May, Coulson, and Daisy, and moments from a day or two in the building of a new life. A story for learning to trust that the good things in your life are going to stick around, and for the days when even those good things are still a little bit hard.
May breathed out a long, slow exhale and nudged into park, staring sightlessly out the window. Her phone pinged with a text. Simmons, probably. Checking in. She wouldn’t trade what they had now for this world or any other, but she missed it, sometimes, the bustling base. Always having something to do, defensible walls.
The text was headed hi May. May stared at it for a long moment, keeping her palms wrapped around the steering wheel. She didn’t feel much like May, right then. Melinda, maybe. For once. Just a woman sitting in her car with an aching thigh and a switchblade in her pocket, feeling every single one of her fifty-two years. Exhausted with not doing a damn thing. She hadn't felt this way in so long.
She felt like Agent May, like she would never, ever be able to be anything else.
May shut her eyes hard and then opened them again. She muted the radio and pulled back onto the road, driving steadily towards home.
Read the rest on Ao3
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Two Pretty Lies (Part 1)
Damien Darhk x fem!reader, Eobard Thawne x reader
Summary-The reader was a hero called in by the Legends to help keep the Legion of Doom from making Doomworld. Well, they failed and Doomworld happened. The only problem is that both Damien Darhk and Eobard Thawne had developed “affections”/obsession for the girl. Rather than giving her a dreadful fate they put her the path she would have gone if she never got her powers. Turns out the ex-hero experiences nothing but pain in this new reality. Eobard and Damien didn’t approve of this life for the reader so they decided to take her in, to give her a better life, with them.
Warnings- Starts with the reader getting the crap knocked out of them, Gory(sorta), Depressed thoughts, Reader knowing they might die (they don’t obviously), Passing out from blood loss, Distortion of reality
All you knew to do was run, so, despite the pain, you ran. You ran for two blocks before getting to a very familiar cafe. They were off your trail and you needed help. Without thinking too hard about it you went quickly through the door.
You swayed a bit as you pushed through the door. It felt like all you could hear was a ringing and your own labored breathing. You barely even realized, Margret, the waitress you knew so well was panicking while leading you to a seat.
You couldn’t quite catch what she was saying as she ran around in a panic.
You couldn’t see clearly the other people who were there.
You barely registered the hand pressing a towel to the large gashes on your side. Gashes that were the main source for the blood pooling on the cafe's floor.
You did however understand that there wasn’t a lot of time till you faded either temporarily or permanently was up to what the small group did next.
“You might want to call an ambulance.” you said in a whisper. It was barely audible but with the close proximity of the person holding you up you knew someone got the message.
Someone was closely holding you. It seemed endearing. A touch you’ve forgotten, but you knew this person didn’t care about you; they just wanted to provide comfort for what could be your last minutes. At least that’s what you thought. Then again there were so many thoughts running through your head.
You couldn’t feel anything at this point. Everything seemed to be like an old memory you can’t remember. Time felt like it was going too fast and too slow, it felt meaningless.
You felt like all this was useless. You should have let the gang take the life that seems so pitiful and tiring. You wanted to let this go. All of it. It seemed closing your eyes was the best medication for these horrible thoughts, so you did.
Breathing became easier as you no longer felt so heavy. The lightness in your heart was alarming, but you welcomed it in anyways. Feelings disappeared and so did any thoughts as you let go even just for a little while.
You’ll be better soon and if you’re not you’ve grown enough to accept this fate.
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Preach But Not Practice
There are two people.
Ordinary people.
People like you and me with a face, body, eyes, ears, hands, legs, mouth and consciousness. They are talking to each other. Looking further closer, one can hear what they are talking about. One is weeping about their dilemma and the other is comforting.
The weeping one is going on and about their problem, which by the way, doesn't seem much of. It was a normal obstacle people face in daily life. A small problem that a person can solve just by pulling their act together and moving on. Nevertheless, it is fine to seem vulnerable just for a moment.
So what's the difference with this weeping person? Well, this one doesn't realise that the solution is right under their nose. They go on and on about themselves and how they're suffering. Without taking even a breath's pause.
The other one is patient nevertheless, they listen to the weeping one carefully and soothe their nerves by offering good advice in interjections.
The patient one listens very well but why? Why is it necessary to let go of one's pride and time just to hear about a selfish person's selfish desires? They can leave, can't they?
But they don't.
They chose to suffer by listening to them.
That is because even when a hundred arrows strike through them, they will still tend to others with one or two arrows struck through them.
They're going to suffer anyway, why not do it in silence while uplifting others?
They think, "Just maybe if I help them they might help back", but that will never happen.
For the healed and healing will forget about others and care for themselves only.
There are two people. Ordinary people. People like you and me with a face, body, eyes, ears, hands, legs, mouth and consciousness. They are talking to each other.
Looking further closer, one can hear what they are talking about.
One is weeping about their dilemma and the other is comforting.
It is not a simple problem that can be solved by pulling one's act together.
Maybe they're in a situation where they can't even pull their act.
They crave help and validation from others.
The other person gladly offers advice and occasional compliments to mend their hurt heart and broken brains.
It seems like a healthy conversation.
Looking closely one realises, there is a single arrow piercing both of them.
The listener is brave enough to pull the arrow from the other but is frightened to do with their own.
For they are not ready to suffer the pain they've grown numb to. They'd rather accept it and move on.
Who can comfort those, who live through the numbing of their pain, crumbling from inside?
Who'd notice their suffering?
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