#origin

[bonewaryreblogs]

The Early Years of Alfred and Bruce

Jarvis Pennyworth, former Wayne Buttler, died when Bruce Wayne was 4, giving the title to his 25 year old son, Alfred Pennyworth. Alfred had done a number of things before taking the job, including but not limited to: fathering a child, whom he immediately abandoned (Julia may or may not become important later, I haven’t decided); joining the British Army at 18, where he excelled as a field medic (apparently contracts are 4 years); joined a secret organization, before killing the crazed leader; became an accomplished actor at the Globe Theatre; and probably more. These may or may not be listed in chronological order.

He was 29 when Martha and Thomas Wayne were killed and he became Bruce’s guardian. 8 year old Bruce was not coping well and was expelled from several private schools before Alfred decided to homeschool him by age 10. When this also seemed to be failing, Alfred made a deal with Bruce; as soon as he graduated high school, even if it was early, Alfred would arrange a globetrotting trip to learn about the world firsthand. Bruce didn’t seem to care until Alfred hinted that Bruce could learn from the best how to fight, and more importantly, how to fight crime; to make sure no other child had to lose their parents like he did. Alfred was well aware that Bruce had become obsessed with his parents’ deaths and decided that the only thing they hadn’t tried yet was leaning into it, so Alfred taught Bruce what he’d learned from his time in the Army to keep the boy motivated until he graduated at 15 and Alfred kept his promise.

From martial arts to military strategies to detective work and beyond, Alfred would either drop Bruce off with his teachers and pick him up a few months later, or Alfred would stay and learn what he could as well. Whenever he couldn’t stay, Alfred would make connections with locals as a traveling healer, or learn the newest schemes criminals were using, or network with both legal and illegal organizations, or any other way he could think of that could potentially be useful to whatever path Bruce decided was best.

Initially, Bruce thought to become a politician and/or a Crime Lord, and try to take out the “competition” as a way to rid Gotham of crime; if he could wrestle control of the bigger criminal organizations, or muscle them out of the city, then he could dismantle them from the inside. He didn’t like the idea, it was risky and chafed at his morals, but it was a potential solution. Then Superman debuted when Bruce was 17 and he realized that, while his original plan might have worked, being a hero aligned with him better in every way; sure, it wasn’t a perfect solution, but neither was the Crime Lord route, and at least this way he’d be able to look himself in the mirror and not want to vomit, which had started to happen as he tried to prepare himself for the role of Crime Lord.

Bruce was 20 years old when he returned to Gotham, though he wanted to save his debut until after he had started rumors of Batman, the Dark Knight that fights crime from the shadows. Alfred is 41 and helps Bruce from the background in any way he can.

As Red Hood, Jason unknowingly took the Crime Lord route Bruce had abandoned; he has no idea and Bruce has no intention of letting him find out.

[clairewritesfanfics]

No Goggles!Mark Grayson Origin Part 2

Part 1

The past three months were unbearable. Your daily life has been so intimately intertwined with Mark’s that even one day apart was difficult to comprehend. 

To be frank, when you met him three years ago, you didn’t think your relationship would last for so long.

It was two in the morning, and your very first day as a clerk was as hellish as expected. You couldn’t answer any of the questions your resident asked you, you were cursed with several horrible patients, your seniors were assholes who ordered you to go fetch them coffee but then refused to pay, and one of the attendings kept giving you weird looks all day. After your shift was over, you opted to climb up the roof. 

The sky was really pretty. You couldn’t remember the last time you looked at the stars.

You shut your eyes and inhaled the crisp air.

“You’re not going to jump, are you?”

If you weren’t so exhausted you would’ve screamed at the unexpected visitor.

Leaning over the rooftop’s protective parapet was the city’s second favorite hero, Invincible. 

“If I did, will you save me?”

“I kinda have to, ‘cause y’know–” he gestured over his uniform.

Judging from his physique and speech, he was likely in his early twenties.

“Right.” You looked back at the sky. 

“You do realize I can’t just leave a flight risk.”

You chuckled. “I wasn’t going to jump. I just needed some fresh air.”

“That’s what a lot of jumpers say.”

“Really?”

“Well, maybe not a lot, I don’t have the exact numbers, but judging from experience, a lot of… at risk people like to make excuses and say they’re fine.”

“Mm.”

He quieted down and turned to the stars. “There was a meteor shower a few hours ago.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It was okay for a meteor shower. I’d give it a five out of ten.”

“Is that so.”

“Yup, it was barely anything–”

“Hey,” you interrupted him, smiling softly. “I really did come up for air.”

He was silent for a moment. He put his hands behind his back and awkwardly said, “That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“Right.” 

He coughed and you could faintly see his cheeks turn pink under the moonlight.

“I guess I shouldn’t disturb a doctor during their break. Thanks for your service, er, no wait… that doesn’t sound right. Um… bye.” He looked just about ready to explode.

“Hey.”

“Y-yeah?” He seemed super reluctant to look you in the eye.

“Thanks,” you said.

He finally glanced over his shoulder and beamed.

When he left you looked at the stars one more time before taking a deep breath and going home for some much needed rest.

Patients are always told to get six hours of sleep at least, with the best being eight, but medical students and doctors are the worst at taking their own advice.

You couldn’t afford to sleep for more than four hours, and even then those few hours were already a luxury. You had to study, meet with patients and deal with their families, study, write the mandatory research papers, fill in the paperwork, study, receive lab reports, speak with consultants and residents, and study.

“Fresh air?” Invincible appeared again from behind the roof railings, floating like a ghost in yellow and blue. 

“Yeah. Plus I’m making it a habit to appreciate the little things more.”

“You sound like my mom.”

“Are you calling me old?”

He raises his hands placatingly. “No, I’m saying it’s good. Mom used to tell me to always appreciate everything, even the small moments. It’s one of the few things I remember about her.” He paused. “She died when I was eight.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, thanks, I didn’t mean to make it weird. I don’t know why I said that, actually.”

“Sounds like she was a great woman.”

“Dad thought so–I mean, yeah, she was.” 

You chuckled. “Shouldn’t you be patrolling the streets or something?”

“I was actually on my way home. My da–Omni-Man’s got everything covered.”

“That’s good.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “A-anyway, I gotta go now. You take care.”

“Mm. Oh, by the way, kid.”

“Huh?”

You smiled. “Thank you for your service.”

He seemed to freeze in mid-air. His ears turned red and he quickly babbled something incoherent before flying away at breakneck speed.

You burst out laughing.

You really needed that.

You had just found out that a patient you really liked, a feisty and vibrant old lady who wouldn’t be out of place in an episode of the Golden Girls, passed away. She was no spring chicken, but she had a healthy heart and the only reason she was at the hospital was because she broke her leg during a jog. She was an avid jogger, a great cook and had just taken up gardening. No history of any cardiovascular diseases, or hypertension, or even arthritis. She was healthy, for all intents and purposes, and had maybe five more years.

Then she just died.

All those years of ruthless studying could have never prepared you for the heartbreak of seeing someone die.

After witnessing a resident announce her time of death, you had to run up here to breathe. You almost thought of quitting.

But you felt much better now.

You met Invincible on a near nightly basis. He talked a lot, and sometimes not on purpose. He seemed uncomfortable with silence, resulting in slip-ups like his age and birth month, his love for Seance Dog, and his dislike of his peers, to name a few.

“I’ve never been close to anyone,” he confessed, sitting cross-legged on the rooftop floor right next to you. “In fact, I used to be outright bullied. I broke a girl’s nose and another boy’s arm.”

“Why?”

“I don’t remember. It was probably because of something stupid. Dad was super mad when he came to pick me up. He said I should learn to fit in better.”

“Did you?”

He shrugged. “After I transferred schools I learned how to be more well-liked. I smiled more, talked to everyone, and I mean, everyone. I stopped fights and did my best to impress my teachers. I became super popular, even when I got to college.”

“Not to mention super humble.”

He laughed and hunched forward, eyes glazed over. “But you know, looking back at it now, I didn’t actually have anyone I could call my friend. Everyone loved me but no one was ever mine.”

He then flinched and swayed his face towards you, brown eyes bulging. 

You raised your arms in the air. “Sorry, I…” You cleared your throat. “I’m sorry for touching your head, you looked like you wanted someone to comfort.”

“No, I was just…surprised.” He then leaned forward, offering his head. “Can you do that again?”

You hesitated a bit, but ultimately did as he requested.

You gently ran your fingers through his hair and lightly scratched his scalp. “Good?”

“Mm.”

You giggled. “Good.”

Headpats became a sort of ritual between the two of you. It was nice. Until one night, he didn’t show. 

No big deal–should’ve been what you thought when you realized that daw was close and there was not a glimpse of that familiar yellow and blue suit.

To be honest, you liked the nightly rendezvous with him. In fact, you might’ve developed a small crush on him. 

But he was a young guy, a superhero to boot, so he probably got bored. 

You were no different in the past. You would get super interested in one thing for a few weeks then move on to the newest hyperfixation. 

You understood. Still, you couldn’t help but be disappointed as you dragged your legs towards the house you rented three blocks from the hospital. A short walk, but a woman walking alone in the city at 3:49 a.m. could never be too careful, that’s why you started running the moment you felt like you were being watched.

When you tripped on a crack on the sidewalk, you swung your bag–heavy with all your study materials and medical equipment–to stop the body rushing towards you.

“Hey, wait, wait! It’s me!”

You stopped. 

Your “attacker” was none other than Invincible. His clothes were torn and soaked with blood. He reeked of death. Fortunately, you’ve grown accustomed to it. 

“You scared me.” You said calmly, pulling your bag back. Using it as an improvised weapon ripped up one of its zippers though, causing some of your stuff to spill.

“I figured. Sorry about that.” He knelt down, picking up stray pens, a hand sanitizer, a compact powder and a handful of candies. He raised to his feet and gently put the things inside the main compartment. “I didn’t mean to scare you. When I got to the roof you weren’t there, so I figured you might’ve gone home, but I got worried and decided to fly over but then I saw you here and well, you know the rest,” he explained rapidly, hands waving all over cartoonishly.

You reached for his chin, the touch shutting him up instantly. You examined his face. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you injured. I didn’t think it was even possible for you to get hurt considering…”

“It’s usually hard to hurt me actually. I had to fight off a couple of exceptionally strong bad guys today.”

“I see. All right.” You pulled back.

“Are you mad?”

“Why would I be? You’re the one who looks like hell.”

“Ouch. Now that hurt.”

“Follow me.”

“Huh?”

“I have a first aid kit at my house, though if you prefer the hospital–”

“No! I mean, your house is closer so we should go there.” He then offered his hand.

You stared at it, then you cocked a brow at him.

He grinned sheepishly. “Your bag looks heavy.”

“Ah. Thanks.” You gave it to him, your own shoulders thanking you. “I’m sorry for hitting you.”

“It’s okay, I’m glad you can defend yourself.” He started walking. “The way to your place is really dark, you know, the streets could really use some more lamps.”

He talked a lot for a man with cut lips, not that you minded. 

“Oh.” He stopped in front of an old house with peeling paint. “We’re here.”

“You can set my bag down in the living room. Take a seat.” You opened the door and motioned for him to come inside. “I don’t have any housemates so you don’t have to worry.” This rundown house was cheaper than the apartments near the hospital. 

You went to get the first aid kit and rejoined your visitor on the couch. “This may sting.” You prepared to clean his wounds.

“Thanks for your help.”

“It’s no problem.”

You both fell into a rare silence. You could hardly focus with his eyes on you. 

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” you spoke, bandaging his arm, “Have you always been following me home?”

His muscles stiffened. “What?” 

“You knew the way to my house.” Tonight wasn’t the first time you felt like you were being watched either.

“That… um…” 

You looked at him. He flinched and quickly bowed his head.

“I’m sorry. I swear it’s nothing creepy! I just wanted to make sure you were safe. You told me you walked home and your shift always ends right before dawn.”

“Then why didn’t you just talk to me?”

“I…I don’t know. I didn’t want to insult you.”

You laughed.

“Y-you’re not mad?”

“Nah. I mean, it would’ve been better if you just asked me that you wanted to walk me home, would’ve saved years of my life. I swear I thought I was going crazy, I thought maybe I was being stalked the past few weeks. But I can understand why you didn’t.” He may have learned how to charm his schoolmates and teachers but deep inside, he was an awkward guy. “Thanks for looking after me.”

He seemed taken aback as he didn’t say anything while you finished. 

“I cleaned up the wounds on your face the best I could, but there’s not much I can do because of the mask. I’ll get you some ice.”

You stood up but he tugged on your scrubs. “Aren’t you curious?”

“Honestly?”

He nodded.

“No.”

He looked utterly heartbroken. “Most people would’ve asked me to take me off.”

“Don’t look so offended. It’s just that… well, it sounds like a pain.”

“You’re not good at comforting me right now.”

“I think what we have right now is fine.” In a way, not knowing each other truly meant there were less expectations and few disappointments. That’s right. It was fine. This was fine.

“You want us to stay as strangers?”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, and he didn’t give you any time to think, because he quickly added, “Because I don’t. I like you and I don’t just want to be Invincible to you.”

Oh. 

“One date. Just one date and if you still think we can’t work out we can just pretend that nothing happened. We’ll go back to being perpetual strangers,” he offered, almost desperate.

You blinked. “Okay.”

“Seriously?”

You nodded. “One date and we’ll see how it goes.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. I should warn you though, I don’t always have control over my own schedule and when I’m free I’m usually studying or asleep, so be prepared for any rescheduling conflicts.”

“Wow… I can’t believe you actually agreed. Shit–I-I mean, uh, sorry.”

You smiled. 

“I should probably show you my face.”

“Well, you don’t have to do it right now–”

He pulled off his mask, revealing a handsome face. Of course. 

“Call me Mark.”

Mark.

He was always so sweet and understanding. You “warned” him about your job’s demands and you were prepared for his, but he never complained and it was always you who had to reschedule. It got so ridiculous that your “first date” was eating takeout at your place while watching Seance Dog’s movie adaptation. You felt guilty but Mark looked happy enough. In fact, he learned to cook so you could eat together in your rented house, and eventually, in your apartment, and then, in the condo he surprised you with. 

As beautiful as that unit was, it was too big now that Mark was gone. 

You wondered if he finally got tired of you after months apart. When he decides to break things off for real, you’ll give him back the condo. It didn’t feel right to be living in the place he bought you.

“You’ve been sighing a lot lately.” It was one of your co-workers. He was a new hire, and a friendly enough guy, but you weren’t close. “Everything all right?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you said curtly. You paused and sighed again. “Sorry.”

He chuckled. “I get it, things are tough. Haven’t been seeing your little boy toy lately. Did you guys break up? He did seem a tad bit immature.”

Asshole.

You finished the rest of your coffee and threw the can in the trash. “I gotta go.”

“If you wanna drown your sorrows, we’re gonna grab a drink later.”

Another doctor arrived and interrupted him, “It’s pointless to ask. She never goes anywhere unless it’s mandatory.”

“Wait, what?”

“It’s true.” You nodded. “I don’t drink that much in the first place.”

“Then you can order something else–”

“I told you, it’s pointless. I’ve been asking her to join me for a girls’ night out for what, a year now? This one is a strict professional who keeps business and pleasure separate, unlike you.” 

“That’s a bit boring–”

“Anyway, take care on your way home,” she cut him off.

Your savior. “Thanks.”

And with that you packed up and prepared to go home. 

Today was the deadline but Mark hasn’t sent you a single text. Maybe he was pissed and decided to ghost you.

…nah. Mark wasn’t like that.

He’d break up with you properly. 

But since this was your idea, you should be the one to reach out to him first.

You stared at his name on your phone. 

This ends tonight.

[stochastique-blog]

Love you

Enjoyed.

[deebrisbyfish]

On January 9th, 2016, I came out as transgender to, well, everyone. In a way, it's like a second birthday that, THIS YEAR, will be celebrated with leftover Pizza for lunch! lol

That said, It's hard to process that it's ONLY been 9 years that I've been on this journey as it's hard to remember NOT ever being out. It's weird.

As such, every year at this time, I like to re-present this sort of... Finding Dee ORIGIN story! A 5 page encapsulation of the fact that, YES J.K., Trans kids DO exist and I WAS one back in the late 70s.

This year, I'm posting the snazzy color version with lovely hues by Katy Rewston from the first color collection! For those of you who have read this, I hope it's still a fun read. For those this is NEW to, I hope you stick around and enjoy the ride!

[mangafascination]

[vgadvisor]

[blackcat-brazil]

Vagabond / Berserk

Vinland Saga / Origin

[artbookisland]

Scan from Origin, by Boichi.

[old-evanescence]

Amy Lee, Origin, 2000

Amy Lee, Fallen, 2003

[babanasaur]

gurt 1

gurt, upon commission request

[inkher0]

pages taken from a suspected SCP Foundation C-Class researcher, wherabouts unknown. read Origin: The Man Who Wasn't There on ao3

[gigidraws13]

TFP: THE CHILD OF ORDER

Long ago, when the Thirteen original primes defeated the evil god known as UNICRON the chaos bringer. Life on Cybertron began to thrive, with the Thirteenth as its protectors.

But even after the successful defeat of the evil deity. New conflict occurred, as new and more dangerous threats arose. The Thirteenth then realized that their time as Cybertron’s protectors was limited. As they knew they would not always be there to protect and watch over it.

And so, a powerful creation was made to be Cybertron’s hidden hope.

With the Allspark’s aide, the Thirteen primes sacrificed a piece of their own sparks, their power, their essence, to create the most powerful being imaginable.

A being whose sole purpose was to ensure that no threat would harm Cybertron or its people.

The child of order…

‘F! Y/n’

CREATION AND ORDER INCARNATE.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hello! Love love love your blog so much, especially the poetry part! I wish all the best for you, this blog has changed my whole writing system

Would love to see a few words on the birth/origin of great things, if possible. Thank you, and take care <3<3

Birth – The coming into existence of something; origin, beginning.

Origin – That from which anything originates, or is derived; source of being or existence; starting point.

Ancestry – The origin, background, or historical development of something.

Beginning – That in which anything has its rise, or in which its origin is embodied; origin, source, fount.

Extraction – Of things: Origin, source. Obsolete.

Fontal – A source or origin of something. Obsolete.

Headspring – The chief source of something; the quarter from which something originates.

Heartspring – (Chiefly poetic and literary) the spring or source of a person's innermost feelings, thoughts, etc. (chiefly in plural).

Naissance – Origin, birth. Obsolete.

Nativity – The creation, beginning, or origin of something.

Parentage – The source or origin of something.

Primordial – A primeval, original, or fundamental thing; a beginning or origin; a first principle.

Principium – Beginning, commencement; origin, source; first principle, element; fundamental truth. Now rare.

Principle – That from which something originates or is derived; a source, an origin; the root (of a word, etc.). Now chiefly Philosophy and Theology.

Progenerator – The source or original from which something is derived; a forebear or progenitor.

Quelle – A literary source; the source from which a concept, piece of information, etc., derives.

Racine – A root cause, a source.

Radix – Source, origin; that in which anything originates. Rare.

Rist – A source, an origin. Obsolete.

Root – That from which something grows or is derived; a source, origin, or cause.

Source – The chief or prime cause of something of a non-material or abstract character; the quarter whence something of this kind originates.

Sourdre – Source.

Spawn – The source or origin of something.

Springer – A source, an origin. Obsolete.

Upstart – Upspring, origin. Obsolete. Rare.

Wellhead – A primary source or origin of something.

Wellspring – A source or origin providing a constant or abundant supply of something.

More: Notes & References ⚜ Word Lists

I'm not sure I fully understood what you meant by "great things" though. Let me know if I got it wrong, I could make you another list!

But this is so lovely to hear, thank you for your kind words & take care as well <3

[mangafascination]