo i guess

then next is kazuha's turn !1!!1!!1!!11!!1 maybe in another life you'd be his girl you'd keep all your promises be yall against the world but haha too bad for him

so he gives you a poem yeah

plays music for you yeah uh huh

you almost say yes but keqing supremacy

aHEm

n e way

🤠you say no of course because you're a loyal s/o to keqing so you friendzoned kakakaauzzhuha as well dhsakfsadfa

poor kazuha i think he spent like 2 weeks preparing his confession fr

but the two bros dont know youre dating keqing so one day they team up to stalk you to see why you rejected them

lets be real there's no way you could've rejected them because they're so pretti

no one can beat a hot ladee though so

yeah so and they see you walk into the student council office and they go ??!??!?! when did y/n get access to the student council office didn't they go to detention that one time for sending mr zhongli a nsfw smut art of him and childe 😳😳😳😳😳😳😳

THAT WAS ONE TIME

NOT THE POINT BUT

so they peek inside yeah

they see you tying keqing's hair

albedo to kazuha: friends do that right

kazuha to albedo: ye i think so

then keqing turns around to kith you on the cheek 🥺

kazuha to albedo: uh maybe super close friends do that too (smh homophobes /j/j/j)

albedo to kazuha: y e ah ma y be

then you grab keqing's cheeks and you two start making out <33

albedo to kazuha: OK 🚨🚨🚨 THATS 🚨 NOT 🚨 WHAT 🚨 NORMAL 🚨 FRIENDS 🚨 DO

but dumb dumb idiotbedo says that too loud

so obviously you and keqing hear it and you see kazuha and albedo 😳 i n t e n s e l y 😳 staring at the both of you making out jn

cue awkward silence

you get up and punch the both of them the end <333

JK yeah so you end up explaining that you and keqing are dating each other

next episode kazuha and albedo lose feelings for you and start kissing each other who knows 😳

wait actually kazubedo...?

n e way it's not about them so you and keqing just continue making out ig

you love your gf idk how to end this

#simpforkeqing

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #kazuha #albedo #keqing #kazuha x reader #albedo x reader #keqing x reader #crack scenario #genshin crack #genshin scenarios

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helisol · 4 years ago

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dude im not sure you will get it after reading this either, but you Can read it now

okay so first of all do not expect me to adhere to rules of grammar or Proper capitalisation, I am writing from the heart

so it’s been said before by other people but if Quark and Odo didnt look like the aliens that they are but instead like two regular prettybois the fandom would do cartwheels over their dynamic and Not call them a crack ship. because really, their dynamic fucking SLAPS and I’m here to tell you Why.

their surface-level dynamic is “Respected and Talented Security Chief and Cunning Immoral Businessman who are in Love but pretend not to be” and that's just an off-brand version of enemies to lovers! which is excellent and for some people that’s all you really need to get invested in a ship.

but some people look at it and go “Hm, no, that’s not enough. I mean, they work as friends but it doesn’t really have to be romantic.” and to that I say you are Absolutely Valid, not everything has to be romantic.

it just so happens that these two fuckers have one of the most compelling romance stories ever, and it’d be a shame not to explore it.

so before I dive into the internalised homophobia and repression, I’d like to take a moment to talk about Quark as a character.

because if you have brainworms like me you can kind of see that its an honest to god greek tragedy.

this guy comes from a race of people where being kind, ethical and fair is considered Abnormal and Horrifying. and I’m not gonna call Quark out of all people kind, ethical or fair but,,,

you ever notice how he’s A Much Better Person Than Pretty Much All Other Ferengi?

dont get me wrong, Quark is still a bastard, but every once in a while his True Character shines through. and I say True Character because guys,,, the way he behaves around other people is an Act. he’s pretending to be something he’s not.

he has to try so hard to be a good ferengi it’s honestly painful to watch at times. because he is a SHIT ferengi!

he loves his friends- because that's what the ds9 crew are. they’re his friends! and it makes him miserable because that's not! normal! for a ferengi!

let’s compare Quark and Rom for a second.

Quark reeks of self loathing because a lot of the time he just Doesn’t act like a ferengi is supposed to, and this drives a lot of conflict in the show. he knows how a ferengi should act, it’s just that he can’t!! fucking!! do it!! but he still tries and tries to fit into that mold, which straight up ruins his life on multiple occasions.

Rom is also not a Model Ferengi, but he lives without hating himself. and it’s mostly because he doesn’t care about how a ferengi Should act, he’s loved and cared for even when everybody knows that he’s a shit ferengi! because his non-ferengi-ness works to his benefit. it encourages and highlights his abilities as an engineer. the success and love he finds make it easy for him to be content with his true self. Unlike Quark, who doesn’t get unconditional love from anyone.

its so!! tragic!! because you can see what Quark is really like!! his true self!! he’s a nice guy who cares for people!

its right there all the time and it's so blatantly obvious. especially in episodes like “Body Parts”, “Bar Association”, “The Way Of The Warrior” and “Ferengi Love Songs”

his own wiki page literally calls him “a compassionate and generous man by ferengi standards” which pretty much translates to “not really a good ferengi��.

anyway so Quark is a tragic figure or whatever but we’re actually here for the REPRESSED! HOMOSEXUAL! TENDENCIES! that he and Odo both exhibit.

with characters like garak you don’t really need to have brainrot to pick up on those tendencies, because that was something andrew robinson chose to do, on purpose.

and to be fair, Quark wasn’t intended to be Any kind of representation, not even by the actor. I’m just pointing out that he Does look and act and talk like a little gayman.

I will admit that he is Painfully Straight in the text of the show, but on a meta level he’s just. a dude who has a serious case of repressing his real personality. and taking it a step further- he also represses his feelings towards another man.

and that man is Odo.

a few things on him:

Odo is literally desperate to be a person. unlike Quark, who at least has the comfort of belonging to a society of people with a set of rules and expectations, Odo has never met anyone or anything like him in all his years of life.

like, we all know Odo basically grew up in a lab, right?

with people who didn’t know anything about him. who he was so unalike that they literally called him “Nothing”

but he still learned to look and talk and act like them (because if he didn’t he’d feel *pain* which is very fucked up by the way?)

so we know for a fact that Odo wants to be recognised as a person- which is why he tries really hard to conform to the ideals of the society that raised him. instead of exploring his nature as a shape shifter he maintains a humanoid form, picks up a job and creates an entire personality around what he wants to be seen as. but not what he really is.

and that's the thing that causes all the conflict between Quark and Odo. the type of person odo wants to be seen as is the polar opposite of whatever the fuck quark wants to be seen as.

In the same way that Quark acts like a Normal Ferengi, Odo acts like a Normal Security Officer. and in a cruel twist of fate, the Ferengi happens to be the antithesis of the Security Officer.

If you only look at them as the things they act like, and not the things they are, you might say they’re way too different to like each other, right?

but,,, if you think about the fact that they’re both putting on this act,,, this performance of idealised versions of themselves,,, you can see that they are The Same. They Are Both Gay Repressed Loser Aliens Who Try To Act Like Things That They Aren’t!

Imagine you’re Odo.

Imagine that you’re Nothing, because you’re not like anything anyone has ever seen- and because you are Nothing you don’t fall in love with anyone for years and years. since who could love something that isn’t like them at all?

But then one day this Thing shows up in your path and you just hate it. Because it’s not like anything *you* have ever seen. It’s disorderly and looks grotesque and it’s criminal to boot.

It’s all the things you learned would make a “Bad Person” It’s everything you aspire not to be, because if you were any of those things you would BE PUNISHED.

But the trouble is, eventually he’s not an “it” anymore, he’s “Quark” and you see him every day of your miserable little life because you live on the same damn station in space and it’s hard to avoid each other.

He also happens to be one of the only things in your life that are constant. He will never leave because he is stubborn and greedy and you just *hate him so much* that you’re convinced he must be doing all of it to spite you. And yet you also can’t seem to leave him alone.

So Odo Must Hate Quark. everything else is a non sequitur for him. he can’t not hate Quark.

because Quark is, and i’m sincerely sorry to apply christian fucking imagery to this, The Forbidden Fruit.

If he liked quark he’d admit some kind of moral failing. it would be the end of his act. but on the other hand...it might be a good thing, because at least he could have quark.

but Odo can never go through with biting into this apple because the consequences are horrifying to him. he could never have quark because, according to his performance, he would Never like quark to begin with.

and here’s a take for you: Odo's Brand Of Internalised Homophobia Doesn't Stem From Heteronormativity. It Stems From The Fact That He Was Kind Of Assigned Asexual At Birth.

and the show sort of alludes to this, for real! not just subtext! canon! except the writers used the wrong person.

because instead of Odo having these Forbidden Feelings for Quark he has them for,,, Kira.

but since this is My Quodo Manifesto you’ll understand that i am 100% willing to just toss that part of canon out the airlock.

so Odo does canonically have that mindset of “no one could ever love me” for decades he repressed any and all feelings of love to avoid getting hurt. in the show he breaks this cycle of repression when he takes a chance and enters a relationship with Kira. yay?

but we all know that aint it chief. and part of the reason why That Ship Ain’t It is the fact that Quark is Right There. and he is simply the more interesting choice for odo.

he and Odo literally share the same problem and have weird intertwined character arcs! they are both dreadfully afraid of not conforming to the ideal versions of themselves, so they reject everything that could challenge their Performance!

on some fucked up level they hate each other *and* themselves individually. and this hatred makes them reject parts of their real identities for the sake of protecting their image. which. yknow. in gay people. is internalised homophobia!

so you can see that they’re both repressing A Lot even if you view them as Friends, but the most important thing in this kind of romantic dynamic is usually,,, when the characters *stop* repressing.

and the thing is. the thing that Kills Me with these two. They Never Get That Moment. Thats Why You Need The Brainrot To See Them As Romantic.

The Ascent gives us an example of what happens when they both take their act too far. I mean, who could forget “Fascist!” and “Fraud!” That is what odo thinks of quark’s performance and vice versa, but we don’t really hear them adress the fact that they *are* playing these roles to a ridiculous extent.

We also never get an example of what would happen if they dropped their act instead of over-performing it. or rather we don’t get to see both of them drop it.

And the reason why we never get that moment is because there’s this one key difference between Quark and Odo.

Quark knows that he’s constantly repressing his true nature and his feelings for odo. We pretty much hear him say so in the iconic root beer scene in Way Of The Warrior. he knows that he’s not a good ferengi but he keeps up his act.

So quark is aware enough to feel that sweet sweet self loathing. But Odo isnt self loathing as much as he is just self sabotaging.

and this subtle difference between them is why, at the very end of the show, we get “That man loves me, can’t you see? It was written all over his back!”

this moment is quark dropping his act and asking odo to do the same. he wants to hear a genuine Goodbye from him because they have known each other for Decades and they are Friends. but odo is so unable to express the feelings he’s been repressing all these years. that he self sabotages again and just walks away.

even though this is like. very anticlimactic. considering I just spent 2000 words talking about how Odo and Quark are Most Certainly Gay For Each Other.

The fact that their ending is so Weird is the reason why quodo is so engaging and appealing to me? especially post-canon quodo.

like, the amount of “what if’s” this ship has are Astounding.

What if either of them had dropped their act a little sooner? What if they both did, for just a moment, and it was the straw that breaks the camels back?

What if Odo comes back after a few years? What if Quark comes to get him?

What if, in that moment in the finale where Quark drops his act, Odo had returned the gesture? What if Gag-Reel Quodo Kiss.gif Real?

with the depth that I read into their relationship, those what ifs are really fun to think about.

anyway its 1 am and i’m not an english major so literary analysis is not like, my strong suit. plus most of this was written in a late night screaming session with a friend who has the exact same opinions as me. i just think aliens hot and in love. thats all.

#the SOUND of my HEAD hitting my DESK with TERMINAL VELOCITY #quodo #star trek

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secretarykang · 3 years ago

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Devyn and the mukamis { headcanons}

when karlheinz told her about the whole adoption thing she thought it was a joke

like?? sir you already have 6 kids (7 with kino) why more kids???

she was nervous bc taking care of the sakamakis was easier since she didn’t really acted as a nanny, she wasn’t with them 24/7

like she trained/tutored them from time to time, even played with them sometimes

nothing too much

but with the mukamis was pretty different

anyway, she meets them for the first time

they looked pretty decent, as far as newly turned vampire kids can look

she aint gonna like, they were sweet

she talked to them, yk introduced herself

told them she’s gonna take care of them

they were shy ofc

two weeks in and she was their mom

and they were her kids

did devyn thought she’ll ever get so attached to any kids? no never but they were lovely

now let’s get to every kid

ruki:

will not call her anything else but miss kang for the longest time

homeboy still tried to play independent

he tried to keep it professional???

he was a bit cold yk, as i said, he tried to be all independent and shit, take a break babe you’re just a kid, it’s her responsibility to take charge not yours

they bonded over books

devyn found him in the library looking at books and recommended him a few

whenever she had to leave them for a few while because of work stuff, she’d come and bring ruki new books

they would also have their little book club thing, choosing a book, reading it and discussing it yk the drill

he would ask her about her favourite books, even asked karlheinz once because he wanted to read the book and surprise her

melted her heart, such a sweet kid

also about ruki wanting to be a bit in charge, he kinda became her right hand

he thought he really was doing 50/50 with devyn, ofc devyn still did 90% of the work, she’s the adult but putting ruki a bit in charge made him happy so she let him do that

her room was closer to ruki’s because he would never come to her when he had a nightmare so devyn made sure to be closer to him in case he had a bad nightmare and needed a hug, emotional suport of any kind

as he got older they really started experimenting in the kitchen

both finding recipes and trying them every week

the rest of the the mukamis and karlheinz where pretty much their “lab rats”

the food was always good but you get it

also he started calling her devyn

just when they were together ofc

and that’s why she told him “since you’re a big boy now you can just call me devyn like the others do”

so he did, but never out in the public, he will be proper

kou:

yk when i said all of them where like her kids

kou was her kid period

( someone made a meme about how kou would call her mom accidentally) he called her mom a lot of times

especially when he was a little kid

as i mentioned, only ruki would refuse to “bother her with his nightmares”, the others would go to her room/office whenever they wanted and needed

so picture this, young baby kou just woke up from one of his awful nightmare, comes in crying, eyes red, runny nose, all the package

“mommy can I sleep here?”

devyn was still doing a bit of paperwork but as soon as she saw him, fuck the paperwork my kid needs me

put the papers away and took him in her arms, caressed him, just trying to calm him down

it worked tho, in 10 minutes (more or less) he was asleep, maybe the best sleep of his life

he did came to sleep in her room more times even if he didn’t had nightmares, azusa too ( ruki and yuuma were still playing “big boys” )

would have duets with devyn all the times

she’d be on piano and he would be on vocals

both of the loved that

so later when he told devyn that he wanted to become an idol, she was all for it

took care of everything to give this boy the career he wanted, would’ve been his manager if she had time for that too

his no. 1 fan

buys every album, every merch, does her best to attend all his concerts

kou would call her at the most ungodly hour to let her hear a new song he’s working on

“hii devyn, can you listen to this and tell me what you think?”

or even asks her to come to the studio

still calls her mom from time to time

yuma:

she instantly knew it’s edgar

if shuu only knew… ufff but she couldn’t say anything

he was really chill

he always is

doesn’t ask for many things, whatever he’s given he takes and says thanks, hugs devyn everytime she does something for him

when he asked for a vegetable garden he was a bit nervous, he was thinking that he might ask for a bit too much

it’s never too much for him, she made sure he had everything he needed for that garden

devyn doesn’t enjoy gardening very much but for yuma, anything

whenever he asked to join him in the garden, she would be there

they’d do work in their cute gardening outfits, very lovely

anyway

devyn’s pretty tall and yuma was always so excited everytime she would measure his height and he’ll get closer to being as tall as her

little did he know that he’ll be taller then her one day

when she’s away he sends her pictures with his plants almost everyday

azusa:

ik i said yuma was a chill kid

azusa was even more chill

like whenever she out him, he’d stay there

loved to sleep in her room even if he didn’t had nightmares (just like kou)

also enjoyed to hug her anytime he got the chance: devyn working in her office, he’d come and cuddle, devyn reading somewhere in the house, he’d come and cuddle

lots of cuddle, you get the idea

the whole knife situation was a bit of shock for devyn, like she tried to understand why he did that, should she let this happening?

it did made him happy so she had to give in

she’d get him nice knives and bandage him after he would get hurt

still very affectionate to her even to his day

overall they’re pretty close to her and vice versa

thanks to them devyn discovered her maternal skills

certified milf

very much a happy family

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blarrghe · 4 years ago

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Wip Wednesday

thanks @morganlefaye79 for taggin me! This is something I’ve had ready to shove into Twelve Nights for a while now, and it’s a little heavy-handed but I also think it’s maybe the most important point this (ultimately very fluffy) story makes, and preachy DA character therapizing is pretty on brand for me at this point. So CW for discussions of trauma and addiction, because I aint about to romanticize that shit lol if I introduce a character with a somewhat tropey substance problem we go there. Anyway this is an incredibly long snippet but if you read nothing else from this particular fic, I think you should read this.

Under a cut -- alcoholism/addiction, the ways conversion therapy fucks a person up.

as well as some mutuals if y’all wanna: @midnightprelude @aymayzing @fandomn00blr @protect-him @barbex I love seeing your wips :)

"Hey," Taren spoke slowly, concern crossing his brows like it did sometimes, when he looked at him, "I don't know how to ask this, but," a very loud voice in the back of Dorian's head told him to shout “so don't!”. He managed to restrain it. Taren shifted his weight and played with his lackluster hair while he figured out how to ask the thing that Dorian already knew he was worried about. "Is this okay?"

"You mean, am I okay." Dorian corrected, as he took a sip of the whiskey. It was delicious. Everything was delicious; stupidly wonderful and probably a dream, and they needn’t talk about things that weren’t.

Taren nodded, the concern still swimming in his gaze. "You don't have a…"

"A problem," Dorian supplied, finishing the thought for him while Taren swallowed, "with alcohol."

"Sera said you were in rehab." Taren was apologetic again, looking away with his hand back in his hair. Dorian laughed, because he couldn't help himself, but it just made the concern in Taren's brows deepen. He attempted to reign it in. He supposed he would just have to do this conversation Taren's way: honest.

"I was. Several times actually, but my problem's never been with alcohol." He picked a few more things off the cart while he spoke — apricot brandy, gin, and vermouth — pouring them in careful measure into a tall, stainless steel cocktail shaker. "It's with attention." He winked. Just because the conversation had to be honest didn't mean he had to give up all his charms. "You see, I've made some very unhealthy, very loud, very irresponsible cries for it. In response to which my parents usually tried to throw me into someplace expensive with nice clean white walls and scenic views, to fix me."

He picked out a wonderfully green lime from the selection of citrus fruits in a little glass bowl on the cart and began rolling it against the cutting board.

"They've spent an outrageous amount of money, trying to get other people to help me be normal." Taren was frowning at him, so he went on looking at the lime.

There was a small, silicone knife that matched the cutting board tucked into a special spot on the cart. He picked it up and sliced the lime in half, lengthwise, and gave its middle a little slit.

"Sometimes there would be a measure of religious fervour to go with: control your demons through strict routine and mind numbing repetition of verses! Doesn’t work, by the way, and anyone who says it does has more illicit secrets to keep than I do. But the quacks parroting fixes with pseudoscientific backing were the worst.” he shook his head, unable to contain a dark grimace from escaping at even this most casual retelling. “The last time though, I did actually learn something rather helpful." Taren came closer, and took a seat on the arm of the long leather couch closest to him, still watching Dorian with a careful frown as he told his story and sliced his lime. "There was this therapist, beautiful man," he looked up from the lime, catching Taren's frown and doing his best to counter it with a sly smile. "Understood right away what I was really in for —" he smiled at Taren again, dragging as much syrupy charm through the words as he possibly could, "that is, being attracted to men, not drugs or alcohol." Taren blushed, and satisfied, Dorian went back to fixing his drink, "we struck up a wonderful little friendship, or as much of one as therapists can have with the mad, I suppose."

"Did you…" There was a hesitancy to Taren's speech that was different from the last, less concerned, and barbed with something. Was it jealousy? And if so, what did it say about him that he quite enjoyed it?

"No." He said truthfully, "that would have been most unethical. I don't even think he was interested, if you can believe it. Didn't stop me from daydreaming of course — rehab is terribly boring. But no, nothing happened except talk. Therapeutic talk; he told me about rats."

"Rats?"

Dorian finished slicing one half of the lime into perfect little crescents, then squeezed out the other half into the shaker. "Lab rats with addictions to opiates." He clarified, "the Cage Theory of Addiction: give a rat a terrible little cage with a nice little lever that injects a drug straight into his little rat veins, and he'll keep pressing and pressing that lever until he dies." Taren looked upset; Dorian closed the shaker and screwed its cap tightly on, and continued, "the rat has a food lever too, but he ignores it, pressing and pressing for that magical buzz. More and more; more than he can handle. An addict." He picked out a short glass and swiped the rim of it with one of his slices of lime, then overturned it into a perfectly sized little vessel of sugar that was set out on the cart. "But, someone thought: let's do an experiment, and instead of just giving the rat a lever for food and a lever for the drug, they gave him a little rat city. With fun rat playgrounds and soft rat pillows and a few other nice rats to talk to. Guess what happened next."

Taren just looked at him, not guessing. Dorian tutted and gave the shaker a dramatic spin, shook it, and then popped the lid back off to pour the concoction into the glass. "The little opiate-addicted rat got better. So comes the theory: the rat's problem wasn't the drugs; it was his cage." Taren nodded slowly, and Dorian left the drink cart to join him on the couch. He passed Taren the fresh cocktail with another sly smile, and took a seat. “I looked it up later; read the study myself because I am an insufferable know-it-all,” he went on, “and it turns out that my beautiful therapist had some of his facts wrong.” Now, Taren just looked confused, but if Dorian was going to be honest with him, he was going to be really honest. “No one’s replicated the findings — and it turns out the rats also started having little rat orgies, so that probably helped.” He laughed, though Taren still looked mostly confused. Dorian took a breath. “But, there was a truth there that no one had bothered to tell me before: sometimes the reason why is worse than the thing itself. Sometimes a change in thinking, a change of scenery…” he paused, “someone to talk to,” another pause, longer this time — he’d lost his will to make light of it, somewhere in there. “I’m not a bad person, I know that now.” he said, more quietly than he meant to, "but I live," he placed his glass of whiskey carefully down on the coffee table, and let himself look Taren in the eye, "in a very terrible little cage. And I've done things, things I'm not proud of, just to try to… escape." He shrugged, and picked up his drink again, "but these days, I've more or less settled in. Figured out how to be a productive little rat who doesn't take more than he can handle, usually." He took a sip of his drink, directing a hooded smoulder at Taren as he did, and downing most of it — getting drunk and doing it very much on purpose, "only rattling the bars on weekends, so to speak."

#yes this is still unhealthy but like there's...more #pavellan #dorian pavus #my fic #wip wednesday #alcohol cw #also this analogy is a Real Thing you can look it up #presented here as accurately as possible #drugs cw

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radramblog · 3 years ago

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Sometimes, we lose things.

A story from today. It might be utterly uninteresting, I’m not sure, but like everything else on here, it’s a peek into my brain in some way that is probably a little more personal than I intended for.

It’s about 10AM on a Sunday morning. I’m listening to a livestream replay on my airpods (I refuse to capitalise that), while preparing for the boys to show up. It’s Magic Day, and the space has to be prepared. Playmats laid out for cards, placemats laid out for snacks. Chairs for butts, dice for life totals. Chairs and coasters, basics from my Cube that can be proxied over. The usual nonsense. It’s mostly ready at this point, so I think about other things that need doing.

Eventually I’m going to need to put these airpods away, I suppose, but the case isn’t in my pocket. Not to worry, though, since it’s not like I left the house this morning. I think I remember taking them out around breakfast, so I suppose the case will be around the kitchen somewhere.

No such luck. It would appear this was not the time nor the place at which I begun my listening journey. I start retracing my steps in my head, to what little I could do of them. I’ve pretty much only spent time this morning in my room, in the kitchen/dining room, and my bathroom. I decide to check my room first, because its usually the first place this thing goes missing. It often does, being small and me being forgetful. Many a time I’ve found it just on my bed, blending in perfectly with the white sheets. Or under the pillow. Or between the pillow and the doona.

But of course, not today. The usual easiest way to figure out if something’s hidden under your sheets, I’ve found, is just by rolling over them bodily, and that has turned up nothing. Well, except the heat cushion. It’s not at my desk, it’s not on my drawers, and it’s not on the floor. Bugger.

Dad calls me over to help him for a bit. He’s pulling the trailer out to grab firewood, and needs a hand maneuvering it through the garage, moving cars around into the right positions, and checking if the lights are working on the trailer. They are, and he leaves. It’ll be a strong fire tonight.

Right, next is the dining area where I’ve been setting up Magic stuff. Maybe it’s next to one of the decks, hidden from view from most angles, and I put it there when I was idly shuffling while thinking about what to do (nope). Maybe it’s next to the kettle from when I made coffee (nuh-uh). How about the bathroom, is it next to the sink (no)? What about near the toilet, I did clean it earlier (nice try).

Panic starts to set in. I take out the currently caseless headphones and put them in my pocket. No sense wasting the battery when I don’t know how much battery I’ll have. Before I can get too stressed out, my first guest arrives (10 minutes late and still the first to show), and with him distraction from the tempest in my mind.

Magic goes well enough, and about 5 hours later, said guests depart. It’s a good set of games, it’s been too long since I’ve hosted, but good times don’t last. After I’ve said my goodbyes, the void sets in.

I have a fair few things to do. Clean up my mess, hunt down the headphone case, make sure everything’s ready for the lab tomorrow, figure out and write a blog post. But I’m tired, and I don’t feel great, and so after doing the first of those things (to avoid being yelled at for leaving cheese and cards on the table), I lie in bed for a while.

I reflect on the last time this happened. When I realised in the middle of a lecture that like today I had the headphones but no case. 50 solid minutes of panic, going through the full stages of grief 10 minutes at a time. Furrowing through my backpack, getting monumentally pissed at myself, however bargaining fit into that, getting really sad, and looking up the prices for a replacement.

That I ever got it back was a miracle. It had fallen out of my pocket when I pulled my phone out walking to class, and not only had it fallen onto the soft grass of the oval, nobody had stepped on it, taken it to some form of lost and found, or stolen it in that entire time, despite the white case on the green of the grass being quite obvious.

Eventually, I get up. Determination swells within me, some combination of frustration and just wanting to get it over and done with. I return to the bathroom, afraid I somehow flushed it down the toilet when I cleaned it. Thoroughly investigating the room, behind the sink, the window’s ledge, behind the toilet, nothing.

But that wasn’t the most likely spot, was it? I haven’t gone through my room thoroughly enough, clearly, it’s almost certainly there. So I do the logical thing and strip the bed. To no avail. Peek behind the headboard, nothing, lift the mattress up and peek under it, no. Every inch of the floor is combed, with no case in sight. I get to the point of pulling every single thing off of my desk, up to and including the things that couldn’t possibly be hiding a headphone case, and it’s just. Not. There.

There’s only one place I’ve got left, really. It could theoretically still be in the kitchen, I suppose, even though it’s the place with the least places to hide a small object like that. And it’s the place where the most people are likely to have seen it lying around (and I definitely asked). Quelle fucking surprise, it wasn’t there.

This is the part where depression kicks in again. Shit aint working. I’m fresh out of energy, I have other things I need to be doing, and I still feel like shit. I head to the loo, a different one from the one I’ve been scouring all evening. The one ostensibly cleaned by my brother, not I- thereby, the not particularly clean one. I didn’t search here because why would I? It seemed like a waste of time, I don’t think I’ve even been in here today, it’s usually about as shitty as I feel right now.

Take a seat. The headphones for whose case I am searching for die as I hit the plastic throne. In a motion one would almost call rehearsed, even poetic, I take them out of my ears and put them next to the sink.

Where the case lays.

#ramble #personal (i guess)

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lovemurphythe100 · 4 years ago

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Imagine check up on Greg who look like he having a bad day on the case that might lead to something

Part 1 - Bad day

Greg and you be working on case about 1 year old baby death. It be eating up Greg all day because he hate see child getting kill.

When you and Greg find out the mother kill her 1 years old son/daughter it piss off Greg so much that he never understood why people will kill them own baby.

As the night was over you about to leave when you see Greg in the locker room very upset having his hand on his forehead.

"Greg are you okay" You ask him

Greg turn around "Yeah it just this case we was working on"

You walk over to him as you place your hand on his shoulder "I know but we got the killer and she going to prison for good"

"Yeah I know but Y/N how can a parent will kill there own baby it mess up" Greg say about to start cry

"Hey what get out of here and get a drink" You trying to cheer him up with a good time drink

"Sure why not"

Mid while

All the bars was packed and no luck getting in as Greg reply "We can just go to my place I got wine"

You started to blush as you reply to him to a joke "I didn't know we start that next level"

Greg look at you confused but it give him a second to realize you was joking "Oh funny"

Part 2 - Lead up something

You woke up from a hungover and almost forgot where you are because you not in your right bed as you notice your not wearing any clothes.

Flash back

You and Greg finally got to his place and you did a wow.

"What" Greg say confused

"Your place is not what I suspect" You say

Greg smile at you and head to the kitchen and pull out wine glasses and the wine.

"You know I get upset to when baby get murder for no reason. I know it be eating you up about it" You say take the wine glasses.

Greg sigh as he walk into the living room as you follow him.

"It had. Every case I deal with is different but when case like baby get murder piss me off" Greg say take a slip of his wine.

As the night go on you and Greg continue talk and drink wine thing lead to something that you didn't suspect to happen.

Flash back end

You slowly getting out of bed and putting your clothes back on before Greg wake up..

As you finally left his place you hurry up back to your own place and find your ex at the door.

"This aint the time, you should leave" You try to unlock your door

"Please can we talk" Your ex say

"No" You answer as you hurry up inside and lock the door behind you.

"There no one out there will understand you then I do" As your ex speak throw the door you.

The cell phone ring while your in the shower get already for work as you continue think about what happened last night. You can't decide if it a mistake or was it the best night ever.

Soon of later you finally got in the crime scene of a murder of a dead girl. When Greg was at the scene with Nicky.

As you pretend nothing up last night with Greg you ask " So what happened here"

Greg look at you trying not to smile at you "It seem like the girl was murder with something and possibility there is a killer out there"

As you try to exam the scene Greg walk over to you and ask "Are we going talk about last night and you sneak out early today"

"Greg not right now" Your reply

At the CSI build you at the lab with Greg trying to figure out who kill your victim.

Before you leave the lab Greg ask again "Can we talk about what happened"

"Fine it was one time thing it will never happen again" you left know it wasn't what you mean by that

Part 3 - I can't stop thinking about her and I don't want to and maybe see how things go

Pov Greg

"Fine it was one time thing it will never happen again" Y/N reply to my answer before I could say something she left.

"This going be a long day for me" As I talk to my self

The night go on I sitting at my desk think about the case well more of think about Y/N and what happened last night.

"Hey G what wrong" Nicky ask

"If only you know what wrong" I reply

"Try me " Nicky smile sit down

As I took a small breath "Well it about Y/N I can't stop thinking about her"

"I mean you have a crush on her for the moment she walk in this building" Nicky say as he about to get up

"That not what I mean it more to the story" I say as Nicky turn around "Like what"

"Like what happened between me and her last night" I reply

Pov Y/N

It was getting late the case is still go on but I tired need some rest before I leave work I overheard Greg and Nicky conversation about me.

"What you mean what happened between you and Y/N" Nicky ask

Of course he got a big mouth before I was about to stormin in you hear him say "The case me and Y/N was work on with the mother who murder her baby got me upset last night and I guess me and Y/N want get something to drink and the bars was packed so we went to my place and I guess thing lead to something. But she say it was a one time thing"

"Greg if she say that you need to let it go" Nicky reply

"I know but I can't stop thinking about her and that night" Greg say

The next day

You and Greg got to a new crime scene over the same killer you be try to catch as Greg lead over the next victim take pictures.

"A other girl damn it the more this killer keep getting away it be hard to find" You was so angry at this case that Greg look at you.

"I understand you upset but you need to calm down we will find this guy" Greg say try to get his work kit out.

Your mind be on something else while try to take pictures on the wall or other things as you say "Greg I be think about the other night and maybe we should talk about what happened between us"

Greg walk towards you and say "I thought you say it was one time thing and you complete end the conversation"

You sigh "Yeah but I be doing some thinking and maybe we should try to see how things go"

"Meaning?"Greg ask instead answer his questions you kiss him as he kiss you back when Nicky walk in with a look on his face "This is a crime scene not a date" as you and Greg pull away quick in a embarrassed.

"So can we see how things go" You ask

Greg smile "Yeah"

The day went good you and Greg find the killer and finally see how things work out between you two

#greg sanders #csi #csi las vegas #imagines

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where-the-ligtning-strikes · 5 years ago

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Okokok I only have, like, 3 followers (thxs ya’lls! Love ya) but my family is done with my star trek bullshit and I have shit to DISH OUT, especially with the alternative movie series. I get that it still made some people happy and it introduced a lot more people into star trek and I Respect that but GOD. What The Fuck. What the fuck?

For example, movie 1 AOS, (spoilers, I guess) I really, REALLY fuck’en hated about how Kirk, motherfucken, CHEATS on the test and Spock is the one who looks like the one wrong in this??? Like I know Kirk’s whole reason was about how immoral it was to send a Bunch Of People on the command track with the training and expectation to Die if shit gets too tough but it was just how it was done in the movie that really Jars my Pickles. Because he betrays a fellow officers trust, cheats from the get-go as soon as he finds out its rigged and then the writers were like “BTW, kirk was totally right about cheating lol.” NO. Did you know what I saw kirk as? I saw him as a spoiled asshole who couldn't lose. And thats not the kirk I’m supposed to see! Thats not the kirk I want to see. It could’ve been handled so much better.

Like, alright. Lets say that I’m a Star Trek writer for these new movies (sweet). The writing team and I want these things to happen;

1) Kirk takes the test.

2) Kirk loses

3) Kirk cheats.

4) Kirk was completely right to cheat.

Ok. Cool. So instead, this is what happens. Kirk studies and he studies hard, he does everything right. And He Loses. Again. And again. He’s done different things in different ways and the crew, even if only artificially, die. In the last (2nd to last really) try, he kinda just trying to do whatever, and then one of the people in charge come to him like, “hey you finally passed.” And kirk, rightfully, is very confused because the end result is the same to Every Other Damn Time He Took The Test. And the guy giving him the results just kinda laughs and goes “Oh no honey, its rigged to lose.”

And Kirk goes, “Hey. What the fuck.”

But then!!! Then kirk goes to the people in charge of the test, he goes to them and tells them, “Hey what the fuck. this shits messed up.”

And the people in charge of test goes “yeah, but its the Council‘s choice, some of us think the test is valid for X and Y bullshit reasons, also fuck you.”

Kirk basically goes. “Wow. Alright.” And after such goes to the council and is like, “Hey. Uh. This test sucks ass because telling people to expect to die rather than, you know, doing shit is really, extremely, fucked up.”

And the council goes “Didnt you pass? We’re dicks, fuck you.”

And kirk, well. Kirk aint going without a fight! No sir-ee. Nope. The issue isn't getting enough attention, no one is taking Kirk seriously or giving him the time of day. Except for Bones, whos reluctantly but an absolute bro, BUT kirk remembers a bunch of stuff about the office/lab whatever of the pepes who made the test and kirk decides that hey, if no one is gonna give him the time of day then he’s gotta force their hand by cheating because with cheating theirs a court and with a court there's Media and they cant just kick him out because they have to decide and agree if Kirk Actually Cheated and if or if not he gets to stay at the academy. If kirk wins, they’ll have to change the test. If not... well, he leaves in disgrace. And he’s, obviously, taking a huge risk because he doesn't want to get kick out and the last thing he wants to do is to stick out like this but he really does believe that there is no such thing as a no-win situation, he really believes in this, and he’s going to fight for it.

And so, he tries one more time and he cheats. he makes it to where no matter what, he wins and he WANTS everyone to know that he cheated. So he doesn't try to make it subtle or make it look like there was a bug that just Happened to Let Him Win. No, its obvious and as clear as day that James T. Kirk cheated. Everyone knows, their grandma knows, and Spock knows. Spock charges him on such and the movie proceeds.

2nd movie! Star Trek Into Darkness! What gets under my skin is that Kirk! Lies! And he’s all, “ Dur Dur Spock you betrayed me for telling the admirals the truth in the report.” Even though??? Spock and kirk never discussed it? To lie??? He wants Spock and his CREW to put their careers ON THE LINE??? Also just to lie is, extremely, fucked up that does not vibe with me and it does NOT have me like kirk. And I want to like kirk! So, once again. I’m a writer for Star Trek Into Darkness, me and the writing team want these things to happen;

1) Kirk saves Spock from a volcano.

2) Kirk breaks the prime directive to do it.

3) Spock ‘betrays’ kirk and

4) Kirk is justified in feeling betrayed.

5) Fuck it, for shits and giggles, lets say that kirk also still has to lie and gets demoted

So, the mission to stop the super volcano is going well, everything goes right and they should be done soon. Sweet. But wait, what the fuck. Spock’s equipment bugs the fuck out and Spock, is still, in a fucking super volcano.

What the fuck.

So, kirk is doing mental gymnastics in his head trying to see if theirs a way to save Spock without getting seen by the natives. And finds that, there isn't. It’s violating the prime directive, or losing Spock, which, its not even a competition. So kirk goes to the crew and is like “Hey. I’ll take the blame, but we’re going to have to violate the prime directive cuz we’re already low on officers thanks to that huge attack Nero did and at some point we’re going to lose everyone if we keep leaving people behind and Spock is an extremely talented officer that we can’t afford to lose. He’s also my friend And I love him.”

He’s the captain and people are more likely to listen this time cuz he saved the world, so the crew goes. “Ok so Spock is the bitch who’s a terrible loser, strict as fuck and wouldent know ‘fun’ if it ran up to him naked and slaped his ass, but he’s our bitch so we’re in.”

And kirk goes, “Sweet.”

They save him, but Spock gets into a Huge disagreement Publicly On The Bridge as soon as he’s back cuz he went through the mental gymnastics too and knows that theirs no way he could’ve been saved without Jim violating the Prime directive and, for a legitimate reason that would be Bad because lets say that the Klingons and the Federation are in a Cold War like state and one of the agreements they had so that 2 halves of the known universe wouldent blow out each others brains was that Nobody could find new planets and manipulate them to fight for “their side”. Not only would this risk a galactic war with a race itching for an excuse to fight and come out on top with an already weakened Federation, even if Jim didnt leave or actually do anything other than accidently show his ship to the natives.

And thats completely excluding the fact Jim can lose his captaincy and spock could be separated and lose jim. So Spock Loses His Shit (In his Vulcan way, naturally) And Jim is hurt and betrayed by this because he just risked everything and thats ok but Spock all but verbally slaps him in the face with consequences he’s already well aware of and does so Publicly in FRONT OF THE CREW. And a captain and a 2nd in command is supposed to Agree on stuff, 2nd in command can make all the corrections and adjustments needed but its a thing in Star Fleet where 2nd in command is supposed to ultimately have the captains back even if the captain in question is Wrong.

Everyone is upset and everything is dicey at best.

Kirk and Spock dont write a report yet, they call the admiralty and tell them what happen. No lies, completely truth. The admiralty basically say all the stuff Spock says and they can’t afford to give the Klingons an inch and Kirk didnt… actually violate the prime directive, not the spirit of it. He didnt introduce himself to the tribes as a Star Fleet officer, he didnt accidently nor purposely leave any futuristic tools or weapons to be found. He didnt try to influence the culture, at all. The only thing that happened was that the tribe accidently saw the ship saving Spock.

So, grimly, the admirals have it where Kirk and the crew lie in the reports. The mission succeed. Completely. The Klingon ambassadors, nor anyone else not even by word of mouth can ever find out about this and because its not recorded or on paper in any way it and it Did Not Happen. There's a lot of political tension at the moment and this was a huge stunt that Kirk pulled and he took the blame like he said, so he’s demoted on the spot, and his last moments as captain was Spock, publicly, ripping him a new one. The rest of the movie happens.

I’m just- this is just 2 things. Legit, it doesn't even change the movie but I’d feel so much better about kirk if it went like this or something like this and IM SO BITTER These movies could've been SO GOOD and had so much potential and so much Good Shit and they Ruined it! I couldn't even bring myself to watch the 3rd one. Anyway, Thanks for coming to my ted talk

#aos star trek #star trek into darkness #star trek #Ramblings #jim kirk #spock #Full respect to the thing Spock and Nyota have going on i get it its a good ship #but... nyota is Gay #Spock is Gay #personal headcanon #u know how it is

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ohgoddard · 4 years ago

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Fist of Fire: Omega. 1-2.

I cease to exist once the helmet comes on. In its close hold on my face I find solace in myself. The pointed bronze acts like an arrow, guiding me towards those who need me. And I am always in need. The woman of steel, come to save the day. Of course, they don’t know I am a woman. Such is a secret I must keep. Funny, considering the identity and anti-vigilante laws in place. But I get by on a little technicality. See my dad… nevermind. Best keep those thoughts out of my head. Like the several punches I am taking right now. Every fight I get into starts and ends the same way. Well, it might change depending how much I care about it. Right now, several goons are swinging at me like drunk idiots while I stand still motionless, arms crossed.

“Boss.. I..I don’t think that we can take ‘em on like you said.” said a modestly muscular goon. I like that word, goon. I don’t think its used much nowadays. I really need to stay on topic, its going to make this book I'm writing in my spare time very hard to read. Anyways, I'm standing in this abandoned warehouse, several goons- er henchmen- are unsuccessfully punching and kicking me while I stand there. A good 6 or 7 of them. Dressed kinda goonishly, with the whole long-sleeves and beanie setup. They were here moving drugs and beating up some cop who found out, which added to the cacophony of the voices I heard. Their boss stands above them, a man dressed like a pimp from the 70s, white fluffy suit and all. I really liked his leopard print tophat and cane, I think it really tied his outfit together. Oh, right. He was very un-carefully cramming piles of money and bags of cocaine into a duffle bag. “BOYS! WHITE THUNDER AIN'T BEEN CAUGHT BEFORE HE AINT STARTING NOW!”

Now, a really good and proper hero would have solved all this stuff really quickly and would dispatch all in the warehouse then go onto the next crisis somewhere in the city. But I am no proper hero so I just started laughing when he said his name. “White Thunder!? Seriously?? That's the name you chose?” I sat down, I was laughing so hard. The goons and Mr.Pimp himself stopped and looked on. Which only made it funnier, as then I got a better look at him. In addition to his white robe, which was a bathrobe upon closer inspection, he was wearing all white jeans and an undershirt like a backstreet boy turned waiter. And the cowboy boots, oh the cowboy boots. They were PAINTED WHITE. Oh I haven’t had a good laugh in days.

“No OnE!” His voice cracked by the way. “No one makes fun of White Thunder!” Then he pulled a gold handgun from his dufflebag and shot me.

When I first got my powers, it was not a welcome day. I was attending the… an event. It was a happy one. I went with my dad, on one of his few days he could smuggle away for me. Though, if I knew then what I know now, I would have never bothered him. It must have killed him to sit in that chair and make idle conversation with me...poor choice of words. He and I were sitting at a table, and I remember the atmosphere was amazing. I was telling him all about my friends, the dog I got at my apartment, the engagement. So much was going right until it went wrong. And it really went wrong. Someone found out who he was, who I was. Made him…

Doesn’t really matter. I ended up with his powers. Powers I didn’t want, powers I didn’t know he had. Then they shot my dad right in front of me.

I hope that explains what I did next. Why I stopped laughing and launched from the floor and grabbed the throat of White Thunder and threw him into the concrete floor of the warehouse. Why I relentlessly aimed punch after punch into the man, who had long since left the world of the living. One less drug dealer, who cares right? Who cares that I've just killed him? Who cares that I've done it again? That i’ll do it in the future? Oh but of course I didn’t stop there. I hunted down the goons, and I broke their legs. I didn’t kill them though, so at least I got that goin for me, y’know? No more drugs being moved in the neighborhood. At Least from those guys. There's always drugs in the neighborhoods.

Haven’t talked about the voices in a while. I heard them then, the entire time. Every second I spent on these guys and that buffoon ‘White Thunder’ was one where I wasn’t making those voices quieter. See, I'm not like every other crazy person. My voices mean something. My hearing means I hear everything everyone says. Which means every time someone is in danger and they call for help, do they call for the police? Anyone nearby? No. They call for Omega Man. Millions live in the city of Chicago. An unending choir of screaming is all I hear. Only when I wear the helmet do they go away, ironically.

Anyways I killed White Thunder and incapacitated the rest of the goons. Of course the commotion it caused, mostly by throwing one of the poor guys through a wall and bringing them back into the warehouse. Other heroes showed up. But I was long gone then. I did a few more that night, stopped a bank robbery, posed for a few cameras. But I kept my brutality in check the rest of the night. Gunshots just set me off. Kinda makes me glad they’re becoming obsolete recently.

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

“That’ll be all Kiara, thank you.” I turn my head to look at Doctor Feltmen. She was wearing a new perfume today, vanilla. Must be going on a date later. Curse these powers of mine, always invading people’s lives. Her lab coat was pressed and clean, like it is every time I visit her. My eyes look her over, though they have not much else to do. The room is blank and white, nothing to focus on but myself or her. Its probably the purpose of the room anyway. I wish she’d wear something other than the khaki pants and green turtleneck.

“You sure, doctor? I could go on for a bit longer.” My voice comes out insincere, which I’m certain she caught on to. She gives me a weak smile, full of contempt. “Our time is up, though I am looking forward to our visit next month.” Her voice comes out like a barbie voicebox. So fake. I open my mouth to get another word in, but she cuts me off.

“Session’s done, please take Ms. Keita back to her quarters.” When the door opens, I hear three heavy men walk in and take a hold of the gurney I'm strapped to and begin to wheel me out of the room.

The voices no longer bother me. The ones that scream for my help. I really chalk that up the doctor’s help. Though I wish I had better avenues to achieve this help. And not have committed what I did to land me here. Killing random street thugs is one thing. But heroes? It's so bad. Even when they deserve it. Now I get to spend my time listening to the other voices, the voices of those who are legitimately insane. I’m not insane, but when I spoke of the voices they decided I must be. I ran with it, much better than the execution I would have gotten otherwise.

When the orderlies close the door behind me and lock me in my room made of solid crystal, some BS weakness my dad had that means absolutely nothing to me, they don't bother to unstrap me from the gurney. Of course, because they are too afraid to get near me. Which, I don’t doubt. I’ve killed a few hundred people and all. And a few heroes. Heroes? They weren’t heroes. Regardless, I killed people. I flex and tear the constraints off myself and throw myself onto my not soft bed. I bide my time, waiting for the right moment. Waiting to hear something from the news channel down the hall. The news of his exploits and where he might be.

I listen for Whirlwind, the fastest man alive. Able to run seconds behind the speed of light.

The man who shot and killed my dad.

#superhero #superhero story #writing #original writing #original female character #creative #creative writing #FoF:om

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songficsbyrissi · 5 years ago

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Jealous (T’Challa x Reader) *alternate version*

A/N: I bet y’all thinking “Rissi, didn’t you already do a “Jealous” one shot? Girl what the fuck is you doing?” And to answer your thoughts, yes you’re right. I did do one with T’Challa being jealous (btw click here if you haven’t read it or you wanna reread before you read this) Anyways, I got to thinking. What if I wrote an alternate version where the READER gets jealous and how that would go down? Well let’s find out....btw I created my own avenger for this oneshot. Think of Nina as a hero like Black Widow but she’s not Black Widow. Make sure to click the bold word to see how she looks like ;)

************** “Who the hell is that?” You thought angrily. Your blazing eyes narrowed as you glared at that bitch that was holding a conversation with YOUR HUSBAND. She was getting flirtatious and it annoyed you. You were so invested in the scene before you it took the third try for your sister in law to finally get your attention. “Y/N?” You snapped out of it and gave her a fake smile. “Oh hello Shuri! What is the matter?” “I should be asking you that. You seem really upset seeing T’Challa converse with that Avenger. Do you not like Nina?” You didn’t hear her question over the grinding of your teeth. Shuri giggled into her hands. “Oh I get it! You don’t like her because you are jealous!” “I AM NOT JEALOUS OF THAT COLONIZER!” You roared staring at your sister in law with fire in your eyes and turned back to the sight of your husband and the avenger. You weren’t jealous. You just didn’t appreciate this white woman hogging your husband from his other guests and getting too touchy with him. You wanted to smack him for not noticing her advances but you remembered your poor husband is slow sometimes.

You walked up next to your husband and he immediately wrapped his arm around your waist which made you beam in content. You resisted giving her the “Suck it bitch. This is my man” face. “This is my wife, Queen Y/N.” “Oh so it is nice to meet you, my queen!” She took your hand, shaking it vigorously. “Your King is so wonderful. You have a nice taste in men, I see!” “Oh stop it.” T’Challa told her sheepishly and she kept looking him taking a sip of her wine. “King T’Challa, I’m just letting the queen know how lucky she is!” “I’m not lucky, Miss. I am blessed. Now if you would excuse us.” You took your husband’s firm hand leading him away from the woman. Tony Stark needed to speak with him so you let him go but continued to keep an eye on that Nina girl. You didn’t like her and you didn’t know why. “Tonight was fun, wasn’t it, my love?” T’Challa walked in the bedroom, fresh from his shower. On any normal occasion, you would’ve taken that shower with him but for some reason, you didn’t want him anywhere near you. You were beyond irritated with him for some reason, so you said nothing as you were removing your jewelry. “Baby?” “Yes?” You replied sharply. T’Challa came up behind you as you kept staring at your reflection in the mirror of your vanity. “Are you all right?” He questioned skeptically. “Yes I am fine, T’Challa.” He groaned dramatically, falling onto the bed. “Oh Bast, you called me by my real name! You are upset. What did I do?” You wanted to smile at his antics but you couldn’t. “Nothing.” “I thought we agree not to lie to each other.” T’Challa scolded turning you around to face him. “Come on. Tell me. I refuse to go to bed with a woman who’s upset with me because that is dangerous.” You sighed deeply trying to figure out a way to tell him how you feel without it coming out wrong. “I’m just not sure about you going on this mission with the avengers. I don’t trust them, especially that Nina. She just seems so....unprofessional and does not take her job seriously. I don’t trust her around you.” Your eyes widened at the last sentence so you corrected your self. “I don’t trust her around you to have your back in combat. I fear something will happen to you because she isn’t doing her job.” T’Challa seemed to buy it. “I know you are worried about me but I will be fine. I always come out fine. You trusting everyone else does not matter. As long you trust me on that, everything will be fine.” He kisses your forehead and you smiled in response. “Ok, my love. I trust you.” But you still didn’t trust that white bitch Nina and you were still going to watch her ass. “Ehhh T seems like the type to like snow bunnies.” Erik commented as you, him, and Shuri watched the avengers sparring. Of course your husband was paired up with the white girl which made your annoyance rise, along with Erik’s unwarranted commentary. Those two were getting awfully close and you couldn’t stand to watch. You walked away from the scene with the two following behind. Shuri rolled her eyes at her cousin. “Will you shut up? T’Challa has no interest in Nina. Stop trying to annoy Y/N.” “I’m just saying! Niggas back in America, they love white bitches! Some prefer them over black women. Mind you, there’s white women EVERYWHERE over there. Here, there’s none of that! She’s exotic to the men over here.” You hated to admit it but Erik was making sense. You didn’t want to believe he was right but a part of you was believing it. Once you three reached the gardens, Shuri turned to you. “Please don’t listen to him, sister. My brother loves you with all his heart. Now I have to return to the lab.” Shuri pulled you into a goodbye hug and went on her way. You gave her a small smile before she left. “You want my advice?” “No! I do not want your advice!” You snapped, hoping it’ll make Erik and the urge to listen to him go away. Erik held his hands in defense and backed away. “I was just trying to help but what do I know? I’m just a black man just like your husband and share the same blood as your husband so I wouldn’t know shit about how to handle this. Good luck, Y/N.” He began to walk away from you and you were wrestling with what your brain was urging you to do. He was annoying but convincing. What he saying is stupid, right? Unbelievable! It’s dumb! Completely dumb! “Wait!” You found yourself yelling after Erik and he turned around, failing to hide the smug look on his face. You sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of your nose. “What do you have in mind?” Erik rubbed his hands together. “Aight so all you gotta do is get ghetto on ‘em.” Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Ghetto? I’m not familiar with this term.” Erik smiled wickedly wrapping his arm around you. “Oh you will be.”

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The next day, you tried to push Erik’s lesson in “ghetto” of your head. It was stupid and you were a queen, for bast’s sake! You couldn’t act the way Erik was telling you to act. It was completely preposterous. You were being ridiculous. You just needed to find your husband, spend time with him, and forget your foolish thoughts. When you made it to the training grounds, you didn’t find your husband or the rest of the avengers. You only found Nina on a phone call and you turned on your heel to find your man when your ears perked up at the mention of T’Challa and you hid behind a boulder. “You know I actually wouldn’t mind getting with King T’Challa though. He’s rich and black. That’s the jackpot right there. I wish his wife would just disappear and I would successfully snatch him up. Let’s just see how far I can get with her around.” Your blood got hot overhearing her words. So you were fucking right. This bitch was after your man and tried to make you look crazy. Now it’s time to take Erik’s advice. Get ghetto and whoop her ass. You popped from your hiding space and approached her quickly. She turned to you with a big fake smile on her pasty face. “My queen-“ “Nah! Nah! Save that fake shit, sis!” You shouted clapping your hands like Erik taught you to do. “Who the...uh... fuck do you think I am?! You got me fucked up!” You bent down turning your head with every word. She was stunned at your actions and completely speechless. “Your highness-“ “You got me....FUCKED....UP! BOO BOO! You aint messing with my man....BITCH! Now....” you went to remove your hoops like Erik told you to do but you weren’t wearing hoops so that was dumb as hell. You went to tie your hair in a ponytail but you already had it in a ponytail. Damn, you need to get it together. “Now I’M GONNA FUCK YOU UP, YOU COTTAGE CHEESE BITCH! BEAT THAT PRIVILEGE OUT OF YOUR CRACKER ASS!” You lunged at her tackling her to the ground and landing punches on her face. Oh yeah, you gotta say “bitch” every time you connect. “BITCH! BITCH! BITCH!” No surprise that the avenger managed to roll you over, getting on top and began choking you while banging your head. You two rolled over, kicking and scratching at each other until you felt yourself pulled away from her and she was being pulled away by a Dora. You were so focused on your anger you weren’t paying attention to who was pulling you back. “You ain’t snatching shit up, bitch! He’s my man, hoe!” You shouted as she got escorted to Wakanda prison and you pushed yourself off the person. You turned to see it was your husband. He was shooting daggers at you and you gulped nervously. “Have you lost your mind Y/N?!??!! What were you doing fighting her?!??!” He was pissed. “We were.....training?” You meant to say it as an answer but it came out as a question. T’Challa was still glaring at you so clearly your lie didn’t work. “I can’t even look at you right now.” T’Challa stormed off and you bowed your head in shame. Now that you looked back at it, it was one of the most idiotic things you’ve ever done. You’re a queen, for Bast’s sake! Queens don’t fight, especially out of jealousy. You retired to your chambers, thankful that the only people who witnessed the incident were the Dora’s. It felt like hours had passed before your husband finally made his way in your shared bedroom. You could see that the time apart gave him some time to cool down because he didn’t look angry anymore. He was more calm. You waited for him to speak first. “Why would you fight Nina? Did she insult you? Did she hit you? That is what we have the Dora’s for!” You resisted rolling your eyes and sighed instead. “No and T’Challa, I used to be a War Dog-“ He cut you off. “Yes I know that. I am reminded that multiple times. The key phrase is “used to”. You are no longer one anymore. You are a queen now. So why? Why were you fighting her?” “I overheard her saying she wanted to snatch you up because you were rich and black and I was just annoyed, really. Because she was getting so close to you and I just knew that colonizer whore wanted you. Once I heard her words......” You shrugged your shoulders sighing once again. “I just lost it.” “So.....you were jealous?” T’Challa questioned with some humor in his tone. Your eyes fell on his face and you saw his mouth was twitching in amusement. You cocked your head to the side. “T’Challa Udaku, are you amused by this?” He let a chuckle shaking his head as he took a seat next to you. “I am, just a little. I’m still mad but you being jealous makes me laugh. How are you jealous of Nina?” “She was getting so close to you and she’s a American white woman. Those women are exotic to men of this country. I don’t see why but they are. Erik was telling me he sees black men love white women back in America and prefer them and......I was never jealous of her. I just feared you would fall for her.” You confessed, feeling a weight off your chest and T’Challa placed his hands over yours staring in your eyes. “That is ridiculous, my love. I have no interest in white women. Never did and never will. I love my beautiful Wakandan queen.” He pecked your lips causing you to smile wide and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I was actually surprised you got jealous over me. I should be jealous over you. People keep telling me you are out of my league.” “Are “people” your sister and your cousin?” “For the most part.” You giggles which caused him to break into a little smile. “But other people think it too. Bast has blessed me with you.” You took his face in your hands and kissed him passionately. “Bast has blessed me with you, my handsome king and I would like to show you how thankful I am for my blessing.” You climbed on top of your husband, ready to get it on when he slightly pushed you off. “I really want to, sithandwa sam. But I have a combat meeting with the avengers.....which includes Nina.” You sighed dramatically. “I guess I should go apologize. Even though she deserved it.” T’Challa chuckled, sitting up and placing tender kisses on your neck. “Yes but the sooner it happens, the sooner I get you to myself.” You smirked seductively and exited your chambers holding hands with your husband. As you two walked the corridors, you ran into Erik and your content demeanor dropped. “Aww look at y’all. In love and cupcaking and shit! Hey Y/N! I heard you beat the white privilege out of shorty!” Erik cackled into his fist, jumping up and down in joy. “See? My advice works!” You stared at Erik with so much anger, clenching your fists tightly. T’Challa glanced at your expression and stepped back. “N’Jadaka.....stop talking. You upset her with your advice.” “Upset her??? That was solid advice!” “No it was not! It was stupid!” T’Challa hissed. “Now just apologize before she gives you what she gave Nina.” Erik let out an obnoxious laugh. “Nigga you think I’m scared of your little wife? Nigga, I’m the Golden Jaguar! I ain’t bitch made like the Black Panther! She can run up but she ain’t doing shi-“ He was interrupted from his shit talking by you tackling him to the ground and used one hand to choke him and the other to punch his face. His attempts to get up were unsuccessful. He underestimated your strength greatly. “T...help!” Erik managed to choke out through your attack. T’Challa shook his head, clicking his tongue. “I told you to just apologize, N’Jadaka. But I will help....my wife.” T’Challa went to join in and a few seconds later, Shuri appeared with her mother and they gazed at the scene in shock. Shuri began to giggle in excitement. “Yes! We are finally beating up Erik?!” She wiped a fake tear from her eye. “Dreams really do come true! Ahhh!” “Shuri, get out of there! T’Challa and Y/N, stop it! This is not right!” Ramonda reprimanded as she stood watching her son, her daughter and her daughter in law all attack her poor, annoying nephew. The Dora’s appeared almost immediately. “Queen Mother, shall we break this up?” Okoye questioned as she gestured towards the sight of T’Challa having Erik in a full Nelson on the ground, you delivering blows to his body, and Shuri kicking him in glee. Ramonda sighed shaking her head. “Just give them another 30 seconds....maybe a minute then break it up, please.”

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