From the moment they met, Jack knew this was the
man with which he would spend the rest of his life.
“I hope y'all like pecan pie,” Eric Bittle said. He was small,
blond, and southern, with a smile that could brighten a room and a pie that
smelled like heaven held gently in his hands. Ransom and Holster were on him in
“Holy shit, did you make this? It’s spectacular!” said
Holster, pieces of pecan flying from his mouth. He hadn’t bothered to grab a
plate, or a fork, or anything resembling kitchen ware for that
“Uhh, yes?” Eric looked scandalized. Ransom and Shitty had
joined in, grabbing bits of pie and cramming it in their mouths with a voracity
that challenged wild hyenas.
Jack was perched on the edge of the dining hall table, watching the
chaos unfold. This wasn’t how he thought it would happen. After a moment, he
rolled up his sleeve, tracing his fingers over the soul mark that occupied the
inside of his arm. ‘I hope y'all like pecan pie’ waswritten in
large loopy letters. From where Jack sat, he could see the rest of the boys
converging on Bittle’s pie. He smiled at the horrified look on Eric’s face. He would be easy to love, Jack thought.
Author’s Note: This is filled with so much angst it’s quite ridiculous. I am really proud of this piece though as it’s the longest piece I’ve ever written. It’s been a week in the making and hopefully the content shows. Anyways, this is my addition to the Sounds Good Feels Good Series I am currently hosting. If you want to read other installments refer to the link above. Feedback is appreciated!
The engagement had been fast, less than a years time. Neither Michael nor her had ever pictured a grand wedding for themselves making the planning process easy. A small gathering with their closest friends and family and an exchange of beautiful rings and the two were married three months after the question was popped and all was well.
They went on a lavish honeymoon across Italy where they ate entirely too much pizza and learned that pasta is much more than straggly noodles and red tomatoes sauce. Michael and Y/N fell more in love on the trip than they thought was possible. Paris may have been the city of love but Italy was the country of romance.
Now that the pair was back home though, the dynamic had changed. No longer were they a couple on their honeymoon unable to keep their roaming hands off each other in public. Instead, they were back to reality in their one bedroom apartment with a shitty air conditioning unit that made the California July sun unbearable. Michael blamed the humidity in their place for the wedge between the two at night, neither one of them able to cling to each other without dripping in sweat but Y/N blamed herself for not writing enough pieces for this month’s edition of her web based magazine to earn a decent paycheck.
“It’s my fault we can’t get out of this shitty apartment,” she mumbled.
It was the first night in weeks that the two were able to share a bed thanks to a random storm that was passing through the city. The television flickering light illuminating the dark room while Michael’s thumb massaged soothing circles into the place just above her hips.
“It’s not your fault,” he whispered before placing a series of open mouth kisses to the base of her neck, where her collar bones laid.
“It is though,” she huffed. “We knew when we got married that I’d be making most of the money until you make it out of those hole in the wall clubs.”
Michael knew she didn’t mean to sound rude but he couldn’t help but take offense to her words. Of course, Michael would love to be the number one provider of the household. He’d love for her to able to write whatever she wanted because she loves writing instead of having to do it for a paycheck. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to do that for her yet. He was trying his hardest though, taking up extra shifts as a barista in between his band’s sets at the local coffee shop and writing as many new songs as he could to gain more of a following. He knew that one day his music was going to be good enough to get out of that place but right now he was stuck and Michael hated being stuck.
“It’ll happen soon. Ashton’s been talking to a music producer in town that’s going to help us record our demo soon.”
“I’m proud of you,” she smiled, before her voice faltered and her face fell. “How much is studio time?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing in irritation. He knew they were scrapped for money, sure, but didn’t you have to spend money to make it? This demo track could make his career and if it meant he’d have to take on more shifts at the coffee shop then he would. “Besides, this will change everything for us. I promise.”
“It better ‘cause I really don’t want to have to move back home,” she teased.
At least Michael thought she was teasing but he didn’t dwell on it too much. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, not with a coffee shop shift to get ready for in the early hours of the morning.
July had faded into August and things were going okay again. Michael had picked up a few extra shifts at the coffee shop to cover the cost of the demo tape and Y/N had started a second job at the local day care by their apartment to start a savings account for their future. They weren’t swimming in money but they were getting by and that’s all that really mattered.
The clock that hung on the wall by the entrance read five in the morning when Michael crept inside after his late night shift at the 24 hour coffee shop. He was exhausted, the purple bags under his eyes contrasting with the paleness of his complexion. All he wanted to do was flop into bed and sleep for the next few hours before the routine started over, but when he heard the running water coming from the bathroom sleep became the last thing on his mind.
Nico just decided to pop in during Jason and Piper’s engagement party. Which is how Percy found out that Nico and Piper are friends, which was as much of a shocker to everyone it seemed. So just “popping in” probably isn’t the right word for it, but oh well.
Anyways, since many of them were legal, alcohol was involved. Nico wasn’t one of the legal ones.
His first drink was taken away by Hazel, which was followed by a lecture that Nico just blew off.
His second drink was taken away Mr. D as the party was held at Camp.
His third one was taken away by Annabeth with an affectionate smile and shake of the head.
The drinks were at least always half empty when they were taken away.
And after that Nico just seemed to disappear. He was last spotted talking to Piper. They all figured he had left, the Stoll’s joked that maybe he went to find a place he could actually drink without them being pulled away. Hazel didn’t appreciate the joke.
Sometime after that, Percy, being the water enthusiast he is, went to the lake to have some time alone and away from the party. And he was rather surprised when he found Nico there with an empty bottle of wine and a half empty bottle of whiskey and just sprawled out on the dock having what seemed to be little party, one that Percy definitely planned to crash.
And here’s the thing about Nico; he changed. A lot. And Percy definitely appreciated it.
The boy, now man, grew a fair amount, he almost was as tall as Percy, save a few inches. Most of his height was in his very long legs, which he liked to wear extremely tight pants with. And unlike most of the male demi-gods – and female – he was very boney, still quite toned, but more on the willowy side.
Percy always expected the already thin kid to be a thin man, but he never expected for him to turn out so nice- oh fuck it all, sexy as fucking Hades.
And Nico’s joy for his oh so tight pants and sleeveless, cut up tank tops, that showed off his collar bone oh-so-nicely.
Though Nico’s reason for covering himself in tattoos were too far off for Percy to understand why he’d cover his flawed skin in ink.
And his face. Oh sweet mother of the gods, his face. His smoldering eyes were lined with smudged black lines. His cheekbones were fucking perfect. Those lip rings just begged for them to be tugged on. And the way his long shaggy black hair fell in his face was so fucking perfect.
Percy may or may not have had a few drinks.
Percy ogled Nico as he stretched like a cat, showing off his body perfectly.
Who knows how long he watched.
Nico didn’t seem to mind.
Not one bit.
So now, Percy had one Nico di Angelo pressed up against his cabin wall as they ripped each other’s clothes off all the while kissing each other rather fiercely.
Percy doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or if it’s his luck that decided to show up at the most perfect time. But he’ll be damned to Hades if he’s stopping now.
And all he knows right now is that the feeling of Nico’s nails scratching his back is the hottest thing he’s ever felt and Nico’s flushed, sweat covered body arching up to Percy’s is the most erotic thing he’s ever seen and his own name falling from the wine and whiskey drenched lips of Nico di Angelo is the most perfect sound in the world.
I’m obsessed with Overwatch and I have way too much time on my hands.
So everyone has been wondering just how much of Genji is still flesh. At the very least I did. Anyway, after looking at in-game animations, the dragons short, as well as the reference kit on the official Overwatch site, I have come to the conclusion that Genji still retains his upper arms, torso, as well as upper legs.
HOWEVER, I also know quite a bit about prosthetic limbs. Which is what I’m basing this off of. If you go in game and watch Genji’s animations you will notice that the ‘kneecap’ on both legs moves independently of the upper leg. Which means that both legs are bka’s (bka=below knee amputation). A bka typically means that the person retains the entire upper leg and a stump on the lower half. BKA amputees also usually have better mobility as they still have their original knees.
Now Genji’s arms are what threw me for a loop. He either is missing both of his arms in their entirety or he has a small portion of the upper arms. Again, that would leave him with better mobility for the same reasons as before only with the arms, because when surgeons remove an entire arm, they usually remove the shoulder blade and collar bone. At first, I though that he might have had the majority of his arms, but he stores his shurikens in his forearms. So that means there is no way that he still has flesh forearms.
Alright, so far I have shown what led me to believe how much of his arms and legs are still there, but what about the rest of his body? Now this part is delving into the cybernetic side of things. While I can’t get a concrete diagnosis until we all find out what exactly Hanzo did to Genji that left him near death, I will give my best guess.
I’m thinking that when Dr. Ziegler was performing the operation on Genji, she had been told to revive this man and make him a living weapon. Hence the added mobility, shurikens in the arm thing, and the cybernetics as a whole. Which means that she either completely rebuilt Genji OR she improved what was still there. Strengthening the muscles, enhancing the nervous system, raising the pain tolerance, basically anything that would turn Genji into a living weapon. Which she succeeded at.
SO IN CONCLUSION, Genji is still mostly human in that he still has part of his upper arms, his upper legs and a bit of leg under the knee, and the entire torso. The human bits that were left, however, were cybernetically enhanced leaving us with the Genji we know today.
Yes, it’s a fanfic. It wasn’t what I was looking for, but the first few lines and the interactions between 76 and Mercy in the flashbacks are what I can use to fill in the holes.
In the first line it says, 'Multiple deep lacerations, extensive burns across the torso and face, a punctured lung…partially severed spinal cord.’ So in this instance, Hanzo has dismembered him, burned him, and then left him for dead. Now from a medical standpoint, he’d be dead. A 20% burn (if I remember correctly, correct me if I am wrong) is enough to cause concerns for the burn victim’s survival. My assumption is that because his torse and face were burned that would be about…60% give or take. So the burns plus the blood loss AND the semi-severed spinal cord, means to me that he dead.
Okay, but he obviously isn’t. So how does one treat a burn? And blood loss? And severed limbs and spinal cord? Well…you don’t. At least not in our day and age. There are researchers working on stem cells and their abilities. Assuming that this stem cell research is booming in the years of Overwatch, that’s what Mercy would have used to save Genji. As well as her nanites. As for is Genji able to feel and taste? Yes and maybe.
Feeling with prosthetics is easier than one might think. If somebody wants, they can have their prosthetic limbs connected to their nervous system meaning that they can feel the world around them. So yes, Genji would be able to feel.
Now the problem with taste is the fact that I am not knowledgeable in that field. I would assume that he would still be able to taste and smell because it is part of the nervous system. If anything he can still taste and smell, but the senses may be slightly less sharp than before. Not so much that he wouldn’t be able to use them at all, but just…slightly dulled.
Taste brings me to the digestive system. I want to say that he would not be able to have a functioning digestive system, but after thinking about it for a while. He probably would. Would he prefer to eat rather than let the nanites within repair him indefinitely? Probably. Is it easier than letting the nanites repair him? Not at all. More on this later as I research this topic more.
Title: Forever Home Rating: G Summary: Clint and Coulson probably won’t be thrilled about this.
When they arrived at the veterinarian’s office, Bucky took out the cellphone he nearly never used and called Clint.
“We’re gonna be late gettin’ home,” he said, when Clint answered.
“That’s all right, so am I,” Clint said. There was an explosion in the background. “Op went south.”
“How does an Op in Jersey City go that explosively south?” Bucky asked, distracted.
“Dunno, but we’re going to be mopping up for a while. Why, what happened to you?”
Bucky looked across the exam room, to where a doctor was carefully clipping the matted fur off a truly filthy stray dog, rinsing him down with sterile solution. Izzy, eyes taking up about half her face, was watching avidly.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but we’re gonna have a surprise for you when you get back,” he said. “Want me to call Coulson?”
“He is currently running this murder game we call an op, I’ll let him know,” Clint replied. “Love to the kidlet, treat her to something tasty for dinner.”
“We’ll get enough for the team,” Bucky said, and hung up the phone. “Are you annoying the doctor, Zaichik?” he asked.
“No!” Izzy said, then clapped her hands over her mouth.
“She’s fine,” the doctor replied, as she trimmed the last of the mats off the dog’s coat. “This fellow, however, needs a bath and about fifteen different antibiotics.”
“Is he contagious?” Bucky asked. The dog, who apparently hadn’t even needed sedation, gazed up at Bucky with the serene resignation of a creature who has nothing to lose.
“No, he’s actually in quite good health, under the dirt — no parasites, no mange. He was doing pretty well, at least until the car hit him. I don’t suppose you got the license plate?”
“No, we found him,” Izzy said.
“Well, he’s luckier than most. No broken bones. No collar either, though, and no chip; probably abandoned. I assume you’ll want to surrender him to the clinic?” she asked. “We can find him a place at a no-kill shelter.”
Bucky, having anticipated Izzy’s immediate pleading look, shook his head. “No, we’ll take him.”
“We can work out a payment plan for the treatment — ”
“No need. Trust fund baby,” he said, nodding at Izzy. “I have very good credit cards.”
The doctor laughed. “Well, I’ll run him through the wash, get him a cone and get you some prescriptions for him; we’ll do a few blood tests just in case. You, princess,” she added to Izzy, “can go pick out a harness and a leash for him from the reception room.”
“And a bed and a toy and treats!” Izzy said, but she at least looked at Bucky for permission first. He nodded and she jumped down, running to the door.
“I’ll be out in a minute, Iz,” he called after her. The doctor looked amused.
“Are you sure about this? You’re not going to get in trouble for getting her a dog while her father isn’t looking?” she asked. Bucky tilted his head. “I read the gossip page. That’s Hawkeye’s kid, isn’t it?”
“He won’t mind. If he does, I’ll take the dog. After Izzy, I’m sure he won’t be much trouble,” Bucky said, stroking the dog with his right hand. It turned its head and lapped at his palm. “He seems pretty mild. Besides, her family’s more or less in the business of strays.”
“Well, if you need the name of a good trainer, call the clinic,” she said. “I’ll bring him out once he’s been washed and treated.”
Bucky had to admit to a moment of heart-attack over the bill, but it was mostly contextual; he had to remind himself that a cup of coffee cost three dollars, and you couldn’t expect a dog in that condition to cost less than a couple of hundred at least. Besides, once they got him cleaned up, he was a pretty attractive creature.
“Can we have pizza for dinner?” Izzy asked, as the three of them walked out of the clinic, the dog heeling demurely at Izzy’s side.
“You just cost me a grand for a dog and now you want pizza?” he teased. “I’m not made ‘a money, Zaichik.”
“Pleaaaaase — ”
“I’ll think about it,” he replied, hailing a taxi, which took a look at the dog and zoomed off again. He threw the bird at it. “What’re you gonna call him, anyway?”
“Pizza dog,” she said, sticking her tongue out. The second cab he hailed pulled up, and the driver actually smiled when he saw the dog.
“Pets ride free,” he said, as Bucky loaded Izzy and the dog into the back. “What you call that dog, huh?”
“Lucky,” Bucky said, before Izzy could say Pizza Dog and curse the poor animal forever. “Avengers Tower, please.”
Izzy spent the whole ride back with her arms around Lucky’s neck, whispering to him in Russian. Bucky wondered if they could teach him to sidet and myesto before Clint got home.