#correctionimswiss

[kingcrossbones]

correctionimswiss replied to your post: I just rewatched Stargate recently and i cannot...

What is wrong with you, Crossbones? You could take over with a fork, yet you would hide yourself? Tch.

Oh no! Zola!!! Don't make Brock feel bad, he'd hate himself ten ways till Sunday if he knows that he disappointed Zola.

[thebloodiedshield-blog]

😷

send 😷 to have your muse take care of my sick muse @correctionimswiss          When he was fourteen, Steve caught rheumatic fever for the second time. He’d been laid in bed for two weeks, fighting the pain that overwhelmed his entire body, every joint swollen up, his hands and feet twitchy constantly. It hadn’t been the worst illness of his life, he’d never felt like he was going to die, Ma hadn’t talked about calling the priest.          But it had been the one time he’d wanted to die.          The pain, the utter uselessness of his limbs, how he’d spent all that time crying because it hurt to even breath, his heartbeat a rattle in his chest. Steve had looked up at the ceiling, failed to holds back tears, and begged god to just let him die. Nothing had seemed to help, he’d just wanted out of the pain and his broken body, wanted to sleep without screaming in pain.                         He’d lived, of course.          Now, so many years and a new body later, he feels his hands shaken, and the pain move through his different joints, and wonders if it’s the fever again. Even if he’s too old to get it, even if it’s a body that’s not taken any illness yet. His face twists in pain, as he looks up at the doctor, shoving back irrational fears.                         “What’s wrong with me?”

[unaugmentedmonkeyscantfly]

@correctionimswiss

“Dabbling in the superfood fad diet market, are we, Herr Zola?”

[sinthea-shmidt]

Death Didn’t Blink - (post-apocalypse AU)

@correctionimswiss

She hated making the trek to the base. It was necessary of course. She felt she owed him that much at least but that didn’t make it easier or her more willing to do it. 

It had been years since... whatever it was had happened. There were Biblical ravings now and then about the Judgement of God and the skies opening up. Every so often you could still glimpse something that looked like a crack in a roof in the sky but she wasn’t about to believe that some higher creator being had had enough of them. She’d seen the so called gods. This wasn’t that...

It didn’t matter what it was though because in a blink of an eye, the world collapsed. Power stations destroyed, communications down, leaders killed, cities in ashes. Death and destruction everywhere. If she’d had a hand in it she would have enjoyed it. 

There had been a resistance. There had been people who tried to find the source of whatever it was and never returned. Or did as a smudge on cracked pavement. There had been what would have been a last stand and she--even she--found herself hoping the heroes would pull it off. They’d done it before. As far as she knew, they died as the wannabe collaborators had. 

There were pockets, small communities and packs of raiders. Everyone trying to survive and glancing up to see if death was coming for them next. People lived but as it was... well, what was left of humanity sucked. A lot.

Nobody approached this base though. There were rumors... she’d spread a few of them herself. Scary stories and boogie men but the truth was somehow worse. She pushed her way into the main hall and made her way to where she knew she’d find him. “Generators are still working, I see.” She said as she brushed off the dirt and ash from the journey.

[jane-buchanan-barnes]

↕ - a memory that may or may not have happened (juicy!)

@correctionimswiss

Bucky doesn’t know exactly how long she’s been lying here, strapped to a gurney and at the mercy of Shmidt’s little moon-faced doctor, but it feels like it’s been years. Between the beating that Lohmer gave her and the doctor’s own experiments, every inch of her body aches. She gave up on the idea of escape long ago. Even if she could free herself from the restraints, she isn’t sure she could stand up, let alone run or fight.

She’s lying still, feigning sleep, when she hears someone enter the lab. She manages to keep her eyes shut at first, but they fly open when she feels a hand pat her cheek. The doctor is standing over her, smiling his snake’s smile. When he opens his mouth, she half expects to see a forked tongue emerge.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes,” he says. His voice is like a snake, too, sibilant and soft. “You are to assist me with another experiment. Perhaps today you will answer my questions, yes?”

“Jane Barnes,” she croaks. “Sergeant. 32557038.”

That’s all she’s ever said to him, unless agonized, wordless cries of pain count as conversation. Still, he continues to ask his odd questions. He never seeks information about the Allied forces or plans. Rate your pain on a scale of one to ten, he says instead. Tell me how many fingers I am holding up. Describe the sensation you are feeling. Is it a burn? A tingle?

Jane Barnes, she tells him. Sergeant. 32557038.

Her failure to answer doesn’t seem to trouble him so much today. He simply smiles again and holds up yet another syringe. This one is filled with something new, a yellow, oily-looking liquid.

She closes her eyes and turns her head away. She can’t stop him from injecting that into her, but that doesn’t mean she has to watch him do it.

When the pinch comes, though, it isn’t in her arm like all the others. This time, the doctor slides the needle into her neck.

She doesn’t have time to wonder why. Her skin is instantly on fire and her heart is racing and her blood is boiling in her veins and she screams, a rough, hoarse sound that doesn’t quite drown out the doctor’s words.

“Silence, Sergent Barnes,” he says, placing a pudgy hand over her mouth. His round, bespectacled face wavers above her. “I have questions for you, remember? Tell me – does this hurt more or less than the experiment you assisted me with yesterday?”

The only answer she gives is a choked gurgle. Her tongue feels swollen, blocking her throat, and she can’t breathe and she can’t move and something hot is running from her ear and she’s falling, falling, falling into nothingness. This is it, she thinks as the world grows dim around her. This is the end. Please let this be the end.

Her vision goes black, and she swears she can feel her heart stutter to a halt.

But it’s not the end. The world swims back into focus, and she can breathe again, and the doctor is still standing above her, taking notes on a clipboard. When he feels her gaze on him, he looks up and smiles a wide, satisfied smile.

“Well done, Sergeant Barnes,” he says. “Your cooperation in this matter has been invaluable.”

Bucky looks away. “Jane Barnes,” she mumbles, falling back on the familiar refrain. “Sergeant. 32557038.” She repeats it over and over, only barely aware that the words are nearly slurred beyond recognition. She doesn’t notice when the doctor leaves, nor does she hear when he returns and begins to hurriedly stuff his notes into a briefcase.

She’s similarly deaf to the footsteps echoing in the corridor, and it isn’t until warm pair of hands begin pulling the restraints off her that she realizes someone has been saying her name.

“Bucky,” a familiar voice says. “My God…”

It’s Steve’s voice, and she manages a weak smile and says his name.

“I though you were dead,” he says, hauling her upright and pulling one of her arms over his shoulder.

Now that she can see his face, she realizes that something is wrong. He’s pink-cheeked and broad-shouldered, much too tall, and the familiar curve to his spine is gone.

“I thought you were smaller,” she says, looking him up and down in confusion. She’s hallucinating, she must be, but he feels real, real and reassuringly solid.

“Later,” he says, dragging her to her feet and half carrying her towards the door. “We need to get out of here, now.”

[kingcrossbones]

@correctionimswiss

#well zola just got a confused nose bleed thanks 

Considering it’s Zola we’re talking about, Brock takes that as a good sign. You’re welcome ;)

[kingcrossbones]

correctionimswiss replied to your post: I feel that I need to say this rant that nobody...

It’s a Hydra Trash Can, not a Hydra Trash Can’t

And, yet again, here he is, dear Doctor Zola, speaking the truth as it is! :))) *bows down respectfully*

[kingcrossbones]

♛

please?