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@traumadcmp
And everything I ever thought I knew. Every hope, every feeling. Love and trust and happiness they're done, they're gone, they're through. And what's left, me alone, once again. Should've known, now I do. I guess my life meant nothing. I guess it was a sham. I guess I'm someone else now. I wonder who I am.
Independent and private multimuse feat. Flynn Rider EUGENE FITZHERBERT. Also contains muses from Merlin, BBC Musketeers, Star Wars, NCIS and Disney. (x x)
@surgcns + will
no matter how he looks at it there is nothing he can find that would explain why his patient was sick besides the worst diagnosis. one he hates giving but knowing that he does. the only thing that makes sense. but having to tell someone they're dying is one of the worst things he has to do as a doctor. "please tell me your case is at least more positive than mine."
Do you have a list where we can find your muses if we want to write with you? :D
I do! It's HERE.
@detricochet liked for a starter from WILL HALSTEAD
"Should I be worried that I'm getting an unannounced visit from my cop brother?" The last few times had been due to some crime or worse when he was forced to work as a CI for the damn government. So excuse him if he was a bit sceptical. "Whose in trouble, you or me?"
He's tired. More than tired, he's being dragged through time. Completely untethered from everything that made him who he was and who he is. Sooner or later this would all end and maybe he was being selfish. Maybe he just wanted to pretend for five minutes that his timeline wasn't forever stained by the god damn TVA. So he'd stolen a timepad and tracked down his brother. While idiotic he wasn't planning on any interaction. Simply seeing the Asgardian walking around was enough to remind him just what was at stake. He knew that his other self, the true one preserved on the sacred timeline had stood shoulder to shoulder with Thor. And yet, he wouldn't get the chance for that growth since he wasn't the same person but born from the same branch. The bartender brings him another ale and he just watches his brother from across the room. Maybe hoping for a meeting or maybe hoping Mobius would come and drag him away from making a time altering mistake.
open starter - Anyone
Like for a starter from WILL HALSTEAD.
open! here’s an open, your muse is in a train that crashed(?) alongside TK, either they can be injured and he can look after them ooooor they can be not-too-badly-injured and he can tell them “i need another set of hands get up and start helping”
TK was upside-down.
This was a strange sensation to wake up with mostly because he was used, typically, to being right-side up. There was a smell of something, metal torn free from its mechanics (oil?) or blood or maybe both of those things, and a creaking of something not quite hanging on – the overhead light, TK realised. It had come free and was now trying to come to rest on the side of the cabin (a train – that’s right; he was on a train), because the cabin was sideways. The light tried very hard to stay on. It flickered and intermittently died, and in a minute whatever electricity source it was using was going to be cut, if emergency services were headed this way. They’d be in the dark again.
Someone was crying. TK, thrown to where he’d landed, was bleeding. He didn’t move at first, a quick self-assessment for the time being (like being hurt might keep him down; it would not have). The smell of blood was so strong and so vibrant here because he’d hit his head pretty hard, almost definitely hard enough to cause concussion just based on the width and depth of the injury when TK pressed a hand against it, wincing, looking for sponginess around his skull. Nothing. Intact, just sore. The blood, from somewhere near the crown of his head, dripped down his face and along his left arm, which itself was - sprained, maybe?
He’d been holding on with that arm, to the strap in the cabin when the train had come free from the tracks.
His leg, the right one, was fractured, but he could feel it, it was not close to the femoral artery, and when he moved his toes he watched them wriggle. No tingles. Probably no spinal damage.
Okay, so pretty good, on the whole of it. His phone next: completely destroyed. There was something - the material of a seat? - across his chest, and TK pushed it off, blinking against the bright of the light which seemed to get brighter when he sat up (concussion, definitely). There was crying, he remembered.
The first person TK came to was still.
TK passed over her body (“Okay,” he tapped her ankle twice, and that was all the processing he afforded it: okay), and in the direction of the cries.
“Hello?” his voice sounded strange. Cleared his throat and tried again. How many people had been in this cabin to begin with? Twenty, thirty? And that was not to mention the rest of the train, but he had no way of getting to them, for now. Maybe he’d try, once this cabin was looked after, if he was still able to drag himself, then. “I’m a paramedic, if you can hear me, yell out!”
This is why no Halstead should be allowed to travel. Will was attending a conference under the behest of Goodwin and the only way back was by train. Not that he had anything against public transport but it was considerably slower than a plane. At least he didn't have a shift he was missing or patients to be taking care of. The ED was surviving without one of the longest standing doctors in it.
His head rung as consciousness clawed its' way back and he knew he either had a concussion or possibly a hematoma depending on the severity of the injury. Not enough to stop him working but enough to make it a pain in the ass trying to think. But the smell of burning metal and yells of pain started the familiar adrenaline pumping through his veins.
With effort he forced himself to his feet and towards the closest body he could reach. Mass casualty protocol while horrible morally meant he would be able to save more lives by prioritising those still breathing. Those who had a chance to live. Sadly the first pulse he took wasn't there and he moved on before he could get caught that the old lady he had seen chatting animatedly about her grandson was no longer alive.
Someone else was calling out as he reached the second person who was conscious but bleeding from a piece of train stabbed into their shoulder. "Over here!" Will slipped off his jacket to bracket the wound and avoid it moving while hoping that emergency and rescue were inbound. "I'm a doctor so tell me where you need me." As it wasn't his jurisdiction he felt right to defer to the paramedic to decide who needed his care the best.
Something in his reply drew her attention. Anne cast him a quick side glance, half curious and half cautious. The comment had been phrased in a faultlessly neutral fashion and his tone didn’t betray any particular feeling, and yet she’d sensed a hint of disapproval there, though the queen could not pinpoint what or where. Then, after no more than a second, she sighed and looked away. She didn’t press the issue: it was hardly in her best interests to go about measuring the perceptions that the soldiers of France had of Louis. His opinion of her royal husband didn’t disturb her, but something else did. For the briefest moment, Anne had felt like speaking her mind. She’d been noticing Aramis’ eyes: they were not hardened like those of a warrior, but gentle like those of a priest. It’d given her this foolish, unbecoming urge to open up to him. Her heart had been choking with so much fear, so much frustration, so much anger, even ungodly resentment... all of this since she’d been married to France. But she dared not. A man’s mind belonged to himself, but a musketeer would never speak ill of the king - nor should the queen. “Yes, I’m sure he would”, she said instead, with a crestfallen and noncommittal air. Anne had no intention of asking Louis to take her traveling through France. Even if he agreed, that would either mean that Richelieu would work hard to sabotage a plan that involved the king being away from his influence for too long, or that he would see it as an opportunity to take charge in his absence. She didn’t know which of the two possibilities was worse. Thus, casting aside every thought about this suggestion, Anne merely listened with an earnest interest to Aramis’ story. “Do you remember Spain?”, she asked, sending her gaze away with homesick longing, but this time she put the question to him in French in a forceful return to her unending state of self-restraint. [ @traumadcmp / from here. ]
There is much that Aramis does not approve of when it comes to their King but he knows his duty. In the end, protecting the King protects France and her people and that he is very much ready to die for. His skills are better suited to the barrel of a musket than the service of the monastery his father wished him to inhabit. Not that his brothers would allow him to leave their ranks so easily.
Intelligence flows behind her eyes and Aramis knows danger lies in the attraction he already feels. A beautiful woman he cannot have due to his station with a heart that beats for her people and a brain that thinks for herself? It's the cheese dangled before the rat and he is already a goner for sure. But as long as he remembers himself it can be but a fantasy that is never achieved. For both their sakes.
Had she seen some of their smaller cities or remained trapped in the splendour of the city proper? It would be good for her to meet those unable to travel into Paris but the King might not see it as such a good idea. "A little. I was quite young when my mother made the trip across the border. But we still lived close so often would travel back and forth. My appearance and ability to speak Spanish has provided useful."
"Now, why would I do a thing like that? I am an expert in not getting noticed. Couldn't be me." No, he didn't get caught sneaking somewhere he shouldn't be. No, he will not be answering questions at this time.
open starter - eugene fitzherbert flynn rider
Like for a starter from the best thief in Corona!
And everything I ever thought I knew. Every hope, every feeling. Love and trust and happiness they're done, they're gone, they're through. And what's left, me alone, once again. Should've known, now I do. I guess my life meant nothing. I guess it was a sham. I guess I'm someone else now. I wonder who I am.
Independent and private multimuse feat. Flynn Rider EUGENE FITZHERBERT. Also contains muses from Merlin, BBC Musketeers, Star Wars, NCIS and Disney. (x x)
I’ve been looking out a window for eighteen years, dreaming about what it might feel like when those lights rise in the sky. What if it’s not everything I dreamed it would be? — TANGLED (2010) dir. Nathan Greno & Byron Howard
*whimpers*
Like for a starter from the best thief in Corona!
Wearing the faintest of smiles, Anne watched him talk. The way he spoke of God made her turn her head to look straight at him with undivided attention. One could easily lose sight of spirituality amid the games of court and politics - especially when the French were far more liberal with religion than the Spanish - but never her. Never the daughter of Margaret of Austria and Philip the Pious. Despite this persisting state of childlessness, despite the thorns that a crown must bear, despite her ever lonesome days since the Cardinal had sent the last of her friends away from court, she was unshaken. Her faith only gave her strength. Aramis’ reply warmed her: she’d desperately needed to hear something like this from someone who understood.
Anne even blushed, like a silly little girl. He was naturally charming already, but those sweet words, combined with the honest devotion in his voice as he said them were something far more meaningful than charm… but suddenly she leapt back to reality and looked away. What kind of lunacy would make her even think about such things? She wasn’t just a married woman, she was a wedded queen! Sacramented by God! Holding back the urge to shake her head at her own ridiculous thoughts, she merely kept walking in her straight, regal stance, forcing her smile back into a shade of distant politeness.
“Quite so”, she replied, her voice soft but dignified. “I have not seen much of the French countryside yet. We cannot leave court very often, but I hope one day I’ll have visited every land that belongs to France.” Mon pays, thought Anne, but even the voice inside her mind had an inflection of Spanish accent. Aramis had it too, though he seemed more accustomed to the language. She’d remained stubbornly Spanish for quite a long time after her coronation, surrounded only by the attendants that came with her from Spain, who spoke to her only in her mother tongue. Until Richelieu got in the way, at least.
With a spark of rebellion she asked: “¿Cuándo te mudaste a Francia?”
he has always been connected to his religious upbringing. despite the brothel he spent his early years god has always been part of his life. the teachings guiding him even as he works in the service of the king. aramis views it as his sins being forgiven by the reasons for committing them. love, for example. he loves freely and brings joy to those who find their lives without such affections. porthos and athos listen when he ministers even if they do not believe as he does. they still support him regardless.
danger lurks with his charisma. after all, he tended to be unable to turn off his natural charm leading to many nights spent being chased out of bedrooms he did not belong in by angered husbands. especially the cardinal should he ever find out about his affections for adele. the two still meeting in secret despite athos' repeated requests not to.
"her reach is large and i'm sure the king will prove amenable to such a request as he too loves to see all he governs." though, aramis knows it is less to see his people and more to see his power. regardless of his personal feelings over the king's actions he will still remain loyal to the man. after all, he does still care for france. even if his care comes with the sin of greed. he softly smiles.
"Tenía trece años cuando me mudé aquí para vivir con mi padre." it's refreshing to get to speak in his mother tongue. the one he had heard every day while living with his mother. she had taught him both french and spanish and now it served him well as a translator for the musketeers.
he has always been connected to his religious upbringing. despite the brothel he spent his early years god has always been part of his life. the teachings guiding him even as he works in the service of the king. aramis views it as his sins being forgiven by the reasons for committing them. love, for example. he loves freely and brings joy to those who find their lives without such affections. porthos and athos listen when he ministers even if they do not believe as he does. they still support him regardless.
danger lurks with his charisma. after all, he tended to be unable to turn off his natural charm leading to many nights spent being chased out of bedrooms he did not belong in by angered husbands. especially the cardinal should he ever find out about his affections for adele. the two still meeting in secret despite athos' repeated requests not to.
"her reach is large and i'm sure the king will prove amenable to such a request as he too loves to see all he governs." though, aramis knows it is less to see his people and more to see his power. regardless of his personal feelings over the king's actions he will still remain loyal to the man. after all, he does still care for france. even if his care comes with the sin of greed. he softly smiles.
"Tenía trece años cuando me mudé aquí para vivir con mi padre." it's refreshing to get to speak in his mother tongue. the one he had heard every day while living with his mother. she had taught him both french and spanish and now it served him well as a translator for the musketeers.
