Tʜᴇ целитель Hᴇᴀʟᴇʀ on RolePlayer.me - www.roleplayer.me/TheHealer_Marvel Tʜᴇ целитель Hᴇᴀʟᴇʀ
ANASTASIA INYUSHIN (Earth-148611) AVENGERS/SHEILD/MCU MULTI PARA/NOVELLA 21+ "I'm not most people. Never have been."

Female
26 years old
New York, New York
United States

Last Login:
September 23 2021

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Characters: Anastasia Inyushin
Verses: Avengers, Marvel. DC
Playbys: Lyndsy Fonseca
Length: Multi Para, Novella
Member Since:January 13, 2020



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Anastasia Inyushin

Avengers/SHIELD/MCU


I was never meant to live a normal life. And I couldn't even if I wanted to."


MultiPara/Novella

Single LI w/chemistry

Discord available upon request




Canon

As per the Marvel database - Anastasia 'Stasi' Inyushin was a Russian girl with the paranormal ability to make plants grow. She was being tested by the KGB at the facility known as the Siberian Project when the so-called White Event boosted her powers to an incredible degree, giving her the power to heal seemingly any illness or injury in any living thing. Rescued and brought to America by Emmett Proudhawk, Stasi became a member of Psi-Force, the quintet of youths with paranormal powers that Proudhawk had gathered together out of a desire to protect them. The gentle, duty and loyalty driven Stasi remained with the group, her surrogate family, following Proudhawk's death.

Custom Headcanon

Instead of Anastasia being tested by the KGB as per the comics, this character has been adapted from further back, being born in 1920 to a poor family on the outskirts of a little farming village outside Moscow. Once word got around about a 13 year old girl with a healing touch, the Soviet Army was ordered to kidnap her. Her parents were killed in front of her by execution and fire when they attempted to protect their child. She was immediately brought to Johann Schmidt in Germany who adopted her and had her schooled as a child militant; being trained in arms weaponry and self defence tactics, along with being tested and coached in the attempt to strengthen her abilities and apply them to the human body. While living with Schmidt he treated Anastasia like a daughter; emotionally and mentally manipulating her into accepting him as a father figure. However, when her training and study reached its peak, he sent her to a top secret HYDRA base to undergo deeper and more intensive experimentation in the hopes that her power could be used to extend Schmidt’s life indefinitely and make him more powerful, as well as engineering her healing skill to be used in reverse to kill enemy combatants.

Her ability began with being able to bring dying plants back to life and through some further testing and training she could apply it to regeneration of the human body on a cellular level. When she was transferred to HYDRA, the organization wanted more from her, and began further and more invasive testing with electrotherapy, brainwashing, and torturous injections to see if she could apply cellular damage as well; in short killing people with her touch. Their ultimate plan was to advance their experimentation on Anastasia in the hopes of her being able to bring the dead back to life, but due to the appearance of Howling Commandos, her aptitude didn’t reach that level of restoration.

Like Bucky Barnes, Stasi was frequently put in cryostasis, though the reason wasn't just for when she finished her missions to kill various targets that threatened the survival of HYDRA’s order, but often due to her body not being able to take any more intense experimentation. Therefore, like Bucky and Steve Rogers, Stasi hasn’t aged much, particularly since her last stint in her chamber, which was found and brought to SHIELD in 2011. There she stayed in hibernation under the careful direction of Tony Stark of Stark Enterprises until technology and testing were available to safely wake her and deal with the after effects of long term stasis. She was woken on March the 3rd, 2011 at 1:13 in the afternoon but was subsequently locked away in a high tech holding cell when she nearly killed her psychologist during her initial assessment. Little to nothing was known about Anastasia other than her physical healing and killing abilities because of her unwillingness to speak to anyone. For months she was kept under constant surveillance due to three attempts to take her own life, but with time she began to open up to a select few people who she felt she shared some common ground with.

On a deeper level, Stasi doesn’t want to be this way. When you move past all the anger, hate, and psychological trauma, she is simply a woman who wants redemption but doesn't believe she deserves it. Much of her 'therapy' has come from the mentoring of Steve Rogers who shares her experience with being in stasis and born before the second world war, Natasha Romanova as a fellow former child soldier, Clint Barton, and their comrades. It isn't long before Stasi earned their trust and was welcomed into SHIELD and The Avengers, and aiding other heroes on their missions to protect the people of earth; this time as a healer and defender rather than a cold blooded killer.

*** See my blog for more important information, inspirational drabbles and other writings.

“We can be redeemed only to the extent to which we see ourselves.” ― Martin Buber



Full Name Anastasia Inyushin Nickname/Alias Stasi Pronunciation stah-zee Meaning Resurrection Origin Greek/Russian Occupation Former HYDRA operative/assassin. Rehabilitated and working with SHIELD/Avengers Gender Female Orientation Heterosexual Marital Status Single Relationship Status Single Age Appearance 25 Birthday March 13, 1920 Birthplace Moscow, Russia (Former Soviet Union) Current Residence New York, New York, USA Species Human born with abilities Ethnicity Caucasian Blood Type AB Negative Preferred Hand Right Eye Color Blue Hair Color Chestnut brown Body Type Slender Build Athletic Birthmarks/scars None Tattoos Butterfly on the back of the neck Health Extraordinary Energy Extraordinary Abilities Healing and killing by touch martial arts and weapons training. Phobias Claustrophobia, pyrophobia Addictions Recovering drug addict

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Tʜᴇ целитель Hᴇᴀʟᴇʀ 's Friends Comments
Displaying 10 of 17 comments (View All | Add Comment)
Bucky

Apr 1st 2021 - 4:33 PM


James did not know what was going on. One minute he was speaking to the lovely healer lady, the next she was being dragged off. Not literally, but he knew she was being taken off for something. The look on her face said far more than words could. She feared the people who had come for her. He should probably do the same. His eyes roved the room, looking around and taking it in for the first time. There were six beds in there, so where were the other patients? The two of them had to have been put in here for a reason.

He thought about what he had told her… He didn’t remember telling her any secrets that the axis powers could use. While he was conscious he had been as careful as he always was. What he said when he was raving however was another matter. He wondered if he was able to trust her. James wanted to, he knew he would need allies here if he was going to survive any of this; but was she one of them?

The walls were grey, everything here seemed to be made of a varying shade of grey. Colour had been leached from the walls and floor and replaced with grey. The door opened and he did his best to look up. His neck ached, everything ached. The pain had returned the moment she had left the room. The woman who entered had her hair dragged up into a tight bun that was so severe it pulled her eyebrows up into a perpetual frown. She walked over and checked the IV bag, swapping it over.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. Her accent was thick, to the point he struggled to understand what she was saying.

“Awful,” he muttered. His head was light again and the room seemed to circle. Shutting his eyes didn’t stop the sensation. “What was in that…?” His words trailed off and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

“Do not worry. When you awake you will feel like a new man,” she said. Her laughter was the last thing he heard before the anaesthetic took hold and he was dragged down into unconsciousness.

He drifted back in once, or he thought he did. There was an odd looking doctor with a strange contraption and another with a huge syringe leaning over him. He grinned at him. “Whoopsie,” he said. There was a wash of cold over him and he was lost again.

When he came back, he was in the same room as before. His head was pounding and he thought he might be sick. The nausea soon passed however and he was able to think clearly. His left side stung, and seemed to weigh a ton. When he looked over, his missing arm had been replaced with a metallic one. He dimly recalled grabbing someone with it, but couldn’t be sure if that was a fact or dream. James closed his eyes again. When he opened them the arm was still there. He willed his left hand to make a fist, and was ultimately surprised when it did. “Well that’s new,” he muttered.

“It is not the only thing that is new!” He jerked his head around when someone spoke. It was not the nurse from earlier, but a male voice, deeper and malevolent in nature.

“What have you done to me?” he demanded.

“We shall see. You have been gifted with the potential to do great work. We just need to see whether the gift takes…”

It answered nothing. James tried to turn his head but found he was restrained. His arms too. He pulled on the cuffs, heavy metal ones, reinforced too. It was no use, there was no getting out of them. A sharp pain, like a punch in the gut, tore through his stomach. He tried not to cry out but it was no use. “Excellent, so it begins…”
 
Bucky

Mar 24th 2021 - 6:33 AM


The moment he felt her hand and heard her words, he stilled. Her touch was cool on his feverish forehead. Slowly, he closed his eyes and fought against the boiling panic that threatened to overwhelm him. He took several deep breaths and let them out slowly. While he was not altogether calm when he opened his eyes again, he was in a better place to take in what had happened.

Somehow, her touch made him feel better. He was far from being a million dollars, he was pretty sure he would never feel that good again, but it was far better than he had been moments before. He looked at her, blue eyes meeting hers and a small frown touched his brow, “What did you just do?” he asked. Her hand had cooled, but not to a point it was painful, and he felt much, much better. He had heard of faith healers before, how their touch was enough to heal the sick of their ills, and of course he was aware of Jesus healing the sick. He had brought Lazarus back to life through faith alone. He was pretty sure this woman was not Jesus, though he couldn’t be too sure.

As he lay there, finally able to think straight and get his head around what had happened, she began to speak. Of course he listened, wondering what her deal was. She seemed to have more to say but she stopped herself. James pressed his lips together and took a moment to process what she had said.

Slowly he nodded. “I remember the fall. I was on a train conducting a mission when something went wrong. It’s a bit hazy in my mind. We did what we had to but…” He trailed off, struggling to recall the exact details of the mission. He shook his head, glad that the room no longer bounced around when he did so. “I couldn’t hold on and so slipped. I fell right as the train went across a ravine. I remember falling.” He shuddered. “The wind and thinking that this was it. I was going to splatter on the rocks and the world would continue without me. It goes dark after that. Not surprised my arm was banged to bits, I landed on it.”

He could remember that part sharply, the memory of the crunch made him sick to his stomach.

“But you… you were the one who brought me back. When I was out, I remember hands bringing be out of the darkness. That was you.” James was not stupid; she had just done the same thing when she touched him a moment ago. “You can heal with a touch.” It was not a question. He fell silent again, thinking through what little he knew. She had told him some, and he had seen glimpses while he had been conscious.

“This is not an average Prisoner of War camp is it?” he asked. He looked down at the lifeless prosthetic that had been grafted to his left side. “They don’t give these out to prisoners in my experience. They shove us in huts, don’t feed us well and hope we die of natural causes instead.” It made him wonder why he had been chosen to come here rather than there. He should have been shot in the head in the field if his injuries had been so terrible that he couldn’t be healed normally. He had so many questions, but he wasn’t strong enough to get them. Not yet anyway.

James yawned. He had been though an ordeal and he felt the effects of that keenly. His body was heavy and he was sure that he’d not be able to move even if he wanted to. “So, what do you do here?” he asked, wanting to keep talking rather than fall back into uncomfortable dreams once more.
 
Bucky

Mar 22nd 2021 - 12:10 PM


Someone touched his hand, he looked up, vision blurred and tried to smile. It was probably more like a grimace. Pain overwhelmed him and he sank back onto the pillows with a groan. He was granted the gift of water however and that restored his sensibilities somewhat. “Germany?” he muttered when his throat no longer felt like a cactus has been rubbed back and forth down it. He groaned and shut his eyes again. This was the last place he wanted to be. “I’m a prisoner of war huh…”

He never got an answer. The nurse who had ran off to get help, arrived with the help. It was not the help he wanted either. She barked a rather curt, waspish sentence at the woman who had actually been pleasant before turning back to him. The other lass must have got back into her bed because he heard no more from her. Anastasia she said her name was – that was a lovely name. Far lovelier than the woman who was jabbering on at him now.

He felt a poke in his right arm and immediately he began to feel woozy. The sharp features of the man who had sticked him came into view. “That’s it Mr. Barnes, you need to relax and recover your strength. You have a lot ahead of you and we need you to be strong enough to take it all in.” James did not like the sound of that. Whatever they had in store for him had to be bad. His limbs were getting heavy though, and he knew there was nothing he could do about that now. His eyes shut against his will and he slipped back into the darkness.

Once again, he had no idea how long he had been asleep for. His left side felt exceptionally heavy, and he thought he’d dreamed of having his limb replaced with metal. When he opened his eyes again, a jolt went through him. It wasn’t a dream! Where his left arm should be, was a heavy silver replacement. “Anastasia?” he asked. He was in the same place he had been before and he wondered if the only person he knew was around. “What happened to my arm!?”

Panic was brewing in him again, and it took all the will he had to not sit up and tear the IV from his body. He drew in deep, calming breaths and forced his mind into a more constructive pattern of thinking. It wouldn’t help, and the sudden movement was likely to bring that creepy, German doctor back with his needles and sedatives. His head ached, but he no longer felt as though he had been hit by a truck – that was a good start at least. His memory spooled back through what he knew. “It was when I fell,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, “I landed on my arm and it must have been ruined.” Why they’d grafted a heavy monstrosity like this on him though was anyone’s guess. He wasn’t strong enough to lift it properly. Not yet at any rate.
 
Bucky

Mar 18th 2021 - 12:22 PM


James had no idea how long he was out for. Time seemed to take on no meaning at all when one had almost died. He knew he was coming back from it though, because it hurt. There had been no paint while he was swimming in the dark. Seeing how he was no longer in the dark, he noticed how everything hurt. It did not seem fair to him, he had done his part, served well. He did not deserve this much pain.

When he opened his eyes, it was no better. The light stabbed into his head and he let out a soft moan, quickly shutting them again. He hadn’t recognised where he was, though he assumed it was a hospital of some description. Turning his head to the side, he peeked through the tiniest crack in his eyes. There was an IV in his right arm, and the bed he was in was hard enough to be a hospital bed.  Young woman was at the side of him, was she a nurse? Maybe. His mind decided that she was.

James went to say something but no words came from his parched throat. He tried to cough but that made everything hurt all the more. He slowly drew another breath and whispered, “Do you have any water?” to the woman sat nearby. It was like thorns in his throat.

He let his head roll back and he looked the other way. What he could make out of himself was a mess. He’d fallen! The train! He recalled the agony in his arm and then the rush of falling. The impact. OH God he remembered hitting the damned floor. The air leaving his lungs. His insides had felt like paste, his arm… his left arm. He’d landed on it. It would be a ruin. Why couldn’t he feel it?

One glance over and he knew. His heart thundered in his chest, his lungs constricted. He was going to be sick. It no longer mattered that his throat was dry, the sound that wheezed from his chest was a whimpered croak. It was a scream in his head. He heard machines around him start to ping and make alarming noises. He struggled to sit up, never minding that there were lines and tubes attached to him. He had to get out of here, he had to go. His companions needed him! There was a war to win and…

Steve.

They would be grieving him. He was dead for all they knew. He stopped struggling and just sat there. How could he help them now? He was a one arm dead man lost in the middle of who knew where. The signs around, the writing on the IV bag, was not in English. Russian. Was he in Russia? How did he get here? So many questions floated around his head. It pounded in time with his beating heart. A sharp reminder that there was a lot of hurt that had not yet been healed.

“Where am I?” he asked, his accent placing him from Brooklyn. There was no way he was going to be able to hide that. He coughed, felt fire rip through him again. “Why am I still alive?”

She might not know, she was a nurse after all and it wasn’t often that they knew the details of any plan. She was probably just here to make sure he stayed alive and didn’t do anything too stupid. He hadn’t the strength for any daring attempt at getting out of here anyway. His hosts would be very aware of that.
 
Bucky

Mar 9th 2021 - 8:46 AM


Black. He knew nothing. Even the black was a manifestation of his thoughts, too deep to penetrate or really be aware of. There was no pain, no sorrow, no suffering. No fatigue, joy or sorrow, just nothing. Just the black. No pain.

James was unaware he had been found, unaware he had been moved. He had fallen and the impact had resulted in black. He should be dead. Why wasn’t he dead? There were fragments of awareness of course, always accompanied by a blast of pain and the black returning.

It deepened, the hold of it sinking into his being, the embrace warm and comforting. Was this dying? There was no light at the end of the tunnel, no singing angels or trumpets. It was warm. James had no idea then that this was the last time he was going to feel warmth in a very long time.

Consciousness returned. The pain was unbearable. The noise deafening. Was that him screaming? Voices in… Germam? Russian? He tried to speak. A jab in his arm, his eyes rolled back. Blackness again. He could hear his heart beating. A slow, irregular sound that should have been stronger. He was sure that there should be more beats too. He had not the energy for panic, not like the voices he’d heard, they were definitely trying to do something. Was he being saved? Where was he? James supposed that he would never find out.

He hoped Steve would be alright without him…

The black deepened, if that was possible. He thought he could hear his mother admonishing him for wanting to fight. She had always been so proud of him for doing so, was this her true thoughts? His sisters were crying, sorrow punctuating their every noise. How could he die on them? Who would look after them now their big brother Jimmy was gone? The name was a tease, no one called him that but his sisters.

He’d not give in if he could help it. They needed him, Steve needed him. He clung to them even as darkness stole his thoughts.

This was it then was it? His chest felt tight, breathing was a chore and it would be so easy to just stop, to let the world move on without him. There was no pain, he receded and even the thought of clinging on left him. Did he stop breathing? He thought he did.

Time had little meaning here, he drifted in a sea of nothing, everything faded away.

Hands caught him. He did not jerk, but let them take him. Whether to the land of the dead, or back to the living; he cared not. So long as it was painless. If that was a promise it was made to be broken. The hands dragged him back through the darkness, away from mourning family, away from the comfort. Even the warmth was banished.

What was left was pain. A stronger heartbeat joined it. He wasn’t dead then, there was no pain when you were dead. He dragged in a breath, tortured lungs screamed. His eyes flickered open. Someone was holding his hand. He squeezed back, sure they were the one who had hauled his sorry ass back from the brink. He saw dark hair before the weight of pain caught up with him. He barked out a soft noise that sounded nothing like what he had tried to yell.

There was another jab in his right arm; he couldn’t even feel the left – maybe he was laying on it and it had gone numb. Whatever they stuck him with overcame him rapidly. The pain and consciousness left him again, though this time there was no warmth contained in the darkness.
 
Clint

Mar 1st 2021 - 2:41 PM




You know that scene in ‘The Rock’ where Nicholas Cage has Sean Connery’s cuffs removed, and then one of the guys behind the glass states ‘well that’s one way to go’ is exactly what could have been said at that moment, Clint waved his hand to Coulson to have the cell opened up. “Thank God we have great life insurance, it would all go to the dog, or maybe Kate anyway. We won’t even begin to think the amount of junk she’d buy, although to be fair, pretty sure that I’d do the same as well.” Jumping up and down to hype himself up, complete with a few claps and a stretching of his neck to loosen up, Clint gave Coulson a nod and stepped up to the platform and the door. 

The light on the control panel to the side turned to green, the buzzer sounded at the command, red alarm lights flashed overhead; the next sound was the door bolts unlocking and the thick glass door with metal framing opened up. Instead of casually strolling like he had when she first saw him, his steps were with meaning and purpose, he was now the complete opposite of what he was before. His look was stern, calculated, remaining focused on the woman on the cot with each step towards his approach to her. 

Stopping before her with only a few paces that separated them, Clint’s tone was even different, he knew what he was saying and what he was doing. “Miss Inyushin, we need your help, but at the same time we want to help you as well. Forget what Fury says, he’s a numbers person, he’s not the type of person that’s on the front lines a lot anymore. His job is to make sure the job gets done every day, my job, is more about how the job gets done as well as being responsible for the people on my team or those that are a part of my team.” 

Taking a few moments for these words to sink in, Clint cleared his throat quickly, continuing his statement to her. “If you want to help us, I can promise you that I’ll make sure no harm comes to you, and that you’ll be taken care of. If you want to go back to where you came from, then go for it, I’m not going to stop you. I want you to think though why you got to this point in the first place, what happened that put you here, and if you go back and from this amount of time what will the ramifications be?” Taking a step back and turning his back to her, Clint sprawled his arms out wide so she could see he had not a single weapon on him, he was naked and had no means to fight back with anything. 

“You can either help and join us, be a part of something bigger and better than you realize, or you can just burst your way out of here and try to make it back to where you came from.” Clint held a finger up to silence her and hopefully stop her for a moment. “If you try and attack, I will engage you, and I will not hold back in the slightest. I think you can tell.”
Doc.

Feb 14th 2021 - 11:27 AM


Happy Valentine's Day
Just a reminder that you are
loved everyday! 
heart
ᴴᵉˣᏇitch.

Feb 13th 2021 - 7:35 PM




A friend is what the heart needs all the time.
Happy Valentine's Day.
ᴴᵉˣᏇitch.

Feb 8th 2021 - 4:23 PM


Thank you, Sweetheart. ♥
Clint

Jan 25th 2021 - 3:10 PM


Clint held his hands up, sticking his tongue out and feigned a nauseated sigh, his hands shaking a bit to exaggerate the expression. “What is it with people and dog food, why can’t it be cat food, or fish food. Always has to be dog food.” Clint paused a moment, lowering his hands, before a finger rose up again. “And another thing, dog food smells a lot better than cat food, and we won’t even go with that Fancy Feast stuff as well. That stuff smells like straight up garbage, garbanzo, poo poo.” He paused a moment before muttering under his breath. “Tastes better too,” piping up, he bellowed a rushed “that’swhatI’vereadinmagazines!” To make it seem like it was all part of one thought process when in turn, one could doubt whether the man was telling the truth, or maybe he had inspiration from Road Warrior, the old Mel Gibson classic movie where you see his character eating a can of dog food. 

 

Raising a hand to block what was heard between Coulson and himself, so no one else could hear, Clint did seem worried. “Why is it that people are always obsessed with fighting me, do I give off that sort of a vibe, do I have a ‘kick me’ sign on my back?” Turning his head around and twirling to get a look, Clint breathed a sigh of relief, nothing there. Pursing his lips together and with a narrowed set of eyes, complete with a furrowed brow, Clint cautiously stepped towards the cell where the woman was. Always assess a situation, take in your surroundings, read facial expressions and body language. She was irritated, you could see that visibly with the way she threw the ball, the tightness of her muscles. Most of the time when a person did this, it was just casually, this was with purpose; perhaps a nervous tick of hers or at least something to keep her sanity while she was in this cell. 

 

Behind the lazy, care-free Clint Barton was the real Clint, the person that not many had seen; more importantly, the person that not many had seen who had lived to tell about it. One of the only people that had ever seen the real Clint was Natasha, she had seen it, but only because they work together all the time. That’s what made him so deadly, lower a person’s guard and that’s the time when he struck, killing a person before they even dropped to the ground. He was that good, and that was one of the reasons why Fury had recruited him so quickly, he needed someone like that on his side and within his organization. Licking his index finger, and then flittering his digits about, the marksman pressed the intercom button down to speak. “Hi there, how’s it going?” But what Anastasia saw was the “dopey” Clint, speaking in an almost mocking, surfer sort of tone now. “So what’s up? Name’s Clint, totes nice to meet you, so I guess we’ll be working together on something which is totes awesome.” 

Releasing the button, Clint’s eyes turned back to Stark, Coulson, and Fury, all three of them rolled their eyes and eye at him. “What?” He spoke with a shrug of his shoulders, not even realizing he had now pressed the button again. “See, you guys try to be all intimidating, but now if feels like ‘good cop, bad cop’ and now here I am, swooping in to save the day—or so I like to think—hawk style and all that. You just gotta get on their level guys, I mean I know Stark wouldn’t know, but I would’ve thought boss man and Coulson would’ve known that. What good is being mean all the time, totally gets you nowhere fast.” Turning his head back, the look of his skin turned to stark white, his jaw nearly dropping when he saw the light was red and that she had heard everything he had said. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, shoot, you weren’t supposed to hear me being all nice to you and junk. Well, no turning back now.” Rubbing the back of his head and laughing aloud, he was the only one laughing, earning a quick silence from Clint. 

“In either case, we’re going to your hometown, motherland and all that. Got some things to figure out there, bad guy stuff, and if you’re good I think we’ll let you stay or you can go do whatever you’re going to do. Sound good, I’d take the deal, seems like a good one.” Pursing his lower lip out, Clint nodded the whole time while he spoke.

 
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