If I another historical fiction-biography about a thirteen-year-old girl’s coming of age which, is written by a man, includes her growing into womanhood by accidentaly discovering how to touch herself I will burn a library.
lyanna and bronn, the ship the asoiaf rpc didn’t know they needed
part of the 1000 lives ‘verse, aka my: Bucky and Tony are soulmates and Tony gets captured by HYDRA and they fall in love but then after TWS Bucky escapes but Tony doesn’t and now Bucky is desperately trying to find Tony and save his soulmate - verse.
this is a timestamp of Tony and Bucky’s time at HYDRA. reading the first fic in the series is recommended but not necessarily required to understand this fic. you can always read this one first and then read the first fic later on
//
13 kills (1991)
The boy appears to be attempting to escape, as he presses his feet against the wall and tugs at his chains over and over, even though it must be hurting him to do so. Briefly, the Asset wonders if it should explain to the boy that escape is not possible, that HYDRA does not allow for such things, but it has not been told to speak to the boy, so it says nothing.
“You could help, you know,” the boy spits out, and it takes a couple of seconds for the Asset to realise that the boy is addressing it. “Bet that metal arm of yours would come in real handy right about now. My father isn’t going to pay my ransom, he never does, so you might as well KILL ME!” The boy tilts his head back and shouts the last two words, talking to people who aren’t in the room.
“What does this kind of job pay anyway?” the boy asks. “Is it really worth it? Stealing teenagers from their dorm rooms? You must really be important to them if they fitted you with a prosthesis like that.” The boy eyes its metal arm, but unlike when the Scientist used to eye the arm, there is no shudder down the Asset’s spine. It doesn’t feel the urge to flinch or cower away because there’s no spite in the boy’s look - for all the vitriol he’s spitting - only curiosity.
“I would love to get my hands on that thing,” the boy says, more to himself than anyone else, before giving the Asset a slow once-over, “I’d like to get my hands on all of you, if you weren’t some sort of creepy kidnapper. Rhodey’s gonna lose his mind when he finds out I have a hard-on for my kidnapper. This is some Stockholm Syndrome type shit.”
The boy looks like he’s about to say more, but he’s interrupted by another presence in the room. The Asset looks away from the boy, and it’s back instantly stiffens when it recognises the Handler. It jumps to its feet, sticking a foot out to still the rattling metal bed-frame, and instantly assumes parade-rest.
“At ease, soldier, ” the Handler says in an amused tone, a half smile on his lips. He doesn’t, however, make any motion for the Asset to sit, or any indication that his words are any more than just that, words, so the Asset remains standing, hands clasped behind its back.
“Anthony Stark,” the Handler says, crouching down on his knees, and reaching out to grip the boy’s jaw firmly. To his credit, the boy stares defiantly back at the Handler, and the Asset thinks that if it weren’t for the hand pressing into his cheeks, the boy might actually attempt to spit on the Handler.
“Pierce,” the boy musters out, in between gritted teeth, “If you wanted to talk, you could’ve just called ahead. There was no need for all this.” The boy waves his hands around, as best he can since they’re being weighed down by chains, “I would’ve scheduled you in.”
“Now we both know that isn’t true,” the Handler says, almost fondly, “What was it you said when I sent Fury looking for you last month? That you’d keep us on hold just to watch the line blink. That’s highly unprofessional Tony, surely your father taught you better than that.”
The boy, Tony, attempts to smile. “He did. Never did put much stock into the old man’s lessons. Bit too old fashioned for my taste.”
The Handler tsks, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, “I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss him, my boy. It’s a shame, because he’s no longer around to drop those pearls of wisdom on you. I would really start cherishing those memories. What is that saying, ‘you don’t know what you have until it’s gone’?’”
The Handler drops his grip on Tony’s jaw, and pushes himself off the floor, dusting his knees. Some of the dirt falls on Tony’s face, and Tony shakes his head vigorously, closing and opening his eyes rapidly. He’s shaking, much like he was when the Asset first entered, but this time, the Asset thinks it’s from anger.
“Asset!” The Handler barks, and it stiffens. “Mission Report. December 16, 1991.”
“Mission: Extraction and Execution. Primary Target: Super-soldier serum,” the Asset intones, “Secondary Target: Howard Stark. Collateral: Maria Stark.”
Tony inhales a sharp breath, exhaling in a splutter like he’s being choked, but the Handler pays him no mind, so the Asset continues.
“Serum extracted at 0200 hours. Secondary target neutralised. Collateral neutralised. Return to base at 0500 hours. Mission successful.”
The Handler nods, once at the Asset, and another time, more firmly, at Tony.
“Like I said,” the Handler says to Tony, “you never know what you have until it’s gone.” Tony doesn’t seem to be paying the Handler any mind, instead glaring at the Asset, and doesn’t even notice when the Handler leaves the room. There’s an outwardly calm that’s overtaken Tony that it is stark contrast to the way he was shivering with anger, and yet, the Asset does not think he is actually calm, not in the slightest.
“You killed my mother, you son of a bitch,” Tony finally murmurs, “I’m gonna rip your heart out and feed it to you.”
**
15 kills (1992)
It is unusual for the Handler to oversee the defrosting process. Normally, when the Asset is brought out of cryo, it is only the Scientist that is waiting for him, flanked by two agents. Occasionally, the Doctor will make an appearance too, if it has been particularly long since the Asset has been wiped.
The Chair means that the Asset does not remember much of anything, but it has come to recognise the tug in it’s gut, that informs it that something is amiss. It should probably inform the Doctor of this malfunction, but it is a feeling that has served the Asset well on previous Missions, so it does not say anything.
It opens its eyes despite the cold, blinking away the remnants of ice that have collected on it’s eyelashes, and waits until it is ordered to sit up. It is when the Asset sits up that it notices the Handler, and the boy standing beside the Handler - arms handcuffed behind him and an old cloth shoved into his mouth.
There is something vaguely familiar about the boy, but the Asset does not know what.
When the Handler realises that he has the Asset’s attention, he raises the hand not resting on the boy’s shoulder, wiggling his fingers. The Handler is smiling, and muttering something to the boy that is causing a complicated amount of emotions on his face, and even makes the boy shuffle forward as if to approach the Asset - before the Handler pulls him back.
“Dr. Barnett, would you mind so kind as to prep the Asset for the Chair?” the Handler asks, even though his tone suggests that it isn’t a request. “I do believe our newest guest requires a demonstration on the repercussions of non-compliance.”
The Asset stiffens ever so slightly at the mention of the Chair but otherwise makes no indication that it is aware of what is happening.
It has been defrosted in the Recalibration Room, so it is simply a matter of stepping out of the cryo chamber, and walking across the room to the Chair. Without instruction, the Asset spreads out its hands and allows itself to be strapped down, relaxing its jaw and clenching down on the plastic bit that is fitted between its teeth.
The Chair rocks back ever so slightly, just as the harness comes down and attaches itself to both of the Asset’s temples, and the Asset involuntarily closes its eyes as electricity courses through its body, forcing it to arch it’s back and lift it’s head up in a silent scream.
“You see, my boy?” it dimly hears the Handler, almost inaudible over the sound of blood rushing through its ears, “Zola wanted us to Wipe you, turn you into an automaton just like Barnes. But I knew better, I knew that there were easier ways to gain your allegiance.”
The pain ebbs and flows, as the Scientist modulates the dials. The Asset is granted a small reprieve, no longer than a breath, before the electricity is ramped up again.
“Stop! Can’t you see you’re hurting him? Stop please! I’ll do whatever you want!”
Just as quick as the electricity is increased, it is abruptly stopped, and the Asset sags against the Chair, taking big, heaving breaths through the bit in its mouth.
“So we have a deal then?” the Handler asks, and a voice that the Asset cannot place replies, “Yes. You stop, you stop torturing him like this, and I’ll do whatever you want. No more fights.”
The Handler is looming over the Asset’s line of sight, presumably having moved closer while the Asset was being Wiped, and he’s smiling.
“Brilliant,” the Handler is looking at the Asset, but the words are meant for someone else. “First order of business - you’re going to upgrade the Asset’s arm. I don’t think it’s been worked on since the 1950s, and that’s an awfully long time, don’t you think?”
“Soldier,” the Handler says, and now the Handler is talking to the Asset, “It’s time you met your new partner in crime. Anthony Edward Stark, Designation: Assistant.”
The Asset spits out the bit, because its hands are still strapped down, and repeats, “Anthony Edward Stark, Designation: Assistant.”
Next to the Handler, the boy, the Assistant, attempts to smile, but it comes out as a grimace.
continue reading on ao3!!
9 #BooksToRead Over The Summer To Motivate You To Study
Summer is coming, and we are all thrilled about having a great time with family and friends. However, we should not forget about studies as well. The best way to incorporate education into your busy summer schedule is to include a few great books in your reading list. Discover these 9 books to read over the summer to motivate you to study. We bet you may be puzzled about which book to read given…
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"god could have stopped me" / "he just did"
ok wait. im loosing my mind over spencer emphatically implying that derek morgan is god. unmatched scripting *chefs kiss*
Also, the other day I was rereading some old work. It was back when I was developing the new (at the time) versions of the main couple (at the time) of my story. They were a princess and a prince.
What I had been fleshing out was their meeting. One day, whilst visiting the princess's castle, the prince sees her in the library. He's been going there for a good while and never seen her, never felt her presence in the room, until then, when suddenly she's there. And they don't speak. They keep to themselves, at their tables. The princess doesn't even realize that he's there. He always leaves first and she's there for however long. She's like a permanent fixture of it after that day, and they don't know a thing about each other.
Then, in one version of what I was writing, taking place some...months or so after the prince first discovered her there, he learns that she's (at least) a princess because she comes out the guest room across from his, meant for royal guests at the castle. (And at this point they've acknowledged each other's presences in the library, and she rushes back to hide herself in the room. He didn't suspect a thing of her because she was dressed plainly, her long hair blending into her long-sleeved tops and long skirt.)
It's so cute to read through. It really makes me miss that version of those characters. I honestly have no idea what their current iterations are, but seeing what they used to be I'm like 🥺🥺 These characters don't even meet in the current version, either. Their first iterations had the type of childhood romance that's all types of gushy, and then the version I was creating with these drafts had a much more mature slow burn. The princess had to warm-up to herself before even considering him. And the prince had to get over himself and his father's brainwashing. I...don't even think they were gonna end up in love at that point. More like good friends? I was writing that out around the time I started to question if the story even needed romance to begin with, and if romantic partners were even needed in life. I wanted to do right by the characters, and it didn't seem like they fit together in that way with those personalities.
Honestly, I low-key have two versions of my story. The main one that's current (as of May 2020), and one of these older versions that's heavily inspired by the media I grew up with. Princesses, princes and knights; royal academies; magic and friendship; a love that transcends time; beach episodes. I don't think I'll ever truly get rid of the latter because of all the charm it has. I have a plan for it, but first I must complete my main story.
perusing Victorian-early 1900s sexual slang terms for Reasons, and i am 110% finding a reason to use “tipping the velvet” in this fic. i gotta stay true to my brand
also evidently crinkum-crankum could be used as a term for vagina, but i’m /not/ gonna be using that one. unless? 🤔
[ IMAGE 1:
a digital sketch of a baby's hand curled around a woman's finger, with a poem reading: "my mother wears many hats - guardian, protector, teacher, friend. she is my shelter, my strength, she is my safe place to land. she is the solid warmth of knowing there's someone to hold on to when I reach out my hand."
IMAGE 2:
a digital sketch of a baby's food being held in a woman's hand. there is a mother's day message next to it - "You say your children, your grandchildren, are a blessing. We are the ones who are blessed. Happy Mother's Day!" ]
Chapter 132 Summary: While Peter takes care of Olivia, Rowan struggles to calm himself, and Cordelia starts to lose patience. (Tags: @much-ado-about-whumping, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @abitefullofwhump, @sky-or-something-idfk and @tears-and-lilies and @whump-me-all-night-long)
Trigger Warnings: Animal whump (not really, just sad pained aminal), recovering whumpee, conflict
Rowan could hear the pair begin to talk about him as soon as he pushed shut the door. He didn’t really care, it wasn’t new for people to talk about him when he wasn’t there. He shook the thought from his head and moved over to the bed, smiling softly when he saw Olivia in her place on the mattress.
“Hey, Olivia,” He cooed as he climbed onto Peter’s bed. “How are you doing?” As he crawled closer he heard his pet’s soft whine, a breathless whimper as she looked up to meet his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” He whispered nervously, lifting a hand to stroke her fur, she flinched away from him and his eyes dragged desperately across her form, narrowing on the bandaged wounds on her leg and side. A cloud of green and yellow was staining the white, where infected discharge had leaked through the layers of protection. Rowan didn’t know what to do, the idea of trying to treat an animal was even more foreign to him than the idea of treating a human, at least then he could imagine how it would feel to him and how he could ease the pain. But he knew the signs of infection.
“No, no, no,” He whimpered, scrambling back off the bed. His legs were trembling as he stumbled to the door and burst back into the living room. Peter and Cordelia’s gaze immediately turned to him and he felt a sudden rush of relief that they were there, and he wasn’t alone.
“Peter!” He gasped. “Peter, I think Olivia isn’t well!” Without hesitating, the man leapt from his chair and raced past Rowan, going immediately to the wounded Olivia’s side.
“I don’t-I don’t know what to do!” He whined as Cordelia took his shoulder gently and looked into the room.
“Just take a deep breath, it’ll be all right.” She said gently.
“But what if it isn’t? What if she doesn’t get better? What if… what if she…” He swallowed tearfully and Cordelia embraced him, pressing his head into her shoulder.
“Please, don’t fret,” She soothed. “There’s no reason to get ahead of yourself.” She looked over his head to Peter, who didn’t give her the most comforting look.
“Rowan,” He breathed, turning to approach the pair. “I’m not a doctor, I can only look after injuries I’ve encountered before, and my interactions with injured animals are usually to put them out of their misery. So, I have no idea how to treat Olivia,”
“Are you saying she’s going to die?” Rowan squeaked, twisting to look at him, his face as flushed as his hair and cheeks slick with tears.
“No, no Rowan!” Peter exclaimed. “I just mean, I’ll need to take her into town, there’s a doctor there, he usually does work for farmers when their animals get sick and such. I’ll take her to him, and hopefully he can help her.” Rowan’s face relaxed and he breathed out heavily in relief.
“Oh, all right, good,” He murmured. “Good, and he could help her?”
“He could do more than I could, but I have no idea what’s wrong, I have no idea how far the infection has gone, let alone if it’s spread to other parts of her body,” He admitted. “I’m so sorry, Rowan, I should have taken her straight to him, I was just afraid of leaving you alone while William was still here.”
“Well, but I – it’s not…” Rowan stumbled over his words as he tried to figure out what it was that he wanted to say. He agreed that he didn’t want to be alone with William, after the first time when he almost gave in to the manipulation, but if Olivia died, he couldn’t imagine what he would do. Losing Oliver was painful enough, but to lose his replacement in the same fashion thanks to William was unbearable.
“It’ll be all right,” Peter said surely. “Cordelia’s here, she can look after you, and I’ll take her to the doctor as soon as possible. Hopefully it isn’t too late to save her.” Rowan nodded weakly and sniffed, rubbing his cheeks dry.
“Will you go now?” He asked and Peter nodded.
“I’ll take the horse Cordelia came on, it will be quicker.” He said.
“His name’s Trojan.” She said as the man pushed past them, his haste pausing as he turned to her.
“Are you serious?” He asked and she nodded, a proud smirk crossing her features.
“Is that funny?” Rowan asked nervously as Peter left, chuckling softly.
“Once Peter leaves, I’ll tell you,” She promised. “It’s a nice story.”
“Like the one you were talking about with the dark-skinned man and his wife?” He asked dubiously.
“No, it’s a nicer one,” She promised, leading him back out to the living room.
“Oh, wait, but Olivia,” He murmured, turning to look over his shoulder at where she was resting.
“Don’t worry, as soon as Peter’s finished preparing Trojan, he’ll be back and get Olivia. Just come and sit down, I don’t want you becoming hysterical.” Cordelia soothed. “You’re trembling so much I’m afraid you’ll shake apart.”
“I can’t lose her, too!” Rowan cried and Cordelia nodded gently. “William took Oliver from me, he can’t have Olivia, too!” She paused for a second and looked at him sombrely.
“He can’t. It’s all right.” She promised him. “Just take some deep breaths and I’ll make some tea,”
“I don’t want tea.” He grumbled, lifting his hand to his mouth to gnaw on his thumbnail. “I’m tired of tea. Whenever I’m upset you guys give me tea.”
“All right, then I’ll just sit with you, then,” Cordelia sighed, sinking into a chair beside him. Peter rushed back inside and pulled on a coat, moving wordlessly into the bedroom and returning a minute later with a bundle of blankets in his arms, Olivia lying uncomfortably within it.
“Hold on, let me help you get going,” Cordelia said, pushing herself to her feet. “I’ll pass her to you once you’ve mounted.” He nodded and moved to the door.
“W-wait!” Rowan stumbled over to the pair and leaned up to look into the swaddle, balancing on his toes. “You promise she’ll be all right?” He asked as he stroked her skull.
“I promise I’ll do my absolute best for her,” Peter replied.
That’s all he could do, I guess.
“Thank you, Peter.” He murmured, lowering his hand.
I like the way the first few drops of rain leave dark speckles on the pavement. It reminds me of you, the way freckles fall like morning showers across your face.
giving other people recommendations is so hard mainly because i will enjoy media if it fits two categories: 1. gay (either media with rep or media that’s makes me, an lgbt, go !!!!) and 2. i Liked it and thats it. i have no idea how to articulate this into understandable terms that could pique one’s interest
People say this is a bad idea, but I am planning ahead the books after book 1 while writing book 1. Like writing a series
I know the rough outline of the later books, I imagine scenes and write scenes of the later books for fun.
I am also worldbuilding for the later books, which I often find benefits the first book anyway. And as some characters will travel around in the world in a later book, I need to know how the world around them will look
As I am doing worldbuilding in moderation, I do not think I have worldbuilding disease. In fact, I sometimes feel I am worldbuilding the bare minimum. Another argument that I do not have worldbuilding disease is that I do write while I worldbuild. I do one and the other in about equal amounts. I do also try to use the world in the marketing
Do you think I am doing something dumb? Should I have waited with the success of book 1 before continuing planning the rest of the books?
