#he is in so much agony atm SAVE HIM. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peachade · 3 years

Text

Writing Asks

thank u to sarah @soldouthaz, lily @theisolatedlily and late @tomlinvelvetfics for tagging me !!

1. describe how you first started writing and when you first posted

started in eighth grade after moving which fucked me up (i’m still to recover lmao) n i needed a distraction, reading had always helped but writing is what let me see what the root of my agony was. (im not trying to be pretentious i swear) i first started on wattpad (love hate relationship to this day) and beginning of lockdown this year gravitated to ao3 which has been my saving grace !!!

2. which of your characters do you typically resonate most closely with? do you base any characters off of yourself?

so far i’ve mostly written in louis’ pov. i’ve had to ask this question in the early stages — i resonate the closest to harry. most of my wips are harry centric for that reason. i mean, yes and no — i tend to take some part of me and fit it into the character but at the same time i don’t like seeing me on a page so yes and no.

3. where do you often find inspiration?

EVERYWHERE. mostly others’ stories be it in the way of songs, music, writing, art. usually it’s me coming across a vaguely aesthetic picture and my brain spitting out one or two random scenes and me trying to make that a story.

4. has quarantine helped or hindered your writing process?

both !!! i have new wips but also i lost a lot of motivation to do anything for a bit. school is sucking the soul out of me — it’s both easier and harder with it being online, the worst part is i can never truly feel like i’m getting a break from it. recently it’s been easier for me bc of the friends i made (ily all) it’s hindered a little bit bc i can’t go out and watch people and streetlights and the blur of cars and try to pour out that feeling into words and create something. at the same time it’s helped me gain more perspective on people and relationships which has been a massive help to writing in general.

5. do you listen to music/noise while you write or do you prefer silence?

depending on the number of classes i have/attend, my mental stability, the story and my sensitivity. i often can’t stand loud noises so there’s that but there is always some noise or the other so it’s never truly silent. i like it that way. sometimes i just play intense studying playlist on spotify and write, Lucida by Odin Sørlie and Haunted Heart by Dawn, Dawn, Dawn are my favourites.

6. what is your biggest writing pet peeve in your writing or in general?

excessive usage of the same word in mine. in general, i’m not a fan of stereotypical characters or romanticising harmful themes.

7. describe your ideal writing setup

2 am, in bed, music still ringing in my ears, three texts from my best friend about a story or about their day. under the blanket, the room smelling of chocolate or something sweet.

8. favorite time of day to write?

anytime but afternoon. those hours are for naps.

9. favorite genre to write + one you’d like to try writing in the future?

fiction? i’d love to write a fantasy au 👀

10. do you struggle with writer’s block? how do you typically overcome it?

yep yep. i just edit an old story or read my old works or other writers’ fics. i gave up trying to force myself into writing — i hated the end product and felt bad so.

11. what is the easiest part of your writing process and the most difficult?

probably the emotions? dialogue without a doubt — i dread writing it. it doesn’t come to me naturally. i can write lengths without dialogue tbh. also smut — it’s an eh eh aspect.

12. how do you come up with original characters? (if applicable)

my wonderful friends. they do dumb shit and i want to tell the world about their dumb shit so i make characters out of them.

13. what is your favorite and least favorite word?

as of now it is fucker — delightful word that one. least favourite is probably squelch — just no.

14. what is one thing about your writing that you’re really proud of and one thing you hope to continue working at?

the dreamy feeling i manage to write without a doubt !!!! dialogue and pacing. i don’t have the best dialogue or the pacing or the length for fics but i’m working on all of those !!

15. what work of yours has your favorite ‘verse/world building? how did you come up with it?

still a wip so i can’t tell you much except that it’s a proper treat. will write this once i’ve posted that fic !!

16. what font and size do you write in? single spaced or double?

*nervous laughter* the font changes from fic to fic — crush is comic sans, size 11. October was Lora, 11. Twisted in bedsheets is courier new, 11. stargazing is spectral, 11. so yeah — whatever the fic demands. single spaced !!!! except when i’m overwhelmed i do double spaces.

17. what is a typo(s) you find yourself making consistently?

I Cannot Type. if you think i can — congratulations you were fooled. autocorrect is the loml.

18. (if applicable) do you separate fic writing from fandom?

of course !!!! i basically do not exist out of my writing.

19. what emotion is your favorite to write? which is the most difficult?

pain, pining, longing. lust.

20. what is one thing you hope readers always take away from your works?

we’re all fucked up but we’re trying and trying sometimes is enough. you shouldn’t spend your life carved out around one person. it’s okay to ask for help and need a shoulder to lean on. i hope these come across in my future fics !!!!

21. what is the best and worst writing advice you’ve ever received?

bold of you to assume i’ve ever received advice.

22. which one of your works would you most want to see turned into a film/television show?

a new fic. will update the answer once that fic is out !!!!!

23. do you write scenes chronologically or out of order?

chronologically. i can’t do out of order. i do have a page full of scribbles but they are to tell me the order sjakmd.

24. how do you handle criticism?

if it’s constructive then well. no thick skin tbh. makes me feel as if i need validation from someone else on my art which isn’t necessary but my brain is wired to seek it and it’s a hassle.

25. what is the advice you would give to someone who is looking to start writing?

write everything you would want to read. write it bad, don’t worry about the quality. don’t worry about the audience. end of the day, it should be something you can turn to for comfort not something that makes you feel bad.

26. what kind of feedback on your work always makes your day?

people telling me they like my writing and it could take them out of this world for a few minutes !!!!!

27. which fic ‘verse of your own would you most like to exist in? which fic’s characters would you most like to befriend?

probably crush verse !!!! harry — his is probably the one character where i dump most of me in.

28. what do you always enjoy getting asks about/wish people would ask about more?

rant to me about anything. i enjoy talking. ask me about wips so i can take the little guilt and write more.

29. what has writing added to your life? how has it changed you?

it’s nice to let go and express things and create characters with a better situation than mine.

30. why do you write?

keep myself busy.

boost yourself + tags

1a. share the last sentence you wrote

No kissing. No flashbacks.

2a. describe the wip you’re most excited about

a little something i’m writing inspired by @brickredtoe’s art !!!!

3a. share the piece of dialogue from one of your works you’re most proud of

ok. well. from 5436 miles

“Or we could always add a trail of stars to one of those moons,” he replies, words dragged out, rolling around in his mouth.

He can see the glint in his eyes even behind his closed lids. Everything about Louis is inked and etched into every fiber of his being.

He would’ve kissed him, words pouring from his mouth into Harry’s, only half his.

He snorts. “And make it seem like the moon has a buttplug? No, thanks.”

4a. share the best first and last lines from your work(s)

both my published fics have circular endings.

5436 miles — Louis always had more stars in his eyes.

these tornadoes are for you — His heart beats in peace.

5a. link to the last fic you read.

sugary sweet by the immensely talented @soldouthaz

6a. link the last work you published

here

7a. link to your ao3 (if applicable)

wheeee

8a. someone that inspires you

taylor. she’s so so wonderful.

9a. a comfort fic/work that you’ve been grateful for this year

all of riv, sarah, ris and late’s fics. they’ve been so so comforting. Event Horizon by @mercurial-madhouse

10a. other writers that you’d like to tag!

@mercurial-madhouse @harryanthus are the only ones coming to mind atm. i’ve been up for too long apologies.

#long post #games #writing asks #q q q

13 notes · View notes

jungcity · 4 years

Note

Songfic request: My fav song atm is 2 soon by keshi. Chosen NCT member is Jaehyun. P/s: I rlly enjoy reading your fics!! Have a good day :) Thanks a lot 😊

↳ jaehyun; 2 soon

Drank too much, got the sickness

Pray to God and his son for forgiveness

Same crew but another mistress

Every day, every night getting wasted

If God would look down upon Jaehyun, the latter has no doubt that he would make the Almighty glare at him with disapproval.

Another night of getting wasted in a room flashing of deep purple and blue colors, matched with smoke coming out of dissipating cigarettes. A room filled with bodies pressed up—skin to skin— against a wall, and of different people trying to suck each other’s life through kissing.

Sybaritic— everything was. Jaehyun wouldn’t be astonished if ever balls of fire would start to strike the roofs of this infamous bar to soot.

But I miss you, what did I do?

Fuck it up, laugh it off and I lost you

If I pull through, is it too soon?

Turn it up, close my eyes, then I'm with you

How did he end up inside this god-forsaken place yet again? Months of being sober, and all it took was the sadness in your eyes and the words ‘I don’t want this anymore’ for Jaehyun to return to his sotted self.

Instead of a good reason to make you stay, he yelled at you. He yelled and coaxed the remains of his shattered ego and pride— picked up every bit of it— and threw it at you. With the words, ‘Leave, then!’

Yo Marvin, stop callin'

Sad Iverson is ballin'

In the corner of a room by himself

You are nothin' but an empty shell

The night was consisted of a broken heart and knotted mind. Jaehyun was hairsbreadth away from torpor. Yet he struggled to waddle through the empty street with his head pounding, his heart skyrocketing, his veins and his nerves drowning of intoxicants.

He wanted to feel things— but all was gone and his body was numb. The only swirling thing in his heart was a blackhole of fragmented promises and faded futures.

“Fuck,” he muttered, nearly tripping over the staircase leading up to the apartment you once shared.

He hated this place. He hated every corner of it. Because in every turn of the head, he could still see the phantom of you— smiling at him, always ready to bandage his broken lips and put him back together like a physical form of a bandage that you are.

Every night, he going down to hell

Fake love in a shit hotel

Can't believe how far he fell

You weak on the floor so you call her cell

Heartbreak. It’s never going to stop, is it? It is a phenomenon of dying in the most torpid way. It is a leech inside your heart, trying to suck all the arteries out of blood.

No other flesh, no other lips would banish this heartbreak. That much was for sure. Jaehyun is an embodiment of a never-ending abyss. He fell, and all he does is fall with no guarantee of a destination.

Before he breaks— again and again— he wants to hear the voice of salvation; your voice.

"How you been?", "How you doing?"

You been good, I been drinking

Way too much, you think that I'd be over you, over you, over you

(Eight calls, all you)

It took you forever to answer. Perhaps hearing his voice was enough to hurt you. Still, you slid the green button and pressed the phone against your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

Jaehyun thinks it’s pathetic— it’s pathetic how his voice sounded as if it was shaking of grief as he greeted you with that one word. He doesn’t need this kind of weakness. He was always strong, always a fighter— all it took was ‘you’ to prove him wrong.

Come back, he wanted to say. But he was so jagged now, so broken, to think straight. In lieu of pretty words, he said the same venomous words he’s been saying since you walked away: “I’m glad you’re out of my life.”

But I think about it every day, yeah

Yeah, I never missed her anyways

Glad? He’s too fucked up to feel that word. But his tongue refuses to say it, refuses to beg for forgiveness and a second chance. So he convinced himself, that albeit cannonading you with calls that you hadn’t bothered to answer, he still doesn’t miss you and he’s better off without you.

When the truth is, you’re better off without him.

Drank too much, got the sickness

Pray to God and his son for forgiveness

Same crew but another mistress

Every day, every night getting wasted

Money, glory, sex. Jaehyun have lived for those things ever since he learned how to please a girl, ever since he started gambling all his money with the desire that it would somehow double at the end of the day, ever since he felt how it was to be untouchable and powerful.

But I miss you, what did I do?

Fuck it up, laugh it off and I lost you

If I pull through, is it too soon?

Turn it up, close my eyes, then I'm with you

But money isn’t something that could rival your value in his heart.

Glory isn’t enough to drive you out of his mind.

Especially, bedding each and every girl in the same bar won’t erase the taste of your lips against his.

Call me up

Stay over and we'll call it love

Don't matter if it fucks me up

The alcohol is not enough

“Call me, baby.” He stared at his phone, your face still fixed as his wallpaper. It was one of your hundred candids in his gallery; your sleeping and peaceful face after a tiresome day.

For minutes, Jaehyun’s heart seems to collapse. His vision whirling, and his head feels as if it was being torn out of his body. He’s going to die, he was certain of that. And he’s had no one to blame but himself. A month of inebriation with little to no sleep finally took its toll on his health.

Fuck pride and the other guy

I cried, I don't 'member why

Tonight, I'ma try to hide

No slide, get frostbite

“Jaehyun?! Jaehyun, wake up!”

After seconds, minutes, and hours of agony, he’s eventually heard your voice. Then he believed that he was already in heaven. But no, heaven is not a place for him to be— he was too bruised to enter that sanctuary.

“Jaehyun! God! Please!”

His eyes opened, but everything was still a blur. And yet he knows that it was you who sits beside him. Jaehyun’s knows you like the back of his hand. Blurry or not, dim or light, it was you. You came to him, to save him, like how you used to.

“It’s better if we call an ambulance.”

Jaehyun’s brows furrowed. That, that is not your voice. It belongs to someone— to a guy. He gathered all his remaining strength to sit up and give the man a vulgar gesture, “Fuck off.”

Eight calls, all you, eight ball, all you

Yeah, I never missed her anyways

After his near-death experience, you never once showed up in the hospital. Nor at his apartment. Jaehyun couldn’t blame you, though. It was the recklessness heavy in his bones that drove you away.

Yet he doesn’t seem to let you go. No, not yet. After all that has happened, he could be better. He could piece back everything together if you give him the chance. It doesn’t matter if he bled a little more, it doesn’t matter at all.

Drank too much, got the sickness

Pray to God and his son for forgiveness

Same crew but another mistress

Every day, every night getting wasted

One and last bottle, Jaehyun mumbled. He only needed a little spirit tonight. He only needed a little heat to face you. He’s done running away. He’s tired of it. And now he would take all his chance to get you back, right in his arms where you belong ever since day one.

But I miss you, what did I do?

Fuck it up, laugh it off and I lost you

If I pull through, is it too soon?

Turn it up, close my eyes, then I'm with you

“Baby,” he voiced out against the line. You were silent for a moment, before asking him if he ever was drinking again.

“One bottle.” Then silence. Jaehyun knew he should say something, anything. But his words were trapped in his throat, begging to be released but he refused to do so. He had this one chance and he wasn’t going to ruin it with how rash he could be sometimes.

Drank too much, got the sickness

Pray to God and his son for forgiveness

Same crew but another mistress

Every day, every night getting wasted

But I miss you, what did I do?

Fuck it up, laugh it off and I lost you

If I pull through, is it too soon?

Turn it up, close my eyes, then I'm with you

“Meet me. Baby, please. Let’s make this right.” Jaehyun’s words were laced with determination. He couldn’t let you slip again from his grasp. That would mean death for him.

“What is it, Jaehyun?” Oh, how he’d missed your voice.

You are so beautiful. Jaehyun stared at you for a good two minutes as the wind caressed your face, your hair dancing gracefully behind you.

Jaehyun is a piece of an unfinished puzzle. His edges were crooked, his heart was in tatters. But one thing he is certain of, behind the mayhem of everything, he loves you. And he won’t every stop loving you.

“Let’s...” he trailed off. Then he gulped, gathering all his strength. “Let’s try again.” When you looked at him with furrowed brows, he held up his hand. “I promise, I’m going to be better.” It was pathetic— how hopeless he sounded like. But nothing ever matters whenever he’s face to face with you. One word and he would kneel for your forgiveness.

He’d anticipated you to shout, to tell him how he’d fucked up your relationship. But your lips stretched out in a smile. Then you held both his cheeks with your warm palms.

“I love you, Jaehyun.” A kiss on the forehead. “Fix yourself, first. There’s no person who could do that— not even me— for you, but yourself. I believe in you, my love.” A soft kiss on the lips. “I will wait for you.”

Then you walked away.

#song: 2 soon #song-fic #jaehyun fic #jaehyun au #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun blurb #jaehyun scenario #jung jaehyung fic #jung jaehyun au #jung jaehyun imagines #jung jaehyun scenario #nct imagines #nct fic #nct x reader #nct scenario

79 notes · View notes

hunny-pp · 4 years

Text

duel (daphne/chisei)

[rated T for violence] (inspired by a scene from one of my favourite fics atm and also a small vent piece)

She was minding her business watching the cityscape from above, she hadn’t even started on her first can of beer. Daphne heard the shuffling of clothes as the second presence sat next to her from a distance.

Daphne doesn’t look, she doesn’t bother to. She knows who it is from the pain twisting in her chest and the butterflies soaring in her belly.

Then it evolves into something firing in her and she sets down her can after having a small swig of it for the liquid courage. She cracks her knuckles, knowing what she wants to do to him. Chisei gave a long and weary sigh, he knew what he must do as well.

“Must it be this way?” He asks, reluctant.

“You know it’s the only way.” She responds, firm on her intentions.

A hand grips on a sword, and the drawn sound of sheathed metal rings in her ears. Daphne slips her gauntlets on her arms, dropping her coat on the floor.

They stand prepared.

Daphne faces away as she walks to the other side of the building rooftop, before turning around as her feet dragged along the concrete into their stance. Her hands raised prepared. Eyes full of cold fury.

She stands to look at Chisei, brows furrowed as he also stands his ground, both hands on the handle of Dojikiri. Like the samurai he is, he stands ready to defend his pride.

A beat between them as they prepare for yet another fight - yet one that felt so needed.

Daphne sprints towards him, fist drawn back as Chisei attempts to break her flow by preparing to slash. The sound of metal rings in both ears as gauntlet and blade make contact, full of passion as if it was a first kiss. Daphne takes advantage of the force on her by moving forward, causing Chisei to lose his stance.

She attempts a kick to his back but Chisei, the trained warrior is swift and sidesteps from it. Yet, he can’t protect himself from Daphne’s barbaric moves - full of all her pent up emotions. He coughs as another kick was delivered on his side - just below the rib.

Daphne lunges for him again, and Chisei blocks her with his sword once again. She grits her teeth, “You left me to die.”

“I had no choice.” Chisei grunts, his other hand on his blade to help shove her away. Daphne stumbles before she regains her footing. She snarls, “Then that means you lied to me!”

“You don’t know the full story,” Chisei frowns at the image of the holographic Masamune, telling him to make the hard decision as a cursed High Patriarch. Daphne shakes her head, eyes dark.

“Does it matter when you still shattered my trust!?” She charges, and the outburst had thrown Chisei off that the punch to his stomach made him see stars. He struggles for breath as he’s shoved to the ground, feeling the hard force of the concrete on his head and back.

Then an arm is wrapped around his neck, passing from under his sword arm to lock him in place. His blurry vision sees a leg wrapped around his waist, pinning him down. Chisei had read her file, knew she specialized in grappling and had seen her toss and hold monsters and men alike with cold anger.

“What you’ve done to me, no matter the intention is irreversible and unforgivable,” she hisses in his ear, “I’m not making it easy for you to grovel for my forgiveness.”

She tightens her grip and Chisei almost bit his tongue with how his jaw had tightened, “Knowing you however, I know that it’s beneath you to do such a thing. Am I wrong?”

He couldn’t even give her an answer even if he tried. In his head, he wondered if hurting her would make Daphne resent him further, but at this point his life was in danger. His off hand scrambled for the smaller sword and when it gripped, he points it to his neck. It was sandwiched by Daphne’s arm and her own head and from the gasp he could hear, he knew she was aware.

“Do it.” She says but from the loosening grip, Chisei could tell she was preparing to save herself.

A sword hits the ground and the sound of a body rolling follows after, Chisei heaves for his breath and wipes the spit on his bottom lip. He stands, and so does Daphne who has a fresh cut on her forearm. First blood goes to Chisei.

She glances at it, annoyed. Chisei delivers a large slash with Dojikiri, going on the offensive as Daphne weaves under it in time for it to only clip some tips off her hair. Immediately a sweeping kick sends Chisei off his feet and hitting the ground with a flashing thud.

He blinks his stunned state away as he quickly rolls to avoid a fist encased in pure energy to the ground, forming cracks. He swings his sword, making shallow cuts on Daphne’s legs, she stumbles. It pissed her off.

Chisei could feel the blood running from his forehead as he stood up - how he had lost count of how many times she swept him off his feet.

“Are you fighting to kill?!” He raises his voice for the first time in this fight. Daphne’s eyes widen with rage, “Don’t insult me by realising that now!”

All her pent up anger and pain towards what Chisei had done to her, what he had broken fueled her fists as she rushes in for another punch. It hit him on the face and Chisei now had to combat the feeling of blood running down from his nose.

“Don’t make me cross,” Chisei felt his own temper rise as his swings became stronger, and no matter how many she tried to duck and weave, she felt the cuts on her arms - all varying degrees of severity. Chisei knew that with every cut, the distance from him and Daphne would grow. But she wanted to fight, she wanted to assert all her fury on him, and in return he didn’t want to insult her by being complicit in being beaten up.

Is it even possible to apologise to her after this?

A flash of green crossed his vision before seeing more of the sky and cityscape, then he could see the concrete before seeing white with a heavy thud. The hold on his pelvis loosened as his head and back throbbed in agony. He gritted his teeth, swallowing in the pain as he keeled. He can’t back down, no matter how many times Daphne tosses him like a ragdoll.

He clambers up as he uses his sword like a cane, breath ragged and he notices that the cuts on Daphne’s body was also wearing her down. Her own stance was weaker, and she was scrambling for breath - that throw took a lot of her might.

His sword hand points Dojikiri to Daphne, “Look at me, you’ve had your fill. Yield.”

Daphne shakes her head, “It’s not enough and you know that.”

She’s blinking rapidly now and through the faint lights of the city and the rooftop, he sees the shine of her fresh tears, “I hate you so much, it won’t ever be enough.”

Chisei swallows, “Do you really?”

Her bottom lip quivers, “I don’t know…I thought this would help me find an answer I wanted.”

His voice is softer, “Then yield, please.”

She shakes her head, readying a fist full of pure energy, and Chisei prepares in a flash. He didn’t know his eyes were shut, but when he reopened them his eyes widened.

His blade in Daphne - digging into her side and under her rib, her chest was heaving and trying to even her breathing. His mouth was dropped open as he looked up to see Daphne, her tearing eyes back to their hollow self. She bit at her lip, the blood pooling at her mouth. Chisei couldn’t form words. He felt like any chance of Daphne forgiving him were gone, but Daphne only gave him a small smile, puzzling him.

His shock dissipates and he pulls his blade out of Daphne who wobbles, he too was feeling the effects of his own injuries. Using Dojikiri to support him, he looks over at Daphne clutching at her new and severe wound.

Before he could even ask why, he could hear the commotion coming upstairs - the voices of Crow and Yasha leading them. He looks over at Daphne and extends his hand out, “Come with me, we’ll treat your wounds and after that we’ll let you go, we won’t track you.”

“Just please-” he was close to saying ‘let me make amends’ but swallowed that down.

Daphne shook her head, all the anger simmering down until she looked like her tired and jaded self, her tears long dried. She picked up her long neglected beer, taking a long needed drink from it until it was empty, she wipes her mouth with her free hand. Then she picked up her coat, letting the blood cake the white fabric as she tied it around her waist.

“I can’t let you do that. Not even if I wanted to.” She breathes out.

She makes a vague click with her mouth and her mecha zips in, Chisei wondered how long that little thing was hiding - then why she didn’t get it to help fight him. The sound of footsteps come closer and Chisei watches as she backs away to the edge.

“Goodbye.”

She leans back and falls off the edge with her mech following after her, and Chisei yelled her name as he stumbled to the edge, finding zero trace of her or her mech among the cityscape.

#dragon raja #dragon raja oc #chisei gen #daphne menthe tag #(i wanted to write and tbh fighting scenes are always a good way of venting for me)#(im not primarily a writer i only do it when i feel like it)

21 notes · View notes

leahclearwaterdefensesquad · 4 years

Text

The first time Rosalie and Eleanor meet

We know Eleanor’s backstory - mauled in the mountains by a black bear. She was lying bloody on the ground when Rosalie found her

Rose had been out hunting and even though she knew the smell of the human blood would possibly be too much to resist, she had to see what was wrong

She realizes quickly that she hasn’t built up enough resistance, nor does she have the availability of medical equipment, to focus and treat her properly atm

So, as gently as she can, she picks up Eleanor and takes her back to Carlisle

It’s so, so difficult to keep from looking down at this young woman’s face, bloodied and scratched from the attack, or god forbid the gaping gash on her neck, as she runs

She can hear little moans of pain slip out of her, and it almosts hurts more than the fire ravaging her throat

When Rose finally gets to Carlisle, he immediately gets to work, and they both quickly realize that the human won’t survive what happened to her

There’s too much blood, and though Carlisle acts calmly and assuredly as though there isn’t even blood there, Rose almost wants to scream from the torture

But she can’t leave. Not just yet. Even though there’s nothing they can do. This human is going to die.

There’s one option, Carlisle says. When Rose meets his eyes, she almost slashes at him in fury, her hand curled into claws, but really, she has never felt so helpless

She either dies, or she becomes one of them. A vampire.

Either way, this girl with the dark curls and electrifying blue eyes will never have a human life. It is either death, or the frozen passage of time that comes with immortality.

In her hysteria, she whips around, only to meet the human’s eyes

She’s convulsing, and with every struggle comes a wave of blood pouring from her, her eyes straining for Rosalie’s - and her lips, they’re moving, she’s mouthing something -

Help me, she pleads. Save me.

Please.

All Rose has to do is meet Carlisle’s eyes.

She has to leave the room to be away from the stench for just a little bit, just to regain enough control

But she can’t stop picturing her face

The brown curls matted with dirt pressed to her bloody skin,

Her square face crumpling as she cried,

And her blue eyes - something about them seemed to pierce Rose to her very core, as if this stranger could look straight into her soul, silencing the world until it was just her and this human girl

She almost goes back in - until she hears the screaming

It immediately brings it all back for Rose - the relentless agony, the pain that felt like it was eating her alive, the terror of not knowing where she was, what was happening to her

and now, the sudden onslaught of guilt.

What has she done?

Not even Esme’s murmurs of comfort can stop Rose’s anguished hysterics.

She knows, if she were human, she would be sobbing, but all she can do is gasp for breath as every shriek tears through the air, piercing straight to her heart.

It ends a few days later.

The silence is deafening, and it is only then that Rose goes in

Her vampire senses alert her instantly to every change - the stench of blood is only lingering now - Carlisle has cleaned up the blood. He grips a pile of fresh clothes in his hands.

There’s no heartbeat. The young girl is lying still, so, so inhumanly still.

Now that she isn’t thrashing, it’s easier to notice certain aspects of her appearance she didn’t bother with in her haste before.

Rose drinks in the sight of her

Her shoulders are wide and body are wide, stocky even. Muscle ropes her arms and calves. Her curls, now washed, shine in a rich shade of chocolate, arrayed around her face in a halo. Her hands are large, much larger than any woman Rose has ever seen, yet are coupled with long, almost delicate fingers.

And her face, it’s no longer scratched and glistening with blood, but smooth and pale, with a long, straight nose and proudly arched brows, a bow shaped mouth and -

Blood red eyes.

#rosalie hale #eleanor cullen #rosalie x eleanor #twilight #twilight headcanons #life and death #twilight renaissance #twilight saga #rosalie x eleanor headcanons #personal post #blood cw #blood tw #this... was supposed to just be short general headcanons about the progression of their relationship #but i really got stuck on the bloody bit huh #long ass post #maybe i'll do femme rose and butch eleanor headcanons later #i meant to keep going but it's 3 in the morning someone feel free to keep going #i'm too tired to write about their real first meeting #maybe tomorrow

78 notes · View notes

betelgeusessonajblog · 4 years

Text

Carlos’ Final Day....

You knew this was coming

@thelostandforgottenangel not sorry!

Carlos rubs his eyes a little as he steps out of a portal, he groans a little then blinks “I need to get used to that.” he thought as he shook his head. It takes a minute before his vision adjusts to the normal light “Ah much better.” he smiled before pocketing the bottle that was in his hands.

He had decided to surprise AJ and, Raph after hearing both had managed to recover quite a lot since he’d last heard from them.

Carlos walks down the street as he pulls out his phone then dials AJ’s number, wanting to see if AJ was free so he could visit them.

After a few rings it goes straight to voicemail, Carlos thinks for a moment ‘Hm he must be busy with Raph.” so he decides to leave a voicemail “ Hi, Alex it’s me. I’m guessing you’re spending time with Raph. I’m so glad that you and he are doing much better. I decided to stop by Monstropolis to surprise you tonight but since you’re busy I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be staying at the MonStar hotel. I’ll see you tomorrow, have fun!” he said as he hung up then decided to check AJ’s Facebook page.

He smiled a little as he saw a new photo of Raph and, AJ that the young lizard had posted not too long ago with the caption ‘Spending the evening with my hubby’ underneath it.

Carlos exits his account then puts his phone away as he began walking down the street “I have time before I have to head to my hotel.”

He spends the next twenty minutes walking around, exploring the city as he never truly got the chance to do so whenever he did visit.

Carlos stops in front of a fast food stand and decides to grab a bite to eat, he pulls out his wallet to grab some money but groans a little “In all my excitement I forgot to go to the ATM and get this world’s currency.” he muttered.

Just then a woman with black hair in a bun approached Carlos “Excuse me but are you having some issues with money?” she asked as Carlos looked at her.

“Hm? Oh yeah, I suppose you could call it issues. In all my excitement to visit my son and, son-in-law I forgot to change my currency.” Carlos replied, chuckling a little in embarrassment.

The woman reaches into her trench coat and pulls out her purse “Allow me to buy you something from the stand.”

“Oh I couldn’t possibly do that.” Carlos replied as he held up a hand

“I do not mind as long as you can repay me.” The woman smiled

“....Oh...Alright. I am rather hungry and I have some time before I have to head to my hotel. Not for another half hour.” Carlos said as the woman approached the food stand and begins ordering herself and, Carlos some food.

Soon she hands a hamburger to Carlos whom takes it with a smile “Thank you so much. I’m Carlos Garcia, by the way. I never got to introduce myself to you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Garcia.” The woman smiled “You may call me Miwa.” she said as she took a bite out of her food.

Carlos nodded “Miwa? That’s nice. Japanese?” he asked

Miwa nods “Yes, that’s right. My father named me it after my late mother.” she explained as she and Carlos ate together.

“I am so sorry for your loss.” Carlos said with a sincere look on his face “Losing someone is never easy.”

Miwa nods in agreement “Yes, that is true.” she shook her head “But we live for those that are no longer around.”

Carlos nodded “That’s a nice sentiment.” he smiled. He pulls out his phone to check the time “Oh, it’s almost time for me to check into my hotel.”

"May I offer a cab service? I use this company all the time, they are very reliable.” Miwa said with a smile

“Oh that’d be appreciated, I don’t know any companies in this country.” Carlos chuckled.

“May I borrow your phone to call the company? That way you can save it to use later.” Miwa asked to which Carlos nodded, the idea sounded reasonable to him.

Miwa took Carlos’ phone then dialled a number into it, she spoke briefly to someone on the other end before hanging up “They’ll be here within the next five minutes. Luckily a driver was in our vicinity.”

“Oh that is great. I hate having to stand around for long periods of time.” Carlos said with a smile.

Miwa nods a little in agreement “We should get going, they’ll be wanting to park nearby.” she said as she started walking off.

Carlos nodded as he followed Miwa towards a nearby store “outside here?” he asked

Miwa nods a little “Yes, I often stand outside this store whilst I wait on them.” she replied with a smile “plus it is a nice way to watch something on the TV whilst waiting.”

Carlos turned to look at the store, noticing it was an electronics one “Oh that is a nice idea.”

Whilst Carlos’ back was turned, a van pulled up behind him and, Miwa. Without hesitation, Miwa pulls out a syringe and stabs Carlos in the neck, he quickly passes out and is dragged inside the van.

Hours later Carlos groans as he wakes up in what appeared to be an old warehouse, his hands shackled above his head “Wh...where....”

Before he could fully grasp where he was or what was going on, something stabbed into his side then began to zap him. Carlos screamed out in agony as he felt the electricity run through his body.

Soon the zapping stopped as Carlos panted heavily, he looks up and sees Miwa standing before him “M-Miwa...?? What are you...”

“My name is not Miwa, you fool. My name is Karai.” Karai said as Carlos’ eyes widened in horror realising who it was

"Wh-what do you want from me??” Carlos asked, his voice trembling a little.

“You are going to spill everything you know about your son and the turtle.” Karai said with a smirk

"You must be insane if you think that I would ever betray my son and his husband.” Carlos replied before getting punched in the gut, causing him to grunt

Karai spends the next three hours trying to get Carlos to spill anything that could help the Foot win against Raph and, AJ but Carlos would just toss out useless information about AJ like how he has a passion for playing the guitar.

Karai slams her fist onto a nearby desk “STOP WASTING OUR TIME AND GIVE US THE INFORMATION WE WANT!!” she shouts

Carlos’ face was badly beaten and very bruised, his left eye had swollen a little, he spits some blood onto Karai’s chest “I told you, you stupid bitch....I would never betray my son or son-in-law.”

Karai growled as she went to punch Carlos again “Do not bother, Karai.” a voice called out as Shredder appeared from seemingly nowhere.

Karai looks at Carlos then walks towards Shredder “I have been at this for three hours now, he has given no useful information.” she said with an annoyed tone in her voice.

Shredder walks towards Carlos whom was trembling a little “If you wish to make it out of here alive, you will comply with our demands, lizard.”

Carlos inhales deeply “I...am...NEVER going to betray my family.” he replied as he trembled a little.

Shredder shook his head silently before looking at Karai and, in Japanese, tells her to bring Carlos’ cell phone over. He looks back at Carlos “You might as well say goodbyes now....” Shredder said as freed Carlos’ hands

Carlos drops to his knees, blood dripping from his mouth as he panted. He looks up at Karai as he takes his phone, his hands shaking as he dialled AJ’s number once again and...once again...only reaching his voicemail. Part of him was hoping AJ would be able to answer this time, hoping he could tell AJ personally his final words but decided to just leave one final voicemail for the young lizard “Al-Alex…I’m so sorry honey to call again….something happened and I’m…I’m not gonna be around anymore.” he took a deep breath but it still came out shaky “Alex….you have no idea….just how proud of you I am. Of the life you’ve built for yourself with Raphael…..I am so glad I took you in as my own son….You were the best thing to happen to me since Ollie….I want you to promise to keep doing your best….no matter what happens to me, okay? Tell Roger that I love him so much and he’s an amazing young man. Raph….Raph is an amazing partner….and I was proud to call him my son-in-law. I know he’ll keep you safe when I’m gone. Never forget how much you meant to me, Alex. I love you….I love you so much.” as Carlos finishes his message to AJ, Shredder looks at Karai and gives her a nod.

Karai quickly grabs some wire that was on the nearby desk then wraps it around Carlos’ neck and begins to choke the life out of him. He drops his phone onto the ground as Karai did this. He begins to struggle, attempting to break free. He wasn’t ready to die, not yet. There was so much he wanted to do and, experience. He wanted to live, he wanted to see his family again.

Karai tightens the wire around Carlos’ neck, she then puts her foot on his back as she pulls upwards causing a loud CRUNCH to be heard as his windpipe was crushed, killing him in seconds, the life quickly draining from his eyes.

Shredder stomps on Carlos’ phone as Karai lets go of Carlos, causing his lifeless body to drop onto the ground with a thud. Shredder looks at two nearby Foot ninjas “Hold his body up.” he says to which the two ninjas agree.

They each grab an arm then hold Carlos’ body up, he looks at his bladed arm then in one swift motion cuts Carlos’ midsection open causing his guts to drop out, blood pouring onto the ground “....Take his body and string him up. I want them to find him.” Shredder instructed some Foot ninjas whom all nod then carry Carlos’ body away.

A while later the Foot members wrap wire around Carlos’ neck then hang him up. Luckily for them this was the quiet hour in the street so no one saw them. Carlos’ body was soon hanging, blood dripping from his guts.

Meanwhile.....in the Netherworld....Carlos lays in the middle of a street, he sits up and rubs his neck “...wasn’t...I just...” he muttered as he stood up and begins to look around. it was clear to him that this wasn’t AJ and, Raph’s world....nor was it the Monster World....

Carlos walks backwards as he looked around until someone tapped him on the shoulder causing the lizard to turn around to see who it was.

Carlos’ eyes widened as he saw a young dog-like monster standing in front of him. The dog-like monster had two small horns on his head, his eyes were a light blue colour, his body was muscular “...Hello...love...” the monster said.

Carlos began to tear up “O-Ollie...??” to which the dog-like monster nods smiling as Carlos quickly wraps his arms around Ollie. The two share a long, loving kiss before they pulled away, Carlos places his forehead against Ollie’s “Ollie...I...I am so sorry for...”

“Sssh....Carlos....not once did I ever blame you for what happened to me...I should’ve tried to keep fighting but I was just so broken....” Ollie said as Carlos lightly caresses his face “I was....sent here to help you with....dying.”

“...so...I really died...” Carlos said as he began to sob softly, Ollie wraps his arms around Carlos “I...I didn’t want to die, there was so much I....”

“I know, love...I know...” Ollie said as he lightly rubs Carlos’ back, trying to soothe the lizard.

“Wh-What about Alex....?? He...” Carlos started to say before Ollie kisses him on the lips gently

“Alex is going to be okay....he’s a strong kid....I’ve been watching over you for some time. I am so proud of you for helping him out when he needed someone....” Ollie said as he pulled away, taking Carlos’ hand into his “....Why won’t we go start our afterlife together?”

Carlos looks at Ollie’s hand then at Ollie, nodding a little with a small smile “At...least I get to be with you again, Ollie...”

The two walk off together, hand in hand heading off to start their afterlife together. For once....Carlos felt truly happy....he finally had the love of his life back. They stand in front of a door, Carlos was nervous about whatever it was that was behind it but Ollie gives him a reassuring smile before they walked through it, a bright light engulfs the pair as they share another kiss.

4 notes · View notes

arlome · 4 years

Note

for the soft!prompt: #9 "I saved a piece for you." ♥️♥️♥️

Here you go, love - tooth-rotting fluff I didn’t know I had in me :)

He’s not used to selflessness. Every lover he’s ever taken to his bed has had his or her own greedy desires to slake. He is like a Wishing Well, a celestial ATM for carnal cravings; good for a night or two, brilliant for a meaningless shag, but rarely more than that.

Chloe is benevolence incarnate. She is not a saint, not without fault, but she’s truly good; kind in the most sincere way, and full of sympathy. Even for monsters like him.

Her gentle kindness takes him by surprise - he’s back from Hell and healing, the time apart meant centuries of agony for him - and she holds him softly in her arms, and kisses his meticulously coiffed hair, and whispers how much she missed him in his ear. And as he tries to regain his equilibrium, her affection for him tethers him to the present, to his beloved Earth. It grounds him in a way that losing his wings never did - he does not feel heavy and bound; he is light and weightless and free.

And when he misses Seargeant Deacon’s birthday party and is genuinely upset that he missed the celebrations, she beckons him to her desk with a smile and produces a napkin covered plate.

“I saved a piece for you,” she laughs softly, removing the polka-dotted napkin with a flourish. “I know how fond you are of cake.”

He kisses her hand, and thanks her with soft, starry eyes, and she blushes ever so prettily under his adoring gaze, that he cares not if the entire precinct is privy to this little exchange.

They have so many ways to love.

#love ask #deckerst #lucifer fanfiction #my fic

18 notes · View notes

bewareofchris · 4 years

Text

Public Relations 15/??

R atm | Alec Hardy/Dr. Bill Masters | Broadchurch, Masters of Sex | Strong language, eventual sexual situations

“The fact that Alec Hardy was not currently, had not ever, and did not want to date the American sex research did not seem very important at all to the town of Broadchurch. They did what they had always done with a little bit of juicy gossip: they made a spectacle of it.”

<< prev

Bill’s travels brought him back to the office for lack of a better place to go. The office was, at very least, more familiar to him than another hotel room. He knew all the turns of this building; all the sounds it made as it settled to sleep. He knew where they kept the tea and sugar. There were spare sheets in a cabinet by the exam rooms and a couch in the employee lounge that was long enough to stretch out on. It wasn’t the same as being home, but it was as close as he had for now.

Betty woke him in the morning. She held out an extra cup of a coffee to accompany the little sack of donuts she’d dropped on the coffee table in front of him. “Have a nice trip?” she asked.

No. The way home had been worse than the way out. Or, maybe that was just knowing what he was coming back to. Bill sat up with a groan, and scrubbed his gritty eyes with his finger and thumb. “The best,” he said.

Betty cocked an eyebrow up at that statement. She handed him the coffee before she invited herself to sit next to him. There was a couch as long as a full grown man to choose from but she dropped into place so close to his side their elbows were kissing. “Your ex called while you were gone,” she said.

“Which one?” Bill asked.

Betty snorted before she could answer. “Your soon to be ex-wife called to say that she’d donated all your clothes to the local thrift shop. She said that she was packing up, quote ‘your other shit’ unquote and you had three days to come get it.”

Well, all things considered that was very charitable of Libby.

“How long ago was that?”

“Relax boss,” Betty said. She patted him on the leg with an awkward slap of her palm and then thought better of it. “Helen and I moved your shit into our guest room for the time being. Now that’s supposed to be the nursery when you’re done getting distracted by your personal crises so it can’t stay there but at least you’re not going to have to buy it back, you know.”

Bill nodded along. “Well, thank you Betty.”

They were quiet for a few blessed minutes, sipping their coffee before the day really got started. Bill was working himself up to feeling like he could manage it from here on. (He was thinking how very much he must look like Alec Hardy right now, wearing the same wrinkled clothes he’d been wearing for days.)

Betty leaned her head against his shoulder, wormed her arm under his and said, “so, did you meet any nice guys over there?”

“Oh for Christ’s sake. How did you find out?”

“I have an alert for any news articles that feature your name,” Betty said. She sat up straight again because he’d jerked to the side. Her smile was just as brilliantly pleased as he had imagined it would be. “I like to know what’s coming at me, you know? It helps me keep an accurate estimate of the death threats that we’re going to get in the mail.”

“They really put it in the news?”

“Oh,” Betty pulled her phone out of her pocket, “they put it in a lot of the news. You think you can go over there and hook up with the worst cop in Britain and nobody’d notice?” She pulled up an article with a stupid title and a grainy, unforgiving photo of Alec Hardy. “Not really a looker, but what do I know?”

“He does look terrible,” Bill agreed.

“I didn’t know you had homosexual leanings,” Betty said. She pronounced every syllable of the words separately, dragging the world homosexual out as long as she could. She’d been teasing him about it since the beginning. Bill was bad at interactions, and worse at surprises, and he just hadn’t been prepared to be uncomfortable using the word until he’d heard himself saying it.

He was over that now, but Betty had known him since the start, and she never let him forget it.

“I prefer women,” Bill said, “but I think every man has at least thought about it. Most have probably experimented.”

“Right,” Betty said. She tucked the phone back into her pocket. “So how was the worst cop in Britian? Does he make up in sex what he lacks in investigative prowess?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Bill said.

“Oh come on.”

“I really wouldn’t know. The town made it up. We never even kissed.”

Betty’s face was pink with laughing as she got back up to her feet. “If that’s the story we’re telling. Come on, boss. Eat your breakfast, we’ve got a full schedule today.”

It was a week (according to his phone) before he saw Ellie again. Hardy hadn’t had any notion of seeing her again or he might have done a better job at trying to keep his hotel room tidy. It was a constant wonder to him that he could make such a mess with so little. But there were what few clothes he’d brought with him, dropped where they lay. There was a variety of takeout boxes, and snack bags and other debris all stacked up along the way to the trash.

Ellie looked the same as she’d ever been on the outside. Maybe her face was a little more wan, maybe there was a bit less of a twinkle in her eye, but you couldn’t tell that if you didn’t look for it. “Christ,” she said as soon as she saw him, “what have you been doing?”

Sometimes, more than anything else, Ellie Miller was a mother.

“Resting,” Hardy said. It sounded better than the more true alternatives. He was saving up his energy to decide what he was going to do next. There was the matter of staying in Broadchurch or not. There was a growing list of medical appointments waiting for him. There was a need to find a more permanent living arrangement.

Ellie stood just inside his room scowling at the state of his belongings. She was shaking her head, working around her own agony to come up with something worth saying. “I hardly have room to say anything. Look at the pair of us, messed up over men that don’t deserve our time.”

One day, Hardy was going to have to tell her the truth. “How’re the boys?” he asked.

“How do you think they are?” she asked. Nobody was going to blame her for being sharp.

Hardy was the last man who would condemn someone for being unfriendly. He didn’t even know what to say now. Or if he should close the door; if there was something he needed to offer her. Tea? (He didn’t even have any.)

“I’ve just come to-- I don’t know why I’m here. I just needed to take a walk and I ended up here. How are you? Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Hardy said.

Ellie looked significantly toward the pile of his unwashed clothes spread out along the foot of the bed. Then she just sighed, and gripped her elbows like she was trying to contain herself in a smaller space. “I’ve put in for a transfer.” Of course she had.

“If you think that’s best.”

Ellie coughed a laugh. She didn’t address his poor attempt at conversation, she just sighed. “Take care of yourself, Alec. Really take care of yourself. I don’t want to hear on the news about you dying.”

Well, that made two of them. “I will,” he said. “You take care of yourself too.”

“Right,” Ellie said. She slid back out through the door he was still holding open with a nod. “Good bye.”

next >>

@it-is-ineffable, @marvelmisha, @e3105eb, @may-darling, @bigleosis, @jiffry6969, @stardust-andwine

#illogical husbands #alec hardy #bill masters #grouchy bastards in love #public relations: the fic

46 notes · View notes

charmspoint · 3 years

Note

I know you said they don't have a concrete story yet, but would you be ok with telling us more about Zan and Ghost? They seem really interesting

Anon you don't know what you unleashed its like past 1am here but I could talk about them forever.

This is gonna be under the cut because nobody has to be subjected to this.

General quick point: Both of these started off as bnha oc's but then reached that point where I was like 'yeah, I want them in their own story' so rn their powers are just powers with no wider context since I aint got that story

I'm gonna start with Zan cuz he's older by creation and my fav oc atm. For him we have TW's of child abuse and neglect, familial death, trauma, drug abuse, depression and anxiety, though I'll be running through this points as quickly and non graphically as I can cuz...I'm not gonna make you read my thesis so it should be fine.

His full legal name is Kazuya Moriyama but he goes by Zan Mori, he's 24. Zan was created to be two things 1. Character design with a fully body tattoo 2. Someone to use a power I came up with but didn't match with a character yet.

Here's that power, yes I have a copy paste off it:

Nightmare fuel is a power that terrorizes everyone, including its user. Zan’s sweat contains a special kind of chemical that when smelled causes mild to severe hallucinations, paranoia and other fear responses by interacting with victims brain chemistry. However, this chemical is only contained in sweat that he produces as a result of fear so, for example if he goes running in the gym, nothing bad will happen. The strength of the power depends on how much Zan himself is afraid and how much sweat he is producing. A weak dose will only result in sense of unease, a feeling of being watched, escalating through general paranoia, with its worst manifestation being complete loss of touch with reality and intense hallucinations. It's odorless and since it’s a chemical can be stored for later use. The last stages of it are very hard to reach because they require for Zan to be at similar levels of severe distress. It affects him as well, often resulting in endless loop of him being afraid, activating his power because of his fear, the power causing more intense fear and so on.

So here is where we start to build.

Zan's backstory hinges on him developing this power very early on in his life, as a result of mutation that his parents were not ready for. Kids get scared of things, a lot, especially when their own power feeds back into that fear. His family quickly spiraled from it, going from trying to figure out how to help him to neglecting him to dying very bloodily in front of him as a result of the constant psychological distress. After that he was cycled through different foster and youth homes with pretty similar result before striking it on his own basically as soon as he could.

Zan's main motivation is to find a way to get rid of his power. He hates it, hates what it represents and how it essentially stripped away his ability to connect with anyone. He doesn't control it, he doesn't activate it, it simply happens to him whenever he gets distressed and as someone with deep seated anxiety caused by that very same power, he gets distressed a lot.

He self-medicates. He self medicates a lot. I don't really have the world planned out but it's very much a world where powers are a new thing and the society just doesn't have systems in place to catch people like Zan. So he basically keeps himself high as much as he can, to numb himself out so he doesn't feel anything so he doesn't get scared so his power doesn't get activated.

When I created Zan, I expected him to be a very jaded, angry, abrasive character and in some ways he is. He's very slow to trust and tends to keep away from people. His first instinct is to mock and insult, he dresses like an emo reject, he's absolutely covered in tattoos, he's a dark humored pessimist and just not the kind of person you want to be around for long. He's also probably one of the most empathic characters I have on the roster atm. He's like, a natural big brother. Any kids younger then him, fuck older than him but awkward and unsure, he's instantly adopting. Fuck everything else, his kids now, he'll make them lunch and make sure they get to school. Zan is more so abrasive out of need than out of actual malice or bad attitude. He does want to be close to people he just knows how that always ends so keeping away is a lot safer. He is genuinely very loving and soft when he lets himself be. He's not great about advice but he's a good listener and the type to throw everything on the backburner to come and help a friend out. He is inherently kind, he just doesn't allow himself to be so very often, unless someone damn well takes a chisel and digs it out of him.

Fun fact time:

He's got a knack for painting and idolizes Van Gogh

He's got a cat named Shikei who he picked up after it got run over by a car, it likes only him and wants to see the rest of humanity burn

Here are his established tattoos, yes I have a copy paste for that too:

Full body tattoo in shape of a jungle of thorns crawling over his entire body, save most of his face. The whole piece is done in eerie, cold colors, with a sudden splash of warmer color here and there, the thorns themselves being colored in misty and muted blues and greens. Over his heart, there is a tattoo of a birds nest, but the nest is breaking apart, suffocated by the thorns clustering around it and breaking into it, its branches drenched in blood, the baby birds in it barely even noticeable. Along the length of his spine and over the width of his hips an ornate cross of st. peter is painted, also crumbling, red spider lilies breaking through the frail rock. His shoulder blades are covered in sunflowers, strikingly bright on the cold surface of the thorns and painted in Van Gogh style. There is a chain of daisies lines across his neck and down to his chest, covering an old scar and a tiny ring of roses over his ring finger. On the nape of his neck, two butterflies are pinned by the thorns, appearing to still be alive and in agony as their bodies are pierced. A silver snake slithers through the thorns on his right arm, though its shade helps it blend in with the color of thorns, it’s body a tiny bit coiled, considering should it strike or not. On the back of his left hand there is a tiny leaf bug, trying to hide amidst the bare thorns and on the outer shell of his ear, mostly hidden from view by his head, is a ladybug, wings spread like it is about to fly away. A swarm of blue butterflies paint the silhouette of his lungs across his skin and two koi fishes circle each other endlessly on his hip. In thorns climbing up and down his neck, there are tiny fireflies, just barely bright enough to be seen. Two thin thorn branches separate themselves from the cluster on his neck and climb across his temples, their thorns appearing to be piercing through his skin and letting blood flow.

The tattoo is still in progress.

This was the brief summary.

Ghost! Ghost is a lot newer than Zan, I only made them at the start of this year so they are a lot less detailed but they hit the ground running. Their tw are mostly prostitution and existentialist feelings but I'm not getting into anything in detail.

Their full name is Ghostown Verb and yes they did name themselves that. They are 27 and their power is Forget me not, as I said previously, as soon as they are out of someone's line of sight, to that person it's like they never existed. The memories of meeting them return as soon as they are back in the field of vision but uhh you can see how it would be super easy to lose a child like that.

Ghost grew up on the street in a kind of do whatever you can when you can how you can attitude. Turns out it's really hard to get help from anyone when they can't remember you as soon as they stop looking at you, which includes but is not limited to social workers, well meaning passerby, police, foster homes and landlords. The name and face for the paperwork doesn't exist and people just find themselves grasping at nothing, feeling like they are forgetting something but not knowing what it is. It works in some ways, shoplifting is a lot easier when you're sure that you can just turn a corner and be safe, but it's mostly just a hassle. Ghost is homeless most of the time and when they were old enough for it their career of choice became prostitution simply because it's pretty much the only job where the customer doesn't need to remember you after they're no longer looking at you and it's not like Ghost has to answer to any boss who would have to either.

They had not had a kind life but they are the let and let live type. They don't stress a lot about things and generally take everything in a fly. They are very extroverted, very loud, very friendly. They form friendships fast because they know they'll lose them fast and same goes with love affairs. They live in the moment because for everyone else the moment is the only place where they exist. Loud fashion, loud words, loud actions, provocative and noticeable, they just want to be seen by people, remembered by people, they want the attention on them even though they know it's useless. Much like Zan they also have no control of their power so all they can do is live with it. At least it doesn't bring anyone any direct harm, they are grateful for that much.

But it does leave them displaced, unanchored. They don't have any support system, no family, no long term friends. The system can't even remember them for long enough to decide it isn't equipped to deal with them. They flitter through peoples lives, there one moment and gone the next. The biggest impact they can hope to have is the nagging feeling of having forgotten something.

It's not like they are exactly sad about it, their main mentality is just not to worry about things they can't change. These are the cards they've been dealt with and play those cards they shall. At the very least they are having fun with their life, doing whatever they want with no one remembering them long enough to stop them.

But it's a lonely existence with no viable human connection. That much does get to them.

Fun facts!

They have a tattoo of a forget-me-not on their shoulder, I haven't decided do they have it before the plot whatever it is starts, or do they get it cuz Zan's influence.

They like to make their own clothes when they can, though having a stable enough place to be for a long enough time is rare.

Their biggest fear is that when they die nobody will remember to look for their body :)

That was a brief rundown of these two! If you made it to the end damn congrats I love you

#anon #oc talk #I CAN TALK A VERY LONG TIME ABOUT MY OCS THIS ISNT EVEN THE DEEP DIVE #it might look like i like ghost less cuz i got way less for them but bls remember that zan is like....fuck like 3-4 years old #probs 3 as he is #4 if we count the thrown away beta design #ghost was born in February this year he's not even a full year old what a baby #ahhhh but anyway thank you for asking im always super excited to talk about my ocs #thank you for letting me geek out!!!!#i am NOT going to spell check all of that rn its almost 3am if i wrote something badly you'll have to live with it #zan mori #ghostown verb #they should have their own tags they deserve it #zan #ghost

0 notes

thewhacko-blog · 6 years

Text

Fractured: Chapter 5

Chapter 5

“Jesus Christ, Jonesy, you're on the clock! Put that Goddamn thing out.” Sharpes' harsh voice barked, startling the lanky little crook. Elijah Jones, Jonesy to his small circle of friends, had a few bad habits, and they'd worn steadily on the nerves of his employers; in this case, a few hits off a thin reefer of Gotham Groove to calm his nerves had set the older gangster off, and Jonesy swore as he tossed the weed aside, coughing as he tried his best to look professional after that embarrassing little display. The others, Eddie and Carmine, had a good laugh while they loaded the last of the huge Lex Corp crates into the delivery truck, and he could only grumble and heft his uzi, shuffling back to his spot outside the hangar. He was easily the smallest member of this crew, standing at roughly 5'5”, his body thin and wirey, and his smooth, youthful face gave the impression of a kid straight out of high school, at least when he was off the clock.

He'd been with this crew for about a month now, and he was still unsure of the whole organized crime scene. Before, he'd just been a petty crook ripping off ATMs and making nickel-dime deals on what little grass he was willing to part with. Then Teddy had told him about a boss looking for extra guns for some big scheme, and when he heard that they were paying five hundred a week for just watching out for cargo at the airport, he couldn't say no. After the first week, he'd started to regret his hasty decision. It had turned out this wasn't just some ambitious mob boss trying to get a step ahead of the competition and the law; it was goddamn Slade himself calling the shots, and Jonesy had nearly soiled himself when he found that out. Was there even a word for just how in over his head he was?

Sharpes growled sourly and stomped off toward the driver's seat of the truck, slamming the door in frustration, and Jonesy did his best to avert his eyes. Hopefully Carmine or Eddie would be willing to swap places with him in the back so didn't have to endure the shame of riding up front with the vet. He wondered just what the hell they were moving if the needed four guys with SMGs and shotguns to guard it. It wasn't like the cops would search this hangar, since it was just one in a long list of buildings signed under a seemingly never-ending series of dummy corporations. How would they even guess this place was Slade's?

There was a sudden thud on the roof, and Jonesy's head snapped up at the sound. Everyone else looked up too, guns in hand and ready for anything. Nobody was going to fire until they were damn sure these was trouble, with airport security only a stone's throw away. They stared up for a long moment, not moving as the silence after the initial sound went on. Eddie was the first to lower his piece, letting the shotgun barrel rest at hip-level before Carmine joined him. Jonesy had started to do the same, but almost the second he did, he felt the worst pain he'd ever experienced in his life shoot through his jaw. He'd been hit with something hard and metal, and he felt teeth rolling around in his mouth. It hung open, obviously broken as he howled in agony, the sound drowned out by gunfire. The last thing he saw before he began to black out from the pain was a flash of red, yellow and green. He thought of Boy George, for some reason.

TTTTT

The security was about what Robin had expected. He'd gotten the first of the goons by surprise, putting him out of the fight with the first swing of his staff. The other two had reacted almost instantaneously, buckshot and 9mm bullets filling the air. He danced around them, rolling and weaving as fast as they could aim. The shotguner, a burly balding man with pig-like eyes, tried to play it smart, firing his 12 gauge ahead of his friend's shots, trying to catch Robin where he thought he would dodge. It was a good effort, but it wasn't near good enough to beat the boy wonder. A boomerang in the barrel ended the big man's effort, and he screamed as the shotgun's barrel burst in his hand when he squeezed the trigger on reflex. It distracted the other gunman long enough for Robin to close in, thrusting the end of the staff into the man's gut and knocking all the wind out of him. The second blow across the side of his head sent him sprawling to the ground. The shotguner was all that was left, and he'd dropped the remains of his weapon, a pearl-handled stiletto in his hand now.

“Really?” Robin asked with a slight smirk to his lips. The goon scowled at him for a long moment, looking like he was going to make a lunge with that blade. Then, it seemed reason won out, and he almost sheepishly pocketed the knife before he started to back away. Robin couldn't help but smirk. Maybe some gangsters weren't as dumb as they looked.

The moment of humor didn't last very long, though as the truck roared to life and started to back out of the hangar as fast as the driver could manage, and Robin had to dive out of the way to keep from being run over as it came speeding toward him. The shotgunner bolted for the passenger’s side then, almost ripping the door open and leaping inside. Robin hissed as he saw the truck turning to flee, and knowing he wasn't going to catch up with it, all he could do was reach into his utility belt and reach for a tracker. He hurled it at the escaping goons, and smiled with satisfaction as he saw the device clamp onto the bumper. Even if he couldn't tail them now, he'd be able to follow them. They were out of sight a moment later, and Robin frowned as he turned his attention toward the two goons that had been left behind. The one with the broken jaw wouldn't be of much help for obvious reasons, but the second could still talk. He was starting to come to when Robin knelt beside him, and when he saw the Titan's eyes narrowed right at him, he swore and started to reach for his gun. A quick smack across the forearm with the end of his staff put an end to that thought.

“Your friends. Where are they taking that tank?” Robin demanded in as harsh and commanding a voice as he could muster. Even with the tracker, it was no guarantee that they would lead him to their hideout. It wouldn't be the first time someone had been smart enough to stop and sweep for bugs after a fight with him. The thug growled and spat, nursing his arm as he glared back at him.

“Eat me. I ain't saying shit.” The Titan leader sighed, standing and grabbing the man by the back of his leather jacket. He tried to resist, but it was difficult with only one arm, and the threat of another good whack with that staff was enough to stay the good one from doing anything too hasty.

“Propeller or the forklift?” Robin asked almost casually. The thug blinked once, then stared straight up at him.

“W-what?” There was a squeak to his voice.

“Propeller or the forklift? Your choice in how we do this.” He could practically hear his victim trying to keep his bladder and bowels from releasing now.

“W-wa-wait! Stop you friggin' psycho! I don't know where they take the goddamn trucks, I ride in the back an' watch the door here! They don't let me see the route!” Robin listened to his tone, the pitch in the goon's voice, his breathing. He was telling the truth. He released the man's collar, then without a word snapped a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. As he started to cuff the second one, who was now whimpering and crying pathetically on the ground, he heard the other's voice shouting back at him.

“You better friggin' hope you catch Slade before he gets to your lil' green friend! The shit he says he's gonna do to him, man!” He stopped, and turned sharply back at the goon with eyes narrowed and his hands balling into fists.

“What are you talking about? Why does Slade want Beast Boy?” Robin snarled, getting into the man's face, the sharp end of one boomerang now pressing against the man's throat. He swallowed hard, but looked back at the teen with defiance in his eyes.

“He's offerin' fifty grand to whoever brings his sorry ass in alive. Guess he figures it's his fault Terra left. He's gonna get his money's worth outta that turd's hide, and he's gonna make sure Terra knows about every lil' detail.” And then the goon laughed, loud and malevolent. Robin's teeth gritted hard, and with one last snarl of rage he backhanded the cuffed man to the ground. Retracting his staff, he stomped out the hangar with his communicator in hand.

“Titans, this is Robin. In the living room, wait for me. We all need to talk.”

TTTTT

“He wants Beast Boy?” Terra asked with wide eyes, one hand gripping the arm of the couch as tightly as the should could, while the other held the changeling's. Everyone else looked roughly the same, save Raven who bore her usual frowning gloom. Robin stood in front of them, arms crossed and his eyes shifting between his team, stopping on Beast Boy and Terra, nodding in answer to her question.

“That's what that thug said. Slade's figured that it's him that made you decide to stay with us. He's going to want to make an example. Fifty thousand to whoever brings him in.” All of the Titans were chilled at those words, though they couldn't say they were surprised. Terra continued to stare at him, the look on her face one of horror mixed with a trace of anger. Robin knew well what those two felt for each other, and he couldn't blame her for her reaction. “I'm not going to allow anyone on my team to be put in any more danger than necessary. From now on, Beast Boy's not going to be left alone out there. If we have to split up for any reason, it's groups of two.”

His tone left no room for argument, and it seemed no one was in the mood to disagree, anyway. Beast Boy looked for a moment like he wanted to protest, but he quickly let it drop. Much as he might value his pride, he knew that Robin was right, and he had no desire to make Terra worry about him being kidnapped by Slade for torture or whatever else that maniac had planned. Robin looked at all of them again, then raised a hand to dismiss the team.

“I need to talk to you, Terra. Alone.” Terra stopped, looking back at him with unsurprised. She gave Beast Boy a soft smile and a peck on the cheek before he left a bit reluctantly. A moment later they were alone, neither looking the other in the eye.

“He's doing it to get at me, isn't he?” Terra broke the silence, looking up at Robin. She still had some of that fear in her eyes, but the rest of her face was starting to contort with anger. Robin nodded.

“He tried the same thing with me. He infected the others with nanobots, threatened to kill them if I didn't follow him.” He kept his gaze steady, though his expression softened just a bit. “We're going to stop him. Don't let him intimidate you like he did me.” There was another long silence, and again Terra was the one to break it.

“I don't want Beast Boy hurt because of me, especially after what I was so ready to do to you guys. Maybe I should just leave, let Slade chase me for a while.” Robin stopped her right then, one hand closing around her shoulder and forcing her to look him in the eye.

“That's out of the question. You're a Titan and I won't have one of my team putting themselves in that kind of danger, no matter what the reason.” The words struck the geomancer like a ton of bricks. She looked at Robin, how he looked at her. It was a brotherly gaze, fierce and unshakeable. A look she hadn't seen since the last time Brion had been around. She nodded, now ashamed she'd even contemplated that idea. Sure it might have distracted Slade from the rest of the Titans, but what would it do for them to see her disappear on them again? It would have broken BB's heart.

“Alright. Sticking to kicking his ass, then.” The both smirked at that, and she felt her leader give her shoulder a squeeze.

“Good. Keep up that attitude. We're going to need it.” And then he was gone, leaving Terra alone in the living room. Her gaze turned over toward the giant windows, the view of the cityscape before her. Slade and his gang were out there somewhere, waiting for their time to make their next move. Her hands balled, and she felt her lip pull into a frown. No more running from her troubles. She was going to face whatever came her way with her friends. She was claiming her own place in life.

TTTTT

“Only two lost, then?” Slade asked, Sharpes and the last man, Carmine he thought his name was, standing before him, still shaken by their close encounter with Robin. Sharpes nodded, trying his best to look composed before his employer.

“Just a coupla the new guys. Nobody important or that knows where this place is. Ditched the tracker bird-boy stuck on the truck too.” Slade looked approvingly at his underling's thoroughness. Of course he'd worked long enough in Gotham to know the Bat-family's tricks, especially the ones that could compromise the entire operation. Rising from his chair, he beckoned the two gangsters to follow him, and they did so without hesitation. Several others were moving the last of the cloning tanks in with the rest, the other ten already filled with 1174/AA and growing their specimens. Ten days was all he would need to buy, and then he would have total control over this city. For now, though, there was other work to be done.

“We still have business to tend to before the final stage can begin. For now we lay low. Relax, but keep your lips tight, and be prepared to act on a moment's notice.” Sharpes and the other were all too happy to comply with that order, having been working almost non-stop on this operation for over a week now. “Before you go, Sharpes, tell Shade, Parasite and Sportsmaster to be ready for a...special assignment very soon. I need them to tend to a more personal mater.” His left hand grunted in acknowledgment of the order, immediately pulling out his cellphone and striking the speed-dial.

Slade looked into one of the tanks, at the tiny, infant face floating in the orange growth accelerant. The subject inside was already the size of an eight month old child, and by the end of the week it would probably be a teenager. Its features were a perfect match of it's template's at that age, and the mastermind couldn't help the satisfied smile that crossed his lips at that sight. If they fought as well as the real thing, then neither the Teen Titans or the Justice League would be able to stop him. He'd have his own little fiefdom in the palm of his hands, and an army to keep it there, and perhaps even the rest of the United States if he started to cultivate even greater ambitions. But that was for another time; the present plant was big enough, and he'd seen more than enough times the dangers of overreaching in these kinds of schemes. Of course, back then he'd been the hired muscle. Now, he was the one calling the shots, and he'd learned well from the mistakes of his former employers.

For now, though, it was time to sit back and relax for a short time. After all, his boys had some growing up to do, and it wouldn't do in the slightest to introduce them to the Titans before they were in prime shape. He'd enjoy the sight of their blood on the pavement, and their heads on his wall.

#teen titans #dc #fanfiction #fanfic #bbterra #action

1 note · View note

vrenaewrites · 4 years

Text

CRAVE by Tracy Wolff thoughts: Chapter 0 - 21

Full video here.

In which a mortal girls goes to her uncle’s boarding school after the death of her parents, and finds it full of creatures.

CH 0 for some reason: if you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much space

“Try my hardest not to freak the eff out” - if you’re gonna use expletives, use them

Immediate info dump of “if you’d told me two months ago i was gonna be in fairbanks alaska to get a puddle jumper to denali, the highest mountain point in north america”

CH 1: landing is just throwing yourself to the ground and hoping you don’t miss

I thought these quotes were weird self help quotes but then i realized they were probably the chapter titles

The fog is referred to as “civil twilight” - this weirded me out because civil blood and twilight, idk if this is a real thing? Will look it up if i remember: it is the brightest of the 3 twilight phases and it is ABUNDANTLY clear that she added the civil part to not make it straight up twilight because this book is unwitting twilight satire

He tells her it’s a short runway “because it’s hard to keep a long one clear of snow or ice for any amount of time” HE’S IN THE MIDDLE OF LANDING A PLANE ATM BRO WE DON’T NEED ALL OF THAT INFO ATM

Grace is kind of funny if not a little cheesy

“Textbook landing” - maybe if that textbook is a horror novel he’s reading upside down and backwards - i don’t know if by listening to this i’m missing the line breaks and short sentences that would make this funny, so if i am lemme know but if she didn’t break this up it’s clunky

Her uncle is headmaster of the boarding school she’s being sent to

“Despite being a year younger than my own 17 years” - did you not read this out loud? Did no one hear how redundant that was?

“According to wikipedia, heeley - hailey? - has only one major road” she’s mentioned google and wikipedia at this point and idk if i’m the only one who finds that type of thing annoying af

“In weather that’s 20 degrees below freezing, if the app on my phone can be believed” THIS IS SO ANNOYING

“The insulated helmet will keep you warm as well as protect your head if we crash” yes macy we know what helmets are and also insulation, again the redundancy

CH 2: Just because you live in a tower doesn’t make you a prince

“Is that kadmere academy?” i shout - not, is that it? They’re on a snowmobile, with helmets on, and macy understood her...and she understood macy saying they’d be there in five minutes

She couldn’t google the academy

“I half expected quasimodo to be waiting for us when we got there”

It may be a castle but at least there’s no moat or dragon

Macy has short rainbow-colored hair

She’s wikipedia’d and googled her life away but didn’t expect to not be able to breathe since she’s coming from sea level and is now up in the mountains - i’m from florida and even i know what altitude sickness is

She sees a flash of red in the window “i don’t know who it is or why they even matter” ...what does that mean?

But she doesn’t see them when she looks back and she’s disappointed, which she acknowledges makes no sense…

“I should be bowing and scraping right about now”

It’s a castle with an xbox and giant flat screen, and they have wifi AND cell service up in the desolate mountains. I went to cossayuna - 476 feet above sea level, 7 miles from a town - and NONE of us had cell service the entire time

She picks up a chess piece and it’s a carved vampire, then a dragon

Then she comes face to face with the most intimidating guy i’ve ever seen, not just because he’s hot, there’s something different and powerful though i don’t have a clue what it is”

Face too intense to be beautiful, skyscraper cheekbones????, red lips, stone-cutting jaw, bottomless obsidian eyes, obscene lashes

Trapped by his stare, hypnotized by the sheer magnetism rolling off him in waves

“Annoyance flashes through me”

He’s blocking her view of anything else - did he step between her and the chess board?? Confusion, but because of this she has to look at his long lean body

“Double-wide shoulders” gross

“Nothing to do but admit that this boy is sexy AF - a little wicked, a lot wild, and all dangerous”

“Seriously, when exactly did i become the heroine of some YA romance? The new girl swooning over the hottest, most unattainable boy in school?”

CH 3: vampire queens aren’t the only ones with a nasty bite

He quotes hamlet to her, and she corrects him for fucks sake

“I warned your uncle you wouldn’t be safe here, but he obviously doesn’t like you much”

“Welcome to alaska?” “more like welcome to hell, now get the fuck out”

“Ignoring the pterodactyls flying around in my stomach” - this is a great line if it didn’t take you completely out of the action, which it does

This whole exchange about big bad monsters is soooooo fucking cliche

And he’s talking about the chess pieces the whole time????? Am confusion.

She’s so horny for this insane man screaming at her and cornering her

She says she’s lost everything that matters and he changes, his agony visible behind “layers and layers of defenses he’s erected”

It’s calling to her own agony

They're soooo connected and staring at each other

He pulls on one of her curls and it makes her super horny

“Five minutes ago he was being a total douche to me”

Pushing him is like pushing a wall of granite

He’s got a scar down half his face that she didn’t notice until now????

“A fallen angel with a bad boy vibe for miles”

She’s touching his scar…

“I don’t understand you”

AND SHE QUOTES HIM QUOTING HAMLET IN RESPONSE

CH 4: shining armor is so last century

“Mr. tall dark and surly” would be more snarky and cute if she didn’t just have an ~earth-shattering moment of connection~ with him over their agony or w/e

Some weird instinct i don’t understand tells me not to mention that guy - the amount of times this girl has acknowledged something she doesn’t understand is so redundant and weird.

She keeps referring to the guy she spent half the last chapter basically falling in insta-love with as “tall dark and surly” as if that didn’t happen, as if he was just a dick and then he left without all the insta-love shit

Uncle finn and flint is a student...couldn’t pick any other name?

“A smile in his eyes that’s as different from the other guy’s iciness as the stars just outside the windows are from the endless midnight blue of the sky” and i’ve fallen asleep while she was spinning this long unending heavy-handed metaphor

His eyes blaze with sympathy

He offers to give her a piggyback up the stairs…

“You’re so little i won’t even notice” not lyk other girls guyz

Four guys open the door and they’re all sexy AF, tall dark and surly is among them ofc

“I couldn’t help but wonder why the icy guy made me hot and the one lending me his warmth left me cold” WE GET IT WE FUCKING GET IT WE DIDN’T NEED YOU TO SPELL OUT THE ALLUSION

“I want a name to go with his insane body and even more insane face”

CH 5: things hot pink and harry styles have in common

Macy is a cinnamon roll i love her

His name is JAXON VEGA...JAXON. G2G

Macy was so nice to her that she finally starts crying because macy is the BEST

Grace puts on a harry styles t-shirt and macy is dancing around to watermelon sugar when she comes back. This book already feels dated and it came out last month

CH 6: no i don’t really want to build a snowman

She wakes up in the middle of the night thinking about jaxon and almost has a panic attack

I hope in the actual book there is a tw for panic attacks because when i see / read about the symptoms of one or a description of one it triggers one for me

She goes exploring the castle in the dark to avoid the attack

Some guys come in wearing like concert tees and ripped jeans and she wonders if they’re ghosts, like how hogwarts has ghosts

I could swear he was sniffing me which was totally bizarre and not ghostlike behavior at all - this was cringe except i was listening to it at like 2x speed so when you hear it fast it’s actually funny

The guys corner her

They say something like “show us what you can do” and they seem to smell something about her…? They’re werewolves maybe??

CH 7: Something really freaking wicked this way comes

Hate these titles sfm

“With my thin california blood, i won’t last in the snow”

Jaxon saved her ofc and makes the guys apologize

“The moon is doing its thing” they’re totally werewolves

She thanks him and he’s like “i just made you a pawn in a game” and she’s like dude what but he’s staring at her and it’s making her hot and bothered

He wipes blood of her bottom lip and sucks it off and she finds it SUPER sexy

“This isn’t like your old high school”

He whispers in her ear “you have no idea what i know” and i’m like..okay dis kinda hot or whatever

She wonders when she’ll see him again and why it matters so much to her - bitch because he makes you horny!!!! Just say that!!!!!!

CH 8: Live and let die

It’s at this point that i stopped for the first round, and i had to ask: why the FUCK didn’t macy or the headmaster tell grace that this was a school for - obviously - vampires and werewolves? Is macy one? Is it genetic? Grace is a mortal according to the back of the book.

Grace tells macy what happened minus jax

She mentions to macy the boys didn’t have cold weather gear on and macy’s like hmmm weird idk anything about that

And they’re going to a party tonight and grace is like i don’t wear makeup i only own makeup and lip gloss and i’m like...did i accidentally re-download AFTER because here we go with the NLOG syndrome

The party is a welcome party for grace - and it’s actually a high tea??? Tf?

“I’d die without netflix”

“Have you seen this show legacies? It’s about a bunch of supernatural creatures that go to a boarding school! Isn’t that silly??!”

And then macy says, “who can resist a hot vampire?”

Guys….are we SURE this isn’t satire?

“I can’t help remembering what those guys said about the moon doing its thing when i see the werewolf on the show…”

CH 9: Even hell has its factions

Omg her dress is showing off too much of her big boobs, maybe the jeans she originally wanted to wear will be better

Macy calls her beautiful and then we get a full “with my curly hair and freckles and this color eyes i’m so not beautiful, i’m wallpaper next to macy”

“We could be fashionably absent” lol

The beads on the door don’t shock grace but they shock everyone because she is NOT LIKE OTHER GIIIIIIIIRLS

This castle is goth chic baybeeeeee the light fixtures are downturned thorny black roses where can i cop these

“The pterodactyls in my stomach are now butterflies”

She says FML. did a 50 year old woman write this. Edit: i looked, i cannot find how old this author is

Velvet wallpaper, wall sconces shaped like dragons, LET ME IN

“Self-imposed isolation” lol little did she know what a phrase in the lexicon this would become in 2020

Cliques include muscular people near the windows, soft flowery delicate people in the back of the room which are macy’s friends, super-tall literally hot people in the middle, and the black-or-white money people that seem to be more formal

She says “basketball anyone??” re the tall people lol

I am going to guess: werewolves, witches, dragons??, and vampires

Macy keeps having coughing fits?

Hot redhead - simone, hot dark girl - lily, hot asian girl - gwen

“Simone’s just bitter all the guys are looking at you”

Grace loves dr. pepper so i fuck with her

Macy’s boyfriend is cam and his friend is james, who looks at her like she is food?

“I’m just not that interesting”

CH 10: turns out, the devil wears gucci

Would i have probably picked this title as well? Yes. did it make me cringe nonetheless? Fer shure.

“Do i need some jerk trying to make me his afternoon snack?” huh???? As far as you know these are normal boys...make it make sense

Jaxon makes his ENTRAAAANCE BABY

Dressed all in gucci black - she can tell from across the goddamn room

“Jaxon is anything but regular, anything but ordinary, even here among the blatantly extraordinary”

Icy blank stare soooooo much

She calls his voice low wicked and wild

She can’t stop thinking about “running my tongue over the perfect bow of his upper lip, dragging is lower lip between my teeth”

Idk where these thoughts are coming from!!!! Baby you 17 c’mon now

I try to think of anything else, snow!

She takes a drink and it goes down the wrong pipe lmaoooo

“At least if i find a bathroom i can die in peace” lol

But he touches her and she stops choking and she’s like “he couldn’t have stopped that, i know, but…”

He stares at her as he bites the strawberry and she takes it as a threat

CH 11: in the library, no one can hear you scream

“His moods change more quickly than my bffs instafeed” I -

Oh so NOW she’ll say “the fuck you in his eyes” but she was saying freaking and eff before...did her publisher tell her only x amount of fucks per book?

She goes into the library and her body is like RUN, but she ignores it…

There are beautiful gargoyles and ornate shelves and...stickers fucking everywhere?

The gargoyle is pointing to an secret room that says students needs permission, but she hears chanting and decides to check it out since it might be one of the native languages spoken in alaskaaaaaaaaaa

“Especially because some of them only have less than 4,000 speakers left in the world” okay gracie-pedia tf?

CH 12: it’s all fun and games until someone loses their life

She meets a girl named Leah - who was the one chanting

Okay but i do fuck with the horror movie quote pillows…

Damn leah’s boyfriend died…

“Tea from homemade leaves” again...read this out loud before you put it in a published novel...do you mean loose leaves? Do you mean homegrown leaves?

Is she gonna poison her????

“What do you guys have to lie about that’s so important?” “Everything”

CH 13: just bite me

“Lol jk”

“Finish your drink” BITCH IT’S POISON

Macy and leah are being soooo weird about what could have happened to grace on her own

Apparently leah is super popular and secretive so it’s weird she took to grace so fast - is this a NLOG sitch or a “come into my web little fly” sitch?

She pukes because of “altitude sickness” aka poisoning i bet

CH 14: knock knock knocking on death’s door

This theme of bastardization of guns and roses songs is really....something.

Grace takes a mental health day because she’s still feeling weird

Flint comes to check on her and invite her to a snowball fight…?

If your character’s name is grace, i feel like you can’t use gracefully as an adjective, the same way you wouldn’t say Rue said something ruefully.

Flint kisses her cheek and i’m already waiting for this Great Value Edward/Jacob triangle

But he makes her feel ~nothing~ compared to jaxon

CH 15: so hell actually can freeze over

Macy likes flint, uh-oh

But the different groups don’t mix

“What is this, mean girls alaska edition?” - stfu

Omg her uncle checks on her and he reminds her of her dad and :(

We get sooooooo much detail about how to dress to go out into the wilderness...here is one thing i was able to find out: tracy wolff lives in texas. So i feel like she did ALL this research and then was like y’all gonna LEARN ABOUT THIS I SPENT TOO MUCH TIME!

As a girl who has never ever seen snow, i felt this fascination

She finds a gnarled up weird tree guarding a trail

“A weird sense that i should turn around - like the feeling in the library - came over me but i knew i was just being silly”

The lack of survival instinct henny

She comes across a gazebo where leah and jaxon are sitting

CH 16: sometimes keeping your enemies close is the only thing that prevents hypothermia

That’s not a chapter title, it’s an entire sentence…

Ooh they’re having an angry, intimate convo

And leah slaps him!!

“They’re looking at me like they’re the predators and i’m the prey they can’t wait to sink their teeth into” we get it, first of all. Second of all, what is with the long-winded metaphors

“Every time i catch sight of him i feel something tug at me i can’t identify, something i have no ability to explain” it’s horniness.

Then she just leaves but he catches up to her

With his sexy af hair blowing

“Trying to run away from all the thing he makes me feel when really i just want to grab on to him and hold on tight” - so what is the truth?! You keep acting like you don’t know what the feeling is but clearly, YOU DO.

“Everyone answers to me, eventually.” - we found the line used in the adverts guys!

Oh my god, what an asshat. Asshole, i would have laughed. Asshat is stupid.

It’s annoying af

Doing my best dory impression: just keep walking

“Making friends with a dr - a guy like flint” CALLED IT, he’s a dragon

Leah’s boyfriend was jaxon’s brother

Neither leah nor jaxon was wearing a jacket. BOOM

CH 17: it’s discretion, not diamonds, that’s a girl’s best friend

Not only cringe but grammatically incorrect…she coulda just said “discretion is a girl’s best friend” and we woulda got the reference….

Grace mentions jaxon in front of macy and she’s supes weird and grace is FINALLY like wtf is the secret you’re hiding from me

“She looks at me like i’m a few snowflakes short of a snowball” SOMEONE. READ THIS OUT LOUD. WHERE IS HER EDITOR I JUST WANNA TALK.

The order?! “Just a nickname for the popular boys” bullSHIT

Macy FREAKS OUT when she realizes grace has been alone with jaxon

She says he was interesting and “macy looks at me like i said i wanted to bodysurf the alaskan tundra”

Macy “We’re talking about jaxon right? Arrogance of a rock star?”

She didn’t mention “the scar that turns him from to pretty sexy af, and scary af”

“He’s not the one who tried to kill me” “you’ve only been here a few days, give it time” get her MACY!

HE WAS LISTENING!!!!

CH 18: how many hot guys does it take to win a snowball fight?

Ooh jaxon mad that grace is going to flint’s snowball fight

“His breath is so warm and soft that i can feel it everywhere, even deep inside” okay you horny bitch!!!!! Was this cringe or did i like it or both?

“The orange and dark water scent of him” ...what? Dark water is a cologne? Or does she literally mean like the dark water of the ocean? What in confusion

Her throat is always tight and dry around him, all the time, every day

Flint pops up and he is wearing a dragon beanie…

The rest of the order shows up and “For the first time the phrase got your back makes sense” to grace...are you kidding me? You never understood a very simple common phrase til now? Sure jan

SEXUAL TRIANGLE TENSIOOOOOOOOON

But she only has eyes for Jaxon...they both reach to touch each other.

“Grace” it’s barely a whisper but i feel it all the way inside myself BITCH

“Something tells me this boy and his world famous disappearing act is going to be the death of me”

CH 19: we came, we fought, i froze

Civil twilight AGAIN.

“I didn’t think screwed up and obnoxious was your type” me-OW

The snowball fight happens

Sounds like fun, the designer faction isn’t there

“Did she just do parkour against that tree?” re: Macy so close to being funny. I did exhale through my nose. Then “did you just parkour that tree?” i DID laugh

Flint climbs the tree with grace over his shoulder ‘like spider man’ and all i can think is “you better hold on tight spider monkey”

The wind is so strong it knocks her out of the tree…

CH 20: there’s never a parachute around when you need one

Flint catches her in mid-air...this man… #teamflint2020

“You’re heavier than you look” dead

He has shame in his eyes? Why?

Because JAXON IS THERE AND HE IS MAD!

And flint is SUPER MAD!!!!!!!

Jaxon puts himself between grace and flint so grace can’t touch flint

“Can i just say i’m feeling a lot like alice in wonderland here? Things get curiouser and curiouser.” stfu

I was laughing because she was like “so much for fitting in, now i might as well be painted biohazard orange” but then she said fml. Stfu

Jaxon picks her up

CH 21: I like standing on my own two feet, but getting swept off them feels surprisingly good, too

If it takes up more than one line of a google docs page IT’S NOT A FUCKING CHAPTER TITLE!!!!!

Ooh and his arms feel really good around her, REALLY good

Now he smells like orange and snow and it’s making her crazy

Macy looks at them like she’s getting punk’d

“Grace.” “what?” “shut up.” i’m dead

“I sprained my ankle, i’m not dying of consumption” “yeah well, the night is young” this made me lol despite it being more of macy’s voice than jaxon’s

Jaxon is blaming grace for falling? “You don’t see macy falling out of her tree” is he negging her rn?

She’s called him super-sexy twice in a paragraph

Macy goes to get ice bc she’s scared of Jaxon and grace says, “Et tu, brute?” lmaooo

“I can do it myself” “maybe i wanna do it for you” and macy squeaks LMAO

His scar makes his smile a crooked little smirk...who else had a crooked smirk...the vampire this is 1000% based on, maybe?

“I find myself relaxing despite myself” guys. Reading is power. Read your work out loud so you can hear when you use the same word twice in a sentence, like this.

“My whole body lights up like the aurora borealis i’m still dying to see”

They almost kiss but don’t bc macy comes back

~~~

#crave #tracy wolff #jaxon vega #katmere #cringe books #book review #reading #fiction #negative review #booktube

0 notes

talislibrary · 4 years

Text

Neil Perry/James Wilson

TWS! // s*ucide attempt, brief mention of drugs/alcohol abuse, brief mention of a medical procedure, gay slurs

Neil was enraged with his father and after the old man stormed out of the room, he remained in the living room to talk with his mom about how he couldn't leave acting and the boy he loved behind, but his mother, too afraid of her own husband, just ushered Neil to bed. Instead of sleeping, he went up to his room, enjoyed the last few hours of the day in which he got a role in his first play, the main role, that was. He then scrambled to the bathroom, rummaging through whatever pills he could find, the water from the sink aiding them to go down his throat. Knowing fully well what he had done, he rushed to his father's office, uncovering the gun hidden in the drawer of his desk. He sat on the floor for hours on end, the gun aimed at his head, when the pills finally kicked in and he collapsed on the rough carpet, his hand falling right next to him, pistol aimed in his direction. He did it to get a new life, to forget about his first love and the adrenaline he got from being an actor; it was a new role he had to play, the role of a medicine student at Harvard. Ten years of sleepless nights, numerous studies engraved in his mind, needles, blood, gloves that would tug at his skin, screams, tears. But most importantly, it meant the years he had left until his last breath, without the Todd Anderson he so dearly cherished, without the creaking of linoleum under his boots, without the fading claps of the audience and flashing lights distancing themselves from him by crimson, velvet curtains.

He woke up with bright, white lights shining in his face, an uncomfortable gown, too tight at the waist, embracing his shivering form. The crook of both his arms hurt, his pointer finger being held stiff by some sort of white clamp. A faint, rhythmic beeping in the background, covered by the voice of his mother and a stranger's.

His eyes fluttered as he groaned and frowned, pain shooting down his spine and throughout his whole body, his words coming out rasped as he struggled to breathe properly. "Wh-where am I?" The 17-year old spoke, his lids finally fully opening, allowing him to observe his surroundings. He was in a hospital, his mom chatting up a young male nurse, his dad nowhere to be found. Upon hearing his broken voice, Mrs. Perry jumped and rushed towards the bed in which Neil was resting, worry painting over her features.

After letting him know what went down and why he was there, his mother went to fetch Mr. Perry, to let him know his son was now awake and feeling better. Neil couldn't help but smirk, as subtly as he could without his face muscles hurting; had his father been framed for his temporary death? Was he feeling too guilty to look his son in the eyes?

His questions were quickly and negatively answered, as his old man stomped in the salon, his brows furrowed and the veins on his forehead visible, just as they usually are when he gets angry. And as he expected, he heard the following:

"No son of mine is ever going to be a fag and taint the family name in such a way, you hear me?! You're going to Harvard whether you want it or not, and if I hear or see you mingling around with any boy for too long, you're out and off to military school! I will not stand around and watch you throw dirt on my name as if I didn't raise you to be the man you are today!"

Ah, yes, of course. Mrs. Perry succumbed to fear and sang like a birdie for her husband. To Neil's surprise, the words that spilled out of his father's mouth didn't leave the same pang in his heart as they used to. Sure, maybe it was because his whole body felt numb, and yet it was excruciatingly painful to move, or maybe he did become a grown man after faking his own death.

There he was. A medicine student at Harvard. Nothing but another soul to be drained, another brain to be so proudly filled with heaps of information, more or less necessary.

He was 22, half of those 10 years of agony had passed, when he started practice. He was nothing but an observer, another one of the kids who sat in the corners of checkup or surgery rooms, jotting down whatever intricate words the doctors would blabber whenever they bothered to look at the students. He was but a young boy when he met the woman who would turn out to be his first wife. She was one of the first patients he got to perform a physical on, his fingers shaking and browbone sweating as he hesitantly palped around her torso, his first case of cancer sitting right in front of him. Poor boy felt so bad after he was pushed by the supervising doctor to deliver her the devastating news, that he had invited her out, to help her feel like she had at least one person in her life who didn't treat her like a ticking clock, but rather the human she was. A 30-year-old blonde, a preschool teacher who had few years left of her life, dating a barely-legal man, aspiring doctor, who wanted nothing but to comfort her and give her a safe space for the last few years of her life. See, he didn't mean it to escalate, he just wanted to treat her to a coffee, but after a few outings, they easily fell for each other and at 24, Neil Perry was now a widowed man, sulking through the hallways of Harvard dorms. His eyes would scan some of the men who he had seen in his classes every now and then, but he would quickly shake his head, cursing himself in his mind and moving on with his life as he did until then.

Fresh out of Harvard and a helping hand for one doctor which was, back then, the best one in Oncology, Neil Perry had his wallet bursting at its seams, money flowing in bank accounts so much that he felt overwhelmed; he had nothing to spend his salaries and bonuses on. A house in a secluded area - more like a villa -, a new car, more shirts and dress pants than he could count, a new watch, a new phone - a new life. He was swimming in money and he needed someone to take care of it for him, someone to spend it on.

Before he knew it, he was having lunch dates with one of the nurses at the hospital they both worked at. Faster than he could comprehend, she was now living with him, having quit her job because "he was the man of the house, he had to support both of them financially". His father was exhilarated, his son was finally marrying someone who was fit to carry the family name further. His mom, on the other hand, was too deep into alcohol, and the antidepressants Neil previously sneaked home for her to find some relief in, and she couldn't feel anything but constant sorrow over the life she gave up for a man who was now self-absorbed.

Despite being treated like nothing but an ATM with a high-sex drive, he still found himself at the altar, fingers trembling as he held her hands and exchanged vows, promising his whole being to her will.

Except she didn't seem to take that seriously. One night, when the clock struck 12 am to be exact, young doctor Neil arrived home from his 24-hour shift to park in an empty driveway, his wife's car nowhere to be found. With his brain working on nothing but desire to save lives and watery coffee, the 27-year-old hid his car in the garage, closing it so his wife and whatever companion his mind made up wouldn't see he was already in the house. In the kitchen, he grabbed a cold bottle of beer, popped the cap open, and took a drag of one of the cigarettes he had hidden in his coat, sitting at the island where he and his partner would usually share hurried kisses as they headed to bed after his long work shifts. He should've seen it. She stopped staying awake for him, stopped calling or texting him to check if he was okay or missed her, his money now went out of his account without any permission requested beforehand. She didn't even call him pet names anymore, he was only "Neil" or "Dr. Perry". In his own house, he was being treated as he had a job there.

Another puff of smoke engulfing his lungs and the empty sound of glass on the marble counter were the only ones that greeted him as he jolted from his seat, the front door unlocking. 1 AM, read his watch. One in the morning and there he was. Tie thrown on the floor, shirt wrinkled and hastily half-unbuttoned, his sleeves above his elbows. Tipsy, intoxicated by the cigarette smoke and enraged. It summed up his current state. He was nobody's, or at least he was about to be.

As soon as his wife and one of their banker neighbors stepped in the house, the older man obscenely sucking at her lips, Neil stood up and walked towards the pair. The cigarette fell from between his slender fingers as he tugged his wedding ring off of his left hand, throwing the golden jewelry next to the cigar, both stopping at his now ex-wife's feet.

'I can't do this anymore.' he thought as he hopped in his car and drove off to a hotel close-by, not wanting to see anybody familiar for the night. The woman that he loved, or at least thought he loved, cheating on him. It clicked into place faster than it should've. With her drifting away, he now knew the reason behind it. Of course, she was too tired to wait for him from all the fooling around she did with their next-door neighbor, who only worked 9-5 and still had more money than he did. He had more free time, more free will; he was able to leave when he wanted to, nobody depended on him. Unlike Neil's situation, where he was playing the game of life and death. He had millions of lives in his hands, figuratively and literally. He was one with the numerous folders in the archive of the hospital he worked in.

The next few days were nothing but chaos, work papers over divorce papers over legal and court papers. Not only did he still have to report and procedure that he or his co-workers performed on patients for the head of the department to take note of, but he also wanted to turn his life around. Gone were the days of foolish little Neil Perry, who was being strummed like a harp by egotistical people, including his father. He now embraced the feeling of belonging to nobody but himself.

After a few painkillers for his circumcision and a quick dip in a ritual bath, he was part of the Jewish community, known under the name of James Evan Wilson.

A thirty-year-old doctor, head of the Oncology department at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. A middle-aged man, dating one of his best friend's ex-students.

Cutthroat bitch, or Amber, which was her actual name, was now all over Dr. Wilson, who had come to teach the group she was in. One glance at him was all she needed, and a couple of wine glasses later, she was what Wilson needed too.

It didn't take too long for both House and his friend to realize that the younger was, indeed, sleeping with the female version of the Head of Diagnostics. The only differences were a few body parts, hair color, one limping leg in minus, and a lot less misery.

There he was. Wilson, in all his sleep-deprived glory, after three wives (one of which left him because her yoga instructor was more "exotic", and of course House had to comfort him after the divorce, he just had to show he cares while still coming off as an asshole). James, who was now lying wide awake in bed, tossing and turning in his small apartment. Evan, who lost all his purpose, who felt like something out there didn't want him to be fulfilled. Neil, who had to give up his paradise just to escape hell, who still felt like a little boy, wandering around the world with foggy vision and a scarred heart.

#housemd

0 notes

miobambiino · 7 years

Text

WIP thingy for musicalluna

(This is my first go at fanfic and it’s pretty terrible atm so excuse any spelling errors and bad grammar but I’m trying my best lmao 🙃 I’m procrastinating from exams I’m sure u understand the feeling)

“I’m holding you to this, Wilson.”

Clint’s quip only served to deliver himself a considerably sized handful of snow from Natasha and a long-suffering sigh from Rhodey, who was largely consumed in a startlingly orange SHIELD-issue puffer jacket he’d picked up before everything went to hell on the jet.

Clint had his arm swung round Sam’s shoulder, Steve on his other side, helping the injured man trek through the snow.

“Gee thanks, Barton - hey, next time, I won’t step in to shove this goon out the way a hail of fire. You’d be cool with that, right man?” Sam shot back without much heat, gesturing toward Steve who was supporting most of Sam’s weight on his side. Not that it was particularly strenuous for him, being a super soldier and all.

“’M'not a goon,” Steve mumbled through a barely concealed smirk, “I could’ve handled it jus’ fine.”

It was supposed to be a straight-forward operation: get in, retrieve the data from the hydra outpost on the Winter Soldier project, and get back out. Sure, they hadn’t been cocky about it, they prepared well and took the necessary precautions; what they hadn’t counted on, however, were the agents to be armed with extra-terrestrial weaponry. Tony had marked it up to being modified Chitari weaponry. Apparently not even S.H.I.E.L.D had the scope to track down every piece that went missing from the Battle of New York - alien weaponry tended to sell fast and at insane prices on the black market.

The mission had gone as expected up until Hydra pulled the big guns out, literally. Hydra had concentrated their efforts to strike-team alpha - Steve, Bucky, and Sam. Since the loss of their asset, Hydra have been particularly keen on getting their hands back on a super soldier, or two. Sam had only just managed to swoop down to push Steve out of the way of a blast that would surely have immobilised him for the rest of the operation - only in doing so did he crush his left arm under his own and Steve’s weight at an unnatural angle.

Hydra weren’t incompetent, they knew how to launch an attack. Agents had hounded on each division of the team like a pack of ravenous dogs. By now, they knew what to expect from the Avengers, and were merciless with their approach. Rhodey and Tony had been disabled by an intense EMP developed for their suits especially, delivering excruciating electrical shocks through them, weighed down by motionless tonnes of metal. Sam had a clean break to his arm, and Clint wheezed with each step he took. Possible broken ribs, Steve had thought - praying it wasn’t a punctured lung too. Himself and Bucky weren’t badly off, though both exhausted enough that the trek in the middle of knee-deep snow was taking its toll. Besides, neither of them had particularly fond memories of the ice.

After hastily retrieving the data they had come for, they withdrew to the quinjet. The jet wasn’t much better off than they were, and in the mist of the battle, they hadn’t noticed a one piece of critical information.

There was a stowaway onboard.

“Fall back!” Steve hollered which holding Sam to his side, who had taken on a sickly grey tone to his skin. The break was bad, and Sam was only dimly aware of the situation going on around him.

Steve had his back, though. I’m gonna be okay

Natasha and Clint turned on their heel every so often on their sprint back to the jet, firing minimal but fatal shots to their attackers who were starting to get desperate. Usually, Hydra wanted to keep most of them alive; Avengers made for spectacular bargaining chips - or so they assumed, since it wasn’t like they’d ever managed to hold on to one very long (Bucky’s time as the Winter Solider doesn’t count).

Bucky was waiting for them at the bay doors, watching his teammates’ backs as they drew nearer to the jet, using a sniper-rifle to pick out hydra agents who were getting too close for comfort. Clint and Natasha eventually joined him, Nat starting up the engine ready for a hasty retreat.

“Colonel! Can you manage?” Steve had yelled over his shoulder as he neared the bay doors with Sam. Rhodey and Tony were a few short paces behind, both armed but weighed down by the armour they hadn’t been able to scramble out of in time.

“Worry about yourself, Rogers!” He shot back with gritted teeth; though the prosthetics wrapped around his legs allowed him to move his legs again, it wasn’t exactly easy sailing running through snow while under fire.

They all reached the bay doors, Tony and Steve scrambling on as it began lifting off the ground - they’d wanted to get Sam on first, Rhodey heaving him up from inside the jet. Steve hauled himself up with a grimace, automatically reaching for the scruff of Tony’s undersuit and yanking him the rest of the way up unceremoniously too.

That earned him a steely glare from Tony, who shrugged off Steve’s arm and stood up just as the bay doors firmly closed behind them with a small hiss.

“I’m capable of managing myself, thanks.” Tony breathed out as he brushed past Steve towards the cockpit where Nat was driving the jet forward. Steve watched as the smaller man sauntered off and hefted himself into the co-pilot seat, tapping in co-ordinated for the nearest landing zone occupied by friendlies. Steve huffed out a barely suppressed sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose firmly, pursing his lips tightly together.

“Didn’t say you were, Stark.” He said, mostly to himself. Since the ordeal with the accords, the team had shoddily come back together for ‘the greater-good’, as out by Agent Hill. Hydra may have crawled back into the shadows they had come from, but they were certainly no-less of a threat than they had been before. If anything, their recent losses to Cap and his team made them itching to strike back, harder and more efficiently. Steve was so tired of fighting them, a bone-deep kind of tired that permanently was etched into his features.

Cut off one head, two more shall grow in its place

A stifled groan escaping Sam’s lips drew his head out of the back of his mind - somewhere he was venturing far too often these days, and he came to his side.

“Hey listen man, I know I fucked up a bit back there, I wasn’t thinking straight. It really could of gone better-”

“Don’t- just don’t put this on yourself, Sam” Steve cut in, “the op was going to hell before you were down, we-”

This time it was Sam that cut him off, “I don’t regret doing it, hell, I know it was going to shit before I went and broke my damn arm, but still, I held you and Buck back. Pro'ly would’ve gone better if I landed right but,” Sam hissed as Steve wrapped up his injured arm, but carried on a beat later, seemingly ignoring what was bound to be an apology from Steve, “but, like I said, I’m not going to be sorry for saving your ass - again”

That earned a snort from Steve, who finished up wrapping his arm when Clint plonked himself down on the bench opposite Sam. The archer tisked as he adjusted his quiver, loosening it up off his shoulder, shaking his head slowly, “Can’t take this guy anywhere,” he drawled playfully. Sam eyed him dubiously, a quirk playing on the corner of his mouth. “See, if you landed on your own two feet instead of - you know - your fuckin’ face, we might’ve had a slightly smoother exit back there.”

Clint was clearly joking as an effort to ease the sense guilt he and Steve both knew Sam was harbouring. He’s saved Steve and probably actually given them a great chance of getting out alive - two super-soldiers is better than one, after all. Though, Sam had felt particularly useless while he was consumed in agony and had to rely on Steve to keep his head on straight while they made their escape.

“C'mon Sam, don’t flatter yourself, you aren’t all that hard to carry you know” Steve smiled at his friend, who returned the expression albeit slightly twisted in pain. “And he landed in his arm, not his face, Clint.”

“Huh, why’s it look all funny like that then?” Clint asked, feigning genuine curiosity. Sam merely rolled his eyes, nonchalantly taking his right combat boot off to throw at the archer’s head.

“Violence is not key” Nat’s voice rang from the front of the jet, not taking her eyes off the windscreen for a moment while she steered them away from any immediate danger.

They hydra outpost was desolate and practically impossible to reach on foot. Out in the wilderness of Norway, it had been hard enough locating the outpost which - like most of hydra’s bases - was underground. The landscape was covered in a thick layer of snow, making the mountains in the distance barely visible through the snowfall which was beginning to pick up at a reasonably worrying pace.

“We’re low on fuel, Tony, is there anywhere we can set down in range or do I just land us in the next clearing?” Natasha’s face was set with grim determination. She was the same after every mission, only tending to her own injuries until they were definitely out of the fray; not that she ever let on to anyone she was hurting. That had been one of the first things trained out of her - showing weakness.

Tony huffed in frustration, and smacked the dash fruitlessly when the systems wouldn’t cooperate properly. This was his tech, damn it! It should be fully operational no matter the weather - snow storm be damned.

“Nada I’m afraid,” Natasha tossed a glance his way and a frown made its way between her brows.

“'Nada?’ Seriously?” Tony just nodded in response, glancing back with a tight-smile when Rhodey appeared over their shoulders.

“God, don’t pull that face, it’s not near as assuring as you think it is.” Rhodey laughed softly, then directed his attention to Nat.

“Systems aren’t fully functional, though you’ve probably figured that out for yourself.” The man said as he shuffled into a seat behind them, leaning forward into their space from his seat. “Must’ve become compromised by stray shots from the agents back there. Best bet is to land somewhere far enough away from that mountain range - we need a signal strong enough to get back a message to base to come get us out of here.”

Natasha nodded, and began to open her mouth when a loud electrical whine sounded from under the jet. After a moment the whine grew into an even louder blast that thrummed through the belly of the jet.

Steve and Bucky shot up from where they stood, only to stumble when the jet shuddered unnaturally. Clint reached across towards Sam and strapped him in, despite the other man’s protests, and gripped firmly onto one of the bright yellow handles swinging idly from the ceiling of the jet.

“What the fuck was-” Clint’s surprised outburst was interrupted with the unmistakable sound of metal groaning underneath them.

Not a moment later the right engine startled to a halt, sending a few of them sliding into the opposite wall. The jet veered downwards, and alarms began blaring throughout the jet, seeing streaks of red lights across the interior.

Steve barely had a second to bark out a command to hold on before another blast rung through the jet, and the second engine failed on them. Steve felt his stomach suspended until it made a sickening drop and the jet plummeted downwards. Natasha unbuckled herself from the pilot seat, and in an instant as lunging behind the cockpit, hauling Tony with her and pushing Rhodes backwards with the force she exerted. Tony yelped before springing into action and holding onto his best friend, dragging them both to the back of the jet where Barnes was currently punching in an emergency code to open the bay doors.

Nat knew just as well as Bucky that they had a better chance of survival making a jump for it out the bay doors than being in the cockpit, where they’d most likely be skewered by the glass of the windshield when it shattered on impact.

The doors hissed open and immediately the team were encompassed my the freezing-cold air whipping through the door. Bucky grabbed onto one of the yellow handles with this metal arm and craned his head out the door, judging the drop distance from the falling aircraft.

His head whipped back to face the team, faces set determinedly, and yelled over the loud whistle of air around them.

“We gotta jump on my count or it ain’t gonna be a pretty landing!” He bellowed at them, while Steve approached him, gripping into his friend’s shoulder giving a reassuring squeeze.

“On his mark!” Steve repeated behind him, while Nat pulled Sam to her side, bracketing her body against his to insulate the fall in the hope of avoiding injuring his arm any more that it already was.

Tony felt Rhodey’s arm wrap around his side and pull his securely against his side. He wasn’t taking any chances of loosing Tony out in the middle of nowhere. Again.

Then Barnes issued the order, and they jumped.

More to come and this hasn't been edited yet but I'm trying therefore no one can judge me 😂 this is dedicated to my one of my absolute fave fanfic authors @musicalluna who's work I've been reading for years, but this is the first time I've made a blog to write too 🕊this will be eventual stevetony and buckynat

#fanfic #stevetony #buckynat #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers #tony stark #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes #clint barton #sam wilson #james rhodes

51 notes · View notes