#if aphrodite was written works she’d look exactly like your writing

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter one: the briefing

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!SHIElD!reader

masterlist

summary: being a SHIELD agent, you have a knack for analysing people, particularly when it comes to attraction. you have everyone figured out, sorted away into the boxes you've created. But there's one man you can never seem to figure out, the very bane of your existence -- Bucky Barnes. On the field, he is a saint, helping you dodge bullets and taking knife wounds in your name. Around the building? Public menace number one, always poised to insult or to spar with you.

After being sent on a 6-month-long torture-cum-vacation with the very man, could all this change? Could you finally figure out what has been bubbling beneath the surface for years between the two of you, the juggernaut that you know you cannot stop?

warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of murder, dead parents, scars, trauma, implied slutshaming, mentions of guns and shooting and bombs, mentions of wanting to die, dark content, reader is implied to be bisexual (I cannot fathom not being attracted to women SORRY NOT SORRY), reader is implicitly stated to be NOT A MAN

word count: 3.4k

A/N: omg it's here! had so much fun writing this, hope you all enjoy it too! im still working out a schedule for this, as ive currently written 3 chapters and am already at about 10k words! and im currently very inspired for my own, non-fanfic WIP, so im split! hope you enjoy, and as always, let me know if you liked it! comments and reblogs are much appreciated <3

Human attraction can be sorted into three little boxes: Sexual, romantic, platonic. It is somewhat of a threeway Venn diagram, and people find themselves travelling in between the perfectly drawn circles all the time. It is a marvel to some, to be able to gauge the section in which one stands with a simple glance. It’s a gift, you’ve found, having the knack to discern between the three attractions. Which means you’ve cracked the code on people, and know exactly how to assess and engage accordingly. 

It’s how you find yourself in such a predicament as the following, quite often:

“You’re Butterscotch, aren’t you?” The voice is meek, quiet, and comes from directly behind you. You’ve just put down the weights at the gym, and have paused to take a drink from your water bottle, when you turn to assess the situation. 

Long brown hair, blue eyes. Gorgeously shy smile as she tucks a strand behind her ear. Your whole body moves, reacting to the incarnation of Aphrodite herself in front of you. You suppose you’ve always seen women that way, to be wholly more beautiful on average compared to men. It’s how you often find yourself in bed with a woman not unlike the one before you. 

She stands, slyly pushing her breasts together and leaning into you, whether it be subconscious or not, batting her long eyelashes.  Sexual attraction, then. You smile, deciding to play it cool, taking another long sip of water, silently reveling in the way her eyes stick on your wet lips. 

“Yeah, that’s me. And you, you’re Hazel, aren’t you?” You tip your head to one side in faux innocence, honing you eyes in on her in a way you know sends shivers down her spine, completely hypnotised by the way you silently call to her. She nods, surprised that you’ve remembered her from her initiation training 6 months ago. She was one of the older recruits, only two or three years younger than you, but valuable just the same.

“I’ve been following your career for a while now, and I must say I really look up to you.” Her lips twist into a grin, showing off her perfect teeth. Your own face darkens as you inject lust into it, and you watch as she tries to discreetly squeeze her thighs together. She’ll be eating right out of your hand in no time.

If she’d come to you 13 years ago, when you were just starting out, you would’ve wanted to tell her that all you are interested in is a promise of casualty. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less, but the absence of such a discussion did land you in hot water all that time ago. Now, your reputation precedes you, and you doubt there is a single soul in this building who doesn’t know your one-and-done policy. Of course, some of the agents surprise you and you have them on a staggered rotation, a new criteria you’ve introduced into your sex life once the gap between you and fresh faces widened to an immoral degree.

You open your mouth to give her a reply that will make her leave here with sticky thighs, when the most agitating, grating voice you’ve been almost tortured with for the past eight years echoes across the gym, calling to you.

“Let’s go Butterface, Fury had a brief for us twenty minutes ago. You can fuck around later.” You roll your eyes at the words of none other than James Buchanan Barnes, huffing out a breath. He’s done this to embarrass you, for sure, because you know for a fact that Fury’s briefing for the next mission is actually in ten minutes from right now. But you know if you showed up on time, he gets the upper hand for coming in earlier.

That’s the other reason you’re so famous around the building — your long-term feud with Bucky. Whenever the two of you end up in a meeting room, there are more insults hurled around than facts. You two love to spar together, finding any excuse to leave bruises on the other’s body. But the most damning thing? There is no better team than the both of you out on the field, your missions always resulting in the lowest casualties and highest success rates SHIELD has ever seen. It’s an eternal mystery, but to the two of you, it is clear enough. You are enemies, holding the dagger of sharp-edged insults to each other’s throats, but on a mission? It must all be put aside for the greater good, for the safety of others. The remarks are snarky but non-distracting, and you’ve jumped in front of a bullet for him more times than you would like to admit. But it doesn’t matter, because he has endured several injuries for you in turn as well. 

You redirect your attention back to your self-sacrificial prey for tonight. “Well, if you need me, I’ll be available at my room on floor 13 at around ten.” You lean in to whisper into her ear, and drag a less-than-innocent finger down the side of her neck. “I can give you a few more ways to look up to me, if you’d like.” The lower octave does something to her, and you watch her eyes flutter shut as she realises you’ve gladly accepted the silent offer she was handing you on a silver platter. 

You chuckle, at how easy it all is. And then spin on your heel, marching back to begrudgingly follow behind the tall brunette who seems to have a permanent scowl on his face whenever he’s in the same room as you. 

He leans back against the cool metal of the elevator that will send the both of you to the top, arms crossed across his broad chest. If you didn’t hate his guts, you’d absolutely suck him dry, right here right now. It’s no surprise that he is the most beautiful man in the building, but his attitude and mannerisms have long turned you off from him.

You poke the bear.

“What happened, Barnes? You mad nobody’ll fuck you?” He turns to you then, blue eyes blazing. And it only makes your shit-eating grin widen.

“Why would I ever be mad at that? I’m mad because we have to go on a mission, and when I come to get you, you’re busy planning on how to… spend your night. Again. At this point, if they’ve got a pulse they probably meet your standards, don’t they?” He smiles cruelly, and you don’t miss the implications. But you don’t care. If you were a man, they’d be singing your praises in the streets. So why is it different now?

“If they have a pulse? Well, if that were the case, then you…” You let your eyes wander up and down, and you notice his hard shell cracking when you meet his eyes again. You smile widens and you feign a blush, and he begins to smile, thinking he’s got you. And then you throw a grenade into whatever fantasy he’s spinning in his head. “Would be dead.” Your voice has never been more cold, observing the way his shoulders slouch in something akin to disappointment.

This is his kryptonite that you love exploiting, so much. The man is wickedly attracted to you, and is equally as horrid at hiding it. You have no idea what kind, though. Which box he fits into. You’re certain it’s not platonic given the way he talks to you. The longing glances and delicate touches after missions where you end up injured had turned you towards romantic, but you know there is no denying the way his eyes drift to your cleavage when you spar, or the way his hands immediately find your hips when you best him in the ring and end up straddling him. There is no box you can put him in, and it drives you up the damn wall.

You briefly wonder what the two of you would be doing in this elevator right now if you were as attracted to him and either of you had made it known. 

The elevator pings and the both of you break the burning, seething eye contact as you file into Meeting Room 17B.

“Right, before Barnes’ dick explodes at the thought of me fucking a woman, what’s the mission chief.” Barnes has the nerve to blush, sitting in the chair opposite yours, both facing the head of the table with a monitor where Fury and Stark both stand.

“Did your mother never teach you the difference between professional and casual?” He fires back, and you grin sadistically, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back.

“She’s dead, Barnes. Have some decorum, and maybe a modicum of respect?” His face falls, knowing he’s crossed a line, but if God Himself came down and told Bucky to apologise, he’d shake hands with the Devil. “What about your father then?” He is frantically searching you for any sign of hurt or discomfort that he can exploit, you can tell by the way his eyes stick to your every feature.

“Hard to when you’re in prison for murdering your wife and attempting to murder your child.” You turn to Stark, knowing you’ve rendered him absolutely speechless. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his mouth close and open like a fish, gasping for some air. Pathetic, really, but well-deserved. In all these years, you’re surprised it took him this long to blame your upbringing, often opting to attack you as a person directly. But you finally got to play the cards you’ve kept close to your chest, a sick and twisted punishment. That means that you win, today.

“Thats 236 for Butterscotch, and Barnes is still on 220,” Tony mutters, and you can’t hide your competitive side that comes out.

You turn to him, tutting. “Keep up, Barnes. I thought you were better competition than this. Pathetic.” You’re shaking your head in mock disappointment. A blood-tinged vignette passes around in the back of your mind, but you try your best to not let it show.

The arguments between you and Bucky as so well-known to get out of hand, the Avengers started keeping score, refreshing each year, of who won the argument. This is strictly judged based on how the final retort leaves the other unable to think of a comeback. You’ve bested him 236 times already, and it’s only February.

“You didn’t tell me about your parents,” he grumbles, cheeks pink in humiliation. Why is he backing down so easily today?

“I don’t owe you shit, Barnes. Especially not about my life before I got here. Sorry, Fury, should we start the briefing?” You divert the attention back to the matter at hand, feeling like maybe you went a tiny bit too far by calling him pathetic to his face. 

Since when have you ever nurtured a soft spot for him? Well, you are certainly not going to be starting today.

With both of your mouths shut and eyes attentive, Fury begins to speak.

“We need the two of you to go undercover. We have intel that Senator Parker may be dealing with copious amounts of methamphetamines, involving using his house as a lab and distribution centre. He often targets teens of ethnic backgrounds to carry the drugs and deal them in exchange for cuts — he chooses them this way so they would almost immediately go to prison, and nobody would be let off scot-free to rat him out.” Tony flashes up several holograms of the Senator, the teens caught pressing white packets into palms, and even those who ended up behind bars, and have continued to distribute the drugs from within.

“So…why do we need to go undercover?” You ask, leaning forward in your seat so you could see the graphics better.

“Well…here is Parker’s dating history…” Why does Tony sound so reluctant as he pulls up the dating history? Why is that relevant? These are just some of the questions that swirl around your mind, and are evident in your scrunched up face.

Bucky is watching you, quietly. Observing your features, observing you. He can’t help it — the grace with which you walk, the crudeness with which you speak…it’s entrancing. And you know it. He hates it. 

Then, slowly, the pictures begin to appear — there are 17 women. Every single one of them looks like you — the same colour hair, the same colour eyes. Similar face shapes and similar body types. It’s like there’s 18 of you in the room.

“I’m a honeytrap?”

Fury is quick to speak, to protest the misunderstanding that the mission is an objectification of you. “No….well yes. We have carefully constructed a plan that essentially is built on the fact that you happen to be—“

“Exactly his type?” Bucky asks, feeling shame crawl up his spine at the realisation that he has something in common with a drug lord. You look at him as he speaks, and feel more and more confused by the second.

“Yes.” Tony continues. “We’ve planned to plant you in the same cul-de-sac that Parker’s house resides on, and Butterscotch can use the fact that she’s his type to sway him, win his trust. You’ll have to play the long game with him, he’s known to barely let anyone in his house unless he wants to fuck them.”

You feel a sickness coat your stomach. “Will I have to fuck him? Because I’d rather shoot Barnes and then myself and blow up this building.” You chew your lip nervously, all the confidence can your body momentarily evaporating. The old man might just be one of the worst people you’ve ever heard of when it comes to drug trafficking. Not to mention any sexual gratification is just you stepping into a stereotype of what he wants, that you are just another woman with the similar face that he wants to put his dick in. It makes your skin crawl, and you run your fingernails harshly along your forearm.

“No.” To your surprise, it’s Bucky who speaks up. He meets your eyes for a brief moment, before turning to Fury and Tony. “No, right? She clearly doesn’t want to, don’t tell me you’re gonna make her.” He sounds oddly protective over you here, which he has no right to be. But you can’t fight him, not over this.

“No, no, of course not. You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to. At most you’ll have to flirt with him, make him think he’s going to….y’know, with you. And use that advantage to sneak into his house. You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Butterscotch. You know we’d never do that to you, that it’s against our ethics and values.” You nod, relaxing in your seat while Bucky stares at the red, raw skin of your forearm. He wants to soothe it, he wants to soothe you—

“And if I’m going, obviously you’re gonna send the Sergeant with me, aren’t you?” They nod in unison. You take a deep breath, knowing you have to take it. There will be no mission more satisfying. And Bucky is much more bearable when the both of you have a common goal.

“So what exactly is our cover?” Bucky perks up. The both of you wear the suit of civility so quickly when you have to do your jobs. 

Fury scratches his neck, exchanging a nervous glance with Tony. You anticipate the answer, knowing it will not be to your liking.

“We’ve planned to plant you in the Acorn suburb in Claremont, just across the street from Parker’s residence, for around six months. It’s a nice, quaint little city, I think the both of you would like it. It’s a lot more green, and less noisy and polluted than New York—.”

“Tony,” you warn, glaring at him. He is omitting the information. Why?

“Fine! The suburbs are conservative as shit, so you’re going as husband and wife!” Your eyes widen, and you swear you lose hearing for a second as the world goes in and out of focus. You have to pretend to be married. Pretending to be in love, you could do — in fact, you could probably pass off most intel exchanges with him as lovers’ private conversations if you smile and laugh on the right cues.

But marriage? The sanctity of which has been so thoroughly, irrevocably spoiled for you? The very reason you have only ever wanted casual in your entire life, as opposed to commitment? You can’t breathe.

You try to hide your shaky hands as you reach for the glass of water, downing it and gasping for breath. All that runs through your mind is the only instance of a married man you’ve ever known, and how it ended. How you ended, body mutilated in enough scars to rival Bucky’s left shoulder, crying out for a bloodied corpse in the back of an ambulance while the paramedics did their best to save you. How you wish they would’ve failed sometimes. 

It’s too much.

“I need time to think.” You all but run out of the door, and you think the chair falls with the force of your escape, but your heart is beating too fast for you to be certain. Sweat that had dried reappears at your hairline, beading and dripping down your face. You sit on the floor, clutching at your chest as you’re bombarded by the most horrifying images that not even the strongest of sleeping pills can shake. Your eyes squeeze shut and someone is calling your name. Not Butterscotch, but the name that heinous monster chose for you when you were still in your mother’s womb.

But even that turns out to be a hallucination, your head in your hands as you hear a familiar voice call to you.

“Butterface…is the idea of being married to me that bad?” You freeze. Bucky is here, why is Bucky here? You look up to be met with him crouching by your side, Tony on the other with a hand on your shoulder, and Fury standing tall. There is not a single hint of disappointment on his face, and you’re glad.

You turn to Tony. “You know…you know what…I can’t. You know why….Tony…” His face morphs into one of intense melancholia, pulling you into him. Ever since you started working more closely together with Bucky, he’s become something of a big brother to you — overly protective and affectionately annoying.

“I know, kid. You know what? Screw this, I’ll find some other agent who looks close to you to take over with Barnes.” His voice finally calms you down, and you take in deep breaths.

You can’t win them all. You’ll have to make some sacrifices. You pull away from Tony’s arms, not even daring to glance at Bucky. He doesn’t need to see what you look like when you’re vulnerable, because you know he will do everything in his power to bring you to such a state once again, just to hurt you.

You take several deep breaths.

“No. You and Fury have said it yourself, so many times. Nobody works better with James than I do, at least not in the field. My burning hatred for him is completely personal. I— I can do it. It’s just…I probably would’ve been fine but it got brought up and it was all I could really think about and then…it just sent me over the edge. But if Barnes promises to not be as big of an asshole as he usually is, I can make it work.” You don’t even risk a glance at him.

“I won’t be. I’ll behave. Plus, you are a lot more tolerable out on the field, so it shouldn’t be so hard. Promise, it’ll all be okay.” His tone sounds so…sincere? What on earth is up with him today? You spare him a glance, and his eyes shine brilliantly blue. And you believe him.

Bucky Barnes may be an asshole, but he would never lie to you. Especially when it concerns a mission, where miscommunications and secrets have consequences for people outside the both of you. He has at least this sense of loyalty about him.

“Alright. Guess I better get packing for Claremont, then.” 

NEXT PART

[shoryubug]

Shoryubug Challenge: [Week 1/46] 2020.

So...this is a really weird thing that I do, but every week I like to challenge myself with new vocab words to attempt to make my writing more flowery. I usually keep the stuff I write to myself, but right now I really wanted to share this with others, so that maybe everyone can attempt to do this. I know it's kinda stupid to a lot of people, but it's my way of trying to stay sharp and teach myself new things! That being said, what is written below; there is no point to it, this isn't one of the planned stories I intended to write, and this is the first time that I've done this sort of thing with Miraculous Ladybug, as usually I do it with Persona, and only share this with a small group of friends. The words for this week are: chthonian, reverie, renege, heuristic, devoir, daedal, indispensable, recapitulated, aplomb, callow, and crepitation. Anyway I hope you guys like whatever it is that I write! Kinda flying by the seat of my pants here xD  --Shoryubug

The chthonian state of Paris made it obvious that an Akuma had been running rampant in the city, and while Marinette had been resting through it, waking up to a deep warmth that made her uncomfortable was not something she had been looking forward to. More often than not when she woke up due to an Akuma, it was because of loud noises or a bitter chill, it was a major difference dealing with a soft blooming heat though, so as she pushed open her skylight and pulled herself out of the hole above her bed, she couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her, though that was in part to the fact that her phone had buzzed and snapped her from the reverie of seeing the strange shade of the world around her, almost apocalyptic in nature.

>>> Have you seen Ladybug?! 

It was from Alya, of course, with a line of almost 20 other texts asking her if she knew where Adrien was if she had forgotten the plans if she was going to make an appearance at all, and of course, guilt swelled within the girl for a moment. She never intended to renege on her plans, but the price of being Ladybug had often meant that she made up for the late nights of fighting akumas by taking frequent naps throughout the day. She was almost certain that she’d set the alarm on her phone...but judging from the texts, if she had, then she managed to sleep through them...again. 

<<< No, I haven’t...if I do see her I’ll let you know!

Slipping her phone back into her pocket after responding to the text, Marinette called out to her Kwami. “Tikki...we should definitely transform now!” Upon the words coming out, Tikki had flown up from her pillow to meet Marinette on the balcony.  “I wonder what happened to make Paris look like this!” Tikki squeaked with worry.  “I don’t know, but we’re definitely going to find out!” Marinette snapped before calling on the transformation magic and whipping her magical yo-yo out to swing about the city and find her way toward anything that might have given her a clue.

It had taken a while, but eventually, she had come across something useful, less than a clue, but more of a roguish leather-clad cat hero, and one of her favorite people in the city. “Chat Noir! Boy am I glad to see you!” she stated as she fell onto the same rooftop as her partner, then setting a hand on his shoulder to gain his attention. “Do you have any idea about the Akuma?” she asked before she felt him whip her around and cover her mouth with one of his leather hands, before he pointed toward the Grand Palais, where the akumatized victim stood, gazing about the city from ground level before they began to float about. It was eerie to bear witness to the spectacle before them, and a shiver crept up Marinette’s spine before Chat Noir pulled her back with him behind a chimney and helped brace her for the impact the sound of what seemed like thunder erupted and the rooftop they were perched on began to shake.  “It’s Mireille Caquet, and from what I can gather the Akuma is in her earring...every time I get in close I can’t quite manage to land a hit in on her, is everything okay though, you’ve been missing for about a half-hour!” his tone was heavily laced with worry, and suddenly a bit of guilt washed over her. “Good job on the research! But yeah...I’m fine, after the other night when we fought against Gigantitan again I didn’t get much sleep, and then again yesterday because of some personal stuff I needed to catch up on, so sleep hit me like a train...I only just woke up from a nap due to the heat of what she did back in the arrondissement I live in.” she confessed before giving him a slight grin. “Really though what all can she do, is it just making the world split apart to look like the underworld is merging with modern-day Paris?” she asked before he shook his head.  “Her name is Olympia, and as long as she thinks of a greek god she can emulate their powers, it’s basically just The Pharoah all over again, including with the contorting face shapes, it has to do with a costume party she was at earlier, everyone was dressed up as someone from mythology, and her costume was mocked by none other than Chloe...who is now trapped somewhere, but...now she’s looking for us,” he explained which made Marinette’s face contort in strange shapes for a moment.  “How...what powers make her rip the world open like that?!” she asked before he gave her an unimpressed look.  “Poseidon, he isn’t just the god of the sea you know. The fire comes from Hestia, she has a giant gathering of followers when she becomes Aphrodite that makes it seem like Zombizou 2.0, and when she’s on the hunt for us, she’s using the power of Artemis. We’ve really got our work cut out for us this time Buginette.” Taking a step forward on the roof, the sound of the shingles' crepitation was loud under his weight made her cringe, convinced that he was going to fall through the roof they stood upon.  “We have to figure something out to beat her fast then...I’m not sure we can handle all the heavy influential power behind each mask that she wears.” Marinette’s mind raced as she attempted to figure out just what they needed. The problem was that she only knew what Chat told her...so she didn’t know the exact pantheon that Mireille was going by as this akuma... “Chat, you said that she used Hestia for the fire, right? Like you heard her call out Hestia’s name?” she asked, her eyes dancing about searching and scanning for ideas and answers.  “Yeah, why?” he asked, his voice filled with curiosity. Most people had assumed that the crime-fighting duo was well versed in these fights by now, and while they should have been, it was moments like this that brought to light just how callow both heroes were, though he kept his gaze on her own, as if he were waiting for her to recapitulate the idea that was clearly forming in her mind. It was a heuristic process to go against any akuma most of the time, but this one had seemed to have that extra flare of danger, one that had meant that the duo couldn’t let up even for a moment once they had set upon the plan Ladybug was working through, it was their devoir to do so after all, and the city relied on them for it, as well as the final cleanup of damages outside of putting an end to the reign of each akumas malicious intent. 

“First we’re going to check what my charm gives us, then we’re going to try to force her to use Dionysus, since she already used Hestia, she shouldn’t be able to use him, which means she’ll be vulnerable for a moment, and we can go in for the attack!” she offered, before calling upon her power and getting...a mirror. A very familiar rounded mirror. “Looks like Mister Bug’s luck strikes again, eh?” she offered before giving a sigh. “So what do you think we should do to distract her?” she offered, noticing the cheeky grin affixed to her partner’s face. While most would regard him as an expendable part of the heroic force, Marinette always tried her best to show him how he was indispensable, especially after their time wielding each other’s miraculous. 

“Leave that to me, you mind if I take your charm this time?” he asked before she couldn’t help but smile at the way he acted with aplomb.  “It’s all yours Kitty.” she said handing it off to him, musing over the daedal nature of each charm for a moment in her mind and trying to figure out just what exactly he intended to do with the red and black spotted object.

[avengers-nextgen]

AU Propositions

So, I have been thinking about doing an AU along with the main series. Below are the theee options I’m willing to write! Each has a snippet or sample of material for that given AU. Please vote on which one you’d like to see based off of wha I’ve written.

— — —

Apocalypse

Factions, were all that remained. Years ago the government was overthrown, the world dissolved into chaos, and loyalty became an illusion. Patriotism no longer existed, one governing body was replaced with many, maps were re-made, and alliances dictated territory.

Ram shackled buildings made up towns, and once superior technology was now lost. The wars had ravaged scientific advancement putting the world’s technological timeline in reverse.

Enemies lurked at every corner as nations tried to re-establish themselves. Safety didn’t exist.

The only hope anyone had was the next generation-the offspring of surviving fighters. Tides were beginning to shift, and alliances were converging to form four powerful states. Keeping peace was increasingly difficult, but the few unattached townships were looking to restore America. If one nation could rebuild itself, then others could too.

— — —

A bullet ridden sign held a few straggling letters naming the town NEW O, also known as ground Zero.

Smoke wafted into the sky, streaming up in plumes from piped chimneys.

“The stables aren’t far,” James assured, stepping aside as a barefoot kid ran past, “we take a ride down south and check on Havoc Sector.”

“Right, my favorite place to be,” Piper sighed, adjusting her backpack.

“It’s just a quick round up,” Alex tried to brighten the mood, “nothing major. Get the medicine, distribute it, and head home.”

“Last time we sent someone to distribute supplies they were killed.” Piper reminded the two siblings.

“Which is why there’s three of us.” James pressed his lips into a thin line.

— — —

Havoc Sector was a shit hole. The only reason none of the states wanted its service was because of its poverty. They had nothing to offer anyone. In fact, Havoc Sector was lucky they even had support from New 0.

“It’s infected,” The Doctor pursed his lips, “I’m not sure there’s anything we can do.”

“There has to be something,” Bianca insisted, looking at her discolored arm. The large cut from a work related accident had become severely infected.

“I’m sorry, no medicine can treat this-let alone if we had any.” Part of Bianca wanted to kill the man. He claimed to be medically certified, and maybe he was once upon a time, but the equipment now just wasn’t the same. His abilities were limited.

“I’ll go somewhere else then,” Bianca decided.

“And where will that be?” The doctor frowned.

“The Skids,” Bianca’s assertive tone surprised the doctor, but he was more surprised by the selected location.

“If you go to the Skids you’ll die for certain.” He made no move to stop Bianca from stumbling to her feet.

“So be it.”

— — —

A fist rocked into her face pushing her back against the dusty wall. All around people crowded and yelled at the scene before them. Just beige her opponent could take the advantage, Sage slammed her foot down against their knee.

With a sickening pop the other girl dropped with a cry of pain. Using the back of her arm, Sage wiped the blood from her face, and grasped the unfortunate competitor by the front of her tank top, “Yield.”

“Not a chance.”

“You know what happens if you don’t.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

The crowd roared angrily and slammed their hands down upon rickety wood tables.

Kill

Kill

KILL

KILL!

“You heard them,” The girl smiled thinly. Sage nodded and quick as a wink she snapped the other girl’s neck letting her drop to the ground. With the thud of the body the room dissolved into complete chaos.

Sage scampered from the ring and snatched up her winnings before heading off.

She’d changed quickly, and was now pedaling swiftly towards home. Her mother was sick and dying, if she’d gathered enough money there was a chance she could afford a hospital room. The Skids was a cutthroat place. A place for criminals, but because of that-they had the best health care possible.

80s

“Throw the ball!” Piper yelled, tapping the bat on the base outlined in the dirt. James brought his leg up slow, making the movements grander than they needed to be, before throwing the mall. It whistled through the air in a perfect spin as Piper swung the wooden bat.

A loud crack resounded signaling a solid hit. James glanced at the sky trying to follow the ball as Piper took off to where Scout stood prepped at first base. Orion charged in from the outfield sprawling out flat in an attempt to catch the ball. Recovering he slung it towards second base forcing Piper into a dive.

Nathaniel snagged the ball from the air, stopped over to tap Piper, and cursed when she beat him. “Safe.”

“Yes!” Thalia clapped. Piper stood to dust herself off, all the while taking a bow.

With a sigh James took his place on the mound once more. Adjusting the cap on his head he wiped at the glistening sweat with the back of his arm.

“Hold up,” Scout called, checking his watch, “shit. We gotta go! School is soon.”

Nothing else was said as they all picked up the baseball equipment. An onlooker would have laughed watching a bunch of teens scramble across the dusty field, up and over the hill, down the other side, and disappear in the neighborhood.

— — —

“You have to work on your pitching,” Nathaniel joked accompanying his younger friends to school. College had yet to start for him so he enjoyed the morning cycle to school without the anxiety of having to do any learning.

“You pitch next time,” James huffed, taking the corner sharp into the parking lot. Kids were scrambling out of cars and racing up the steps to meet friends.

“That hit though,” Alex winked at Piper who puffed her chest out in pride. They rode past a car blasting U2 and shortly after another playing ABBA.

“The music tastes of some of these people,” Orion shook his head in dismay.

The conversation was interrupted as an engine came screaming by, a motorcycle sped past sliding into a parking space with ease.

“Hey! Watch it!” James yelled, “You yield to us.”

“Says who? It’s a parking lot. Everyone yields to everyone dip shit,” James’ brows arched in surprise as the biker jerked off their helmet to reveal an intimidating girl with short choppy black hair.

“Attitude,” Alex hummed earning a snicker from Piper. Shaking his head James lead the group to the bike rack.

“Some people have serious nerve,” Scout frowned.

“You get used to it,” Orion assured him hopping up onto the nearby wall, “see you all later.”

— — —

“Glad to see you decided to turn up,” Bianca turned to see her friend climbing the steps to the front of the school.

“I’m still a bit nervous,” Bianca admitted. She’d managed to snag a prosthetic but it wasn’t exactly the most function-able or attractive device.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sage promised holding the door open for her, “I’ll kill anyone who says anything about it.”

“Murder on the first day seems a bit excessive,” Bianca laughed.

“So does getting math homework,” Sage countered.

— — —

“This place is ghastly,” Penny frowned.

“Why? Because you learn stuff?” Chloe asked, arching a brow.

“It’s a prison.” Penny insisted.

“Thanks for that, I can finally cross going to jail off of my bucket list.” Penny rolled her eyes at Chloe before turning her attention to Arthur.

“How’re you holding up?”

“Honestly I am terrified,” Arthur mumbled. The news was all over the place with people who’d been beat up or killed for being gay, lesbian, and trans.

“Just remember to be careful,” Chloe warned.

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be?” Arthur glowered.

“I’m just saying-“

“Yeah, you don’t want to move schools again I know.”

“Arthur, I’m not mad at you.” Chloe looked a bit offended, “but not everyone is like us. Some people are cruel.”

“The newspapers made me well aware of that,” Arthur swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest at too fast of a pace. He was pretty sure he was already sweating.

Demigod

Capture the flag was the olympics of camp half blood. The winner didn’t earn a week of chores, gained honor, and best of all-bragging rights. There was nothing worse than watching people fume over defeat.

Even the campfires were fun if the participation was high enough. Maybe the music wasn’t the best but it got the job done. If anything, it allowed people to be completely unhinged.

Dinner was wonderful too, there were people to laugh with, tell stories with, and simple talk too. It was a vibrant atmosphere meant to be welcoming, but it was also a lonely type of place. There were those who felt confined, restricted, and unwanted.

Chloe hated her cabin. The perfume gave her a headache, the gossip was annoying, and they didn’t value a whole lot. Of course, not every child of Aphrodite was like that, but stigmas existed for a reason. The only one who’d gotten anything good out of the deal was Arthur. A perfect body, the one he always wanted, and with none of the pain.

Even Piper was dissatisfied. There was only so much a person could do with the limited equipment. She had big plans, big desires, and being confined to share a forge was infuriating. Her only solace was Siyanda who seemed to understand the struggle.

As for Scout, there was more to being smart than knowing facts. He was stuck in a cabin full of one uppers. Nothing anyone did was good enough, and someone always came up with something better. He was sick of it. Not to mention everyone’s ideas seemed to follow the same pattern. Originality didn’t seem to be valued as much as tradition did.

Penny and Orion were stuck in the most crowded cabin where something was always missing because someone always took something. You could barely even trust your own siblings with objects for fear they’d take it or sell it for something better. Personal possessions weren’t much of a privilege for them.

James and Alex had a relatively empty cabin. Everyone was pretty alright until it came to intense competitions, then all hell broke loose. People would argue over athletes about who was better or not, and it could go on for days. No one ever admitted defeat, that they were wrong, or that they weren’t as good as their ego said they were.

Violence was quite the go to response for people in the Ares cabin, but it didn’t come naturally to some. Thalia refrained from unseeded conflict at all costs, and instead advocated for peace more often than not. Bianca just wanted to be left alone. She barely spoke to anyone, and they all assumed it had to do with the age old incident.

Being a child of Nemesis meant no one wanted to befriend you. Not to mention the history of Nemesis children at camp. Fox found herself trying to be as detached as possible, but it was hard when people tried to piss you off to see what would happen.

As for Nathaniel, the poor boy didn’t catch a break. He taught archery every chance he got or helped out in the medical wing, but there was one cot that no one touched. It was practically forbidden, but that almost made it worse.

Enzo fit right in with the other peppy magic kids. He went about practicing his powers all day, loved to participate in group activities, and cabin bonding moments. Sage, however, kept to herself on the top bunk in the dark back corner of the rather unpopulated cabin. She found their happiness sickening, and spent most of her time curled up staring at the wall. No one bothered to drag her into activities anymore.

[dotshiiki]

The Best Underwater Proposal

Ack, so my first attempt at the day 5 prompt (romance/shipping) for @percyjacksonweek2k17 went awry (basically tried to write a double-date ficlet based on a Caleo prompt and, surprise, surprise, it went more Caleo than Percabeth instead of 50-50). So I started over. And decided to go with @achtervulgan315‘s request for a Percabeth proposal. I think the whole reason I struggled with the original prompt is cos I look at it and go huh, right, shipfic--wait, so what’s the prompt then? 

This was mainly written in between sessions at a conference (which is totally kicking my butt, I am sooo tired at the end of the day) so I am so sorry if it turned out to be utter and complete crap. 

Okay why am I still blathering on? Story!

Summary: Percy’s a man with a plan. If he can just get Annabeth alone--which is proving harder than he anticipated. Fortunately, Clarisse comes to the rescue. Set in the CoL universe, post-fic, so SPOILERS FOR CURSE OF LETHE | Percabeth, obviously | 1321 words

If you’d told Percy that he’d ever ask Clarisse for help with his love life, he’d have said you’d been spending too much time shrooming in the Hypnos cabin.

To be fair, he wasn’t asking her for romantic advice (he’d definitely have to be stoned to consider that), it was more of … logistics.

Because getting Annabeth on her own for any extended period of time that summer was proving to be a greater challenge than Percy had anticipated—and that was definitely going to throw a wrench in his plans if he didn’t figure out how to get around it. Between their roles as senior camp counsellors (and their training classes were wildly popular with the kids) and Annabeth’s ongoing work on the ever-increasing minor god cabins (it was more like a mini-village there these days), there was hardly a private moment to be had. Even their spare time was often peppered with interruptions of the usual camp variety—Ellis Wakefield 'accidentally' frying the Demeter cabin; Julia Feingold and Alice Miyazawa stealing all the dinner plates for a skeet shooting competition so that no food could be served; Meg McCaffrey covering all the main cabins in creeper vines in retaliation. Little emergencies, that nevertheless needed the 'grown ups' to sort out.

(Gods, grown-ups. Sometimes Percy just wanted to go, 'Adult? Who, me? Nah …' Then again, considering what he was planning to ask Annabeth, he supposed he was grown up enough. If you counted age in experience instead of years, he might even pass for middle-aged by this point.)

Added to that was the increased propensity for younger campers to spy on the private moments they did get. Percy wasn’t sure how exactly their adventures in Tartarus had morphed into what the Aphrodite kids proclaimed 'the greatest love story ever' (gods, he wished Piper was back to put a stop to it; then again, maybe she’d only fan the flames, incorrigible matchmaker that she was). He just wished they wouldn’t be so persistent about trying to catch the 'shippy moments' for themselves. Seriously, when had teenagers become such voyeurs?

Anyway, the giggling coming from the bushes (or worse, rapturous sighs of 'it’s so romantic!') tended to put a bit of a damper on any attempted make-out session.

Percy had been starting to think he’d have to ask Chiron for permission to take Annabeth out to Manhattan for her birthday when the idea came to him. And unbelievable as it was, he went to Clarisse.

He caught Annabeth between his morning swordfighting class and her afternoon cabin inspections. he joined him on the green outside the Big House readily enough.

'Wanna bet on who catches us this time?' she teased when he kissed her cheek.

'My money’s on the Ares crowd,' he said. From behind his back, he produced a slightly squashed cupcake, covered with (of course) blue frosting. 'Happy birthday.'

'You remembered.'

'I did.' Percy tapped his head. 'Thalia’s magic’s still working. Everything staying put in there.'

Annabeth dipped her finger in the frosting and smeared it across his cheek. 'Your memory for dates was bad even before they washed out to Chaos,' she teased.

'I remembered the important ones,' Percy objected. 'Today, for instance.'

He felt in his pocket to make sure the pouch he’d prepared was still there, then moved in to kiss Annabeth properly. Sure enough, the oohing and aahing started up not long after their lips met.

'Well, look at that,' Clarisse pushed her way to the front of the group that had gathered at the edge of the Big House porch to whisper and point.

Right on cue.

'Clarisse?' Annabeth said incredulously. 'I know the kids have been stalking us, but it’s a bit beneath you, isn’t it?'

Clarisse ignored her. 'I think our lovebirds need to cool off, don’t you?' She looked around at the younger camps, whose faces broadened with glee.

A whole throng of kids appeared from all directions to hoist them onto their shoulders. Percy had to hand it to her; Clarisse had certain mobilised her people well.

'Isn’t this getting old for you?' Annabeth scolded.

'To the Canoe Lake!' Clarisse commanded, ignoring Annabeth.

Percy feigned annoyance, but he was grinning on the inside as they were carried down to the lake. It was all going perfectly to plan. Just before the campers chucked them into the water, he mouthed a quick thank you to Clarisse. She winked back.

He grabbed Annabeth’s hand as they sank beneath the surface and willed the water to push back from them, forming a flexible layer of air around their skin. He remembered quite clearly the first time he’d done this—a lot of his most emotionally charged memories had in fact become a lot more distinct since retrieving them at the edge of Chaos—and from the smile that tugged at the corner of Annabeth’s mouth and the way she wound her fingers through his and squeezed, she was recalling their first proper kiss, too.

'You planned this,' she accused him. Her other hand reached up to wipe the frosting from his cheek.

'Guilty.' He should have known she’d catch on quickly.

They hit the sandy bottom of the lake and Percy dropped to one knee.

'Oh,' Annabeth said. 'Oh.'

He hurried to get to the all-important question, although it seemed Annabeth already knew what he was up to.

'Annabeth, I—uh—you’re the—you’re my, I mean—' Oh, Cocytus, Styx, and Lethe, did he have to get all tongue-tied now? He took a deep breath, which was a mistake since he hadn’t exactly left unlimited quantities of air in their bubble. It made him splutter and choke over his next words.

Annabeth’s hand rose to cover her mouth. Her eyes twinkled.

'You’re laughing at me.'

'Of course I am.' She tugged him to his feet. 'You don’t have to do this, Percy.'

His heart did a slow swoop into the pit of his stomach. 'You mean—'

'I mean I was willing to fall into Chaos to stay with you—do you really need my answer?'

His heart, which must have stopped while waiting for her clarification, started beating again, very cautiously. 'You could’ve just let me get the question out.'

She pulled him closer by the front of his shirt. 'I seem to remember promising that I’d never make things easy for you.'

Percy shook his head, smiling. 'I think it’s been the other way round, lately.'

He pulled the pouch from his pocket. In it was the simple, thin band he’d been carrying around for months, ever since he’d gotten Tyson to craft it for him.

For her.

He shook it out into her palm. The ring lay in her hand, catching the sunbursts that streamed down through the lake water, reflecting different colours depending on which angle you looked from. It was simple at first glance, but with innumerable complex layers to it.

Just like Annabeth.

Annabeth’s jaw dropped. ’Is this … Adamantine?’

Percy nodded. 'The most durable stone in the world.'

'Something permanent,' Annabeth whispered.

'Exactly.'

Annabeth traced the carvings Tyson had etched along the surface of the ring in intricate Greek script: As long as we’re together. When she looked back at him, the corners of her eyes were glistening softly.  

'Well, I guess you should ask after all.' She slipped her finger through the ring. 'Even if you already know the answer.'

This time, the words came out just right. ’I want you with me forever, even if you never make it easy for me. Will you keep on not making things easy for the rest of my life?’ he murmured.

'For the rest of our lives and beyond, Seaweed Brain.' Annabeth leaned forward so that their foreheads were touching. 'You’re not getting away from me.'

And as he closed the gap between them, Percy thought he’d definitely nailed the best underwater proposal of all time.

A/N: I APOLOGISE FOR ALL THE TLO PARALLELS.

[sanctum-of-fantasy]

Second Chances

So you want to know what happens when I wake up at 7 am and stay at at campus until my 11 am class? This shit happens

Title: Second Chances (Because I’m unoriginal sometimes) Context: A weird AU that poped out of no where? Classic Gold Saints awaken to find themselves alive in the Omega timeline....don’t think too deeply about it. Series: Saint Seiya and Saint Seiya Omega Word Count: 1315 Characters: Sagittarius Aiolos, Taurus Harbinger (Pope), Taurus Alanza (OC) Warning: Certain Taurus Saints have dirty mouths, and vague mentions of death Summary: Aiolos didn’t know what to expect when he invited to a private meeting between the current Pope and his student, but he figured, what was the worse that happen?

“7 billion people on the planet and I'm stuck with six of the whiniest bitches on it.”

Aiolos nearly choked on his-thankfully only warm and not scalding hot-tea, snapping his head in the direction of the current Pope, a bewildered expression stuck on his face. Said Pope had opted out of the robes of his position for civilian attire and was resting one cheek against a fist as he listened as his student went over various reports.

It was by his previous position of Pope-to-be that Harbinger allowed him to sit in on a private meeting within the Pope's Chambers, even if it was by a shrug and “why not?” statement. Distantly he was aware that the previous Taurus Saint was a rough individual and his own promotion wasn't exactly voluntary. But he didn't quite expect what he was witnessing...

“Could be worse and you know it, so quit your bitching and keep working, your Holiness” Harbinger's student drew his attention away from the Pope and he focuses on her instead. She gestured a sizable stack of folders, notebooks and paper beside her, one arm resting against the back of her chair, and legs crossed at the knees. Alanza was an equally as rough person, in the same ways as her mentor. At some level he understood it, like student like mentor, but seeing it himself was...a bit bizarre if he was honest.

“Yeah yeah I know smart ass. Just get on with the reports, oi Aiolos you ok there?” He blinked out his thoughts and nodded, sipping at his tea as Harbinger smirked, rolling his neck and leaning against the tall back of his chair. Alanza took this as a cue to continue and flipped open the top folder against her lap “Let's start with our most recent development, our unexpected guests....”

Him, and the other Gold Saints that had died years ago and suddenly found themselves alive.

With a quiet sigh Aiolos set down his tea on the center coffee table and rubbed his hands together, a habit he recently developed unknowingly until now. He was curious as to what the plan was with them, or there was even a plan. So far several of the Golds; Saga, Kanon, Angelo- Deathmask, Milo, Shura, Camus and Aphrodite, had their Cosmo sealed off via ink and Athena seals. Temporarily, he was told, but all together they were 'asked' to stay within the Temples until unknown date.

'Guess I'll find out now....' Aiolos thought as he shifted his mind to pay attention to everything the two Taurus were discussing.

“What's the boss want?” Harbinger grunted, rocking his seat back and forward, arms crossed. 'The boss' could only be Athena, who was away in Japan on business, they-the previous Golds and him-were told. She'd be in Greece within a few weeks, until then they were under Harbinger's direct orders.

“Medical examinations, psychology ones too, wants to know how they are before anything else. Wants us to handle each case differently, as needed” Alanza replied skimming down the folder, twirling a red pen in one hand. Aiolos listened, hands folded together, he was grateful that Athena was concerned for their well beings and that at least the two bulls were somewhat serious about it.

“Course, it's not like they've been dead for what 30 years?” Scratch that last part....

“Though with them around it makes the matter of replacements a mess, how do you plan on fixing that?” Alanza snapped her fingers, he jumped slightly, swearing he saw a flicker of fire from the simple movement.

There was a moment of silence before Harbinger slapped a hand to his face, groaning “shhiitt, ok yeah fair point.” Sitting up in his chair Harbinger reached for a loose paper and pen and began to jot down something, what it was Aiolos had no idea. “She wants us to do it step by step with each of them right? Schedule the appointments, tell the fuck ups, make sure to get their asses to those appointments, alright? We'll figure out what to do after we know what's up with them all.”

Aiolos frowned deeply, not sure if it was a good idea to interrupt them at the moment but did Harbinger have to refer to them as 'fuck ups'? It was unnecessary...

“Noted, we'll discuss options with them afterwards?” He heard a click of a pen and Alanza was writing as well, flipping through a small black book of what he assumed were Sanctuary contacts and affiliates.

“Exactly, might not be many options but we'll play fair, probably better than what they got before” Harbinger replied, crumpling up the paper he had written on and tossing it at his student, who caught it before it hit the side of her head.

'Is he messing with me or is this really-' Aiolos began to think, reaching for his tea to try and process what he was seeing.

“We can start with our friend here”

He paused, looking up to see the single eye of Harbinger focused on him, and the amber eyes of Alanza focused as well. He reached away from his drink, mouth feeling oddly dry at the moment, “Pardon?” he asked.

“Kid I'm going to be rudely blunt with you” Harbinger turned his chair to face him directly, hands making gestures as he began to explain “You literally died at age 14, that was forty years ago, our records say you were a part of Sanctuary since you like 7, that's not much of  a life man.”

For his credit, Harbinger's words felt like arrows in his chest. It was rudely spoken but...very true, Aiolos thought. Being reminded of his death and how much he missed out stung enough from him thinking of it on his own. He swallowed a bit of saliva to try and get the cotton feeling out of his mouth.

“All I'm saying is” Harbinger began with a shrug “You have a second chance right? Do something with it, not just fighting for some Goddess.”

He flinched at that and was about to say something when a balled up piece of paper hit Harbinger's head, his eyes went over to the younger Saint, who glared at her master before facing him.

“He's an asshole, but he's got a point Aiolos, there's no divine War to fight right now, Seiya-despite my feelings about him-can handle being Sagittarius Saint. We're not kicking you out or anything but if there's anything you want to do, just say it ok? Or think about it is all” She said with a shrug, and it left him a bit dumbfounded to hear those words coming from the same who tossed threats like it was nothing when they first met.

“I....” Aiolos began a sentence but it died in his throat. It was all sudden, to hit with these options that he didn't consider. For the majority of his life his focuses were his brother, gaining his Gold Cloth and serving Sanctuary and Athena. Everything else seemed....so far away or unimportant back then.

He must have zoned out, lost in his own thoughts and memories. He quietly reached for his tea and glanced at the wall clock, surprised to find a whole hour had passed since they had discussed him. Both the Pope and his student were still going things but it blurry together in his mind.

“Hey Aiolos, you don't have to stay man” Alanza spoke, eyes never leaving a book she was flipping through, something about a cosmograph?

“I...thanks” Lost for any other words he rubbed his neck and stood, deciding that bowing would be odd and leaving quietly would be the best. On his way out the door he tried a shout and series of swears from Harbinger and decided he didn't want to know what had happened.

'Such an interesting time to live in.....'