#it’s a liability thing i guess? because in the case of a severe reaction an epi pen wouldn’t work as well bc of the beta blocker

[snzluv3r]

oh i went to the allergist today and i was immediately referred out bc i am “too complicated” and also they can’t/won’t do any skin testing on me because i’m on a daily beta blocker which i honestly never considered was a thing but they said it might be different at other offices so we’ll see what this new referral says but at least i can do the blood tests? i’m not necessarily upset about not being pricked/scratched with allergens repeatedly but it does seem very on par for me lmao so i guess we will see how long this referral actually takes bc you know. healthcare and all that

[libsterslobsters]

The Battle of Evermore

A Bucky Barnes fanfic

Summary: Set during the events of Captain America: Civil War. Bucky and the reader's worst nightmare has come true: they're captured, and there's nothing even Steve Rogers can do... or is there?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! reader

(reader sees shards of the future, can understand every language, and processes information quickly)

Warnings: Violence, angst, fluff, self-loathing, Civil War spoilers, language

Author's note: The female character's name is never given so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I've written so much about her and Bucky that I've named her Violet. Still working on a last name. If you have any suggestions, comment below.

*************************************************

It’s not exactly unexpected, them having to fight their way out. Steve always hopes for the best, but prepares for the worst, especially when it involves The Winter Soldier, or as he knows him, Bucky Barnes. But still, the last thing he’s expecting when his best friend crashes through the door of an apartment several storeys below is to barely catch (and if it weren’t for his enhanced hearing, it’s guaranteed he would’ve missed it altogether) a woman hiss,

“Buck, what the hell-”

“Get out of here. Now.”

Again, he’s known the guy for years, had him bust up enough back-alley fights in their day, so he knows Bucky tends to have a flare for the dramatic when it comes to any sort of altercation, but it still seems a little overboard, the moves he’s pulling out to kick these hostile’s sorry tails. That is, until he’s out of the building and sees a hooded figure, small enough that his first guess would be female, waiting in a dark corner. That’s when it clicks: a diversion. But how did she manage- She takes off running, cutting his internal questioning short, and when her sweatshirt rides up, he sees a harness around her waist, carabiner still attached, and rope burns on her hands. That answers that.

All thoughts of whoever the strange woman was are pushed aside in the pursuit that follows. In fact, Steve’s almost forgotten about her until they’re being loaded into armored cars like criminals (which, he supposes, they are now), and as they’re leading Bucky away, he freezes on the spot, not budging for a full ten seconds despite his guards doing their best to get him moving again. Steve follows his line of sight to yet another car window, and then he realizes why Bucky suddenly looked so defeated. They got her too.

On the ride back to base, Bucky’s separated from the rest of them, but the woman is thrown in with him, Sam, and T’Challa, since apparently, Rhodey’s decided she’s not a threat. Either that, or he’s hoping being stuck with the men she was trying to escape will rattle her enough that, once they’ve landed, she’ll talk. If Steve had to venture a guess, he’d say that won’t work; if the way she keeps her eyes down and ignores anyone speaking to her wasn’t enough to indicate that she’s not playing ball, his knowledge that her escaping the building wasn’t a matter of chance (no, his bet’s on both of them having prepared for something like this in advance, how else can you account for the diversion and her rappelling down the side of the building) would do the trick. Just before they’re led into the building, he slides past her, and murmurs, “Steve Rogers. Don’t answer their questions. I’ll find you later.” It’s brief, but her eyes flick up to study him, then back down again, and he takes that as acknowledgment.

It’s a lot of hassle, a lot of questions, and a lot of paperwork. He’s half-way expecting to be put in a cell, but after a good two hours, he’s remanded to a room to wait. About an hour later, Sam is escorted in as well. After the routine questions (are you okay, what did you say to them, what did they say to you), Sam finally lands on the immediate issue at hand.

“Cap, who the hell’s the girl?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

That’s not entirely true. He’s had a good amount of time to think it over, and he’s narrowed the possibilities down. The first thing he considered was, as unlikely as it seems at first blush, the girl is Bucky’s daughter. Who knows if they’ve sent out the Winter Soldier for things other than assassinations. He could’ve been asked to extract information in ways that don’t include the use of excessive force. Steve almost immediately rules that one out. She doesn’t look enough like him for that possibility. Age wouldn’t necessarily be a factor considering Bucky’s been on and off ice for the past seventy years. Still, the dynamic felt… off, somehow. His bet’s on not related at all.

His second thought is a partner. Someone else who’s escaped Hydra and is now hiding out. Well, considering that she got caught (and if the rope burns are anything to judge from, she’s no expert at quick escapes), that seems unlikely as well. They get along, obviously, and she has to be important, or else he wouldn’t have risked so much to give her time to get away, so possibly a friend. Still, that level of devastation upon seeing her captured? That seems a little more intense than an average acquaintanceship.

That leaves only one possibility; a romantic entanglement. A part of Steve is happy for Bucky. He’s had a whole lot of miserable in his life so far. He deserves to find some joy. Another part of him is rolling it’s eyes at the fact that, even in hiding when he really should be keeping to himself, his best friend managed to find himself in the company of a pretty girl. The biggest part, however, is scared. If this is serious (and all things considered, it’d be foolish to think otherwise), this girl is yet another liability, another complication in vindicating Bucky.

As he’s discussing things with Sharon, he realizes that he can see the feed from the girl’s cell as well as Bucky’s. The volume is turned down low, but if he concentrates, he can hear her.

“Please, if anyone is listening, you have to stop that doctor. He’s not who he says he is!” Steve brushes it off as hysterics. That is, until it dawns on him that she’d have no way of knowing about the doctor interviewing Bucky.

“God! You people! I’ve been hiding from this fucking government since I was eighteen years old! Now that you’ve got me behind bars, the least you could do is listen! I’m telling you, he’s not who he says he is! Don’t let him in the room with Barnes! It’s a mistake! People are going to die!” That makes him wonder…

“Sharon, do you have a file on the girl?”

She shakes her head.

“Not that I know of, but I also haven’t looked. She’s just some random Romanian woman, right?” That’s what he thought, but now he’s not so sure. Her accent… she sounds American. “Couldn’t even get her name out of her. My guess would be that she’s insane. All she’d tell us is that we’re making a big mistake and people are going to die because of it.”

He’s about to say something more, but that’s when the lights are cut.

The battle that follows leaves little time to think of anything other than capturing Bucky before the other side does (oh, and trying to survive themselves), but in the brief lull after they come out of the river, he manages to tell Sam,

“Spring the girl.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it. I have a hunch.” One that admittedly doesn’t make much sense, but then again, that seems to be the way his life works.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“It was a mistake. I told them so.” Sam’s inclined to believe the same as Sharon when he approaches the high-security cell with a pacing woman inside. “A fucking mistake. And now there’s a bunch of dead people topside and Barnes is who knows where, probably either with a couple bullet holes in him or else a couple bullet holes in the other guys.” She has to be crazy. She’s talking to herself. But how does she know- “I see the damn future, for fuck’s sake!” Well, that explains that.

It seems like she’s worn herself out because, her back against the wall, she slides down slowly to the floor as if her legs have given out from under her.

“I see the future, and I still couldn’t save him.” Great. He’s been sent to extract a homicidal maniac’s fortune-telling girlfriend. Awesome.

“Yeah, well-” She startles, cracking her head on the glass wall. “-unless you want a really bad headache, I’d get against the back wall right now if I were you, because I’m about to bust you out of here.”

“Who are you?” If he blasts the control panel… as a last resort, he could quite literally blow out the wall.

“A friend of Steve Rogers.” Sent to collect her crazy ass. The least she could do is stop glaring at him. “And I meant what I said about that headache. Get back and cover your ears.”

Finally, she moves, but not before shooting back,

“If you’re lying, just be aware that I won’t hesitate to kick you in the family jewels so hard, you’ll sing soprano.” Well, that’s comforting.

For a high-security facility, the locks go down fairly easily. Still, he hesitates before opening the door. “I’ll let you out so long as you promise to keep your hands to yourself and your crazy away from me, deal?”

She snorts.

“Can’t promise anything about the crazy because it comes and goes, but I won’t touch you. Good enough?” Can he really say no?

“Yeah. Whatever.” He allows the door to open, jumping out of the way just in case.

Now that she’s out of her cage, she looks considerably less nuts. Still, he’s not taking any chances.

“Rogers told me to spring you while he rounded up your boyfriend. He’s gone psycho, by the way.” If he was expecting a reaction, he’s disappointed. She just sighs.

“I was afraid of that. They turned a good man into a weapon.” Alright, ignoring the fact that he wouldn’t exactly call Barnes a good man…

“What’s your name?” She just raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll tell you mine when you tell me yours.” Sam doesn’t have time for this.

“Well, whatever your name is, stick close. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. If I tell you to shut up, you shut up. Got it?” Not waiting for an answer, he starts making his way out of the building.

He’s halfway expecting her to make a break for it the second his back is turned but, five sharp turns and a handful of sudden stops later, she’s still right behind him. Well, at the very least, her crazy hasn’t affected her ability to follow directions.

Trouble finally finds them when they attempt to sneak out the proverbial back door. Sam doesn’t even have a chance to shout at her to hide or run between incapacitating various guards, and by the time he remembers he’s supposed to be looking out for Barnes’ girlfriend, there’s an unconscious man laying by her side and she’s got the business end of a gun turned on another, who’s kneeling in front of her with his hands up.

“Don’t shoot him!” As he says it, her foot makes contact with the man’s chin, and he drops.

“Wasn’t gonna.”

She still hasn’t let go of the weapon. Alright, he needs to defuse this situation as fast as possible (oh, and without getting himself killed).

“You wanna put the gun down, What’s-your-face?”

“Nope. I’m hanging onto it.” As she says it, she checks the bullets. “Don’t worry. I know how to use it.” How is that supposed to keep him from worrying?

“Yeah well, keep it pointed away from me.” Is she rolling her eyes? Great. He’s dealing with an overgrown teenager.

“Safety’s on anyway.” He’s starting to think that between the knocked out cold super soldier and the awake and definitely dangerous crazy lady, he’s wishing he had Steve’s job.

“Come on.”

He only manages to run a few more steps before she asks,

“Where are we going?”

He’s not entirely sure, but he goes with what he’s almost certain will bring her along.

“To Barnes.” Sure enough, she doesn’t say anything else.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Once she arrives at… wherever the hell they are… she’s instructed to wait where she is and keep her mouth shut. Normally she’d inform whoever’s telling her that to stick it directly up their ass, but Bucky warned her time and again about what he could inadvertently do to her if he was activated, and considering Steve Rogers has the same capabilities, she’s not going to chance it. That, and Mr. “Keep your crazy away from me” seems a little testy, even if she does still have her gun (the fact that they haven’t taken it from her says more than enough about how secure they both feel in their ability to overpower her). No, she’ll bide her time. For now, it’s enough that she knows where Barnes is and that he’s mostly okay, if having a long snooze.

Eventually he does come around, and the conversation that follows both chills her to the bone and breaks her heart. He’s matter-of-fact about everything, calmly explaining to Steve and Sam (she finally overhears his name) what they’re up against, what those terrible people have made of him and so many others, but the guilt he feels is clear, at least to her. Alright, that’s it. She’s not going to sit still and be quiet any longer. She’ll just have to be smart about it.

Once Sam steps out to call whoever it is he knows that can help him, she starts to creep forward, slowly, deliberately, careful to avoid making noise. She’s almost there, about to leave the refuge of hiding behind a piece of broken down heavy machinery, when she hears something that makes her stop short.

“Who’s the girl, Buck?” This ought to be interesting. It was necessary to have a conversation about what they would do if one or the other of them was captured at any point in time, have a plan in place, but since this is Steve Rogers, she has no idea what the answer will be.

“Call her a personal attachment.” It’s a good answer. Vague, not giving too much away.

“Yeah, I figured that much out myself. Wanna give me a little more information?”

There’s a long pause, then-

“She’s important. The same way Peggy’s important to you.” That makes no sense to her, but it must appease Steve.

“I’m glad. You deserve that.” She’s definitely missing something here. “What’s her name?” That’s when she chooses to step forward.

They both turn towards her as she gives her name. “You should also know that I only give people one opportunity to tell me what to do. You and Sam already used yours.”

Steve glances back at Bucky, who shrugs, smirking.

“Don’t look at me. I used mine up two years ago.” A wave of relief courses through her. His sense of humor is still there, at least.

Steve nods. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I still have a question, though.” She indicates that it’s okay. “Are you gonna be as much of a pain in the neck as he is?” A joke, or at least she thinks it is.

“Only if I can’t be a bigger one.” If the laugh is any indication, she was right.

“I have a question too.” This time Bucky’s the one asking as Steve sets about freeing his arm. “Doll, where’d you get the gun?”

She decides to go with the truth, but a lighter version of it.

“A nice guard gave it to me.”

“Oh, he gave it to you, huh?”

She nods, slowly approaching him.

“Yes. It’s amazing how accommodating people can be once you’ve elbowed them in the ribs and kneed them in the groin.”

With a groan of metal, he’s free. As Steve helps him to his feet, he asks,

“What exactly did you teach her?”

“A few things. The rest she’d learned before me.” Yeah, well, you don’t spend your life running and hiding without learning how to defend yourself. Although, from the look of things, the company she’s fallen into could crush her without breaking a sweat.

After exchanging a few more words, Steve excuses himself, leaving her alone with the man she’s been so worried about. The atmosphere immediately changes, all attempts on both of their parts to seem unaffected, strong, gone to the wayside as he opens his arms and she folds herself into them.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

She shakes her head, not lifting it from where it’s buried in his chest.

“No. I was locked up the whole time. Sam sprang me loose.” She can feel some of the tension leak out of him as he heaves a sigh of relief.

“I shouldn’t have gotten you involved. If you’d stayed-” Not waiting for him to finish his thought, she reaches up and taps the back of his head.

“Shut up. If you’d left without me, you know I’d just have gone to find you and gotten myself into even more trouble.”

He chuckles.

“You do have a way of doing that.”

Neither of them say much for the next few minutes, just concentrating on, in this brief moment, being together. Finally, with a sigh, Bucky separates himself from her and holds her at arm’s length.

“Look at me.”

It’s an abrupt segue, and she frowns.

“I need to make sure this is getting through that pretty and incredibly hard head of yours, because it’s important.” Swallowing down a lump in her throat, she meets his eyes. “If they activate me again, drop any weapons you have, get on your knees, and put your hands up.”

“What-”

“I don’t know much about how all of it works, but I do know that when I’m like that, I’ll ignore you if you don’t present a threat. It’s a shitty solution, but it’s the only way I can think of to half-way make sure you’re safe.” She’s about to protest (he’s with Steve now, whoever that not-a-doctor was is gone, no one’s going to activate him, and even though she knows what he can do, she refuses to be afraid of him), but it’s an old argument, and he cuts her off before she can even get started. “Promise me, Doll. Please.” He’s pleading with her, she realizes. As much as she hates it, the only thing she can do is agree.

“I will, but only if you promise to come back in one piece.” She begs her mind to memorize that smile, every single detail of it, just in case this is their last goodbye.

“It’s a deal.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

He’s drained, utterly and completely. That’s not a way Bucky is used to feeling, but after the past few days and all they’ve held (not to mention going in and out of being the Winter Soldier, never knowing who he’s hurt this time), he has to admit that he’s beat, even if it’s just to himself.

It’s all a blur: captured, activated, back to normal, battle, another battle, and now on a hellicarrier, waiting to go to a small African country he’d never heard of a week ago. If he examines each event closely, he can remember it in full, but why in the hell would he want to do that, especially after the encounter with Stark?

The one bright spot in the maze is that he knows she’s safe, holed up in what used to be a SHIELD safe house (he balked at the idea, as did she, but Steve assured them both that it was abandoned, completely safe), waiting for the all-clear to return to Romania. He’d wondered, with everyone except Steve and himself locked up who would tell her it’s safe to leave, but when Natasha helped them escape, she looked him dead in the eyes and informed him, “I’ll look after her, too.”. He still wonders how she knew where Steve chose as a location, but his best friend told him it’s best not to question how the spy gets her information.

The doors open once again, but he doesn’t look up.

“You look a little worse for wear.”

Even with the super serum, it’s a wonder he doesn’t get whiplash, turning his head towards the familiar voice.

“I thought I told you to come back in one piece.”

No, he’s not kidding himself. His senses aren’t fooling him. It’s her. She’s here.

“I did.” She chuckles as she settles into the seat next to him. “More or less.”

Completely ignoring the fact that he’s filthy, covered in at least ten different kinds of muck, she takes his hand in hers. He allows himself the comfort of having her next to him, enjoying the warmth, not just of her body but her presence, before asking,

“Doll, what are you doing here?”

“What I’m usually doing.” She stretches out her legs in front of her as far as they’ll go, then toes off her shoes. “Following you around like a lost puppy.” No, that’s definitely him. Can’t bring himself to stay away even though she’d be safer if he left and never came back. Once upon a time, he fooled himself into believing that so long as he stayed hidden, nobody said those key words, he wouldn’t hurt her. She’d be safer with him to protect her (she can defend herself, sure, but there’s far nastier things out there than just common criminals) than on her own, and besides, she wants him to stay. Now he knows the truth: it doesn’t matter that the Winter Soldier never laid a finger on her. He’s hurt her just from being who he is, sure as he left bruises in the shape of his fingerprints the first night they ever spent together doing something more than sleeping. Well, that ends now. He has to be strong, for her sake.

“I’m not going back to Romania.”

“I know.” She nods. “We’re going to Wakanda.” Here comes the hard part. He can do it. He has to.

“Not “we”. Just me.” It takes a moment, but recognition dawns on her face.

“Are you telling me to leave?”

She says it calmly, but he can tell that inside, she’s already starting to crumble. He should say yes. He’s absolutely telling her to leave. He loves her, god, does he ever, and you don’t hurt the people you love. You protect them, even if that means keeping them away from you. But, even as he prepares to tell her that, he knows the truth.

“Would it do any good if I did?”

“If it was because you truly didn’t want me around, then yes. If it was some self-sacrificing bullshit, then no.”

And there’s the crux of it. He can never tell her to go and truly mean it, just as he could never leave her side without her telling him she wants him gone. He’s simply not that strong, not that noble. Still, he has to try.

“You saw what I did.”

“Yeah, I did.” He feels her sag against his shoulder. “And my opinion hasn’t changed. I’m not afraid of you, Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier? Okay, he’s a scary guy, and I’ll be cautious around him, but I trust you.” Her fingers tighten around his. “I love you. That stays the same.”

He swallows hard, trying to get control of himself. There will be a time to put down all his armor, show her how damn tired he is, how if he’s being honest with himself, he just wants to let her take care of him, but not while they’re having this conversation.

“I’m going on ice as soon as we reach Wakanda.”

“Figured as much. I’ll be standing by, pestering them to make sure they do a good job getting what Hydra put in your head back out again.” She tugs gently at his hair. “For now, just relax. It’s only the two of us here. You’ve had a hard couple of days, so just rest.”

He starts to protest that he’s fine, she’s the one who should be decompressing, but then her fingers start working through the hair at his scalp. “You’re safe, Buck. It’s all going to work out.”

“Did you have a vision?” The last thing he sees as he closes his eyes and lets his head fall into her lap is her smile.

“No. Some things you don’t need to see the future to know.”

[marvel-lucy]

The Ultimate Weapon, chapter 14

Bucky’s POV

I didn’t trust her, not for one moment. Sure, I felt sorry for her when we found her, but that was it. We’d been making our way through the base in Siberia for a few minutes – me, Tony, Steve, Nat and Clint. Bruce was waiting out in the quinjet in case we needed anything demolishing by the big guy. The base was heavily armed and had a lot of Hydra soldiers, but it was no great issue to smash our way through it. After a while, we got to more heavily secured areas – fewer soldiers, but a lot more doors. Tony left one of his Iron Legions with us to break down the doors and went off with Clint to start the data retrieval process, vital to find the next base, and the rest of us carried on through.

We were pretty low down in the sub-levels by now and came across a row of locked cells. Typical Hydra interior design – concrete, damp, cold. Most of them were empty although the scratches on the walls and marks on the floor showed they’d been occupied once. Lucky occupants made it out, whether walking or carried, it had to be better than in. Fourth cell along and we found the first body, a young man. He was well muscled but I guess he didn’t feel too well given that his eyes had melted onto his cheeks and he’d bled out through his ears. Nat did a quick check but he was definitely dead. Two cells further along and we found another body, we didn’t check this one – from the smell alone we could tell this one was not going to be perking up any time soon. I pitied anyone who’d been near that smell for long, and then we walked along to the final cell and found someone else. Someone alive.

She was sitting on the floor at the back of the cell, pushed right back into the corner behind the bed. Eyes open and staring straight ahead, I thought she was dead until I saw her frantic breathing. She was pretty small, probably starved, but well-muscled, and heavily scarred. Her face was a mess, she’d obviously taken a heavy beating at some point and her teeth were smashed in and it looked like a broken cheekbone. Her hair had been hacked off in lumps, no doubt to attach electrodes at some point. I could guess what she’d been through, we’d passed enough rooms full of torture devices to guess, and I figured her mind was probably broken. If I’d been on my own, I’d probably have shot her, it would have been kinder. Nat probably felt the same, but Steve was with us and he’s nothing if not ridiculously honourable.

So, the Iron Legion blew off the lock and Nat went in. We thought she was probably paralysed with fear but as Nat got closer she could hear the start of a whimper, getting louder as she got closer. Nat, not known for her gentle ways, tried out a variety of ‘OK, we’re not here to hurt you’ and ‘sshh’ then the girl stood up, fast. Standing you could see she was even more hurt than we’d thought. At least three of her fingers were broken, there was dried blood and fresh on a number of wounds, burn marks, cuts, you name it. Her ribs were standing out and it was surprising she had the strength to move but suddenly she attacked. Nat was fast, of course, and fought back, and Steve stepped in as well and managed to get a tranq into her but she was strong. She’d obviously been enhanced, and that was when I started to worry about what we were taking on.

Steve took her back to the jet while Natasha and I finished checking the base. We had a few Hydra agents captive – Tony and Clint had already called in Jarvis to send a carrier – and quite a few bodies. I loaded up some of the equipment that Tony wanted to investigate, left them to finish up and headed to the jet.

Bruce had secured the girl with restraints, although if she was enhanced I doubted they’d hold, so he had given her another dose of sedative. I got everything loaded and Nat started the pre-flight routine and then set us on course for Stark Tower, before setting autopilot and coming back. The four of us stood and looked at her. She was, quite frankly, unappealing. Filthy, starved, broken and highly dangerous. She was obviously young but she was a Hydra tool. I knew what that meant, I’d been one too. I kept my thoughts to myself though, and waited until we all got back.

Once we were at Stark Tower, Nat and I got on with unloading and reports, while Steve and Bruce, the softer-hearted ones, took her up to the medlab. She was still sedated, so Bruce brought in one of our on-call doctors. By this time, I’d headed up to the medlab too to patch up a few cuts. The doctor whistled when he saw the state she was in – and he was used to us – and set about his work. Antibiotics, fluids and nutrient IVs, wounds cleaned and stitched, basic scans done. Result: she was definitely enhanced. She had severe internal and external injuries. She’d survive. He talked to Bruce quietly about sedative doses then arranged to send a nurse to help with the basic care and left.

Tony and Clint were back by now, Hydra agents handed over, data transferred for later research, so all of us stood over her and waited for each other to speak. It was Steve who started. “We have a duty to help her���” was all he managed before I said “she’s probably a killer. There’s almost certainly no humanity left. She’s a liability”. Steve looked at me and said what I’d been dreading: “so were you”. After that I didn’t have a leg to stand on and so I watched as they moved her down to a secure room, the nurse came in and cleaned her up, and the ball started rolling.

It was about a week later that she woke up. The nurse had been changing her IVs and shed’ been healing before our eyes thanks to the serum. The doctor could see no reason to keep her sedated so we’d thanked them, paid them off, and agreed to take turns keeping watch. It was Bruce’s turn when she finally woke and by the time Jarvis had the surveillance up on the screen, Steve and Tony had got down there and she had a broken piece of metal at Tony’s throat. Nat held me back from going down, pointing out that there was plenty of strength in that room to deal with her, and anyway, hadn’t I always wanted to have a weapon against Tony’s throat. We listened and watched as they talked to her calmly, then asked her name, and then she fainted. Once she’d dropped, Tony rubbed at his throat and all three looked awkward before Tony spoke. “OK, so, any bright ideas?” They tucked her up again and left, and we had yet another discussion about what the hell to do.

The next time she awoke, she was alone but Jarvis had been monitoring. Bruce and Steve went down, and Nat and I were watching on screens nearby. We saw her, well, do nothing. Come out of the bathroom, see them in there and then suddenly they were across the room. Nat and I were off and running long before we saw them stand up. Straight into the room, and straight in to her, knocking her over, and ready to kill. Steve and I had too much history and I saw red when I saw him in danger. If it hadn’t been Steve’s voice telling me to stand down, I probably wouldn’t have. I saw ‘threat’ and I acted instinctively, but his voice broke through, so I stopped and then all of a sudden we were giving her clothes and outside the room, where I stood and glowered as Bruce and Steve discussed next steps.

I did NOT trust her. Bruce had us all sitting in a little circle to make her feel at ease but I sat poised to jump and I knew she picked up on it. I saw her jump when Jarvis spoke and knew she was tensed, but so far she hadn’t attacked again. It was just a matter of time.

Over the next few weeks, she stayed in her room but awake. She ate and slept and people went in and out to talk to her and she looked relaxed but I knew it was fake. Jarvis was watching her, in addition to trying to identify her, but I spent long hours at the surveillance screen, looking for any sign of threat. Then Tony decided it’d be a great idea to get her out into the Tower. You can imagine my reaction – a Hydra weapon, a potential Hydra agent, free to wander? But everyone was taken with her by now, thinking she just needed a hug and some friendship and she’d be saved. Steve and I had a stand up shouting match about it, with him pointing out that I was no different to her, and me responding that that meant I knew how much danger she was. Seemed like I was on my own. I was glad when she freaked out leaving the room, it gave us a bit more time, but it also surprised me. She looked vulnerable, not something I was used to with Hydra, and suddenly I started seeing the kid she was, superimposed on the threat.

When she made it up to Bruce’s lab and Jarvis let us know she was going to be evaluated, I ran straight up the stairs rather than wait for the elevator. I wanted to see what she could do, but I also wanted to be there as protection. When I got there she was already running and she kept going so long we all started to relax, eating popcorn and making bets. Eventually Bruce got her to stop and she wasn’t even breathing hard. Then Tony got Steve lifting weights alongside her and we all started to realise just how enhanced this frail little broken kid was. Funnily, seeing that strip of nothing kid lifting weights made me feel more protective than I had when she’d been sedated and no danger.

When Nat challenged her to fight, every instinct said this was a bad idea. Running and lifting was one thing, facing off against a real opponent was another. I let them fight for a bit, both as good as each other, then decided I’d join in. I wanted her to know that I was there to protect my friends. What I didn’t expect was that she’d decide to take on both of us. Or that she’d win. Within a short time, I could see the blood lust rising and I knew her Hydra training was taking over. Alarm bells were ringing because she was GOOD, and when she hit us with some kind of mind power and we ended up on the wall, I thought that was it. Then I saw her blink herself back to reality and consciously reject her training, although it must have taken a hell of a lot of willpower. Knowing Hydra, she had built-in reflexes that were giving her immense amounts of pain and punishment for refusing a kill, but she didn’t show it, just did the right thing despite the personal cost. She let us down, unhurt, and I realised that maybe, just maybe, she could be OK.

I waited and watched her while everyone left and realised she was on the verge of panic again. I didn’t sense danger from her, just fear, and realised she was incapable of moving, so overloaded with pain and confusion. I helped her back to her room where she sat and shut down, a tactic I was used to from Hydra overload. I waited with her and watched, and started to rethink my earlier doubts. This girl was powerful. Strong enough to kill all of us. But she seemed desperate not to and she’d overridden Hydra training. Maybe she could be saved. When she looked up, I told her to shower and went to collect food for her, knowing that she’d need to be ordered around and treated functionally for a while. To get upstairs and find out they knew who she was was a shock – and then hearing her story was even more of a shock. Now I definitely could see her as just a kid. A tortured broken kid, who needed a second chance. At least when they’d taken me, I was an adult. I’d chosen to be a soldier. She was just a teenager who had mind powers Hydra wanted.

When I told her her name, I could see hope flash in her eyes, that she could be more than a weapon. We left her to read the research herself, but I couldn’t help watching on the monitors. I saw her read and cross-check everything, looking up occasionally as if to test what she was reading against her memory but getting frustrated. Then she hit the images and suddenly I was calling to the others that she was having some kind of fit. I’d thought sedation might help and it was only when she told Bruce that she’d been locked in her head as every memory flooded back that we realised what we’d done. Just from the few memories I had of my time with Hydra, most of them being wiped away, I knew the torment she must be feeling. Six years of torture and grief. I hadn’t trusted her when she knew what she’d been through, but now that she remembered everything, I made it my mission to save her.

After that, I spent every moment I could with the kid. I wanted her to know that it was possible to get free of Hydra in your head, and to find a new life. I felt her watching me and sure, I enjoyed a bit of her hero worship over the next few weeks and months. I knew she trusted me and felt safe with me, despite our rocky start. She knew I understood but didn’t pity. When she decided to throw herself into her new mission of worldwide Hydra destruction, I had to ask the others to help. She couldn’t see that it was impractical, or dangerous, and she didn’t realise that she had to find more to her life than that. I spent more and more time with her and watched the humour start to come out, despite the fear. I liked her, a lot.

I’d thought I saw her as a little sister, right up until Nat got her dressed up and fancy for Steve’s ‘be a person’ plan. Heck, she was not a kid. I’d been so used to seeing the skinny and fearful, broken toothed and raggedy haired wretch that I hadn’t noticed she was gaining weight – and curves – her scars were fading and she was not a kid. She was beautiful. Sure she looked awkward and uncomfortable and ready to kill, but the fact she had no clue what she was like was endearing. I saw the others staring at her in surprise but she stuck by me. I kept my leg pressed against hers throughout dinner and felt hers shaking with nerves but gradually settling as she drank a fair bit of wine. When she fell asleep against me, I’d had a fair bit to drink too and it made me realise that I was in pretty deep now. I still felt protective, but the way I was feeling now was a long way from what a brother should feel.

[phdcedotcom]

Self-Protection and Machiavelli

A requirement I maintain for my Black Belts is to read certain books from a list that I have found over the years to be wellsprings of knowledge concerning self-protection. While I do require some of the traditional tomes such as the Hagakure, much of what I require my Black Belts to read was never intended to be read from a traditional martial arts context. One such book is The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli.

At the onset, if Machiavelli were still alive today, there is substantial doubt that he and I would see eye to eye on many topics, most notably religion. He did however understand the role of violence in human relations, or lack thereof. He understood that civility has its limits. He was far ahead of his time in understanding that social contracts are anything but binding. Among the many assertions made in The Prince, one is meritorious in our society as we watch it disintegrate before our very eyes.

“People should either be caressed or crushed. If you do them minor damage they will get their revenge; but if you cripple them there is nothing they can do. If you need to injure someone, do it in such a way that you do not have to fear their vengeance.”

I can hear the gasps from here. Why on Earth would someone teaching people to protect themselves from harmful elements in society espouse such aggressive ideologies? The answer to that question is rather straightforward and simple. If you are one that has asked  the aforementioned question, have you turned on a television in the last four weeks? Have you been ensnared in a rapidly evolving cultural exercise in the American inner city referred to as a protest, the burning buildings notwithstanding?

Bravado is part of the American lexicon. “You may start it, but I’ll finish it.” This rather simple statement of self-identified gallantry begs one question: To what extent will you finish it, whatever “it” may be? Is that a bloody nose? A bruised ego? To expand on these possibilities, now ask yourself if the bruised ego or bloody nose will be sufficient to repel an assault from one of the cultural ballets that entertains us on a frequent basis in America.

Recently, I have had some animated conversations with many people close to me in my personal and professional life. Each individual related to me what they were willing to do in order to protect themselves, their family, and their sacred treasure if confronted with a throng of roving hordes of protesters. The question then becomes, what is driving them to make such statements? To examine this question, we return to Machiavelli, who stated that men are driven by one of two primary impulses, which are fear or love.

I mean this with as much love and respect as I can muster, but in the vast majority of cases, almost all cases actually, even the highest trained martial artist, marksman, or security conscious citizen stands ill-equipped to confront savagery in its most raw form. I will go as far as to say that most law enforcement officers that patrol our neighborhoods daily are ill equipped to look into the abyss. The reason for this is not because they are guided by one of the two impulses mentioned by Machiavelli. It is because they are governed and driven by both impulses simultaneously. We are terrified by the thought of losing what we love.

Being ensconced in the criminal culture, one thing that has not escaped me in my research and my professional travels is that the most violent people in society act on impulse, not rote reaction to stimuli. They are hyper-focused on the task at hand. They have little regard for short-term or long-term consequences that may result from decisions surrounding pleasure versus pain. They have been trained by doing, not by rehearsal. Their thought process does not stray into musings regarding things of value and endearment. They simply revert back to a natural state devoid of morality and become killing machines.

I asked several close associates of mine recently what things would go through their mind if confronted with a life and death situation that would likely result in the necessity of utilizing lethal force. The usual emotional suspects were resurrected, which were thoughts of their families, safety, their livelihoods, and the potential liability that could endanger their acquired treasure. In these cases, the individual in question has already lost the encounter because their focus has been diverted from the threat to their emotional or tangible sustainability. They are not seeking victory that will be made manifest through violence. Rather, they are seeking not to lose by holding on to the things that cannot help them survive in the moment of truth.

I am quickly becoming cognizant of the fact that many of my students and clients are not adapting to the “new normal” in American society. I detest that term by the way because it connotes the defining of normal by unknown, future facets of life that we can neither predict nor control. But it does have merit in our present circumstance because the new normal in America has strayed from peace and prosperity to angst, distrust, and barbarism. As martial arts instructors and self-protection teachers and mentors, we can no longer bury our heads in the sand and teach antiquated methodologies and mindsets. To do so is simply turning our clients and students into cannon fodder.

Our neighbors in the law enforcement community often make reference to a use of force continuum. This continuum dictates how they use physical violence to protect themselves or citizens during the unfortunate circumstance of a confrontation. To varying degrees, these continuums are made up of variables such as officer presence at a scene, verbal commands, and the use of various physical implements that can cause physical pain. The continuum also includes the use of tools that by their nature are lethal and can cause death or serious bodily injury.

My business partner and I make clear distinctions between martial artists and practitioners of self-protection methods and strategies. Self-protection practitioners learn skills and tactics that aid them in the detection, deterrence, and defeat of criminal threats against their well-being. Martial artists also share this skillset, but it is light years ahead in terms of refinement. Martial artists study violence and war and apply it accordingly.

We teach our clients to flee at all cost if conditions warrant. These conditions may include social elements such as crowds, or it may encompass physical elements such as terrain. The physical or emotional capacity of the person must also be taken into account. What may be justified for a physically fit adult male in his forties may not be conducive for a man confined to a wheelchair, and vice versa. If confrontation results, we teach our clients to “fight to flee,” meaning we do enough damage to ensure a safe retreat out of the clutches of the aggressor.

We now live in different times, in which mass gatherings can arise out of a very limited time and space continuum. The spaces that used to be safe for many Americans are now a battleground. What then do we teach our clients in a social climate where the social contract has come undone and savagery is the new soup du jour?

We teach a three-pronged approach to self-protection. First, principles of environmental and situational awareness are now paramount. It is simply not enough to be aware of situations. We must now be ever mindful of our environment. The places we used to think were safe may devolve into hotbeds of activity in an instant. Second, we must change what may be termed our emotion set instead of the mindset. Thoughts of loss, grief, and anxiety must be placed into the proper context in life at that specific moment in time. When teaching women, I reject the idea of not fighting back because it has taken her agency and dignity away from her in return for a future that will be wrought with uncertainty and memories of horror.

Finally, we must refine our training methodologies to include malicious tactics without malicious intent. It is at this point that teachings of Machiavelli come into play. In situations where one’s life hangs in the balance, there is no room for second guessing or the fear of judgment by others. A common complaint amongst law enforcement officers is the mischief associated with the Monday Morning Quarterback. The same holds true for a person that is truly in fear for their life in a circumstance that evolves quickly. If a student is truly in fear for their life in a scenario witnessed on television far too frequently today, we are not being honest with them when we teach them to fight with rules as they are being ravaged by those who have no regard for the rule of law. If your life hangs in the balance, give your adversary no room for retaliation. The difference between the criminal and the righteous citizen lies in the condition of the heart, not the act itself.

I hope one day to be able to retract this shift in focus. Social and political movements tend to swing like pendulums. We are witnessing an extreme swing to one side of the pendulum at present moment, and eventually it will move in the opposite direction. We must prepare our clients and students for what lies on each end of that spectrum as well as the middle.

Find me.

-PhDCE

[fuck-customers]

I feel trapped

Hey so this is gonna be a long one and kinda depressing, so strap in, I guess.

TL;DR: I’m having the worst string of bad luck and worker’s comp has me trapped here.

So I work at an amusement park in the games dpt. On 3/31 I injured my knee while working by losing my footing while feeding soccer balls into a mechanical kicker. They suspect I may have torn my meniscus, but won’t know for sure until monday (may 8) when I have my MRI. In the meantime, they have tried having me do physical therapy to avoid needing an MRI but have only aggravated the injury further.

Seeing how walking and standing for hours on end is now impossible, they moved me out of the games dpt and into merchandise, where i received a rushed, incomplete training for how to work the registers and all of the other business associated with working a store at the amusement park.

I’m trying my best to make sure the park is following the restrictions that were specified by the doctor THEY are paying for me to see, but it’s difficult because.. it’s an amusement park, and everything requires lots of moving around.

My worker’s comp case has been approved and I’ve submitted a form with the mileage I drive to and from the doctor. From my calculations, I’ve lost over $500 in wages from time I WAS scheduled but could not attend because of my injury. No one in HR seems to understand this when I tell them. All they do is talk over me and try to “correct” me by saying “well it’s a really slow time of year right now, so it makes sense that you won’t get as many hours as you did when we had the spring festival” and I just scream internally because NO, these are hours the i SHOULD have worked if it weren’t for this injury that I am in no way at fault for.

What’s even worse is that I know for a fact that my coworkers in games with the same availability as me STILL are getting 30+ hours a week even though it’s slow, while I’m here, with a bum knee, transferred to merchandise, and I’m LUCKY if I get 10 hours a week.

((BONUS: they put me in my home-store on wednesday, may 3, where they happen to burn incense, and I had no idea. So a team lead lights it while I’m in the store, and I start fucking dying because I’m ALLERGIC TO INCENSE so my throat is closing up, I’m breaking out in hives, and they send me to first aid and almost have to call the paramedics cause my breathing was fucked. The nurses tell my supervisor who replies “okay, then we just won’t burn it while she’s working” and I hear the nurse yell at her “She can’t work in that store because it’s a liability to the park. If she develops a more severe reaction, that’s on all of our hands” and now everyone is scrabbling to find another place for me to work because their best option is now their worst))

As of right now, the worker’s comp people are trying to figure out how valid my story is in comparison to the witness (a coworker-friend of mine) and one of my games supervisors.

I’m worried that the story will get fucky because on that day, i didn’t actually go to first aid. I told my supervisor that I think I injured my knee and couldn’t walk and she’s like “That’s okay, you can just go home then.” but… shouldn’t I report it since it happened while I was working? and she literally waves me off and says “no, just go home, we’ll cover your shift.” it wasn’t until a week later of me pestering them and crying in front of guests that they had me see the doctor.

All of this is depressing me beyond belief because of how useless I feel. They keep scheduling me for shifts that conflict directly with my doctor’s appointments so I have to keep calling out. My paychecks are minuscule and I can’t pay for the things I need to. I’m back to begging for gas money from my mom and I just feel so shitty about it because our financial situation is bad enough and now I have basically no income to contribute.

It’s not like I can just get up and get a new job either, because of the worker’s comp cases there’s nothing I can do. Some days I just cry all day because of how utterly trapped I feel about this situation. i’m falling back into a depressive spiral because of this and now I think I have bronchitis from the allergic reaction I had last week.

[phoenixryzing]

Memory Lane

Freshuary Day 14: Valentine

Fresh stood outside a house, nervously sweating and trying- and failing- to hide it. Under his cap his skull was sleek, and he kept swallowing nervously.

“Brah. Brah. Get it together man. It’s just a knock, no big dang deal,” Fresh muttered to himself. Yet... he couldn’t get his feet to move. He kept twitching with his bag of stuff- he now considered the bag a wonderful idea with how he kept fiddling with it- and tried tried to calm down. Tried. 

Part of him wished he hadn’t ever developed any kind of emotions, period. He wasn’t suppose to! He was supposed to just be a radtastic brah for all existence. But... uh. Things hadn’t gone as planned.

Fresh zoned out a little, remembering the first time... he’d really felt something. For... her. For Alaina.

It had been a normal day, otherwise an uneventful one. Fresh had been out shopping for once, though with his- lack of- taste, he’d gravitated towards sweets cause of their bright, rad colors. He’d just left the candy store with an assortment of neon colored, teeth destroyer goods, when he bumped into her. 

Or her into him, whichever is most accurate. He’d been looking through his bag of goodies, she had been looking through her bag of fabrics. Whatever the case, they smacked into each other and had been sent flying- as had their stuff.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she said, scrambling to pick up the fallen candies by her.

“Brah, I’m sorry, it’s totes unfresh to not watch where I’m heading,” Fresh replied, trying to pick up and stack some of the fabric by him. He looked over and quickly took stock of who exactly he had run into-  a pretty girl with brown hair and blue eyes, wearing rainbow sweater, blue jeans, and a pair of glasses. Fortunately neither of their glasses had fallen off in the crash, just their purchases.

They realized after a second whose stuff they were holding. “Um, where’d your bag for these go?” the pretty girl asked. Fresh looked around, and quickly grabbed it for her. “Here ya go broskie. Where ya what these tote rad threads?”

“My bag- oh, here,” Alaina said, grabbing her discarded bag. They put the respective items in the bags, and talked a little while they did. 

Fresh started it off. “Rad colors dudette. Whatcha using them for?”

“Making plushies!” the girl replied excitedly. Then more calmly, “I make plushies and pins and such to sell at conventions- that’s my job.” She looked at his assortment of candy and said, “Whoa, that’s a lot of candy! Having a party or something - what is your name?”

“Fresh my gal,” Fresh replied, shooting off his finger guns. The girl had to smile at that, a grin Fresh returned, mouth stretched wide. “Nah, I just like the look of them- rainbow goodness in a bag brah. Plushies huh? Interesting brah! Always cool to hear what others do and stuff, specially if includes radtastic colors like these. Cool cool- ah brah, I didn’t catch ya name.”

“Alaina. Alaina Prana- nice to meet you,” Alaina said, “Fresh was it? Cool name. Suits you.” Fresh looked away at that comment, then turned his head back with a rather puzzled expression. Alaina continued on, “Candy is rather colorful! I suppose that’s a bit much to eat, but whatever suits you.”

“Nice to meet ya too browskie,” he replied automatically, a preoccupied look on his face. He’d finished bagging his stuff and stood up again. “Hey... um. Where ya headin next? You seem to have your hands full.” It was true, Alaina had an armload of bugs, but ...Fresh didn’t quite believe what he heard himself saying. He didn’t care, he had nothing to gain... why was he asking?

Might’s well make friends with a friendly human, he rational zed. No sense not doing so, right? 

Alaina looked a little surprise by the question. “Home? I have to get back to work.”

“Oh...” Fresh said lamely. He fiddled a bit before saying, “Guess I’ll catch ya later homeslice!” before walking off... though he did glass at the first reflective object in sight to catch Alumina's reaction. She just looked... confused. 

Fresh was confused to... but more about his behavior. And his soul giving an irregular beat. “Too much sugar brah...” he muttered.

That was a few years ago. Since then, Fresh kept on bumping into Alaina, always at the same mall. At first he excused it as needing something or another from the store... and eventually gave up and admitted he was trying to run into her.

He started to notice little things- that she always tried to carry too much, always wore fan stuff, always talked about her work passionately. He used it as an excuse to start conversations- asking about this shirt or that new collection of fabric, or why she always bought that specific blue fleece, or what that faux-pink fur could be for. Alaina seemed a bit confused- or suspicious- at first, but she loved to talk about her work. 

She also wasn’t quite as blind as he was. But... she didn’t object either. Fresh was nice- if a bit strange at times. She noticed that he oddly seemed to change appearance every now and again, but never asked- it seemed rude. Besides... if he trusted her, he’d tell her. It would be better that way.

Fresh, in the background, was slowly moving along his journey of discovering “emotions.” Fear, anger, sadness, true friendship... they overwhelmed him and made him furious, afraid. He wasn’t suppose TO DEAL WITH THIS. 

Though maybe that’s why he kept on running into Alaina. Because  while he felt... odd... around her, he didn’t feel afraid. She was happy-go-lucky and kind and always energetic. He could immerse himself in whatever she was talking about, and feel his soul get lighter for it.

So he started asking her out. Not on a date- but to grab coffee. Visit this cool exhibit in town. A con- though that was more him going to see her there. He always bought something- little things he couldn’t quite get rid of. Well, it wasn’t any effort to keep them... so no big deal, right?

Alaina noticed, but she eventually decided that if Fresh wanted to be her friend, she’d let him. He was funny and cool and much more caring than he really realized at times. So they went out, as friends, for a good year or so. She wondered if he’d ever decide for himself what he felt, but she wouldn’t push it.

Fresh couldn’t decide. He didn’t udnerstand... and he didn’t want to. Emotions weren't his thing... and he didn’t want to care. Caring was a liability. So as long as he didn’t care, he could stay around Alaina and things would be cool.

Even to himself that sounded ridiculous but he forced himself to ignore it. 

Then he found himself... noticing stuff more. He started to notice what Alaina looked like- the particular way she parted her hair, the way her clothes sometimes reflected her mood, the way she squee’d when she was excited and got massively flustered if someone did something kind for her. Fresh got to see that a few times- and every time it brought a real smile to his face. He’d started to notice little things while traveling, things she’d like. A Russia charm, a pair of rainbow elbow-gloves, an authentic AC hoodie. They were just little things- and he liked seeing her smile. Spreading good vibes was his thing, after all.

...no one was fooled.

Eventually, Fresh had to face himself on this. He... liked... Alaina. As much as he knew what that word meant. He liked the way she smiled, the way she laughed. He liked making that happen. He... wanted to see that. For a long, long, time.

He didn’t know what to call this emotion, and he decided he didn’t care. He... just didn’t want it to end. Maybe it was unsafe. But he always felt safe around her. And... despite knowing him for years, had never once threatened him. Never made a comment about his “condition”. Maybe... this one... he could trust?

He was willing to try.

So on Valentine’s day, he asked her out, for reals. He was as flippant as always, making light of the statement... but his rainbow blush gave him away. Alaina was charitable enough to pretend to not see it and off they went. They went out to see a movie. Fresh had checked all the different reviewer sites, and talked to several people who’d seen the movie, making sure he picked a good one. Didn’t want to disappoint ‘laina after all.

They’d watched the film, and to Fresh’s enormous relief, Alaina seemed to enjoy it. They grabbed food afterwards, and Alaina kept chatting about this or that in the film, while Fresh nodded absentmindedly. He always looked a bit out of it cause of the glasses, but now he looked positively in dream land.

“Uh, Fresh, you there buddy?” Alaina asked.

Fresh nodded slowly, and said, “You were talkin’ bout how the theme was all wacked and stuff brah, I heard ya.”

“...oh” Alaina replied. The conversation lapsed into silence... which quickly turned uncomfortable. Fresh kept... staring. He always did that a little, but now it was getting weird.

Fresh for his part was only half aware of it. He was paying attention to Alaina to be sure, but not himself at all- hence why he hadn’t moved for the last ten minutes. That part of his mind was trying to come up with what, exactly, to say.

“Fresh...?” Alaina said finally, breaking the silence.

That jolted Fresh into sitting up. “Uh, whats up browskie...” he rambled, before shaking his head to clear it. “Ya know what brah, let me start over. Alaina,” he said, turning more serious, “I... ‘ve playing ya. I’ve just been staying ‘round cause I feel better that way, ya dig? That’s what I do brah- I find cool, radical peeps and hand round then cause it makes mah happier.”

“So-” Alaina interrupted, but Fresh raised his hand to stop her.

“Let me speak mah piece brah. That’s what I done, and I ain’t gunna make excuses or nothin’ like that. But I will say, Alaina...

“I... don’t wanna just hang round ya cause it makes me happy. I wanna around cause it makes you happy... if you like it. You dig? I- want to make ya happy. For reals.  But- I dunno- would that make ya happy...or...” Fresh looked away, not wanting to see Alaina’s expression in case... she said no. The logical part of his brain knew he was being ridiculous. The logical part had been told to sit down and shut up for the entity of this though, so Fresh got no help there.

He looked back when Alaina grabbed his hands. He looked over at her slowly, and saw that she was smiling- and... blushing a little? No, a trick of the light. His thoughts got interrupted by her speaking though.

“Fresh, if I didn’t like being around you, I wouldn’t have stayed around. Now come on,” she said, lightly punching his shoulder. “Where’s my happy radtastic dude?”

Fresh stared for a second, before a massive smile broke across his face... and he started laughing. Laughing because he’d been so worried, laughing because the pressure was gone now, laughing because... he was happy. This... this was happy. He liked it. His laughter turned out to be infectious, as Alaina started laughing along as well, and everyone wondered what the silly couple had thought of.

Now a year later, Fresh was still nervous visiting Alaina. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t been here before, many times. Alaina liked her cozy little home, adn Fresh could see why. He come over every now again, sometimes to have dinner, sometimes to just goof off and talk. He still got flustered at times, but Alaina always brought him back down to earth. He still got her little trinkets and gifts, and she still rambled on about fandoms and plushies. They just... clicked. And always smiled when they were around each other.

Fresh sighed, shook himself out. “Back to Earth buddy, ya can’t keep her waiting.” Alaina had been expecting him sometime- they were going to stay in this time, make a meal together, just enjoy the evening. Not as flashy, but cozier. Sweeter that way.

With one last deep breathe, Fresh walked up to the door and knocked. Almost immediately he heard someone on the other side, and Alaina opened the door. “Fresh! Hello! Happy Anniversary!”

“Happy Anniversary Alaina,” Fresh said, smiling dopily.He paused, blinked, then remember what he had. “Oh, sweetheart, I got ya something... well, made...” he dug into his bag, and pulled out a plush doll. It was dressed in neon greens and purples- it was Zigzag, from Alaina’s popular webcomic. It had taken him... weeks?... to make it, but it had been worth it.

Alaina’s face lit up. “You made this? Thank you!” she said, hugging him tight. Fresh frozen for a second, then returned the hug. He loved hugs- and this one he didn’t want to break. Alaina actually broke it first, pulling back.

“How’d you do it? Did you use that sewing trick I showed you awhile back- oh, come in out of the doorway! What did you do this week...” Alaina trailed on, walking back into her house. Fresh shook his head, then honestly smiled. This place... 

it really felt like home.

Fresh by @loverofpiggies

Freshuary by @feth

Zigzag and herself by @alainaprana

[shinigamikarinkurosaki-archive]

Title: Tannim Ritual Shit

Pairings: platonic(ish) RukiKarin-centric, minor HitsuKarin, minor platonic IchiRenRuki, mentioned familial IchiKarin

Words: 1900+

Summary: Rashaverse. Sequel to x. WARNINGS– demons, unreality, body horror, smoking, slurs. The things she would do for a paycheck.

Her blood still boiled. Though it was hours ago, Toushirou’s blunder had put her back a few hundred bucks, plus pissed off a mule whose boss was a major investor in several large companies who were also clients of hers. It was unprofessional, it was stupid, it could probably cost her a lot more to have a loose Tannim on board. Even worse, he barely looked apologetic. She couldn’t employ someone so irresponsible, regardless of their ability. 

She sighed as she chewed on her cigarette. She wasn’t a smoker, but she and Toushirou were outside and it made them look less suspicious than did they just sit outside. So long as she didn’t smoke more than one or two, that was. She hoped Renji had learned better punctuality, she had forgotten to stress that before she dumped her phone. It seemed she was the only one who cared to not leave trails of evidence.

“Do you want something? Pop? A pretzel?” Toushirou inquired. Ah, she thought, the guilt had finally hit him. Hopefully.

“No, I’m good. We should stay here in case they come.” She replied. She sounded upset despite her logic, she guessed Toushirou caught onto it too, if his grimace was any clue.

“How long will you stay angry at me? You know that kid was repulsive.”

“We don’t. Leave bodies, Toushirou.” She snarled, and a woman nearby moaned as her irritation infected her. “It was on the news. Mysteriously Burned Body Found in Park– now we have that much less leverage against the public’s disbelief in us.”

“You’re overreacting.”

The woman feet away doubled over and hurled as her own blood boiled. “I cannot believe your insolence, Toushirou. Another word about this and god so help me, I will incinerate you where you stand.”

He turned away from her without another word. Good riddance.

Renji’s clunker finally came into view and parked near them. Her frown deepened as she watched as he and another set of legs emerged from the old Plymouth. 

Of course he had to bring her.

“Renji, Rukia,” she greeted as she pushed herself to her feet. “Look, I appreciate that you came, Rukia– your Tannim ritual knowledge is invaluable– but I only have three tickets and I insist upon this. You understand, right?”

“You’re as meticulous as ever. If I knew you any less, I may call it paranoid.” Rukia said as she pushed her hair behind her ear. That meatsuit actually looked sweet, if only the same were true for the woman underneath. Rukia had a big mouth, especially around Ichigo and his posse. She couldn’t afford a woman like her on-job. Ichigo liked to crash her operations, and if he got wind that she needed magic for a job, that stupid ‘brotherly’ part of him would hunt her down to protect her, ruin her op, and cost her a lot more money than Toushirou’s fuck up. “It’s a good thing I bought a ticket in advance, isn’t it?”

She grit her teeth. Rukia’s specialty was extrasensory ritual magic, of course she knew what film she would use as their alibi.

“Karin, I’m not the enemy, you know. I’m here to help. Renji even made me swear not to say a thing about this to anybody it doesn’t concern.” Rukia said.

She sighed. Rukia was more experienced in the Tannim arts, she was less likely to screw it up than she might if she did it herself. Plus, suspicion would be further averted if they looked like a double date. Third wheels tended to draw attention. Besides, Toushirou was technically paying for it.

“Alright. But this is my time and my money, so you follow my rules to the little dot above i. Have I made myself clear? I don’t have the energy for an insubordinate consultant.” She snarled, and Rukia nodded. “Superb. Now Renji’s your boyfriend until we get back into his car, alright?”

She pulled pliable Toushirou to his feet and tugged him inside the mall.

She managed idle, empty-headed chatter and to rope Renji and Rukia into it. She was ever capable of deceit. It was hereditary, she liked to say. At least she wasn’t her brother who had fooled himself into believing himself to be a good brother instead of a huge liability.

They sat themselves in the back of the theater next to the speakers. She leaned against Toushirou, and as he began to pet her hair when the movie started, she found herself less and less upset. She never could stay angry with him for very long, no longer than a week– which may sound like awhile to some, but she had held a grudge against her brother for almost her entire life, so hours were infinitesimal in comparison.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” She murmured as she pulled her legs to her chest. “You know how much I hate being treat like some damsel. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.” It had never been about the body, though it wasn’t her favorite thing to just leave those about. She was just offended. Toushirou let her do her job, but he had the same protective streak as her brother and that bugged her.

“You’re not a damsel, I just don’t like seeing you pestered by dense children. You shouldn’t have to waste your time on them.” Toushirou said as his thumb pet the back of her neck. 

“But it upsets me when you do. Don’t you love me more than a dated sense of service?”

Toushirou frowned the sort of frown he frowned when he knew he conceded to something he didn’t entirely want to. Alas, he knew she was right, or at least chose to respect her decision. She was so lucky to have someone who listened to her.

The movie came to a close and she made idle conversation with Rukia. She knew not to bring her, she thought as their consultant smiled nervously, Rukia was way in over her head, couldn’t act even with instructions.

She sighed when they were finally enclosed in the safety of Renji’s car. Geniality was exhausting. “There’s a clearing on Samwell Hill. I’ll give directions.” She said as Renji lit up a cigarette. “I don’t remember you being a smoker, Renji.”

“Reminds me of Momo.” Renji replied plainly. She chose to leave it at that. She picked up some pretty weird habits to cope with Momo’s absence, too.

Rukia craned her head over her shoulder to talk to them. “I know you said we’re doing this your way, but the Kuchiki family owns a hangar just on the outskirts of town. It’s farther, but it’s more secure. I know how fond you are of cautionary measures.”

“Good. Let’s go.” She said. “We’ll reimburse you for gas.”

“Won’t hear me bitchin’ about that.” Renji replied as he pulled out of the parking lot. Toushirou winced from her side vision. Just because she wasn’t angry with him anymore, didn’t mean it still wouldn’t come out of his paycheck. She was his boss before she was his lover.

They parked a good forty-five minutes later and climbed out. She did like the seclusion of the hangar, no witnesses, no bodies, nothing to worry about.

It seemed Rukia’s stride changed as they approached the hangar. It seemed her every step turned the Earth like a conveyor belt, the midnight shadow part like curtains for her. Their breaths came out in visible plumes, as if a cold storm front approached, but that was impossible early-July in the Arizona desert.

Toushirou seemed to react to it too. He wasn’t the twitchy sort, every move he made calculated and smooth. But his wrists twitched, his chin jerked to one side, his breath rattled in his lungs. She wondered if it was like how her own aura affected humans, or if it was some call to war. Her bets were on the latter, she thought as his glamour flickered. 

She began to wonder if the job was worth it– if she had to resort to unreliable consultants and risk her partner’s sentience. She was under the impression Tannim ritual magic was psychic; clairvoyant, extrasensory, the kineses. It seemed that wasn’t entirely true, as if the half-magic still could make nature and its behemoth creators bow to it.

“It’s normally better guarded here since it’s where we keep our jet, but I asked Byakuya to excuse the staff for our activities as a personal favor.” Rukia explained as their footfalls echoed through the empty space. She watched their consultant shed her wedges and purse. She watched as she hooked her fingers under her bottom teeth and pulled away her sticky meatsuit like a wet sock. She was nude underneath, the eye tattoos a dramatic contrast against her snow white skin.

“You have a quality photo of him, right?” Rukia asked as she toweled herself off from the red goo she lubricated her meatsuit with.

“I do.” She said as she reached into her wallet. She unfolded the glossy sheet and passed it to Rukia, who smiled as she looked down at it.

“This shouldn’t take long, but I suggest you guys stand against the wall.”

She heeded Rukia’s suggestion and leaned against the wall of the hanger. She watched as Rukia knelt, her snow white skin marred by tattoos as black as the Void Izuru inherited, stuck the photo between her teeth, and watched as she opened her chest to the stars.

Toushirou sighed ice as Rukia began to chant in tongues she didn’t recognize even with her royal education. She watched him twitch and tremor, watched his eyes roll into his skull and spittle collect at the edges of his lips from her peripheral, like his own magic resonated with Rukia’s and itched to be let loose and wreak havoc like in biblical days. It must especially resonate with Rukia, her ability only surpassed by Nanao’s.

She was almost grateful Nanao was missing. She couldn’t imagine Toushirou’s reaction if it had been her channelling Tannim magic. They wouldn’t survive, let alone the hanger.

Rukia’s moans echoed through the hangar as her tattoos bulged like heavy tumors. Her shoulders sunk to the floor, yet she pushed her hips up as if the contortion would ease the pain.

Her skin tore as the magic eyes emerged– black things that absorbed anything and everything. She could feel their sight probe the deepest part of her soul, an then move on as Rukia chewed. She felt their sight spread like a heavy fog, farther and farther still, like an oppressive fog.

Rukia gasped as the magic eyes slammed shut. She pitched forward and hacked up the masticated photo. She heard Toushirou sigh as Renji slid to her side and draped the towel over her shoulders.

“You okay?” She nudged Toushirou with her elbow, and he wearily nodded.

“I just need some air.” He mumbled.

“I know where he is.” Rukia announced as she began to lubricate her appendages. “He’s in Colombia. I’ll text you the full address.”

“Good, we need to go anyways.” She didn’t think Toushirou’s glamour would hold much longer. He needed rest. “Thank you for helping, I sincerely mean that, but Renji, don’t involve any help that I haven’t specified. The Kuchiki family isn’t the only one who I can garner materials from and Izuru has proven to be far more conscientious than either of you in the past. Good night.”

“You got it, boss.” Renji replied. She’d scold him for his attitude, but she had other things to attend to.

Like her next paycheck.

[spartytoon]

In which Sparty finally jots down her thoughts on Avengers: Endgame.  Spoiler free TL:DR: I liked it overall, but have some caveats.  Long read, spoilers below.

ENDGAME THOUGHTS

THE GOOD:

Well used fandom in-jokes. E.G. Cap checking out his own ass (“That IS Americas ass”).

Scott Lang in general.

Tony Stark being adorable with his daughter.

Cap using Mjolnir.

Thor’s reaction to Cap using Mjolnir (“I KNEW IT!”)

Rocket Raccoon in general.

Nebula in general.

Thor having a good talk with his mom.

Frigga immediately recognizing Thor as a time traveler.

When everybody showed up for the final battle.

Banner sharing his tacos with Scott.

2012!Loki being a lil’ shit.

2012!Thor using Mjolnir as a defibrillator.

“Lunch, then back to Asgard.”

2014!Gamora: That’s the guy?

Nebula: Yes. It was either him, or a tree.

I’ve been saying for a year that Guardians 3 and Thor 4 could be the same movie, and that looks like it is very much happening. Awwww yiss.

THE BAD: Oh boy. I’m going to keep this to continuity in-universe rules type stuff because that’s where the objective issues are.

It has been long established that one must be obscenely powerful to so much as TOUCH an infinity stone (except for the reality stone (it touches yooooouuuu), and the soul stone probably has some unique rules), much less USE one, but the Avengers were all barehanding the damn things without any issues.

Power levels are meaningless. I knew they were going to nerf their really powerful characters (Carol, Thor and Wanda), but I did not expect them to do it to this extent.

- Carol shows up for the final battle, destroys Thanos’ ship BY HERSELF, but is unable to blow 2014!Thanos to smithereens. SURE.

- It was established in Infinity War that Wanda could hold off Thanos with five stones in the gauntlet, yet she could not obliterate 2014!Thanos with no gauntlet. SUUUURE.

- Also in Infinity War it was shown that with the aid of Stormbreaker (which enhances his powers) Thor could stand toe to toe with Thanos with ALL the infinity stones, but he couldn’t beat 2014!Thanos. SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURE.

- At the end of the day, the final outcome of Iron Man sacrificing himself to save everyone was very, very contrived. Nerfing their really powerful characters was literally the only way to make that happen. Hell, 2014!Thanos without the gauntlet should have been manageable for Thor, Cap and Iron Man. There was really no reason they couldn’t take him down now that they were actually working as a team.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not unhappy with Iron Man sacrificing himself (very bittersweet), I just wish they’d had a more coherent way to get to that point. Like, maybe instead of Thanos coming down to draw them out personally, he sends his army down so that everyone has to fight their way to him, and Iron Man is the only one who manages to get close enough to do anything. We know the suit is strong/advanced enough to fight Thanos, but maybe not defeat him. And if he gets ahold of the gauntlet, well you know how that ends.

Moving on! They went on a long tirade about the rules of time travel, then proceeded to screw up the space time continuum anyway, and spark off several alternate realities (they did announce a “what ifs” series for Disney+ so that’s probably deliberately sloppy *eye roll*).  The Sorcerer Supreme is probably Disappointed, But Not Surprised.

Speaking of, they created a glaring plot hole. Thanos allegedly destroyed the infinity stones after he was done using them. But when they went back in time to collect the stones from the past, the Sorcerer Supreme explained to Banner that reality itself was based around those stones, removing one could potentially cause all sorts of chaos, not just alternate timelines.

But Thanos DESTROYED the stones. Destroyed them. The Sorcerer Supereme apparently knew this, and didn’t seem phased by the news. Possibly because A, she knows something we don’t, or B, they already forgot why they had the Avengers go back in time in the first place. Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy. Personally, I don’t think the stones can actually be destroyed. It was likely that when Thanos “destroyed” the stones he actually just scattered them again, he just didn’t know it. So he wasn’t lying, he was just ignorant. If THAT’s the case, the Sorcerer Supreme not being worried about the stones being destroyed would make sense, because she probably knew the stones COULDN’T be destroyed, but finding them again could take eons, so she did ultimately go along with the Avengers time heist.

Endgame ultimately had a lot of the same problems as The Last Jedi: in an effort to be unpredictable, shocking and have things Not Go As Planned, they had to ignore the internal logic of the universe to varying degrees. You can’t spend 20 movies establishing how a universe works only to throw all the rules away as soon as it becomes inconvenient. You can certainly change things up, but there has to be a reason for it. And that reason has to make sense. None of this made sense. That’s sloppy writing at best, and an insult at worst.

THE WTF:

Sacrificing Natasha was sadly par for the course. I had hoped that by sacrificing herself there would be some sort of loophole wherein she wasn’t killed/sucked into the soul stone, buuuuut nope. I’m guessing the “sacrifice something you love” thing is probably a big fat lie, because Natasha and Clint were fighting over who got to be sacrificed, and Clint clearly didn’t WANT to sacrifice Natasha and… it just makes no sense. The Soul stone has a price. That price is a soul. Whoever’s left standing (or dangling near) the top of the cliff gets the stone. No emotional attachment necessary.

As a friend pointed out… ANT MAN DIDN’T HAVE ANY ANTS! He should have done the time heist with ants. It would have gone much smoother. Also he could have summoned hordes of ants to attack 2014!Thanos, which would have been horrifying, but a perfect “Welcome to Earth” moment. And hell, who knows how a titan reacts to ant bites. Might be deathly allergic, for all we know.

Aside from Nebula, Natasha, and arguably Carol, all of the female superhero’s basically just had cameos. I know they had a lot of characters to juggle, but their final battle stuff was another contrived moment.

Where did Brunhilde (Valkyrie) get her Pegasus? Are they summoning creatures? Is there a dimension somewhere where they hang out? How did they have time to go there and get a pegasus that was conveniently battle trained and ready? Are they sentient?

What was Spider-man swinging on? There was barely anything for him to swing on.  Yet, there was swinging.

Why didn’t Thor use his lightning more? We know he can use it. He knows he can use it. He can use it with pinpoint accuracy so it isn’t like it was a huge liability in a crowded battlefield. But he barely used it. Cap used it more than he did, and Cap was just winging it. And it was effective against Thanos so like… why didn’t they double team lightning bros… oh right. That would have worked. NERFED SO HARD. WTF was up with Clint? Was he going after people who were still causing problems after the snap? What was he doing? Why was Nat just okay with him throwing a homicidal temper tantrum? Professor Hulk in the uncanny valley. I’m with Valkyrie, one or the other. Both is weird. THOR:

I know a lot of people felt that what they did to Thor was one big fat joke. I have to respectfully disagree, insomuch that not taking care of yourself when you fall into a deep depression is A Thing. It’s a sad thing. And the humor of the situation was –  for me – part Thor saying or doing something genuinely funny, and partly just plain awkward. Like laughing at Peter B. Parker crying in the shower in Spider-man: Into the Spider-Verse. It’s funny because it’s sad.  We laugh because we don’t know what else to do. I’ll circle back around to Peter B. Parker in a minute. I would like to point out that Thor crashing, and crashing hard actually makes a lot of sense. It’s one of the few parts of the movie that DOES make sense. Consider Infinity War.

Thanos’ timing was probably deliberate. Was he thinking emotional devastation when he attacked the Statesman? Maybe. He was certainly thinking tactical advantage. Any emotional fallout was probably just a bonus. Finish off your biggest threat (what’s left of Asgard – I’m of the mind that Thanos was waiting around for Odin to croak), take out the most powerful player among them while he’s at a huge disadvantage (probably not a good idea to use your cool lightning powers on a big ship full of sensitive electronics), and as a bonus, emotionally break said powerful player at the same time. I don’t know if Thanos expected Thor to survive, but he wasn’t terribly surprised to see him at the end of Infinity War. Asgardians are notoriously durable, after all. And Thor especially so.

So, then what happens with Thor? Well he’s rescued, and he does everything he can to stay positive. He cracks jokes, he sympathies with Gamora, he’s a cheerleader for Etiri, and he does it all while he’s dying inside. He uses humor to keep himself together, but it’s clear he’s hurting BAD. He’s been in charge for maybe a couple of days and already ANOTHER huge disaster has befallen his people, and it’s only going to get worse if he doesn’t get his ass out there to put a stop to it. When Thor confronts Thanos in Wakanda, he initially does the right thing. The head is a much harder target to hit from a distance, so aiming for his chest was actually smart. He stopped Thanos in his tracks, brought him to his knees with that blow.

His real mistake was stopping to chat. I remember sitting in the theater watching Infinity War when Thor lands and does NOT immediately proceed to finish Thanos off. I believe my thoughts were “No - Thor… Thor, sweetie, just finish him off don’t stop to – aw shit.”

That mistake, that moment of weakness wherein he let his anger, and pain take over his better judgment is what cost half the universe. And he knows it. He knows it more than anyone else. He knows how powerful he is, he knows what he’s capable of. Everyone in Wakanda gave it their all. Tony, Spidey, Strange and the Guardians came close too, and Quill definitely fucked up there as well, but none of them are 1500 year old gods. They don’t have lightning running through their veins, they can’t fight for days on end without rest, they aren’t one man armies, they weren’t raised to be king and protector of the 9 realms, they didn’t have that burden placed on their shoulders. They aren’t anywhere near Thor’s level. They’re mortal. They make mistakes. They lose. Thor is far from perfect, but with the power he possess, the stakes are higher, there’s much more expected of him. And he fucked it up.

That’s not something someone simply recovers from. Not without help. And this is where there’s a big difference between Peter B. Parker and Thor becomes clear (well, aside from scale). Peter B. Parker is going through a rough patch. He’s gained a bit of weight. It is (gently) played for laughs.  But he has support. All of the other spider-people are there for him. Miles does a great job of getting him to wake up, to realize he’s gotta face his fears, and take that leap of faith. Thor, apparently, didn’t get that. Not until the time heist and he gets to talk to his mom.

As a proud member of #TeamThorNeedsAHug, I must ask… where were the rest of the Avengers? Too busy to check in on Thor? Or did they only contact him if they needed him for something? Did they brush him off, and assume he’d get better on his own? Were they so wrapped up in their own pain they just couldn’t reach out to anyone else? Cap had support group, did he not invite Thor? Or did he expect Thor to host support groups as well?

All they know is that they failed. But they’re not thinking about it from Thor’s context, they’re thinking about it from a human context. The human context is limited, fleeting.

So, Thor falls by the wayside. Any cries for help are brushed off. They get annoyed with him. They certainly got annoyed with him in Endgame. They stop keeping in touch with him.

The Avengers are pretty shitty friends.

This is why I am glad Thor is going off with the Guardians of the Galaxy for a while. The Guardians are weird, and they yell at each other a lot, and they fight, but at the end of the day, they’re a family.  Thor is in far better company. Also it will be HILARIOUS.

That said: THINGS I WANT TO HAPPEN IN GUARDIANS 3 (in no particular order):

Quill spends a little time on Earth and reconnects with his grandpa.

The Guardians work their magic and help Thor work through his depression and guilt.

A meta conversation pondering the power disparity between 5 years ago/current Thanos, and 2014 Thanos, and why Thor, Carol and Wanda (or Thor, Cap and Tony, for that matter) could not smush him like a bug while he was Infinity Gauntlet-less.

They discover that the infinity stones can’t actually be destroyed, Thanos just scattered them when he thought he had destroyed them, and there may be a way to get Gamora out of the soul stone.

They get Gamora out of the soul stone.

Mark Hamill is Space Hobo Supreme*

Thor becomes a Space Hobo and learns the ways of the Space Hobo from Mark Hamill

Thor goes sifting through Quills music collection at some point and asks if he has any Florence + The Machine.

We find out Rocket invited Thor to tag along with the Guardians figuring he needed a stable family environment, and time away from everything to recover.

Rocket is highly protective and supportive of Thor (much to Quills chagrin).

Awkward Drax Hugs (That Thor is totally down for)

Groot and Thor play video games.

Thor zaps himself back to being ripped for the sole purpose of annoying Quill.

Dance off.

Mantis does something really freaking cool.

Air guitar battle (because Guitar Hero exists, Thor plays video games now, and why the fuck not)

Nebula continues to soften up.

They bump into Loki in the least likely of places. A laundromat or something equally mundane.

* Back around the time The Last Jedi came out, Mark Hamill was joking around on Twitter (as he often does), that he was out of work, and needed a new job. James Gunn (possibly jokingly, possibly seriously) mentioned possibly having something for him to do in Guardians 3. This apparently, led into brunch, and a lot of unrelated silliness (Guardians of the 99!). I very much hope that Mark Hamill will be in Guardians 3 as a friendly Space Hobo.