#cradle of civi | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sociallyanxiouscryptid-writings · 2 years ago

Text

Found Part 2

Civilian doesn’t like trouble, but they also don’t like dead bodies, and the body they just found is very close to being dead.

Part 1

CW: medical care, waking up somewhere unfamiliar, flashbacks, discomfort with body, loss of people, vague suicidal idea, I’m not sure what else so please let me know.

Villain woke to an overload of sensations. Hot and cold, numb and agonised. His mouth was dry and his stomach panged both hungry and sick, and worst of all he felt scattered, his mind here and there, unable to settle itself inside his body and connect the dots together.

Opening his eyes was impossible, so he took a moment to calm down, to breath, to remember where he was and-

Where was he? More importantly how was he even alive to wonder that?

As Villain became more present in his body he could feel the firmness of bandages around his limbs, cradling the pain just a little, something soft and slightly too warm draped over him. He can’t be home, that was no longer a place that existed, but then where?

Slowly, painfully so, Villain forced his eyes open. The world blurred and spun at first and it took everything in him not to retreat back into unconsciousness. He blinked until he could see the off white ceiling above him, the top of the couch that he was laid on. His brows knitted together and he lowered his gaze as much as he could down to his body. His movements were fumbling and it was an effort to grab the blanket on top of him and pull it off. It didn’t up being more of a drag, his arm simple collapsing back down with the cloth in its grasp.

Looking at his own body was uncomfortable, each bruise, each cut bringing back a flashing memory with it. Villain took in a breath, looked back up at the ceiling.

It was then a faint sound came into his awareness. He didn’t know what it was at first, some time of inconsistent tapping. The frown creased his features again and he turned his head, an exhausting motion, and looked to the rest of the lounge room.

A couple of metres away a person sat in an armchair, their feet propped up onto the coffee table and a laptop balanced in their lap.

Villain’s body reacted on an instinct that was cut short with agony. He tried to shoot up, and was choked by his ribs screaming, the stitches on his torso pulling. Villain gasped, coughed, regretted everything.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Civilian said, not looking up from their computer.

Villain did not listen, why would he? He kept trying, pushing through the pain and not getting very far. Civilian sighed, closed their laptop and placed it on the coffee table when they stood, before striding over to him.

“You need to lay down,” they said, reaching out to push on his shoulder.

Villain snatched up their wrist.

“Who do you think you are to tell me what to do?” He snapped, trying once again but they reach out with their other hand and placed it firmly on his shoulder. If he were in any other state, he had a mind to break it.

“I’m the person who saved your life,” they said, effortlessly pulling their wrist free and used both hands to ease him back down. “And if you undo all my hard work I am going to be very upset.”

Villain fumed. He had no strength to fight against them as they forced him back down and the sheer audacity made his jaw tighten.

“And who exactly would you be,” he ground out.

Villain didn’t try and get back up, but not because Civilian told him to.

“My name is Civilian,” they said. “You’re in my apartment, I found you outside in the alleyway.”

No matter how hard he tried Villain couldn’t remember how he got there. Everything was mostly a blur of panic and pain and so much blood. He had honestly prepared himself to die that day, had thought he had.

Villain focussed his attention on to Civilian, eyed them over, the lack of fear, the concern.

“Do you know who I am?” Villain asked.

“Yes,” Civilian said.

Villain’s brows rose, then knitted emotions shifting and twisting.

“And you helped me? What kind of madman would do that?”

Civilian shrugged. “You were hurt, you needed help, not much more to it then that.”

“You expect anyone to believe that?”

They crossed their arms.

“It’s not a lie,” they said.

“So you just help war criminals?” Villain said, “is that what good Samaritans are these days?”

“Technically helping a person regardless of who they are is in fact what makes a good Samaritan, however that’s not what you are saying.”

Civilian stepped back until they sat on the coffee table.

“I wouldn’t exactly call you a war criminal either, that would mean we are at war.”

“Aren’t we?” Villain asked.

Civilian eyed them, shrugged.

Despite Villain’s distrust they could see no lie in them, no mask to find a crack in. This person, however unlikely, helped them purely because they could and that boggled Villain a little.

“Then I assume the heroes are on their way here to collect me?” He said, poking and prodding.

Civilian scoffed at that, a bitter distaste in their expression that surprised Villain.

“I wouldn’t call those oafs for a lost puppy. They’d probably kill it trying to find it.”

Villain subdued a laugh, both for his ribs and reputation.

“So what then, you just plan on nursing me back to health and sending me on my merry way?”

Civilian narrowed their eyes.

“You’re sounding like you don’t appreciate the fact that I saved your life. Would you have rather I left you to die?”

Villain did not answer. No, maybe, no of course not but where did that leave him? Alone and incapacitated in a city not his own, his organisation in tattered scrambles if not all but destroyed by now. How pitiful is that? Alone and taken in by a random stranger, stuck and helpless.

Civilian sighed, “look, obviously something horrible happened to you and you’re stressed and scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Villain said sharper then intended.

Civilian looked at him with an expression soft and serious. One that looked knowing, like it could see through the layers of masks and glamour he had over himself, right into the terrified little core. His smile faded, jaw tightened.

“I’m not scared,” Villain repeated a little less convincing. “I can come back from this.”

“I’m sure you can,” Civilian said. “But before you can you need to rest and heal. How about we take a break from this interrogation and get you some water and food?”

The sensations of hunger and thirst and bodily exhaustion re-emerged with a vengeance and Villain felt dizzy.

“If you let me, I will help you sit up.”

Villain repelled at the thought.

“I don’t need your help.”

“It’s that or I help you through a straw.”

Villain liked that less.

“Fine,” Villain said.

Civilian got up off the coffee table and step forward, ever so gently grabbing Villain and helping him into a seated position. It took time and effort and many sharp breaths from Villain, but they eventually got there and Villain felt dizzy, as if sitting on top of a sky scraper rather then a couch. And it only got worse when Civilian’s hand left his side, like the very ground itself was opening up and swallowing him. Villain took a breath, closed his eyes.

“You ok?”

Villain opened his eyes to Civilian standing in front of him again, a glass of water in their hands. He opened his mouth to speak but the words tumbled together as his entire attention span zeroed in on the glass. Civilian helped bring it to his mouth while Villian mostly just held onto it pretneding he was strong enough to hold it up.

The water stung against his lips, but the cool sensation against his raw throat made up for it. He downed the glass, some of the dizziness easing, a small amount of relief spreading through his body. Civilian went and refilled the glass and Villain drank that one almost as fast.

“That’s all I’m giving you for now, don’t want to overdo it.”

Villain wanted to disagree but what power did he have in that moment to change anything? Civilian could do whatever and he would have no choice.

“Is there anyone I can contact for you?” Civilian asked as they returned to the lounge room.

Many names and numbers came to mind, but as each appeared Villain crossed them off. Dead, gone, betrayed, dead, dead, dead. Villain reached the end of the list, not a single name left.

“No,” Villain said. It came out quieter then he wanted, but in that moment he couldn’t care less.

Civilian watched him, and Villain wanted to think his face was a blank slate, neutral or stoic anything other then what he knew it was. Pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” Civilian said.

Rage flared. “I don’t want your pity,” Villain snapped.

“You don’t have it,” Civilian snapped back. “You have my sympathy, or empathy or whatever, I can’t remember which is which. Losing people hurts, its simple fact.”

Villain’s instinct was to cross his arms, put up a shield and ignore the statement but he couldn’t and that left him feeling exposed.

“Who are you really? Is this some sort of ploy by the Heroes?” Villain said. He looked around, “put me in some dingy apartment to lower my guard or whatever.”

Civilian raised a brow. “Would that work?”

Villain glared.

“I am not in the mood for games.”

“And I am not playing a game,” Civilian said. “Look this isn’t the most convenient thing for me. I didn’t plan to have a homicidal asshole in my apartment but here we are, you can either accept my help or drag yourself out the door because I am not picking you up again.”

They stood and, before Villain could snap something back, went into the kitchen. Villain heard the fridge door open, the crack of a container before being shoved into a microwave.

They were right, he needed help and he couldn’t even leave by himself if he wanted to, which he did. He had no one to turn to, heroes hunting him and nothing but a random civilian who had the heart to not let him die. Perhaps, just for a little while, he will put up with this pathetic situation.

Civilian walked back in once again, still looking a little sour but none the less they plucked a cushion off the arm chair and shoved it into Villain’s lap before placing a plate of food on top. The smell of food made his mouth water instantly and it took everything within him not to shovel the steaming pile into his mouth. Instead, he looked up at them.

“What is this?”

“Reheated chicken and vegetable bake, you need to eat.”

“It smells awful,” Villain said even though it absolutely didn’t. It smelled like the best thing he had ever smelt.

When Villain looked up Civilian was trying to cover a smile, failed, and instead turned and disappeared behind the couch again.

Villain poked at the food with the fork, shifting it around watching more steam roll out. He stabbed a piece of chicken, raised it up to blow on it. The motion hurt but not nearly enough to deter him from the food. Even a bite of chicken made everything feel a little easier, like he was a little more alive.

The rest of the night went awkwardly. Eventually Villain had to lay back down, the act of sitting too much of a strain, and he had regrettably denied help, jarring his ribs on the way down. It took a good few minute for that spike of pain to subside, for his breath to come back fully.

Civilian checked his wounds later, their hands gentle and skilled. A random stranger who had taken first aid classes, how convenient.

Part 3

Tag lists

@waddlethepenguin

If you want to be added to the tag list or any other tag list including my Masterlist, please let me know.

Sorry if my writing isn’t as good at the moment, brain doing the brain things

111 notes · View notes

wonderswritings · 2 years ago

Text

When Worlds Collide 2: I've Lost Myself

Summary: In the past year, you’d suffered more than you’d ever could’ve imagined. Now, after a relative moment of peace, it seems trouble has started once more, and you’re dragged into it. The multiverse is real, and with it, possibilities of a new life.

Warnings: No Way Home Spoilers, Multiverse of Madness Spoilers, Angst, Lost Memories, Unrequited Feelings,

Pairings: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Stark!Reader (nicknamed Mel read book 1 to find out why)

AO3

When Worlds Collide Masterlist

When he’d returned to his world, he was back in his apartment, and even though nothing had changed, everything had changed. He had changed. He had a new outlook, and it was all because of her. YN Mel Stark. The fiercely loyal girl who did everything she could to save Peter. Her Peter. The multiverse is real. There are other hims out there. Other worlds. He still couldn’t believe it. But he knew it was real because he could still feel her lips against his. He could still feel the warmth he felt when the burst of her powers had surged through him. And he could still see her, even if it was a week later and she wasn’t physically with him. Currently, he was swinging though the city, dropping down into an empty alley. He changed into his civi clothes, flipping his hoodie up as he slung his backpack over his shoulder, walking out of the alley. He walked down the street that led to the one place he dreaded, following the all too familiar path. He came to a stop, flipping his bag in front of him and pulling the flowers out, wincing slightly as he set them down in front of the stone.

“I’m sorry they’re smushed, Gwen.”

He grinned slightly as he sat down, nodding.

“Though, it’s par for the course, isn’t it?”

There was a soft breeze, causing him to smile softly.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long since I last came. It uh- it’s been hard. But so much has happened. The multiverse is real. I went to this other world and I met other ‘mes’. I- I also met someone. She- she’s really sweet and protective and powerful.”

He chuckled, nodding.

“Like, super powerful. Her world is so different from ours. They’ve got wizards and witches and aliens too, apparently.”

Peter sighed softly, slightly grinning.

“I was- I was happy for the first time in a long time. And it sucks, because she’s not going to remember me should we ever meet again. But I- I hope we do meet again. I- I’d really like for you two to meet. The girl who made me happy and the girl who showed me how to be happy again.”

Peter looked up when the sky turned a dark reddish color, slightly making a face when there was a loud thundering sound.

“What the-”

He jumped up when the red faded into a flash of purple, a surge of familiarness hitting him. Peter looked around, making sure there was no one else around as he slipped his hoodie and sweats off, pulling his mask over his face.

“Sorry Gwen, I’ll be back. I promise.”

Peter swung through the city, gaining on the ever growing bright light when it disappeared, rain starting to fall, growing harder as he dropped onto the sidewalks, looking around. His spidey sense was silent, which caused him to be more on edge as he walked down the street, looking down each alley he passed when he heard it. If it wasn't for his enhanced hearing he would’ve missed it, the soft broken whimper. He followed it to a back alley, keeping his guard up when he heard it, the faint thumping of a heartbeat. He followed it as it grew louder, coming to a stop when he saw her, choking out a shocked gasp as his eyes widened under the mask.

“Mel?”

He dropped to his knees next to her, his hands hovering over her, hesitant to touch her. His heart sped up when he heard hers slow, ripping his mask off as he cradled her face in his hand, lightly tapping her cheek with the other.

“YN, YN please. Open your eyes.”

He tapped her cheek a little harder, his breathing growing frantic as he started to panic.

“Please, YN open your eyes. Please.”

Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision as he started to shake her.

“Mel, please.”

Peter jumped when she gasped, her eyes slamming open, glowing. Peter breathed a sigh of relief, whispering her name.

“Mel.”

The glow of her eyes pulsed before it faded, her eyes closing once more.

Peter was pacing back and forth, his mind racing. She was here. Here with him, laying in his bed. He had questions, the main being how was she here? But since he’d brought her here, she’d yet to wake, the steady thump thump of her heart the only thing keeping him freaking out more than he already was. He couldn’t risk taking her to the hospital, even if every part of his being wanted to, at least that way she’d get the proper care she needed. But she didn’t exist here, no record of her anywhere and that would cause questions, questions he wouldn’t be able to answer. He fell back onto his couch, leaning his head back as he rubbed at his temples, sighing.

“Oh man.”

He jumped when he heard a thud coming from his room, jumping up and running down the hall, throwing his door open, his eyes wide.

“YN?”

He stepped further into his room, looking around. The sheets on his bed were strewn about, the only sign that she’d been there.

“YN? YN where are you?”

He took a deep breath as he scanned the room, looking for any signs of YN. He started to panic, his breathing growing heavy. Was it even real? Did he just, imagine it? He moved to his bed, sitting on the edge of it, his head in his hand as he sighed, running his hand through his hair, catching a glimpse. He let his hand fall down as he leaned up, breathing a sigh of relief.

“YN.”

She was sitting in the corner, her knees pressed against the side of his desk, his hamper shoved in front of her. He stood up, walking towards her. She flinched, huddling closer to the wall, causing Peter to lift his hands, speaking softly.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

He moved so he was kneeling in front of the hamper, keeping a small distance between it and him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, promise.”

He lowered his hands when she stopped shaking, jerking his chin towards the hamper.

“Can we move this? I just want to make sure you’re okay, that you’re not hurt.”

She watched him, staring him down before she slowly nodded. Peter offered her a small smile as he gently reached towards the hamper, moving it out to the side.

“There you are. What do you say to getting out of the corner? It can’t be comfortable.”

She slightly nodded, causing Peter to smile as he stood. He held his hand out towards her, offering her a soft smile as he nodded. She looked at his hand, slightly making a face before she slowly reached out, placing her hand in his. He was careful as he helped her stand.

“Good?”

She nodded, causing Peter to nod back as he turned, gently leading her back to his bed. He helped her sit down, his eyes widening when he saw the dried blood at her hairline. Without thinking he reached out, jumping as she grabbed his wrist, stopping him from touching her. He looked down at her, seeing her eyes glowing. She shook her head, letting his wrist go, dropping her hand back to her lap.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Peter shook his head, reaching towards his nightstand for the first aid kit as he knelt in front of her. She watched him as he set it on the bed next to her, flipping it open. He looked up at her, lifting the alcohol wipe.

“Can I?”

She nodded, Peter offering her a small smile as he reached up, gently wiping the blood. Peter caught her wringing her fingers together. He cast her a curious glance, causing her to take a deep breath, looking down at her hands.

“Do you- can you tell me who YN is?”

Peter stopped what he was doing, slowly looking back at her.

“What?”

“You- you called for YN. Who is that?”

Peter bit the inside of his cheek, tears stinging at his eyes. He took a deep breath, shaking his head.

“Uhm, yo- you are. Your name is YN.”

She made a face, slightly tilting her head to the side.

“YN. My name is YN?”

“Yes.”

Peter took a deep breath as grabbed a bandaid, opening the wrapping before he gently pressed it over the cut.

“Do- do you know who I am?”

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes as she watched him start to clean up.

“No. I- I’m sorry.”

Peter looked back over her, shaking his head.

“Hey, no, no. It’s okay.”

He took a deep breath, glancing over at her.

“Do you- what do you remember?”

She sniffled, shaking her head.

“Nothing. I don’t remember anything.”

Peter fell back so he was sitting on the floor, his eyes wide as he looked up at her, muttering.

“Crap.”

Caps Tags

Everything Tags:

@jedi-dreea

@scarlett-witchhh

@cevans-winchester

@rafecameronswhore

@jennmurawski13-writes

When Worlds Collide Original Tags:

@nyx2021

@puredicks @jedi-dreea

@luvr-bunnyy

@xoxabs88xox

@scarlett-witchhh

@pancakefancake

@preciousbabypeter

@lacunaanonymoused

@shaded-echoes-recs

@multi-fandom-lover7667

TASM!Peter Parker Tags:

@preciousbabypeter

Marvel Tags:

@3leni

@vxidnik @qiqilious

@sky0401

@nyx2021

@dani5216

@ajeff855 @steph213 @23victoria

@kelseyd07

@jedi-dreea @dorks2022

@bxnnywatts @luvr-bunnyy

@sleutherclaw @thebookisbtr

@n00dlesncheese @mariaenchanted

@scarlett-witchhh @cevans-winchester @lacunaanonymoused

@rafecameronswhore @mychemicalimagines @maluisamarvelfan123

@todaywasafairytale07

@jennmurawski13-writes

@multi-fandom-lover7667

#when worlds collide #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #marvel x reader #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader

50 notes · View notes

dotthings · 11 months ago

Text

Corporal Bradley of regiment five And proud array standing by the bathing Soldiers and the stevedores We laid on the mattress and tumbled to sleep Our eyes align, swaddled in our civies Cradled in our dungarees

But You My brother in arms I'd rather I'd lose my limbs Than let you come to harm

Should we tell fandom about Siegfried Sassoon and David Cuthbert Thomas tho

I called him, once; then listened: nothing moved: Only my thumping heart beat out the time. Whispering his name, I groped from room to room. Quite empty was that house; it could not hold His human ghost, remembered in the love That strove in vain to be companioned still.

But even if someone were still willfully stubborn enough to ignore all brothers-in-arms can encompass, since ancient epics like Gilgamesh and Enkidu, Jensen is still here with an assist when he said Cas was "not only" a brother-in-arms.

How many times have I said it's not just brothers-in-arms. How many times have I said, and others have said, brothers-in-arms does not preclude other kinds of love. WE HAVE BEEN SAYING THIS HAVE SOME OF US NOT BEEN SAYING THAT.

lolol don't mind me I'm having a Moment about that particular point.

#Destiel

75 notes · View notes

captainpains · 4 years ago

Text

The Baby (Fives x reader)

Fives with a baby... That's all I'm gonna say...

Warnings! Gn AFAB reader (because of like one throwaway line), swearing, mentions of breastfeeding, mentions of death, fluffy, smooches

~~~~~~~~~

"Where the hell did you get a baby?" You asked when they walked into the medbay.

That was the first thing you noticed. Not Jesse limping in, half his weight on Echo. Not the shiny being wheeled in on a stretcher. Not Hardcase holding onto what looked like a broken arm.

No, it was Fives (a man who you had a tiny crush on) holding what looked like a swaddled baby in his arms.

Fives gave you a sheepish smile as the others walked by, following the other nurses into the makeshift medbay. When he was close enough to you, he held his arms out awkwardly for you to take the bundle from him. You carefully removed the baby from his, the child squirmed but did not open his eyes. You gave the ARC trooper a questioning look. He again only smiled wearily.

"We couldn't leave the little guy. So I figured you could take care of him until we find a more... a permanent place for him," Fives explained nervously.

"I guess. Why me?" You asked, kind of concerned as to who approved you to watch a baby. You then looked down at the baby. His eyes were open, looking at you while reaching his little arms up to your face. Then you looked back to Fives.

"You mentioned you had experience with younglings. I figured you were the best option," he rationalized, scratching the back of his neck.

In reality, Fives just wanted an excuse to talk to you more. He knew a baby was a lot of responsibility, if the holo dramas he watched were anything to go off of. He secretly hoped you’d ask for his help in caring for him. He let his eyes fall to the youngling. He was clearly awake, his hands reaching up to grab on the neckline of your nurses uniform. He was tugging down on it, clearly trying to get to your breasts. Little guy knew were his meals came.

“I think he’s hungry,” the ARC pointed out.

You looked down to see your boob nearly out your shirt from the child’s yanking. You gently removed his hands from your shirt. Then you moved to a create that held supplies specifically to help civilian families. After digging around for a minute, you pulled out a bottle of formula. You shook it gently and popped the lid to the container. You put the nipple of the bottle to the baby’s mouth, who happily began to drink.

“If you need help with him, I’ll gladly volunteer,” Fives mentally face palmed. Apparently, he was abysmal at talking to people he liked without flirting. You were not the flirting type, at least he didn’t think so.

“Well, thank you. I’ll let you know if I need anything,” you gave him a sweet smile. Then, in a move that surprised even you, you moved closer to him. The ARC opted to stay still, curious to see what you would do. You leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, it was so fast either of you were sure it happened.

“I’ll keep that in mine.”

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

Later that day, Fives visited you in in the medbay. He wanted to make sure you were alright with the baby. Some of the boys teased him about it, saying something about a civie nurse making him go brian dead. But he brushed off the teasing. It was easy for him to do while thinking about your soft smile and bright eyes. He loved how kind you were with his brothers, always taking care of them. You’d even held the hand of a dying man -- a man you’d never met before -- so he could have some comfort in his last moments. Fives was pulled out of his thoughts when he walked into the makeshift medbay. You were pacing back and forth, rocking the baby in your arms, singing a lullaby in your native tongue.

“Am I interrupting?” He asked, jokingly.

You looked up at him and grinned. He was out of armor, which was rare when the 501st was on a mission. You always did love the way blacks looked on him. You bit your lip to suppress a smile.

“No you’re not,” you said simply.

“I just came by to see if you need anything.”

“We’re good.”

“You sure?”

You nodded and looked down at the baby. He was beaming up at Fives, his chubby little arms reaching up for him. You moved closer to the ARC, a question in your eyes. You positioned the baby, ready to hand him off to Fives.

“I think he wants you,” you offered him the child. He hesitated for a moment before he took the child, cradling him in his arms.

“Hello, ad’ika,” he smiled down at the child.

“He really likes you,” you pointed out, taking a step back to appreciate to image.

“I think he really likes you, too,” he replied. “I would know he told me.”

“Really? Did he say anything else?” You asked, stepping closer to him again.

“He said that you are very beautiful and smart.” Fives didn’t notice that he was leaning in.

“Well how about you tell him thanks for me,” you smiled.

“Will do,” he replied.

And then he kissed you.

#arc trooper fives x reader #arc trooper fives #clone trooper fives #ct-5555 #tcw fanfiction #star wars

78 notes · View notes

clonesandmoans · 5 years ago

Note

I just want Kix to lay his head on my lap and fall asleep as I gently run my fingers through his hair

“I’m sorry, ner nau.. did you say something?”

You hum thoughtfully under your breath and continue raking your fingers through his hair as you scan the next line of the novel on your data pad. It’s quiet here. The only other sound in the apartment is that of your deep breathing and Kix’s sighs of contentment as he turns on his side and nuzzles his face into your stomach.

Peace.

“I said something about how kriffing annoying this book is-” You mutter. “It’s taking forever to get to the good part.”

He lifts the hem of your shirt, thankful you remain oblivious to his intentions, and presses a kiss to your naval. “Every story has to have a build, sweetheart.” He whispers. Kix grins as you squirm beneath his touch and roll your head downward to glare at him. “Some of the best love stories start from the beginning.. then there’s the build up.. and then-boom.”

Kix mimics an explosion with his hands.

“What’s the boom?”

“Unresolved sexual tension, pining... a medic falling for the loveliest civie in the galaxy,” You cradle his head in your hands and lightly scratch at his nap as he surges upward to kiss you. “A story for the ages.”

#K #mom™️#soft sunday #Kix

60 notes · View notes

artthatgivesmefeelings · 2 years ago

Photo

Henryk Siemiradzki (Polish, 1843 - 1902) Taniec wsrod mieczow, 1887

#Henryk Siemiradzki #Henryk Hektor Siemiradzki #transport me to another world #art #fine art #classical art #mediterranean #europe #cradle of civi #beautiful art #Taniec wsrod mieczow #female nude #western civilization #poland #polish

200 notes · View notes

johnschneiderblog · 6 years ago

Photo

The cradle of the Civil War

On Tuesday morning we took a National Park ferry ride to Fort Sumter, in Charleston Harbor, where the Civil War started.

As you know from your American History class, South Carolina was the first state to secede from the Union, in 1860.

April 12, 1861, 4:30 a.m., the Confederates at nearby Fort Johnson attacked Fort Sumter, which had been created to defend the U.S. from foreign invaders. Federal troops defended Sumter for 34 hours but ultimately surrendered. The Civi War had begun.

The photo shows the view of Charleston Harbor through a Fort Sumter canon portal.

#John Schneider #Civil War #Fort Sumpter tour #Charleston harbor

3 notes · View notes

bearryallen-blog · 7 years ago

Text

love at first sight? || [ john constantine ]

A/N: hello love, thank you for the lovely compliment since i love them. it makes me feel like i'm doing a good job of writing, so i hope enjoy everything i do put out nonnie. reader is loosely based on my magic oc for a fandomless rp so, i hope that is okay. but i love writing johnny boy though that seems a little obvious aha. no gifs belong to me as they belong to their respectful owners, please tell me if you want yours put down. requests are open, feel free to send them in. masterlist / / what i do and don't write.

anonymous requested: Hello hello!! Really love ur writing so far and I'm looking forward to seeing everything else ur gonna put out! Can I request one where constantine is on a job or something and he's about to die but is saved by kickass reader? And its love at first sight for him please? Thank u so much ^-^

John Constantine was the man who had perfected the bad idea as everyone would say who knew him. Well, to say the least they weren't wrong about it. Especically since he had a bad habit of getting himself in the worse of ideas. But hey, what would you do if you had to deal with demons and supernatural almost everyday of your life? Oh, and about that bad ideas John always had? Well, today just happened to be one of those days where he was almost dead.

"C'mon on now chaps, we can work this out." The blond says as the demon had picked him up from the collar of his white button up and part of his red tie so he was dangling off the ground, "Let's be civil about this. You're making a bloody mistake about this, I'm warning you." He gives a sheepishly grin as the demon and his companions just stare at him.

The demon almost drops him but it was to just scare John, "Hmm. Civi? You? Ha! Think you're some funny guy eh, Johnny boy?" He grunts at him while the comapions laugh and mock along with for a good while before the demon became serious. "Quiet Alastor and Amduscias!" He barked at the two who start to quiet down as he looks at John, "It will be so enjoyable when your rotten soul goes to hell. So long Constantine." The demon says as he drops John to where he would've met his fate, but of course things never go to plan when it's with John.

It was a protection pentagram that had broke his fall to his ultimate death before it faded to let him land safely on the ground. That was odd, John remembered his powers not working for some reason but it glowed a orchid color as he props himself with his elbows to see what or who did it. His eyes meet up with you, he didn't see you before this whole mess began. And wow, you looked stunning to say the very least in John's eyes.

You lock eyes with the three demons as you let the similar gem that was part of the choker you wore around your neck that held some of your magic as you had paid no attention to John who was looking at you. Your eyes began to glow the same orchid color as before, raising your hands to make a abjuration similar to Zatanna's that she had taught you, "Suus 'vicis ut tibi. Ad inferos quo tu egressus es!" You shout out as you activate the spell to bring the demons back to hell.

John watches as you brought the demons back to hell and hurries over to catch you before you collapse to the ground, he was still pretty impressed. He was curious if you were also a homo-magi as well since you seemed to have strong magic through your veins. "I got you luv'. I got to hand it to you, thanks for saving my ass. I'm sure I was goner if you hadn't shown up." He says as he looks at you closely before you turn your head over to John.

From your H/C hair that was cradled on the back of your head to your lovely S/C skin complexion that looked so soft to the touch and could break to your E/C eyes who was looking at him. "Mmm. Don't get used to it, you're John Constantine right? I've heard of you from Zatanna." You say as you got up with help from John.

"The one and only, to what I owe the pleasure of meeting of someone such as yourself?" He purred a bit since he was very much interested in you while you looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

You smirk a bit at him, "Flattered but you can thank Zatanna. How about you buy me a drink, hm?" You say as you stroke his red tie and pull him closer to you, "Do a little chit chat and who knows, maybe even more." You wink at the occult investagator.

#dc comics imagine #constantine imagine #john constantine imagine #dc comics x reader #constantine x reader #john constantine x reader

34 notes · View notes

thanidiel · 7 years ago

Text

Choices

Prompt 11: World Building, First Person What if World of Warcraft took a different turn with its inspiration? What if the game was actually based entirely around science fantasy, particularly cyberpunk? I was a cheesy bitch and did The Modern AU(™). For a long piece, use what skills you’ve learned and practiced to narrate AS your character in this different world.

What would their occupation be? What is the world like? Factions? Races? Conflicts? Try to write about a normal or abnormal day for your character in this world—is their name different too? Write in your character’s perspective, and take on a very in-depth look of a different personality and worldview.

[I was very cheesy and went balls deep into a Modern AU story to exercise a more modern narrative style. Lots of references to others and events from World of Warcraft roleplay or Thanidiel’s background, try to catch them all. alsoimsorrythiswassolong.

Mentions: @jessipalooza @stormandozone @captainswingbeard @azriah @immunologist @kinari ]

“Alright, alright. Just, shut the fuck up for, like, I don’t know, an hour. Ethan, cradle your beer, you’re good at that. Elena… I don’t gotta tell you shit.

Let’s start with… the beginning.

So, let’s just get this shit out of the way. Auberry, up in Fresno County, California. Small-time fucking town. My dad was a new recruit to the police department, there. First-generation son to some Lithuanians that couldn’t read shit for English. My mom is a Mono Indian, from the Big Sandy Rancheria next door.

1990, Dad knocked her up when she was in town. I was the result, that she passed right back to Dad. Grew up happy without her, ran around just fine with myself, my Staffordshire, Ted, and all of the neighborhood backdoors left open. Grandparents were out of the picture by then, and Dad had shit hours, so it was up to the Abuelas and Grandma Sallys. Suited all of us just fine.

One day, Dad gets shot up breaking up a domestic dispute. I was six. And as much as we all want to think about those crazy stories up on Reddit and Facebook, no one fucking walks away from a hunting rifle. His coworkers stopped by, took me to the tribe headquarters in town to figure out what to do with me. Off to Big Sandy they sent my ass. I hear the Grandma next to us took Ted.

As much as I want to say things got more chill from there, it didn’t. See, my mom was half-white, already. Mix that with some straight-out-of-Europe dude, and you get a blue-eyed blonde haired kid running around with the Mono. Mom didn’t want me either, and she made that damned clear to the elders, so I was back to being a community effort on a new Grandma’s sofa.

Bless Grandma, she tried. Fed me. Taught me a handful of Monachi. Taught me how to fucking read and write English. Driving, eventually. Hooked me up with a new dog too when I got there, Tamuapaya, albino-assed thing. All of the good parental shit you’re supposed to do, with everything she had.

I ended up as black of a sheep as it gets, though. Scraped with the other kids whenever we crossed each other, dogs got in on it too. Adults couldn’t fucking stand me outside of Grandma ‘cause I didn’t think they deserved anything but lip. And, let me just say, it’s fucking awkward when you realize you’re a fag, hours out from a real city. I was never really accepted with them outside of cook-outs, but that was when you had to take everyone registered in the tribe.

Eventually, I get old enough to start itching to work. So I start the uphill battle of doing the most shit possible small-jobs for the most shit payout for these folk, and as you two know, I am stubborn as fucking shit about my work. So I did every bit of work they pissed at me, with fucking excellence.

Then that got too small when I was like, fifteen, and wanted some real fucking cash. The other black sheep got me then, and let me know it was easy money running drugs between us, peeps at the Casino, Auberry, and Fresno. Next thing I know, I’m sitting in a truck bed heading to Fres’ at 1 A.M. in the morning to pick up with them.

Didn’t take long for Grandma to figure out I wasn’t running off to catch friends at Auberry. She switched me more times than I can remember to try to beat it out of me. Didn’t work, and she didn’t have any full-on proof to get others in it, either - hid the FUCK out of the cash and what we were distributing.

So, eventually, I’m like… seventeen? And I’m passing crack to this military guy visiting relatives in Auberry and wanted some fun up by the Casino. And when he puts the cash in my hand and I put the bag in his, he doesn’t tell me to fuck off. He gives me a good look, asks how old I am, I tell him, and he asks me what the fuck am I going to do out here for another seventy years. I don’t even get to answer when he tells me I should get the fuck out of here, go talk to a recruiter at Fres’.

That got me thinking, so a year later, I’ve found all of my documents and shit in Grandma’s house. I have a pile of cash. And I want to get the fuck out of this shithole. I stuff it all into my backpack, I go with the boys to Fres’. I dump off all of my shit into Christian’s bag; free myself of it. I take a bus to get my ass right to the opposite end of the city. Spend my night in a homeless shelter with my backpack underneath my shirt and sweater, my arms wrapped around it, sleeping on my stomache, and a switch under the extra jacket I was using a pillow.

Next day, I get a free gym trial. I shower and make myself look as respectable as I need. After that, I open up a Bank of America and drop the eight-k. I had into my first savings. I keep three-hundred on me, I grab some Burger King, and I make my way to the Army recruiter.

Guy helps me get set up because it’s like the third time in my life I’ve done paperwork excluding the bank, which did like… everything, for me. After that, it’s floating between the shelter, gym, and getting odd jobs helping at taquerias and panaderias, with their dishes or pushing garbage and carts around for a month. Taking all of those damned test and then waiting for them to process. Grabbed an iPhone 3G during the wait, that was pretty cool.

Fort Jackson for a year, as it goes. Nothing significant in the grand scheme of things; shit was fresh hell, but nothing I couldn’t handle. For the most part. Met Casey there. My age. Actually graduated H.S., attending community nearby for sports medicine. It would still be another two years before fags could be open in the military, but we… got together. When we could. You could—… it was dating. We started dating when I was in B.C.T. And made it work after that.

After basic, I get hauled off all over the place. Okinawa, Hawaii, Ansbach. Mid-2011, they let us be out and loud in the U.S. military. Bad move for my career, but, first thing I did when I took my leave is fuck Casey and ask her to marry me. No ring or any big romantic gesture, we didn’t work like that. She said, yeah, sure. The process went underway, it’s all done by the time I’m heading back to like, Fort Irwin.

We’re separated for a while, then, like, she graduated, because she was a lot fucking smarter than me. And she started living with me on base. Which is fucking awesome. It’s not what I asked for, because she had all of this potential to work with back at home. But, hey, she wanted to travel too. We had our years, we were fucking twenty-years old. I let her come.

So we fucked around in South Korea, Alaska, Italy, it’s almost a blur after everything. Eventually, I get put out in Camp K.A.I.A. in Afghanistan. She’s back in Kansas, ‘cause, naturally, they’re hesitant on letting me drag a U.S. civy out there of all bases. It’s seven months into my deployment, she wants to visit and I let her.

April 28th, 2014. I took her out, a bit south of the airport in city proper for a meal, in the early morning. We were eating lamb korma with turnips— I still can’t fucking handle smelling and eating lamb. Or any soft fucking food: deuces to mashed potatoes and bolognese. God.

So we were eating—… we were eating that. And there was an airplane with a fucked engine that had been making its way towards the airport. It didn’t get close to the runaway. It veered and dropped, right into the city. The wing went right through our building.

I was sitting northward. She was sitting southward. My mind slowed down time, and I watched the way all of this debris and broken cable and a fucking airplane slammed into her back. She hits the table and it’s shooting off. All I see is blood and curry everywhere, then it hits me, too.

I wake up in the hospital two days later. My head feels like shit because my brain got ping-ponged. A sheet of metal opened up my torso from collar to hip, and a piece of flying drywall smashed my right cheek and orbital socket. They couldn’t save the eye. The ceiling falling after meant some heavy shit landed onto my left hand. They couldn’t save that either. And they couldn’t save Casey. She died on contact.

—I’m fine, by the way. Just pass over the whiskey. I’m not finished.

Cutting that long story of recovery short, I stabilize. They get to Landstuhl in Germany. Eventually, I end up back in the States. Sans eye and hand. A little ugly, now, too. Medical discharge. Sucks, but I’m hooked up with a nice prosthetic, at the least. That all takes about eight months to wrap up - not a lot of interest in keeping an uneducated, handless, soldier around.

And, you know, that’s where you come in, Ethan. I don’t think Elena knows this part about us, so bear with me. Ethan, here, was my Sergeant for a damned while. His ass phased out in ‘13. We always got along great, he kept up with us babies even when he was out. Group texts were a great invention; Snapchat groups even better. Now we both get to see all of the stupid shit the rest of those idiots are doing on deployment.

Ethan is basically like my fucking dad. So when fates aligned and I was in the Brooklyn military hospital, he started driving down from his apartment in the city, seeing me about once a week on his weekends. Then, when I was out, he offered me a place to stay, no costs. Naturally, I fucking took it. The last thing I was going to do now that I was out, was gonna walk my ass back to the Mono in that Cali shithole. Not fucking smart to be alone after the shit that had happened.

And, honestly? It worked really well. I used the time he’d be gone with his job at the nearby library to do… basically all of the adult shit I didn’t do in the military. Got my license, borrowing the car from his coworker and our close friend, Esther (nice girl, did volleyball and track for high-school and college, then decided she liked things quiet). Took the bus to therapy with a guy through the V.A., ‘till I grabbed a beat up 2009 Chevy truck from Craigslist. Eventually, started classes for a G.E.D. too. Collected my military checks, saved it all and got pocket-money with a part-time at some flower hippy’s cafe—and, you know, I never realized how fucking hard it is to make legit money in the ‘real world’ until then. Ethan, you’re a fucking saint. Like, three-hundred or whatever a week? Chump ass change compared to when I bounced with the kids in Fres’.

All of that good shit. Plus, it was nice that we both had a drinking buddy. And we both had a way of navigating each other’s bullshit well. Like, Elena, you just heard my wife-story. And you’ve heard about the fire, too. It’s not the fucking same, but it worked out that we had about an inkling of what to do when the other dude’s fucked up.

Eventually, it’s the day for appointment hell. Check up, physical therapy, actual therapy, then likely, a stop by the pharmacist. It’s like, early ‘16, at this point. And before we even get started, the doctor sits me down. Starts talking about this experimental stem-cell research, for organ implantation. Taylor says it’s not at a complex enough stage to restore my hand, but my eye and facial scars would be within the window of possibility. Gives me a card for a Brianna Lalwani-Jindal if I’m interested in volunteering for it.

I get through the day. I finally catch a meal at Jersey Mike’s, and after me and Ethan talk about it over some Coors, like if I wanna do it and how it feels fucking weird, to like, erase what happened to Casey through this, I say, sure, I’ll call. It’s like, eight P.M. She answers like four seconds before it just shoots to her voicemail. The bitch fucking slurs out like she snorted too much Vico, “—yeah, I know I’m fucking late, I’ll be there, I prooomise.”

So me and Ethan pick our jaws off the floor hearing this shit and I’m like, “Nah, Tony Dawson. Doctor Taylor Woodson at the Brooklyn V.A. Hospital referred me to you, about your research trials with the organ implantation. Lalwani?”

There’s a gasp, a lot of shuffling, and a lot of me and Ethan passing around another beer can between us. Then she really starts spilling and it becomes a game of my fucking brain trying to comprehend this Indian accent mixed with that lightspeed fucking way people from those big cities talk, like “Oh shit, okay, okay, okay. Yeah, you’ve got me. Where do you live? What are you missing? When can I meet you? Tomorrow?”

So I tell her about my fucked-up face, but really, I want to know what the fuck I just got myself into with this chick. I don’t get the chance, she blurts out over me, “Sounds great! EYE will see you later, Tony. Tomorrow. Four P.M., Just… show back at the Hospital. We’ll find a vacant office. Ciao.” Then the fucker hangs up. Eventually, we decide that I should probably text the number back, at least. My ‘See you then.’ gets back a kissy-face and ‘I like coffee.’ Subtle.

A vanilla latte and unsweetened black tea, fifteen minutes of us wandering the Hospital, thirty minutes of her talking my ear off about a bunch of medical-scientific garbage, then five minutes of us filling out all of the paperwork, and I was Bri’s new, shiny, case study.

Skipping over all of the shit she ran my face through, we’ll sum it up as: I need contacts and I fucking hate it, but she did what she set out to do. The meetings themselves, were more interesting. I don’t know if she like, fucking sensed that I’d let her get away with her shit. But I’m going to assume that, since she still has her fucking job.

It got unprofessional, pretty fast. Like, beyond what she already hit me with. I’m not sure what got into me, honestly. I hadn’t even considered another girl since the crash. But I spent our introductions looking at her like a piece of meat whenever her back was turned. First real meeting, she’s prodding me about all of my personal interests and shit in some fucked small talk, starting to get into my dating life. I take a risk and just drop straight out that I dig chicks.

She gets a bit quiet, which doesn’t make much of a difference because it’s clear already that she’s a fucking loudmouth. But she gets curious, and keeps looking at me after that the whole time I’m there. Then the meeting after that, we ended up on some fucking talk about blindfolds for some reason, and let me just say that she got a little too into that before we started talking about how, like, I needed to turn down my drinking.

So the whole time I’m letting her and the other doctors Frankenstein my face, there is sexual tension to cut with at every goddamned interaction to be had. It never gets anywhere, because neither of us are fucking stupid. But, just, Jesus Christ.

Cut to a year later at the end of 2016. My face is put back together. Getting used to fucking contacts, getting used to checking my emails for interview requests out of the wazoo for five-hundred documentaries and news sites, after her team’s paper on me came out. By all accounts, I’m looking good and so is the implant. She’s onto new volunteers, my appointments are getting passed to another doctor on her team and stretched out to semi-annuals. That should be the end of the story.

But, uh, couldn’t get her out of my head, frankly. Not for a lack of trying, either. By now, I was really amping the weights at gym to try to get my energy out. Quit the hippy cafe and lined up a new job in armed security. Did my registration for online classes at the community, for a Statistics program. Eventually, it’s like, I don’t know, two months, after the last time I saw her. Ethan drags me out to a bar. Ethan fucks off. I meet a girl, some rich one, named Valencia. We get to talking, for like, fifteen minutes. Next thing I know, I’m texting Ethan I’ll show up later and I spent the night at her place.

It’s fucking great, Valencia’s fucking great. But I’m texting Bri the next afternoon at Starbucks that I want to see her that goddamned night. She shoots me the address of another bar, says to bring friends. Naturally, that means I tag in Ethan and Esther. We show up, she has good ol’ Elena here.

Everyone clicks just like that. And that’s fucking great. Lots of material to work through, especially when Bri started going on about how she and Elena met; some wild case when she was a med. student and the Roma communities in the whole state were having outbreaks. Apparently Elena helped with her outreach a lot, a sort of guide between worlds. Then the two quiet girls started going on about their herb gardens, not to even mention all of the stupid military stories me and Ethan had. We hung out for a long ass while. Eventually, we’re all back at Bri’s place. And our BOI Ethan, here, finally communicates what’s up to you and Esther. So Esther ‘takes you two out to for fast food’ and out of our hairs.

Shit takes even shorter than Valencia. Bri locks the door, we fuck. Then I wake up in the morning, wake her up for another fuck. We sleep around, get some take-out for a late… brunch… hang out, I end up taking her with me to that huge football party Tim was hosting and meeting up with the whole friend group. Then it’s just straight back to her place for a repeat performance.

So, basically, it went from zero to like we had always been fucking dating. I practically moved in with her after the first two weeks. I know all of my stuff ended up in there by the fourth month. Then we put me on the lease entirely sometime during the seventh month when she was renewing it. It all flowed natural as shit too, I didn’t even know how ‘fast’ we were going ‘till about the third time I was throwing shit I needed into boxes to toss at Bri’s and Ethan called me the fuck out when he asked: I just said it’s convenient with how much closer to work she is.

And I know a lot of people were, and still do, giving me shit about it, or just about the whole relationship in general. Apparently we talk too hard at each other and act too casual for it to be serious. Looks like some sorta fling, especially considering our ‘differences’ as people put it. You know, racist people, or people who think I’m fucking stupid ‘cause I got a gun in the drawer.

But lemme just say that I think it takes some real fucking balls in a person, where the first time she ever woke up to me having a PTSD episode, is to slide her ass out of bed, rummage through my coat for my medication, and slap my benzos in front of me with leftover tea and a Crunch bar. All without a single word. It takes real balls, any other person, after getting that from her, is just a discount bitch.

It’s not all her pampering me, either. I realized quick she’s a ‘talker’ with her research. If she isn’t with one of us, she’s locked in the bedroom with a stack of journal articles and a Macbook talking off Luke’s ears like he can fucking bark back. So I started reading everything she had and really going over her team’s paper on me, plus whatever the fuck else her scholar databases had, and a lot of Dictionary.com. And, one weekend, she’s complaining to me over coffee and tea about her shit, I pop that shit right back at her, her jaw drops, she probably shits herself a little. And, from then on, I’m her new interactive rubber duck. And people think I’m fucking dumb.

I mean, not to mention all of the random shit I pay for that bitch, with all of the money I’ve been getting lately between disability, financial aid, and work.

So, we’re basically to the present now. There isn’t much detail to fill in after that besides that life is pretty fucking great and Bri is pretty fucking great, from then to now, the middle of Year of Our Lord, 2018. Which takes us to the crux of this whole ass speech I’ve been going on.

Now you two know my life-story. What I wanna know, now that we’re all open and drunk here, is your fucking thoughts on if I’d be making the best, or the worst, decision of my life if I asked her to hitch with me. I’ll be fucking real; I don’t fucking know what it’s like to make a good choice besides like, I don’t know, where to buy my graphics cards.”

I watch the two shitfaces in front of me process what the fuck I just said. Elena brightens like the Irish daisy she is, pressing her hands together, abso-fucking-lutely wiggling in her seat. Her purple scarf slides off the back of the chair in the process. Ethan is still stretched out across the whole damned table like he’s gonna pass out, with the dopiest smile stretching across his face, but as usual, he’s the ‘loud’ one of the two and starts to talk over Elena’s vague ‘Oh… oh…!’

“Dude? That’s… that’s great. That’s really fucking great. I… Man. Fucking, just fucking go for—”

“So are we just a homeless shelter now, or like, is this a reverse Alcoholics Anonymous?” The door slams shut, Luke is rushing off of the couch, and all four of us are just JEERING (barking) Bri’s name back at her, like it makes it fucking better that these idiots are still in the apartment.

“I was thinking homeless shelter and giving them the living room.”

“Cool. Maybe the floor’ll delay Ethan breaking his back another day.”

“Hey… hey, man. I ain’t that old.”

“Oh! Don’t say that - what if it does happen?”

Twiddle Gray and Twiddle Orange are both looking at me funny right now, considering what was cut into, and Bri is starting to pick that up as she’s putting her keys and shit away.

“So! What were you all talking about? Are you finally leaving me?”

“Food, actually. We were thinking that Himalayan place you like. They can eat the basic bitch shit, I was gonna grab us fried okra and tandoori.”

“I hope you aren’t expecting me to pick my ass up from the couch, now. That shit, ain’t happening. Long day working with by-the-book dunderfucks.”

The Twiddles give each a look, then, and then Ethan launches in.

“Nah… naaaaah. You know what? You sit there. You hang out. The three of us will walk down, sober up.”

“With how you made my fucking apartment smell, not sure if that’s gonna happen. But ‘kay. Have fun, leave me all alone. After I just came back from work. A l o n e.”

The three of us are already draining our waters and grabbing our jackets and wallets. I push Elena towards the door and Ethan is right after her as I shoot back at her,

“Shut the fuck up, you whiny bitch. Thirty minutes. You’d be spending it ignoring us and doing your shitty Buzzfeed quizzes anyway.”

“I mean - you’re right. But you’re still leaving me alone. Shit friends. Shit girlfriend,” she sighs, “What a shit life.”

Elena is the one pushing me through the door now by my arm, forcing me and Ethan’s fat asses into the hallway as she tries to assure Bri.

“It’ll be fast! I love you!”

“Awh. That’s cute.”

The door slams shut.

#writing #thanidiel #bricini #ithanar #elleynah #veya #taeonthrial #esheyn

24 notes · View notes