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ronearoundblindly · 1 year

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The Root of All Ransom (5)

Last part UGH, second to last part (see previous or series). Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader WC 4k

Summary: A revelation at Harlan's 85th birthday threatens everything Ransom has.

Warnings: canon threats and arguments (altered for story obvi (credit to the original screenwriter for the dialogue I worked around!)), cursing (would you even consider it me or the same story if there wasn't?) oh, and canon Thrombey family racism/bigotry/douchebaggery--little fuckers. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There is plenty else for you to read on my Light Masterlist.

The colors are stunning.

Violently splashed swaths of gold, orange, and chocolate laced with summer green coat the landscape. The trees blur past the windows, so the only other color Ransom can focus on is burgundy—your dress, the dress he rustled up after realizing you had nothing planned to wear.

Unacceptable. Ransom fixed that.

For Harlan Thrombey’s birthday it’s only right that you wear Harlan’s favorite color, hardly a revelation when the man’s company is named ‘Blood Like Wine.’ The fact that you look picture perfect decked out in designer, replete with your Birkin in hand (suck it, Linda) is a bonus. His family will shit themselves when they see he’s done it. Ransom Drysdale fucking nailed it.

He dates a millionaire, one that genuinely smiles at him, one that gives great head and fucks like a goddamn sin, one that actually likes him. Ran won the lottery, and he is overjoyed to be a complete dick about it to his family.

You sigh heavily, recovering from the long journey home, tired but seemingly less tired than an hour ago. You recharge next to him. He’s seen it before. You’re usually laying on his chest after he wrings the last of that stressed energy right out of your cunt, but there’s no time for that right now.

“I’ve been advised to sell the penthouse here,” you throw out absently in the silence. You two talk so frequently that there isn’t much to catch up on.

Ran snorts. “But who would buy your shitty furniture?”

You smack at his hand on the gear shift, but that won’t stop him.

“No, I’m serious. It’s fucking warehouse shit.”

That jab gets ignored, as he suspected it might. “At this rate, it’ll be cheaper to simply stay at a hotel downtown instead. I’m hardly here long enough to warrant a house out in the burbs and a penthouse.”

He simply hums in agreement and watches the road.

You could stay at his place, Ran thinks. That’s nonsense when you own a fucking mansion and have a car service on call 24/7, but you could. He’d even allow some of your furniture…and maybe some of your kitchen gadgets…maybe.

“Gosh, I haven’t even seen Harlan since your birthday—“ the swatting hand comes to rest over his again “—through the window, no less.”

“You’ll recognize him. He’s still old and still a shit.”

You giggle and squeeze. Ran flips his palm up to cup yours.

He’s in a mood to gloat. He’s ready to put on a bit of a show, prepared to use oversized PDA to stir the pot, and knows the whole thing will amuse you, too. Ran has readied himself to be more affectionate. He doesn’t normally touch you without reason or potential of escalation. He was even more hesitant to do so after your bitchy peers’ dinner where some asshat took it the wrong way.

His family won’t, however. They’ll take it just as hard as he hopes. Fuck those guys.

His relatives have scoured every article about you this whole time. Ran has been enthusiastically ignoring any and all questions with the sole purpose of twisting that knife deeper. His, not theirs. He’s casual in his dismissal of what it all means. He doesn’t have to think about that. No one believed this would still be a thing, not his family, not you, not him. The shock hasn’t worn off yet, but underneath that buzz is a soothing, peaceful feeling that makes Ransom fucking jumpy. He plays it off as he does any other nervous energy—annoyance.

“Right. How long we considering this a thing now anyway?” He doesn’t say the word relationship. He doesn’t call you his girlfriend. You have never mentioned one word about it either, but he’s curious why that is. Obviously, he won’t simply ask why.

You think for a few moments, propping your arm against the car door to look at him, arm stretching to stay connected to his, eyes sparkling. “Definitely start the clock after you stuck your dick in someone else.” After another split second, you clarify, “ass or vagina, thank you.”

It’s not a surprising answer, but Ran rolls his eyes anyway. Fair. He cannot argue with that. Still, this is the longest thing he’s been involved in.

“So that makes it…what? A month?” you joke.

He’s not sure if that’s a pure jab or if you fish for assurance that you two are…exclusive. Ran can use that word. That one is okay. That one qualifies stuff you own and use. It describes things, not people. This is a thing, an exclusive thing.

He shoots you a hard glare across the seats of the beamer.

“No,” he hits back. “Four and a half.”

From the cheeky wink he gets back, you know damn well how long it’s been. You wanted to hear him say it probably. He wiggles in the seat, further annoyed, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut and his eyes on the road.

That color on you, though, is distracting.

He keeps his hand where it is, relaxed and in yours.

Ransom pulls out the chair beside his mother for you to sit in. He didn’t think about how you’d leave your bag by his coat in the foyer. You’re not like Linda in that way; she carried the Birkin at her side everywhere, even in the house. The least he can do is sit the beautiful young woman right next to the white-haired wench and preen at his exclusive upgrade.

You are one-of-a-kind, and you’re his. His gut flutters with that knowledge. He needs a drink.

You look so feminine and regal compared to his mother’s teal, power jumpsuit or whatever half-velvet, half-satin monstrosity she chose.

“Oh, hello, dear,” Linda chirps to you, watching Ransom sit on your other side, “don’t you look lovely.”

His mother twitches her fingers like she needs a cigarette, faking an adjustment of her thick spectacles to hide the tremor, and the whole night is already worth skipping hanky panky before arrival.

You do look lovely. It makes him look good. He’s winning. He needs a victory drink.

When food is set down in front of you all by a catering staff, you immediately offer appreciation and Ran parrots the ‘thank you.’ He doesn’t think much of it. He just takes your cue. Ransom has always known how to be decent; he chooses not to be out of spite…except near you. He likes looking good around you. It makes him feel like he could be good.

Meg, subtle as ever, word vomits “holy shit” in response to Hugh Ransom Drysdale thanking the fucking help. When Ran catches her eye, Meg raises her brows and snaps her wrist like she’s cracking a whip.

He scowls back, but his cousin is too far across the table to curse without upsetting you, so he just mouths ‘get fucked’ at her.

“Well, Dad,” Walt starts too loudly for the table, “in celebration of your big day, I hope you don’t mind me sharing some news about our amazing quarter at the publisher’s.”

Harlan cuts into his meal, wearing his signature, catch-all smirk.

“‘Our,’ my ass,” Linda whispers to you, wine glass raised to cover her lips.

You very, very quietly giggle, and Ran doesn’t fucking like that one bit. Fuck off, Linda. That’s his giggle.

“Hell of a year,” Walt continues, oblivious, “hell of a year, but particularly great because we hit just shy of one point eight million in the last few months.”

“Oh wow,” Joni moans, pressing a bony hand into the ruffles of her blouse, and it is good news. Her eyes may as well morph into dollar signs.

“‘Night of the Dead Phoneline’ was a fun one,” Harlan mutters before another bite.

It is a tidy sum, one that his family would absolutely drool over, one that has taken decades to build to, but also one that Ransom knows pales in comparison to what you handle on a daily basis.

He knows not to speak of your money, however, not a single word.

Unsurprisingly, his mother hasn’t picked up on your modesty and exuberantly swats her little brother back into place.

“That is nice, Walt,” Linda barely tilts the glass in his direction before turning to you, resting her head on a bejeweled fist and clucking. “Tell me, dear, I read that your home offices are being fully renovated for the first time since you took over the building. Must be costing a pretty penny…”

Your fork and knife halt on the china.

“Uh huh,” you dodge while Ransom stares daggers over your shoulder.

Subtlety is not Linda Drysdale’s forté. “How much?”

You sigh again, resting your silverware to the side while studying the ornate, vaulted ceiling. “The last estimate I got was forty-three but was missing final approval from Tech so…I’m preparing for fifty.”

“Thousand?” Jacob, Walt's son, asks in the fleeting moment he’s not looking down at his phone. Idiot.

“No,” you sigh, “million.”

Linda relishes Walt’s shock while Meg’s eyes bug out. Jacob simply scoffs, back to staring at his screen instantly. Ran’s annoyed—furious actually—that Linda claims your success as her own. Gears turn to plot revenge in your honor.

“And that’s out of how many facilities worldwide now?” Linda hums. “Twenty-two?”

“Enough!” Harlan slaps his hand on the table. “This is my birthday, and I say we have none of this ham-fisted, money talk at the table.”

“So we can talk about it after dinner?” Joni suggests from down the line. She’s ignored save for a grumble of Walt’s beside her.

“Sorry, sir,” you apologize.

“You,” his grandfather coos, “are not the one who started it.”

Harlan’s smile is kind and amused. He knows there’s no real foul that’s been played, but Harlan is intuitive enough to sense what Ransom knows: lording money over others is your last fucking resort, and it is never in public or among a group. There is, however, a slight sadness beyond excusing his children’s behavior that wilts his grandfather’s expression. Ran assumes it’s simple embarrassment. He’s seen you deal with much worse though, so Harlan shouldn’t worry. Since he is most like Harlan himself, Ransom also assumes his grandfather will be over this tiff tartar by dessert.

“Either way, you should all be proud of that figure,” you add softly, aiming that genuine smile at Ran’s uncle. Fucking gross. “Really, Walt. And that’s without any merchandise, too? Very impressive.”

Walt snaps and points at you while jumping right back at Harlan, zero clue when to quit. “You know, Dad, we could be talking about profits more like hers if you’d let me—“

Linda takes the time to lean in and whisper. “I could help you sell the penthouse apartment, you know? Easily.”

And there it is, Linda’s endgame. How the fuck did she find out? She doesn’t even handle corporate real estate, but even a whiff of wanting to move a property of yours is enough to aim her nails directly at your clout.

You tiptoe around an actual answer and manage to shift Linda to talking about her own business. Ransom lays his hand over yours on the table at some point and pets his thumb across your knuckles.

He focuses on that for what feels like seconds but who knows how long it is when he misses the entire lead in to this fucking chestnut.

His Stepford Aunt Donna clears her birdlike throat and says, “you should start now so you can have at least two.”

Your hand jerks to grip his before dropping down to your lap.

What the fuck?

His father’s fork clatters onto the china. “Now hold up there, Donna. Let the kids just enjoy the honeymoon phase—“

Linda pipes in over Richard. “Every one of us had only one child including you.”

“I would have had more—” Joni flips a hand into the air before twirling one of her bohemian curls “—but my husband died.”

“Then it’s not about you, is it?” Walt booms.

Ransom watches you take a very large breath and lean into your chair. “I think I preferred the money talk.”

Donna waves her martini in the air, defensively. “She just seems so busy out in the middle of nowhere while her biological clock—“

“Shut up, bitch. We’re sitting right goddamn here,” Ran snaps.

Walt stands, scraping the chair backward. “That’s my wife you’re talking to!”

Ransom doesn’t give a shit who said it. No one disrespects you like that. “What fucking right does she—“

“Son, please, calm down.” Richard

“Thank god you guys didn’t make this family bigger,” Meg shout-mumbles, stealing her mom’s wine without Joni noticing. She’s too busy describing the ‘bad vibes’ coming from all the masculine energy in the room.

Jacob takes a video on his phone before Meg swats it right out of his hands and into his food. The boy panics.

Ran hears Harlan and you sigh simultaneously.

Then the coup-de-gras. God, it’s like you were made to fuck with his family, and Ran is pleased as fucking punch.

You stand casually, chair silent in its retreat, and hold up a hand. They quiet, mercifully, allowing you to stick one savage fucking knife through the whole lot of them.

“You’re all going to laugh at this quarrel in a year—“ you pass your almost full wine over to Meg conspicuously before both your hands smooth flat down your stomach “—or less.”

The table goes so deadly still Ran could hear a pin drop on the carpet upstairs, and it’s funny because Ransom knows you. He knows you well enough that he doesn’t have even the most fleeting thought that you could be pregnant. You would never, ever choose this way to hint at it. You would keep them far away from your business and your business, but it’s so goddamn genius that he grins like an idiot.

The whole room misinterprets his joy as confirmation.

Owl eyes blink over gaping mouths, but Ran notices Harlan’s knowing smirk. Grandpa is the only one who gets the joke. Perfect.

Harlan snorts from his own seat and winks at you again. That’s good. Harlan deeply approves of you. You’re something Ransom has done right—as well as six ways to Sunday, not including the implied knocking up—and he can use that. Continent hopping is getting costly; he’s going to need his grandfather to raise his allowance.

Ran leans back in his seat, cardigan spreading open as he stretches one arm over the back of your chair and softly drawls, “sweetheart.”

He could not have fucking timed it better.

Harlan’s cake arrives seconds later, topped with eighty-five sizzling sparklers that will probably call the fire department in a matter of minutes, and the rest of the adults at the table scurry to flank the birthday boy. They look like hyenas cornering prey.

Ransom doesn’t join. He stays right there, smiling up at you.

You flop into your seat, so close that soft burgundy fabric drapes over his thigh, and lean in to whisper, “give me your fucking wine.”

He slaps a quick kiss on your cheek before grabbing your prize from the other side of his plate. You two stay huddled, shielded from view by the smoke and greed clouding the head of the table.

Despite a resounding win at dinner, drinks in the sitting room afterward are torturous.

There is no way to get out of conversation with the Thrombeys except through conversation with the Thrombeys. Dinner was actual cake comparatively.

This is a slog. It’s been a slog Ransom’s whole life. Is it bad he derives pleasure sharing this pain with you? That’s bad, right? He shouldn’t enjoy this.

Jacob, a piece of shit, Alt-Right troll of a child who would drop dead if his socks didn’t match—piddly bitch—fucking sniffs you on his way to the settee behind his parents, musing how good it is that you don’t smell after so much time in China.

You know, from the food.

What a fucking shock that’s the little Nazi’s take away…

Joni laments the smog and pollution dulling your skin—which it fucking did not— but she has a mask for that. It’s even specific aligned to your chakra, whatever the fuck that means, and Ransom bites his tongue, watching your deep sigh fogging the inside of the glass you sink deep into instead of respond.

No one says shit concerning your one alcoholic beverage though because the hint of you (and by-proxy, Ransom) immediately dominating the whole clan has set the adults on edge.

Because you would. You already eclipse them in every capacity. The only trump card left to play is raising Ran to your level, which he is climbing to, slowly, at his own pace, by his own rules.

You hit the bottom of that glass—and all your limits, based on the exact level of strain between your lips—when his family debates Marta’s country of origin and the American Dream of legal fucking citizenship. All you say is “excuse me” and walk off.

He stands, too, and not to be a puppy dog following you around. He thinks the conversation is stupid. He wants to leave the room. His glass is empty, and he wants another piece of cake.

You gently take Marta’s arm and guide her with you until you’re tucked on the other side of the wall. Ransom tells Franny to get him cake.

“Is something wrong?” Marta seems alarmed and glances at your stomach. She’s a nurse and doesn’t get the joke.

“Oh, no, hun. I just wanted to save you from the vultures,” you say, smiling.

You like Marta but hell if Ran knows why. He thinks Harlan fakes how much his shoulder still bothers him because the old man’s range of motion isn’t stunted in any way. Though, Ran admits, he’d keep up an easy supply of morphine if he could, too.

Sour-faced Fran returns with a tiny plate and shoves it into Ransom’s hand.

“What? No fork?”

The housekeeper barely opens her mouth before Harlan interrupts with a deep and booming voice.

“A moment, Ran, my boy. I have something to discuss with you.”

On instinct, Ransom turns to meet your eye. You’re happily in conversation with the help but pet a gentle hand down the sleeve of his cardigan. It’s fine. It’s not as if you’re trapped in another money argument with his uncle—Ran would break Walt’s other foot if that fucker tried again anyway—so off to the study he goes.

“Shut the door,” Harlan insists, waiting while the last thing Ran sees is Great Nana staring off into space by the front door. “Have a seat.”

“I’m fine.”

Harlan takes a power pose at his enormous desk and tips white, bushy eyebrows in his grandson’s direction. “You seem happy.”

Ran props his hands on his hips. “Is that a question?”

“Merely an observation. It makes this easier to know you are in a…better situation than a year ago.”

Ransom prepares to explain how his expenses have skyrocketed in the wake of so much travel. He’s coordinated several design houses to work with you in Beijing to ensure you are properly dressed even when he’s not there. That shit ain’t cheap, but it’s worth it. God help him if your assistant tries to put you in another local potato sack.

Yes, Ran sets himself up to ask for more money until this.

“I have written you out of my will. The whole family.”

Ransom blinks. The fuck is the old man playing at?! “You can’t be serious.”

“Not a red dime or word of my work to a single one of them, you included.”

That’s not…

That’s not going to help. That’s not going to work for what Ransom needs. “We’re your family,” he starts, brain swimming in freezing depths yet running eighty miles an hour. His face heats like the surface of the sun, and his lungs are void of oxygen. All extremes exist simultaneously. “You are not this crazy. You would not just throw your fortune away.”

“No. I’m giving it to Marta. All of it.”

Panic creeps into the blurring edges of Ran’s vision, his voice boiling over. “To your Brazilian nurse? Are you goddamn insane.”

He is. He has to be, but the old man just digs farther in.

“I’m sane for the first time in my life,” the patriarch of the soon-to-be-penniless Thrombeys announces with vibrating gusto, “and I’ve done it.”

“I’m going to stop this, Harlan.” What the hell else is Ran supposed to say? He can’t just do this?

”I’ve made the change to my will. It’s done.”

“I’m warning you,” Ransom explodes, charging toward the weighty desk and tempted to chuck the nearest, sharpest nicknack right into the withering hand spread over his papers, determined. He knows that look; it’s the stubborn look Ran himself inherited. Apparently, it is the sum total of his Thrombey inheritance as of this very moment. That, and the urge to shaft his family.

His whole world is ablaze and it started in the tinderbox of a stack of cash. He is fucked. There’s nowhere for Ran to run but damned if he isn’t going to try.

The wail of the door latch as he swings it open echos in his skull, and there you are across the hall, deep in conversation with the little shit about climb over him in the pantheon of your prowess. Fucking Marta.

This cannot get any worse. This cannot happen.

But Ran doesn’t know what to do yet. He only knows he doesn’t want to be fucking here anymore. He can’t think here. He’s seeing red, and it’s not your dress. It’s not beautiful or something he’s proud of. He’s just pissed, and you know it. You see it easily.

Ransom grabs his overcoat and shoves the plate of birthday cake beside it into his Great Nana’s hand, slamming the door hard behind him.

You’re behind him yelling in a flash asking what’s happened but he can’t tell you or it will be real. He has to fix this. He has to do something. But what? What the fuck can he do?

He doesn’t answer until you touch his shoulder and he spins in the gravel, eyes rolling over your coatless form and empty hands.

“Where is your bag?”

“Stop focusing on the fucking bag, Ransom,” you snip back.

“Stop leaving your things behind.” Shit. Back to ‘Ransom.’ It’s already started. This is a nightmare inside a disaster. He will lose everything in a single day if he doesn’t think of something.

Your hand shoots up before snapping to your chest in a death grip.

You almost hit him. You almost slapped him because he scared you. He’s seen that look before, but he’s never caused it.

Instead of lashing out, you hiss, “stop leaving me behind.”

That cuts at him, making him feel weak. Ran hates weakness. He retaliates. The steel of his previous skin—the armor plating he wore proudly before you came along—creeps back over his tight chest.

“You’ll be fine.”

You step forward and reach for his cheek, softly. “Why did you walk out?”

He keeps huffing, floundering for a lie, smothering the truth. That’s just it: it hasn’t started. You don’t know yet. You have no idea that he has nothing and is no one. Maybe you never have to know. Maybe he can salvage this.

He pauses too long.

You yank his coat off of his arm and stomp back toward the house.

“What the fuck,” he calls.

“I’m getting the fucking bag—“ you shake his coat in the air “—but you aren’t fucking driving off without me.” When you hit the porch steps, you swing around to lay down a threat.

“If you leave now, no one will blame me for murdering you. I won’t even bother to make it look like an accident,” and you disappear into Thrombey Manor.

Something…occurs to Ransom at that moment, and wisps of a plan start to cloud his swirling mind.

a/n: I feel so bad that there is no smut in this chapter. I have failed you all. I must go flog myself in the basement as penance. 😭 I'm so nervous that everyone's fave reason isn't even in here, omg, please don't flame me!

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit

[Last Part]

[Main Masterlist]

#hugh ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #knives out fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x you #18+#18+ fanfic

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lmskitty · 3 months

Note

What do you think about the answer to this https://www.tumblr.com/gojuo/742796780522061824/is-satosugu-a-queerbaiting-ship?source=share ?

Look politely to that person they are able to read narrative and view it however they wish. No hate to them, they are absolutely right in that certain things are canon and certain things arent.

Here is a list of canonical things that Gojo has done regarding Geto/Gege has put in canon

-calling them his one and only

-saying his heart and soul knew otherwise

-an entire plan working on the basis that seeing them back from the dead would be enough to stall him

-having their deaths happen on December 24th which is a day considered super romantic in Japan.

-having Kenjaku state that to be creepy and refer to it as a date despite having used that emotional connection to manipulate them

-the urge to protect Gojo being so strong Geto briefly took control of his own body FROM THE AFTERLIFE to try and stop Kenjaku

- Gojo recognised Geto by scent after TEN YEARS (?!?!?!?)

- Geto specifically wore a Gojo- kesa because of the name

-Geto told a girl he would refer to her as Sato because he liked the name more

https://shipping.fandom.com/wiki/SatoSugu (for even more!!!)

I get not reading it that way, you wanna read them as friends that's fine but you cannot argue they can't be read as displaying romantic affection and that people reading that are seeing something that isn't there. It doesn't need to be stated as romantic but there is 100% love there and the entirety of the plot is driven from that and the break down of their relationship and the paths that leads them on.

Also (and I'm getting real tired of pointing this out) no one would say shit if either of them were female. If they were heterosexual people would be writing articles about this being the most romantic narrative in a manga regardless of if the canon remained the same and we never saw either of them act on their feelings.

I mean come on Gojo didn't give us love is the most twisted curse of all with no romantic basis.

But. The most important factor here is this.

It doesn't fucking matter. Everyone can read a text and get a different perspective from it. We don't all have to agree on the reading, there are headcanons people have that I don't agree with but think are neat , I have headcanons that are 100% fanon that most people would disagree with. OP is right in that everything else is fandom but it doesn't matter dude. You wanna ship them you ship away, I will state I've not interacted with anyone gaslighting or throwing it in people's faces, maybe I'm just in a good part of the fandom? If people are doing that which tbh I don't doubt, fandoms are insane and I've been in them since I was 11 and I'm 31 now, then that's shitty behaviour and ridiculous. People can ship how they want, just keep your fandom friends circle small you know? Fandoms should be for enjoyment so if it's getting toxic then cut your losses and start blocking I guess.

In summation:

Life is short, don't be a dick, you don't really need canon confirmation to enjoy a ship but don't chuck it in other people's faces or call people gaslighting for reading deeper into canon.

#satosugu #stsg #goge #anon ask

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misterragny · 1 month

Text

Today I finally reviewed the Psycho-Pass again

And then it started…

I am a long-time fan of the Kogami and Akane couple and have been rooting for them since the first season of the anime from the distant bearded years

And so, yesterday I watched all the movies, reread the fanfiction, and finally went to the Tumblr to read articles about this beautiful couple

I thought I could cheer myself up with these articles, because the progress of their relationship is slow...

(I know what you say, yes, maybe they are not canon at all)

But, some articles have upset me very much, but I'm holding on and I would like to say some thoughts on this pair

(Although I consider myself an introvert who is afraid of people, but now this is taking a back seat)

Well:

A comment to the article where it was mentioned that the screenwriters said that this pair was impossible and they did not want to make it canon, that in this case Akane would be better off with Gino

( Gino is my boy, I love him, and his hairstyle in future seasons makes me die of admiration)

So, back to the topic, what I still want to say..

Couldn't the screenwriters have thought that the characters they created and their stories and interactions wouldn't touch people and they wouldn't want their love?

Well, really, they couldn't think about it?

How did they prescribe the relationship between Kogami and Akane, my God

And now the screenwriters say that "It's impossible"

Khmmmmm……

I know that some people will disagree with me on this issue, but understand, I love them, I love their relationship in anime, how they help each other, respect and support, and it seems to me that there is not enough love here…

And their meeting at the end of the film, where he meets her after prison, makes me scream, and if I review the meeting after Providence, then I already cry

* a heavy tired sigh*

But fortunately, under that very post, there was a person who gave me hope and made me feel better, but I still want to hear your comments on this

(Since English is not my native language, the translator helped me a lot here, I apologize in advance for mistakes)

Guys, I do not know what I just wrote and what you can call this writing, but this is the cry of my soul

Thanks to everyone who read all this

#psycho pass #psycho-pass #psycho pass providence #shinya kogami #kogami shinya #tsunemori akane #kouaka #shinkane #providence #anime

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thisismeracing · 4 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/thisismeracing/737177411791257600/httpswwwtumblrcomthisismeracing7364627668739?source=share

bono!reader head-canons (pt. 4) (glad yall like this insanity)

constantly falls asleep w/out taking her earrings out. whether it be when taking a nap or falling asleep while working in bed those earrings are staying in. so mick has taken up the mantle of taking them out and putting them back in her jewelry box

had those glow in the dark stick on stars on her childhood bedroom ceiling and maybe she still does in her grown up bedroom that she shares with mick

gets a cartilage piercing on the ear that doesn't have her piercings dedicated to working for merc. and the jewelry that she puts in it is a small “47” stud that she got custom made. her piercings represent her biggest achievements in life and her being able to let herself be loved and be in love took a lot of work to get to, so it absolutely gets acknowledged in what she considers to be an achievement

calls james allison “allie” because when she says james she means vowles, and when james a. came to merc in 2017 she needed a way to differentiate the james’.

has an orange cat [purely based of this tt: https://www.tiktok.com/@mildwestsami/video/7136290369683131690] im leaning towards either diesel or luna for the name, but i can be persuaded into considering other ones. those are just the two that seem the most fitting atm

carries her cat like a baby and buys mini furniture for said baby

i think it would be funny if this cat was a stray that was roaming around a gp and she decided to adopt them after checking if they had a microchip and owners

steals micks hoodies/sweaters and they have a bartering system where if she wants one of mick’s newly purchased article of clothing she has to give him one of his old ones back to secure the new one. great economically for her, not so much for this boy

pulls mick in by his belt loops when she wants him close to her

loves being close enough to her lover that she can feel and hear the rhythms of his breathes

having her head resting on top of her papa’s chest where his heart is, listening to the beats of his heart will, without fail, soothe her. it started when she was a smol babe but just because she’s a grown up now doesn’t mean that it wont work

her team headset is covered in small stickers around the merc logo

ok so the jewelry she has in her first cartilage piercing she got for being hired at merc is this [https://www.etsy.com/listing/729980335/arrow-earringscartilage-earring-16g?click_key=198d47f7f1895e88c7eef3638427353c6eef89af%3A729980335&click_sum=65e3a9a5&ref=user_profile&pro=1&frs=1]

has a guest room just for her in certain team members houses [lew, the wolffs, james v,]

i could also see drivers having a room for her (seb, kimi, jense, nando)

constantly tries to persuade (poach) hannah schmitz from working at rb to merc

i could see her meshing well with oscar

her first australian gp she got gifted a small koala plush from one of the drivers (im leaning towards michael) and for the years following it’s been a tradition for all of the drivers who wanted to participate to nominate and vote who would get her a new plush to add to the collection. the only rules being it has to be a koala and it cant be one she has already gotten in years past. best believe there have been fights for the privilege of being the koala giver

[and with that i will end this segment of head-canons, yes i breached the second google doc page again i dont want to talk about it]

happy new year and i can't wait for the 2024 season to start so i will grace the inbox with more bon

(also yes i know this isnt in the usual bulleted list format that i usually do for these hcs but i dont have the patience to re-format this ask on my phone cause tumblr decided to delete my bullet points)

☕️

omg yes to everything sagksjgksdjg I won't even add, just appreciate this whole ass headcanon <3

tiktok link (it says unavailable for me :/)

i think it would be funny if this cat was a stray that was roaming around a gp and she decided to adopt them after checking if they had a microchip and owners // like corinna did w a dog during the Brazilian gp *crying into my hands*

piercing link

*virtual hug* its perfect

#☕️ anon #thots #bonnington!reader #millies inbox #ms47 #f1 x reader

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trainsinanime · 11 months

Note

Okay, I apologize, but I don't understand all these complaints about Ladynoir and Adrienette. The problem here is not whether people like Adrienette or not, but that everyone portrays Adrien purely as an accessory to Ladynoir. Maybe I'm surprising someone with this, but Adrienette is no less important than Ladynoir; it's just that their interactions are more frequent due to the "Monster of the Week" formula, while Adrien's appearances on the screen are limited to show how Gabriel isolates him. And now all of this is starting to be resolved.

To be honest, I have many questions about your reasoning. You mentioned complex feelings between them, but the problem is that there are none. Chat Noir simply decided to move on (we saw how he started distancing himself from his feelings after the illusion in "Jubilation," and in "Elation," he even explained why). His pushed behavior towards Ladybug has always been portrayed as a character flaw, considering that it sometimes led to negative consequences, which was character development. Ladybug also decided to move on as a result of everything that happened in "Elation." Therefore, there can't be any romantic complications between them at the moment.

I also don't see the show ever stating that they cannot be together because they don't know each other's secret identities. It's more about the fact that they cannot be together because Gabriel is trying to prevent it. Let's not forget that there are other couples with secret identities in the show as well.

In any case, I believe that going the Adrienette route is the right path. Going the Ladynoir route would be a step back due to a series of circumstances depicted in canon, which puts both characters' development in a corner at this stage (I could elaborate, but it would turn into a whole article). It's also not a bad thing that, despite everything happening in the second arc of the story, Ladynoir won't be together until the reveal. After all, they are still the same people. The way the Love Square is treated in the fandom, as if LS is just "Ladynoir and friends," can be quite tiresome. The hints that it will start with Adrienette were there from Season 1. It's as if people couldn't imagine that progress in romantic relationships would happen outside of Ladynoir, and now they're genuinely surprised by the outcome.

I apologize if my response seemed rude. I didn't intend to be rude. I primarily wrote that because I was surprised that you expected the collapse of Adrienette within three episodes. I understand that everyone was expecting the reveal, but it's based on the assumption that their romantic progress had to happen as Ladynoir.

Hi, thanks for the response, and don't worry, I don't think it's rude at all. That said, I disagree with parts of it.

I think you misunderstand a key part of what I was trying to say (I probably could have worded it better). I don't think either Adrinette or Ladynoir are better. I don't think "romantic progress has to happen as Ladynoir". My point is that before season 5 (even before Kwami's Choice), I thought romantic progress would involve both sides somehow. Because that is how the show has worked so far.

You're saying that post-elation, there are no complex feelings between Ladynoir. That is exactly my problem: There should be complex feelings between them! But then there just aren't any. It's very anticlimactic that both of them just go, "oh well", and move on. Frankly, between you and me, I think it's boring.

But perhaps more importantly, I think it's weird. Their feelings have grown and changed and deepened so much over the school year that lasted eight years, and that's it? They can just move on like that? It's not causing them any sleepless nights where they're wondering about their feelings? That is very surprising to me.

Aside: Chat Noir moving on from Ladybug is not good character development. For one, his crush on her was never actually a problem in itself, just the way he went about expressing it, and even that only rarely. Even if it were a problem, "moving on" isn't actually character growth. Adrien doesn't learn anything new or change his behaviour now that he's in love with Marinette, she just reciprocates his feelings. He's still the same guy as before.

Anyway, back on topic: The Love Square never used to be "Adrinette plus some other stuff", and it didn't use to be "Ladynoir plus some other stuff". It was a finely tuned balance, where the things happening as Ladynoir mattered as much as the things happening as Adrinette, but nothing was ever just a simple mirror. Adrinette grow closer, Ladynoir grow closer. Ladynoir fight and reunite, Adrinette have their own issues to solve. And most importantly, Adrinette was impossible because Ladynoir was standing in the way, and Ladynoir was impossible because Adrinette was standing in the way.

(By the way, the show actually did specifically say that they can't be together because of secret identities. Ladybug specifically told Chat Noir she can't be with him because there's someone else, in Glaciator. Adrien told Plagg and Marinette that he can't be in love with Marinette because he's in love with Ladybug, in Weredad. I'm not sure why you blame Gabriel.)

Season 5 threw that whole thing completely off balance, by literally just deleting Ladynoir for two episodes. If they had done the same thing the other way, e.g. if they had a two-parter instead where Adrien and Marinette decide they have to be in costume at all times and then started dating as Ladynoir, and then just forget about Adrinette, that would have had the exact same problems.

#miraculous ladybug

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ussgallifrey · 8 months

Text

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 21

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren’t entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Canon divergence, dialogue taken directly from Avengers: Age of Ultron, language, mentions of Hydra experimentation, moderate violence, Steve Rogers definitely not being jealous.

✦ Word Count: 9.4k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Author’s Note: Uh...hey. How's it going? I'm just visiting as it was. For anyone who might be totally unaware, I've been away for almost a year now. At the beginning of 2023, my partner experienced a near fatal injury and well, life has kind of revolved around that for some time. He's physically healing, I'm emotionally and mentally healing and life is finally moving along once again. Consider this me dipping my toes into writing once again. Maybe not regular updates, but a start. The majority of this chapter has been sitting in my drafts since, god, November of last year? As a spur of the moment kind of thing, I decided to reread the entire story earlier today and felt determined enough to maybe add to it once again. And... here we are. Anyway, back to the story <3

[Master List]

Steve finds himself in one of the several glassed-in conference rooms in the tower with Tony and Hill - only a few hours after Natasha was cleared by Dr. Cho. The billionaire looks like he’d rather be doing anything other than this. Most likely wishing he could be back in his precious lab, studying the scepter for all its worth before it was returned to its rightful home.

He closes the door behind him, eyeing the laptop on which Maria is typing, “Said you got a lead?”

She hums in soft acknowledgment, eyes scanning something on the screen before she finally gives him her attention. Tony rocks back in his chair, feet crossed at the ankle on the adjacent seat. Steve remains standing at the end of the table.

Images appear on the whiteboard behind her as she begins her report, “It took us two hours to bypass the corrupted files and the top-of-the-line encryption - ”

“No thanks to JARVIS,” Tony adds quickly, with a knowing smirk.

She nods, but otherwise ignores the comment, “We’re looking at roughly thirty years of backlog.”

Steve watches the images on the projection switch between the scepter, schematics, and patient files. Jesus.

“You were on the right track, Captain. Strucker wasn’t just using that thing for weapons - though we have at least a good amount of information on the weaponry he successfully made. But I believe your interest was focused on the containment cells?”

It’s at that moment that you and Clint walk in, offering an apologetic nod as you take a seat beside Tony. You lean forward almost immediately when you see what’s on the screen - an image taken just earlier today of the mangled cell block.

The screen changes to two prisoner files marked PATIENTIENT 4.1and PATIENT 4.2. Admittedly, his German isn’t as good as it used to be during the war, so he fumbles through the article with little to no comprehension.

“Anyone get that?” Clint gestures at the screen, an incredulous expression on his face.

Before Hill can even bring up the translation, you’re muttering out, “They… they weren’t experimented on. The scepter, it wasn’t - ”

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, eyes narrowing at the files as if he could somehow understand the foreign words now.

“Is there any language you don’t speak?” Tony whirls around in his seat to stare at you instead; totally missing the point.

“Jedek, Sentinelese, and Mudbara to name a few,” you answer levelly, before craning your head back to look at Steve and then over to Clint. “It says Patients 4.1 and 4.2 were entered into their program in 2005 - ”

Hill nods, the projection changing over to a set of images - body parts being measured and cataloged. They looked surprisingly small - skin stretched tight over the bones of a forearm, a calf, and a shockingly skeletal spine.

Children. He was looking at the images of two children that HYDRA had taken in.

Gritting his teeth, he manages to get out a sharp, “What else?”

Maria takes over then, back to more pages of files, “They were part of a series of off-the-record adoptions, during the country’s last civil war. People went missing by the hundreds back then. The official death count is still incomplete from the time. But it appears that individuals like Strucker were using the war to their benefit.”

The screen is flooded with images then, hundreds of people - primarily children, he notes with a sour turning of his stomach and the clenching of his fist at his side.

“And he was what, using the scepter like he was playing at God?” Barton scoffs with a bitter tone.

Steve is reminded then of the fact that if anyone understood the gravity of the scepter and the capability of its power in the wrong hands, it would in fact be Clint Barton.

Hill’s lips form a thin line, “For some, yes.”

“But not these two?” Tony fills in, twirling a pen between his fingers.

“Why?” Steve questions, unable to pull his gaze away from the new blurred image of a dark-haired girl, no older than eight - her eyes wide as she’s seemingly forced into a position for the camera.

It’s then that you lean forward in your chair, squinting at the file next to the girl’s picture before you rock back in your seat - “They were showing abilities on their own accord?”

And then the bombshell drops.

“This is their DNA structure against the typical human’s - ” In the center of the table, a blue holographic projection is displayed. Two double helixes slowly rotate alongside one another.

For all his aptitude, Steve can’t spot the immediate difference between the two. But you and Tony surely latch onto it quick enough. Leaning over the table, the billionaire swipes his hand at the helix on the left and instantly increases its size.

“What the hell is that?” Tony wonders out loud, turning the helix with his fingers.

It’s only then that Steve notices the strange strand near the center of the structure. It’s forked, compared to the other relatively straight branches. Almost spiked in its appearance.

“They called it the X gene, in the official reports,” Hill supplements.

“Which did what, exactly?” Tony asks, eyes still focused on the hologram.

She clears her throat for a moment, before saying, “From what we understand from their reports, these two individuals had naturally occurring inhuman powers on a previously unheard-of level.”

Everyone’s attention falls on her, and the silence lingers.

“Superpowered humans whose abilities can be traced back only to their own mutated DNA.”

Tony looks between the screen, the hologram, and then Steve.

“Shit. You’re saying these things can just pop up now, yeah? Any random person could get some kind of unnatural ability?”

“We have to look into it further, obviously - and if we were able to run the appropriate tests - ”

“What happened to them?” you ask, standing slowly. Clarifying only a moment later when you’re met with blank stares. “The file says they were still there when we breached the fortress. And yet we didn’t find anyone there that wasn’t already in a body bag in the morgue.”

She gives a tight nod, flicking off the presentation, “We have eyes on the city.”

“Do we even know what they look like? Let alone their intentions,” Tony questions, leaning away from the table and tapping the pen for a moment against his leg.

Hill shakes her head, “No. But we have a limited age range and a general profile to work with. And two people who were held captive for most of their lives will display a unique range of responses and choices. One slip, and we’ll find them. But if they were able to escape Strucker’s fortress on their own accord - ”

Tony seems unimpressed as he nods, walking backward for a moment as he says, “Keep me looped.”

You step forward to speak to Maria as the billionaire leaves - probably back to his lab. Clint stands up with a tired stretch.

“How’s she holding up?” Steve asks gently as the archer moves around the table.

The blonde smiles fondly, shaking his head, “You know, Nat, man. She doesn’t do bed rest for shit. I’m bribing her with coffee and I got Thor keeping her company right now.”

“Keeping her from escaping, you mean?” you turn back towards them with a knowing smile.

Clint chuckles, “Something like that.”

Steve nods, watching as he takes his leave then, waiting around for you to finish up with Maria. He recalled how rattled you had been that day upon discovering the cells. To finally have an answer to that giant unknown - well, Steve just wanted to see how you were holding up after it all.

Your brows raise marginally as you see him still standing there, but the two of you walk out into the quiet hallway together as Maria packs up her things, stepping in sync as you head for the elevator to the private quarters.

“So…” he starts, still processing the whole meeting in his head.

“So, naturally occurring superpowers,” you agree with a disbelieving shake of your head.

He shares your shock, glancing over at the curiously downturned expression on your lips. And here he thought the weirdest thing science had ever turned out was him. But in a world of literal Gods and billionaires with time and money to spend, Steve probably shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was.

“It makes me wonder,” you say as you stop at the metal doors of the elevator, “If this is the first instance of the mutation - if something in their specific genetics can be traced back to this. Or… or if this could be a totally random human mutation.”

The bell dings gently as the doors slide open and the two of you enter.

Steve just shakes his head, “I have no idea.”

You hum in quiet contemplation. The doors swish shut after a moment and Steve presses the button for the appropriate floor before stepping back, eyeing you out of his peripheral. Your curiosity was like a burning ember, he could see it growing by the second and it made him smile - seeing that thirst for answers, for knowledge, so clear on your face.

“They were seemingly random too - not necessarily connected powers or even all that similar really,” you turn to face him, eyes narrowed as you seem to work through everything out loud, “The male prisoner had an increased metabolism and improved thermal homeostasis. And the girl had neuroelectrical interfacing, telekinesis, and mental manipulation.”

Slowly he turns to face you, peering down into your energized eyes with a look of confusion clearly plastered upon his own.

With one glance up at him, you specify, “He moves incredibly fast and she can move things with her mind. The grooves on the floor, the deformed cell bars. It’s kind of unbelievable, right?”

Steve offers a look of consideration as he nods toward the now-opening doors. The two of you exit onto the pristine floor of the personal living quarters for the team.

“Have you ever seen something like this before?” he asks, glancing over at you as the two of you pass the closed door to Dr. Banner's room.

“Not like this. Gods and other immortals, sure. Gamma radiation accidents and one notable serum-enhanced super soldier,” your eyes turn playful as you look over at him - he returns the expression with a smile of his own. “But never naturally occurring human mutation, no.”

“Tony's gonna have a field day,” he sighs, at last, coming to a stop just beside the door to the room the billionaire had forced upon you.

As if he wasn't already deep in the research pool with the scepter. Once Thor returned it to its rightful home, Stark would eagerly be jumping on the opportunity to explore the mutated genome for all its worth.

You make a thoughtful humming sound as you seem to register just where you are now, peering back at the door.

“Hey, uhm,” Steve clears his throat as he looks over at you, a slight blush on his cheeks. “You're going to the party tomorrow night, right?”

That pulls your attention as you look back at him with a gentle smile, “Yeah, he roped me into it. Told me to call up some friends to come along. He wouldn't take no for an answer.”

Steve laughs, “Yeah, that sounds about right for Stark.”

“Doesn't even matter that I have no one to invite along. Honestly, what does he think I do in my spare time to warrant friendships like that?”

The words themself seem disheartening but you're chuckling despite it.

He offers a grin of his own, “Seems to be a mutually shared problem.”

Your eyes flicker up to his, a sparkle of warmth within the depths of your irises.

“Yeah,” you breathe out gently. And then your hand grabs hold of the door handle and you push back with your weight to open it a crack. “Well, maybe I can scour my contacts for someone. And if all else fails, you could always call up Sharon?”

There's a hopeful lilt to your voice, one that Steve, unfortunately, has to dampen.

“She's on assignment right now. Probably won't be stateside for another month.”

Your lips form a gentle ahh, “I'm sure you'll think of someone by then.”

Seeing a chance appearing in front of him, Steve gulps down his anxious nerves. Natasha had said to be blunt after all.

“Or… I could just take… you.”

With a surprised blink, your lips curve up into a breathtaking smile that nearly sends him reeling.

“Sure, Rogers. Though Sam might be a little jealous of me taking his wingman away.”

Relief swims through his belly as he rocks back on his heels, unable to contain his smile, “I'm sure he'll get over it.”

The lab is thrumming with energy when you come to check in on the two scientists who, by the looks of it, haven’t left the room since at least the day before - if not longer. Settling in on one of the spare stools alongside an abandoned workbench, you watch them work - flicking between screens and running computations that are basically incomprehensible to you.

“How may I assist you?”

“Cronus!” you startle as the bot seems to materialize next to you.

Unlike the rest of the Iron Legion, this particular bot has a drawn-on smile on its mouthpiece, crudely done in a lopsided Sharpie scrawl. Along with two wonky curved eyebrows above the visual optics.

“Oh, hey, Your Highness,” Tony calls out, not even looking away from the new set of schematics in front of him.

Bruce gives a little wave of his own.

“No need for assistance,” you inform the drone, watching the digitized glowing eyes seemingly blink before it walks back to the corner of the lab from which it came.

From across the room, you hear the billionaire give a slightly defeated damn it before he looks up and seems to decide that you’re far more interesting - striding across the room until he’s leaning against the workbench next to you.

“Have I mentioned how unnerving those things are?”

He glances back at the bot, “My Legion, you mean?”

You hum in agreement, “I mean, I understand that you gave up the suit and this was the next logical step. But you couldn’t have made them a bit more… friendly?”

His lips form a challenging grin, “I’ll have you know that the Ultron line of toys are currently at the top of everyone's Christmas wishlist. And there’s an anime currently in the works inspired by my Legion. So, maybe it's just you and your slightly outdated ways.”

You blink in confusion, “Anime?”

“Seriously? How long have you been around here?”

With a strangled laugh, you look away, “A few thousand years, give or take. And I’ll have you know that my interests far outreach your capitalist hold on the franchise market.”

Tony stumbles back, a hand held to his heart, “Okay, ouch. I let you into my tower, offer you a room, and you call me a money-hungry capitalist?”

A shrug is all you offer him in return.

He gestures at Bruce with a pleading look in his eyes, looking for backup apparently. But the other scientist merely holds up his hands in a clear sign of not wanting to step into the fray.

“Okay, I’ll play,” he resigns, leaning his elbows on the workbench - watching you with a playful intensity. You can make out each ring under his eyes, the speckles of red veins in his tired expression.

“While I’ve been coming up with more and more exuberantly creative ways to fund this entire group operation, you’ve been doing what exactly?”

Turning on the seat to better address him, you state quite plainly, “Cleaning up SHIELD’s mess.”

“Which we’ve also been doing,” he shakes his head. “My question is: why haven’t you joined us on any of these little adventures?”

Admittedly, you kind of blank for a moment.

It was a legitimate question, considering you were doing nearly the exact same thing for the past year, just on your own. While you knew Steve had been silently tracking his long-lost friend during this time, you also were aware of the many raids he had partaken in with the team.

“I mean, even with this whole scepter business just about wrapped up, there’s still bases and terrorist cells out there. And since you’re already here - ”

“Anonymity,” you answer, suddenly.

Tony blinks, jerking his head back as you slowly and calmly press forward.

“I spent centuries being nothing more than a legend amongst your kind. I could come and go as I pleased. I worked for SHIELD while remaining almost entirely off their records. Yet one instance in New York and suddenly my identity was dragged into the open and now - ”

You gesture vaguely around the lab, “Now, I’m here and a part of a household name. I preferred it when it was just me doing the quiet work behind the scenes and not having my name and image on the news.”

“And lunchboxes and costumes and a few knock-off toys, to name a few other things, right?” Tony’s eyes flash with what you think is meant to be humor.

Your anger simmers and you offer him a tired, half-hearted smile, “It was an easier life when my name was only associated with museum pieces and ancient tales, yes.”

He nods thoughtfully, biting at his lip as he looks between you and Bruce.

“So… it’s a maybe?”

You shove his arm away, good-naturedly, “I’ll see you at your party tonight, Stark. You too, hopefully - ” you call over to Bruce.

The other man quirks his lips into a shy smile, “I’m not sure I have much of a choice in the matter.”

“You don’t!” Tony responds cheerily, eyes flickering over to you as you exit the lab. “Okay, let’s run it again, JARVIS, and see if we can keep the system from overloading this time.”

The party is in full swing now. The drinks have been flowing freely from the bar as comfortable music streams from the speakers. It’s a surprisingly casual affair for Tony’s standards - though the man is dressed in a three-piece suit. There’s a mix of colognes and perfumes and the sharp bitterness of alcohol in the air.

He hasn’t partaken in any of it, in all honesty. He’s on the precipice, waiting for your arrival.

Steve had done his best to hide his disappointment earlier in the day when you informed him that you would have to catch up with him at the party later.

“I’ve got to pick up some friends from the airport,” you had said, almost sheepish when you knocked on the door to his room.

And he had responded with a nonchalant of course, yeah, it’s no problem sort of answer. But now that the party had officially been going on for almost an hour, he couldn’t help but feel an anxious twinge in his side as he kept sweeping the room with his eyes - trying to find you in the crowd.

It’s not that he can’t socialize with the team, the veterans, or the other partygoers. It’s a completely different reason entirely that he keeps seeking you out amongst the celebration.

“So,” Sam knocks his elbow against Steve’s arm. “You find a place in Brooklyn yet?”

He gazes out over the atrium, knowing the well-recycled conversation was just Sam’s attempt at distracting him for another few minutes. While he had never explicitly spoken about his feelings towards you, it seemed it was apparently evident to just about everyone in his inner circle of friends - Sam and Natasha included.

“I’m not sure I can afford a place in Brooklyn.”

It was true. But like he had told you the other night, he didn’t all that mind staying at the Tower. It at least kept him busy when he wasn’t working on the missing person’s case with Sam. Everything had changed after the collapse of SHIELD and Steve hadn’t been particularly interested in going back to square one and attempting his shot at normalcy.

No, joining them on the HYDRA raids had been exactly what he needed.

The other man takes another swig of his drink, “Well, home is home, you know?”

Steve looks at him for a moment before he returns his gaze to the room - eyes not quite seeing the actual location itself. But lost in the beginning of an idea that his mind sometimes liked to dangle in front of him. Images of a possible future that didn’t seem all that unwelcoming - just a little improbable.

It’s only with the loud boisterous sound of Thor’s booming voice that he’s able to focus back on the party itself and, more importantly, on the three women who have just come up the stairs.

It’s like an immediate sucker punch to the gut as he takes you in. He’s not sure if he’s ever actually seen you in a dress before. But what a debut this is.

It’s very… Grecian, he’ll admit. Bathed in soft white fabric and glistening golden embellishments, you’re every bit a goddess as you make your way over to Thor - introducing your guests.

Steve finds himself literally muttering a silent wow to himself, feeling the uptick in his heartbeat and the sudden rush of warmth to his cheeks.

And then he’s clamping his hand on Sam’s shoulder, “Think I need a drink.”

The other man just chuckles into his glass, already knowing exactly where his attention has fallen for the rest of the night.

You can’t help but smile as Thor tugs the taller woman into a tight hug. The shorter of the two immediately backs up before he can grab hold of her.

“You’ve gotten bigger,” she states with an air of disinterest.

He chuckles, patting the other on the shoulder fondly, “Still using the same mystical illusions then?”

Sprite shrugs.

Her disguise is about five inches taller than her actual form and abnormally similar to the airport's gift shop cashier they had passed on the way out to meet you. With dark chestnut-colored hair and a pair of striking green eyes, she looked nothing like her usual self - but that was the entire point, of course.

“We’re trying to keep a low profile,” Sersi says gently, leveling Thor with a look that was filled with the expectation of continued secrecy.

It wasn’t every day two Eternals were invited to a Stark Tower party. But then again, only the two of you knew of their existence in the first place. A well-kept secret indeed.

He makes an understanding ahh sound, nodding your way, “Friends from work, then?”

“Yes, actually,” you tug Sersi’s hand into your own. “We worked together at the Louvre for two years.”

“And at the Acropolis Museum - ” she fills in.

“And the Natural History Museum in D.C. and - ”

“London and New York, yeah. We get it,” Sprite interrupts briskly, her attention drifting over to a young waiter with a tray full of champagne.

Sersi’s expression softens as she looks over at her companion, “And that’s our cue to get a drink. We’ll catch up later.”

She makes a valiant effort to pull Sprite away gracefully to a nice quiet corner while you look upon Thor in his crimson jacket and casually messy smoothed-back hair.

“I half expected to see you surrounded by your kind,” you admit.

He chuckles, eyes raking over the fit of your dress, “While it is no Asgardian revel, I must admit, I quite enjoy the company I have made here on Midgard.”

“Hmmm, I see.”

Your shoulder brushes against his upper arm as the two of you move through the crowd.

A glance across the room has you spotting Steve at the bar, conversing with Natasha and Clint. You want to make your way over to them, but you know how out of place Thor is in the room - much like yourself, honestly. You had never been one for parties, even back on Olympus - and they were frequent there. Not wanting to interrupt your companions' conversation at the bar, you remain with your fellow god.

“And when you speak of good company, I assume you are referring to your good lady? Dr. Foster?”

The way his brow creases as his lips form a thin line makes everything that much more abundantly clear, especially when the God of Thunder attempts to duck out of view to grab hors d'oeuvres from one of the caterers. He pops the caviar cracker in his mouth and immediately blanches, forcing himself to swallow it down and smile.

“Yes, of course. Very good, very… happy,” he nods, hands on his hips.

Taking pity on the poor man, you rest your hand upon his arm, “Odinson. I know you have been here far more often than you’d like to admit - ”

“Well,” he smirks, “Midgard is quite low on daring quests for someone such as myself to partake in. I seek leisure where I can.”

With an unsurprised huff, you say, gently, “If you were here for leisure, as you say, you would not be here with us, I believe.”

His shockingly blue eyes meet yours. An air of long-held familiarity passes between the two of you as the party around you continues on. It’s with a knowing look in your eyes that he has to force his own gaze away, coughing roughly into his fist.

“Ah, advice from the virginal goddess herself. Have you become an expert in the field of relationships, my Lady Athena?”

You release your hold on his arm, shyly rubbing at your own elbow as your eyes flit across the crowd.

“Hardly. But I’ve been around long enough to know these things, Thor. How long will you be away after you return the scepter?”

He sniffs indignantly, “I have been away from my home for a long time indeed. I feel it warrants an extended visit.”

Something in those eyes makes your heart clench, your features softening in intensity as it dawns on you. He was not spending time with Jane Foster because there was no longer a reason to do so. He wanted to be here. He desired to get away from that place and therefore that relationship.

The realization is heartbreaking, so you find yourself asking, “Are you okay?”

The god nearly balks at that, plastering on a very tight smile, “Wh-why would I not be? Come! We should have a drink to celebrate such an accomplishment!”

His arm wraps around your waist in an instant, his large hand covering the middle of your bare back - fingers splayed across your heated skin. If he did not want to ruin the evening with talk of his past love, then you certainly weren’t going to push the topic tonight.

“I swear if it’s anything like the terrible drink your kind used to have back in the day - ”

He beams, looking down at you as the two of you walk over to the railing overlooking the lower levels of the Tower.

“I come bearing only the best for such revelries - ” he grins, pulling an ornate flask from his open jacket, “And only for the closest of allies.”

Flicking the topper off, he holds it out for you. Taking a wary sniff, your eyes nearly bulge as you giggle a nervous sound.

“Cronus, help us all.”

Grabbing hold of the flask, you take a single swig of the fast-burning liquid, sputtering pensively as it runs down your throat. Voice turned hoarse as you wave it back his way, “See? Truly terrible. Your people have no concept of a good drink.”

Thor chuckles, taking a shot of the Asgardian liquor for himself before pocketing the flask once again, “For tonight only - and because I am in the presence of a friend - I shall try not to take personal offense to that.”

You give him a nod in return, eyes blazing with a playful challenge, “Do try that.”

Natasha, for all appearances, is fully healed up. She’s perched on the barstool, sipping on her red-tinted drink, eyes scanning the room when Steve approaches. Clint has a grounding hand on her waist as he talks to a man on the other side of her, though she doesn’t seem to mind the lack of attention. Settling her drink down on the counter, she smiles up at him sweetly.

“Well, well, well. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Steve scoffs a quiet laugh, tucking his hands into his pockets as he glances over at you - your two friends seem to be familiar with Thor, or at least extrovertedly confident enough to greet him with a hug.

“You got cleared to drink?”

Nat waves a dismissive hand, “I’m Russian, this barely counts as alcohol. Though I see you’re not participating.”

He shrugs, eyes flickering back over to the four of you as the conversation with your friends seems to wrap up fairly quickly, leaving you alone with Thor.

“Doesn’t do any good with the serum, you know.”

She makes a soft hum of understanding, taking another sip of her drink as she watches him watching the two of you from across the room.

You were the point of his focus.

The soft draping of your dress seemed perfectly tailored to you, with its flutter sleeves and high neckline. The hem fell just above your knees, and as you turned to walk towards the balcony overlook, Steve felt the sudden tightening of his throat as his eyes fell to your back. It was fully exposed, save for the clinching collar at your neck and the guiding hand of the Asgardian whose fingers were resting far too low for Steve's liking.

Clint’s laughter pulls his attention back over to the bar, as he leans down to whisper something in Nat’s ear before dipping back into the crowd of people. Steve’s focus falls on the arrow-shaped necklace the assassin begins to fiddle with.

“If you were looking for a moment, Captain, now would be a good one.”

Sometimes, he found it unnerving how quickly Natasha could read a person down to their very core. Even after all of his time training and working for SHIELD and the STRIKE team, he had never managed to school his features away like they did. He was probably an open book for her abilities, whether he liked it or not.

With a sigh, he finally looks back over just in time to see Thor’s hand on your bare back, his head lowered down as you clutch something small and silver-colored in your hand. You’re laughing and even across the noise of the room, he can make it out with near clarity.

Natasha slides her finger along the rim of her glass, with a teasing, “Tick, tock.”

Pulling back his shoulders and forcing a purposeful breath from his lungs, Steve begins to weave his way through the crowd. He’s stopped one too many times for his patience, but he gives each person a polite and respectful greeting before apologizing and attempting to continue forward once again.

At last, he spots the bright white of your dress. He can even hear the tail end of your conversation above the low hum of the music playing on the speakers.

“ - probably best if you just... yeah. We’ll speak later.”

And only once he’s made his way through the last few party-goers, does Thor press past him with a tightly-lipped Captain in lieu of a greeting. Steve watches him go for just a moment before he focuses his attention back onto the person he had crossed the floor to see.

Your brow is furrowed and your voice cuttingly vicious as you eye two new strangers beside you.

“What in Cronus’ name are you doing here?”

A man with dark curls and a warm complexion merely rolls his eyes at you, “This is how we’re greeted.”

“Well, what did you expect?” You snip, eyes flashing something dangerous as you round on the taller man. “A hug and a kiss? I mean... you can’t just come here and expect – ”

“A warm welcome?”

Steve’s gaze falls to the shorter of the two – still a hair taller than you of course. His grin is worryingly bright, forced, but not sinister. Steve takes a step forward.

The movement alone drags your attention away from the men and the tension on your face seems to dissipate with relief when your eyes lock in on him.

“Steve,” you plead gently, extending your hand out for him.

Unsure of what exactly he has stepped into, he grips his belt and stares straight ahead at the two visitors – only after giving you a quick glance.

“Captain Rogers,” you say with a hint of salt. “May I introduce my brothers.”

He knows his brows have risen in surprise as he refocuses on the men.

The dark-haired one, with the thin beard, sneers down at them both. While the shorter of the pair, decked out in a plum-colored velvet jacket, offers a more comforting smile. But Steve’s reassurance wains when he reaches out and grabs hold of your shoulder – trying to steer you away from him.

“Pleasure, of course. But we need to speak with our dear sister.”

You grip the man’s hand and yank his wrist back in a clear warning.

“And if you decided to seek me out in such a public place, clearly you give little care to who may be around to hear what you intend to say.”

A very clear I’m staying where I am. Steve almost wants to smile with pride as he crosses his arms over his chest and gazes down at you. Not a sign of fear or trepidation lies on your face when you shoot him a quick look.

The taller of the two sighs. Dropping his arms, he reaches into his wheat-colored pant pocket and pulls out something that glints in the ambient lighting. While he takes hold of the silver chain, a small locket slips to the bottom – dangling in the air beneath his fingers.

“A gift.”

Steve’s eyes instinctively trail to your face – curious what your reaction will be. But your expression remains resolutely blank.

Flipping the locket into the palm of his hand, your brother carefully flicks open the silver cover to reveal a gentle flickering orange flame.

If he were able to look away from it, Steve would have seen the near-gasp of surprise on your lips.

“You’ve been away, ‘Thena,” your other brother says gently. “For far too long.”

With a twist of his wrist, the locket snaps shut and Steve’s gaze rises to the dark eyes of the other man.

“A message, I give to you, dear sister. Goddess of Wisdom.”

Extending his hand out, the locket dangling precariously between the two of you, Steve watches as your fingers carefully wrap around the item – slipping the chain from your brother’s fingers until the piece of jewelry is safely secured in your own hand.

Leaning in close, ducking his head down to almost your ear, the taller of the two harshly whispers, “Uti prudenter.”

When he pulls back, your eyes harden and Steve swears a flicker of gold shines there for just a moment. Staring up at the man in question, you ask, “What have you seen?”

“Nothing but what is to come.”

You snort indignantly, tossing the locket in your hand for a moment of thought.

“How ever helpful, Hermes.”

He crosses his arms, sparing you a calculated look.

“I’m not the god of visions, am I?”

“Only a carrier of precious flames, is that right?”

Holding out his palm, as if to say well, give it back then. You hold the locket closer to your chest, turning your shoulder toward Steve, making the man smirk.

“As I thought.”

With a hmph, you watch as he disappears through the small crowd before descending the stairs. Your other brother watches on for a moment before giving you a small, albeit sheepish, smile.

“Be careful.”

At that, your features soften a hair. Raising a brow at him, you ask, “Aren’t I always?”

A sharp laugh escapes from his lips as he steps forward to wrap you into a quick, tight, hug. One that you quickly accept.

“Never.”

Without a parting word, he too follows the steps of your other sibling and heads down the stairs. You stare on for a moment longer, glancing down at the locket in your hand before at last you turn those brilliant eyes toward him.

“Family reunions, am I right?”

He can’t help but chuckle at that.

With a soft sigh, you lean against the banister behind you, encouraging him to do the same as he falls into place on your left. His eyes have a hard time trailing away from that silver-chained locket though, still sitting in your palm.

“They never travel this way,” you explain. “Must be important. Probably on word from the Fates.”

His curiosity piques ever more, but one question seems to fall into place at the forefront of his mind.

“And that flame... was that...?”

Your eyes lift from the necklace to meet his pointed gaze.

“The Promethean Flame, yes. Or an extension of it, at least.”

Giving another sigh, your fingers pull open the latch before you tilt your head to the side. Your hair cascades over your right shoulder as you pull the chain around your neck – clasping the lock together – before you gaze down at the heavy locket now resting against your bosom.

“You know that when I’m away from Olympus for too long, my powers weaken. My body grows more prone to suffering as a typical human would. This, I imagine - ” you take hold of the plain-faced locket, staring at it as though it’s a puzzle to answer, “May keep me from experiencing too great an injury.”

Releasing a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, Steve says, “For your sake, let’s hope so.”

Your warm eyes trail upward to meet his gaze and a curved smile befalls your sweet lips.

There’s a faint feeling of warm inebriation now running through his veins – having partaken in one or two sips from Thor’s special flask. He uses that reason, and that alone, for the lazy arm he has resting on the couch behind you. His whole body flushes as you turn your head toward him – laughing at something Clint had said just a moment ago. Your left shoulder brushes against his bare forearm and he grins in return – not having heard a single sound above the ringing of your laughter.

“Absolutely not,” Clint’s saying – twirling a pair of drumsticks on the floor beside Maria.

Tony raises a brow in return, “Why would I lie about that? No, I had a rep from Ben & Jerry’s literally here before this whole scepter business blew up. They want to make a whole line of flavors around us.”

Your head lolls to the side, a tired smile tugging at your lips. He can feel the gentle bobbing of your pointed heel against his calf, though you don’t seem to notice as you glance back at the man to your right – saying something soft and apparently funny in nature to Thor who barks a laugh in return.

“What’d ya say, Cap?” Tony grabs his attention. “Up for a little rendezvous with apple pie and other such iconic flavors.”

Steve just shakes his head in return.

“ - yes, a solid rum flavor would do you well,” he hears you say to the other God.

“And for you?” Thor muses playfully. “What shall it be?”

Before you can even conjure up a reply, Steve finds himself saying, “Honey.”

Your sharp gaze turns to him and immediately a smile blossoms across your features.

“Honey, strawberries, and a touch of cream. You know me well, Rogers.”

Steve shrugs in return, secretly pleased with himself for anticipating such an answer and for turning your attention away from the other man for just a moment more.

Somehow talk of ice cream flavors and brand deals gives way to a more interesting topic of conversation amongst the group in only a matter of minutes.

“But it’s a trick,” Clint bemoans.

Thor smiles in a pleased fashion as he passes along the silver flask from you and then onto Steve who quickly knocks back another shot of the fiery liquid.

“No, no, it’s much more than that.”

He can feel the curl of your fingers around his hand when he hands back the container and his eyes fall to the small patch of uncovered skin above your knee – your white dress having risen slightly higher as you lean back against the warm cushions.

“Ah, whoever he be worthy shall have the power!” Clint exclaims, holding his hands out toward the hammer resting on the coffee table. “Whatever, man. It’s a trick!”

“Please, be my guest.”

Thor gestures at Mjolnir and silence seems to befall the group for just a moment as everyone’s attention pinpoints on the infamous hammer. There’s a second of silence as Clint seems to take in the words.

“Come on. Really?”

“Yeah.”

To his right, he can hear Rhodey sigh, “Oh, this is gonna be beautiful.”

Even you turn your attention to the archer now as he approaches the legendary weapon.

“You know I’ve seen this before, right?”

At Thor’s nod, he grips the handle and attempts to pull. But it doesn’t even budge a millimeter as he grunts with the effort. With an incredulous laugh, he draws his hand away, shaking his head.

“I still don’t know how you do it!”

“Smell the silent judgment?”

Glancing across the room, Clint offers his hand out to the billionaire.

“Please, Stark. By all means.”

With his typical air of arrogance, Tony lifts from the couch beside Rhodey and plucks open the button on his suit jacket. Steve leans back beside you and watches with glistening amusement as he rounds the table.

“Never one to shrink from an honest challenge. It’s physics.”

He takes a moment to wrap the leather strap around his wrist, preparing his hold as he looks toward the God in question.

“Right, so, if I lift it, I then rule Asgard?”

Thor, unsurprisingly calm, responds, “Yes. Of course.”

Steve covers his mouth with his fist, already anticipating the likely outcome.

With two solid tugs and a few bitten grunts, Tony releases the strap – a sudden look of determination overcoming his features, as he says, “I’ll be right back.”

As he wanders off, much to the hooted badgering from Clint and Rhodey, Steve catches the familiar look you share with Thor. You lean into the other’s side, nudging his arm with your elbow as you whisper something too soft for even the super soldier’s ears.

Arriving back with a piece of a suit, Tony attempts the feat again. And, when that ultimately fails, he has Rhodes following after him to grab a part of War Machine’s armor. That attempt also fails – rather spectacularly as your sweet laughter fills his ears.

There’s also an attempt made by Bruce and Sam. The latter grunts with the effort before ducking his head down with a laugh.

“Man, I don’t know how you do this.”

And then he feels the gentle pressure of your arm against his elbow. When his gaze trails away from Sam, he meets your heated expression.

“Steve?” you softly goad.

What more can he do than roll back his sleeves and rise to the challenge?

“Go ahead, Steve. No pressure,” Tony drawls, still in defeat over his own failed attempt.

Sam gives him a warm slap to the shoulder as he passes.

“Come on, Cap,” Barton encourages.

Staring down at the hammer, he fixes his gaze upon the engraved runic wording. Physics had failed Tony, sheer force of will failed Clint. Maybe if he just...

Wrapping his hands around the handle, he offers you a quick glance – catching your watchful stare – before he pulls back with all of his might. He swears, for just a second, that he can feel it budge, but when he looks down... nothing.

Holding his hands up in defeat, a smile on his face, he catches the biting laugh from Thor as the other man shakes his head.

“Nothing!”

Steve presses past the two of you before taking his seat once more. You give him a solidary pat on the shoulder and a gently murmured tough luck, Cap. Someone clears their throat and Banner gestures his hands towards Natasha.

“And... Widow?”

Realization crosses her features as she leans back with a too-obvious smile.

“Oh, no, no. That’s not a question I need answered.”

Drawing their attention to the last remaining member of the team, Steve’s eyes fall upon you. Too busy watching the moment unfold with Romanoff, you’re suddenly staring at the group of them before also laughing – holding your hands up in pure dismissal.

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” Tony goads in an instant. “If there was anyone who could manage a feat of godly power...”

“Out of the question.”

This time, it’s Thor’s daunting timber that speaks.

Steve knows he’s not the only one curious by the sudden change in format as all eyes seem to fall on the God himself. Thor stiffens, fingers clutching his glass as he peers over at you for just a second.

“That’s not something that can be done,” you say in slow calculated words. “We will never wield one another’s weapons.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Tony immediately inquires.

Your nervous expression pauses on Steve for just a moment, as if needing strength for whatever conversation was suddenly unraveling. Your knee presses against his outer thigh and he immediately pushes back in return.

“Can’t, obviously,” Thor sniffs, gazing at the contents of his amber drink before taking a healthy drink of it. And then his dark eyes fall upon you, “Show them.”

Sparing the other God a heated glance, you stand up at once – your dress falls back in place with a careful draping of soft white fabric as you brush past Thor’s spread knees – taking your spot before the hammer.

Shooting a look at the accompanying group, you reach your hand out towards the weapon in question – just for a sharp bluish-white zap of lightning to arch out and singe the end of your fingertips. Pulling away with a sharp hiss of discomfort, you bring your digits up to your lips and gently suck at the burned flesh.

“See?” Thor drawls.

And then a light seems to glow in your eyes, a new wave of confidence, as you say with a teasing tone, “Fair is fair.”

Tossing your hand up into the air – a ray of golden light stretches down from the ceiling as your shield materializes in your hand. You hold the Aegis close to your side – looking ever so much like the fictional Goddess of legend that you were.

Steve’s fully, hopelessly, entranced.

Thor actually shrinks away from the object in question – digging himself further into the corner of the couch cushions as though he could vanish into them.

“No mortal man can wield such an item and I do not wish to try.”

Clint barks a laugh, “Come on! Like the lady said, fair is fair. Own up!”

The shield seems surprisingly light in your hand – though even Steve knows that appearances are entirely deceiving, having been in a position to use it on more than one occasion.

But with keen interest, everyone watches as the God of Thunder slowly rises to his feet. His hand reaches out, then pulls away, before he grits his teeth and finally goes for the strap of the inner handle.

You slip your hand away until you’re just barely holding it up at all. Thor’s fingers curl alongside yours for just a moment before you pull away entirely and –

BANG

“Fuck!” Barton hollers.

Thor screeches as the shield connects with the floor – splintering the wood – as the Aegis just barely grazes the toe of his shoe. He leaps back as if burned, though clearly he suffers from nothing more than burnt pride.

But Steve’s attention falls on the beaming smile on your face.

“Anyone for a go?” you ask cheerfully.

“Absolutely not.”

“Enough bruised ego for one day.”

And then your eyes cross over the group to meet the super soldier’s, a knowing glint in your warm expression as you ask, “Steve?”

Returning the grin, and feeling a bit prideful in the fact that he presses past a somber-looking Thor, Steve leans down and pulls the Aegis free from it’s temporary holding place in Tony’s floor – offering the shield back to you with little more than an uncomfortable twinge of discomfort from the sheer weight of the item.

“Thank you,” you smooze, taking hold of the shield once again and allowing it to lift up into the air and back to its home of origin.

There’s a moment that passes, between the two of you then, where a silent understanding almost occurs, but it’s immediately lost to the sharp ringing of a mechanical sound across the room. Steve’s hands fly to his ears as he cringes away from the noise.

Just as fast as the ringing occurred, it’s gone in an instant. But the sound of something metal upon the floor grabs everyone’s attention. Steve feels himself stepping closer to your side as you all look on at the metal bot that staggers out of the lab.

“Worthy? How could you be worthy? You’re all killers.”

He takes a breath, unsure of what exactly he’s seeing, but trusting it no more than he did SHIELD or any other faction he had found himself up against in the past three years.

“Stark.”

“Jarvis.”

“I’m sorry, I was asleep,” The mangled bot continues, glancing around – almost unseeing – at the room. “Or I was a dream.”

Tony’s pulled out a device and is speaking into it, but Steve can hardly look away from the sight before him – before them all. As the bot twists and turns, unsteady on its feet. Wires hang from its body like dangling tendons and veins, it holds a hand to its head as if in pain.

“- there was this terrible noise. And I was tangled in... in... strings. Had to kill the other guy,” the bot waves its hand in fleeting reference. “He was a good guy. But down in the real world, we’re faced with ugly choices.”

“Who sent you?” Thor demands.

The electronic voice of Tony Stark then plays out for them all to hear.

“I see a suit of armor around the world.”

Beside him, Athena barely breathes out, “Ultron.”

The bot fixes her with a glowing blue-eyed look and Steve stiffens.

“In the flesh. Or... no, not yet. Not this chrysalis. But I’m ready. I’m on a mission.”

Hill clocks the hammer on her gun, staring down the bot, “What mission?”

“Peace in our time.”

And then, as if fixing its look on one person in particular, the bot’s thrusters come to life and it surges forward – hand open – as it grabs hold of Tony and careens out the window.

Steve lurches forward, rushing to the shattered glass as the malfunctioning robot grips the billionaire by the neck over the bustling city street many stories below them all. Tony digs into the arms of the creature, his feet dangling, kicking uselessly for purchase.

Turning his attention toward the group now circling the open space, the bot seems to sneer.

“Look at you. The very ideal of peace-keeping. But what are you really?”

The bot soars closer, not enough to be within full reach. And Steve knows that any attempt at disarming it will bring Tony’s safety into immediate question. He can do nothing more than stare on in disturbed wonder as the robot begins lecturing them.

“Your very existence is a threat to peace. Agent Romanoff and Barton, the two gallivanting criminals.”

Its mechanical eyes rove across the group, landing on the person standing to his left. Your chin juts out in defiance. The robot chortles.

“And the Gods from another realm. How much destruction can you cause with just a flick of your mighty finger? Of course, your faith in humanity’s greatest threat is of grave concern to any being with a twinge of intelligence.”

A pointed metal finger singles out Doctor Banner, who shrinks away from them all – nervous glances shared – as he ducks his head down.

“Captain America, himself.”

Steve’s hardened gaze refuses to be moved by the bot as it focuses all of its attention on him.

“So locked in your ideals, Captain. But at what cost? Unwilling to compromise for something you believe in. Endangering the entire planet at the cost of a ghost.”

A surge of discomfort lashes up inside of him and Steve can’t help but look away – if only to catch your equally concerned eye.

“And you - ” At last, the bot jerks Tony away – giving the man no secure hold beside the arm extending him out to his doom. “Anthony Stark. A man so obsessed with making amends for his past, that you end up causing more harm than good.”

Tony struggles, his face turning red as he puffs out desperate breaths.

The bot turns toward them with the most menacing look a robot could ever give.

“This group – this team. You put the world at large at risk. Every argument, every guilt trip, and jab will lead to your failure. Where I was created to see the world as it is. How it should be. The ultimate global peacekeeper.

In an instant, the wall behind the bar explodes as three similar robots shoot out towards the group.

Tony is all but tossed toward them, landing in a curled heap beside Rhodey and Clint – panting out a worrying series of breaths before he manages to stand and call out to the Legion’s operating system.

Gunshots ring out, the heavy metallic clunk of Thor’s hammer making contact with something equally dense, shattered glass, and the shrill cry of Helen Cho meets his ears as he pushes forward. Leaping over the glass banister, Steve lands atop a silver bot, yanking back on its head with all his might as it tries to slam him into the wall.

It succeeds, with the second blow, as he tumbles down onto the floor – broken glass shards dig into his palm as he tries to steady himself.

“Cap!”

Sam’s voice rings out across the room as a shield is tossed his way.

Using a chair for a weapon, you manage to knock away another bot from Dr. Cho’s reach – sending it back into Thor’s hammer. Steve swivels in time to catch the shoulder joint of another robot, bringing the shield down on its back with some relief as the bot splutters out electrical shocks before ultimately disengaging.

Looking up from the remnants of the mayhem, his chest heaving and his hands gripped into tight fists, Steve watches as Tony takes a heavy step back from the initial mangled-looking bot as it presses further into the room.

“That was dramatic.”

Steve spares you a glance as he tightens his grip on the shield.

“I’m sorry, I know you mean well. But this... this team will never work. You will be humanity’s downfall. You want to protect the world, but you don’t want it to change. How is humanity saved if it’s not allowed to... evolve?”

Glancing down at one of its fallen comrades, the bot kicks the side of its head – the steel faceplate gives way, revealing the wires and mechanisms that lie underneath.

“With these? These puppets?”

It looks back upon them all.

“There’s only one path to peace,” it stares at Tony then. “The Avengers’ extinction.”

And then the bot shatters with the might of Thor’s hammer.

“I had strings, but now I’m free...” The bot drowns for just a moment longer before its lights dim and the entire thing grows silent.

Stepping forward, Steve stares down at the last remaining pieces of the mangled robot before his full fury turns toward the billionaire resting on the glass steps with another torn-apart robot beside him.

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#steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel fan fic #series: shameless wonder #my fic

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lapetitechatonne · 1 year

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Slept on Ships P1: Space Princess

Slept on Ships: Space Princess; Silent Jasmines hello!! so after taking a look at the very long Batpham shipping chart and seeing so many slept on ship dynamics, i decided to start a series all about highlighting romantic and platonic dynamics that---in my professional opinion---deserve more love. i'll be starting with the first dp/dc ship i created: Space Princess.

Space Princess: Dani Phantom/Mar'i Grayson

Relevant Background

so, in general, if you're not knee deep in the DC Fandom, you might now know who Mar'i Grayson, aka Nightstar, is. Mar'i Grayson is the daughter of Dick Grayson, aka Nightwing, and Koriand'r, aka Starfire, from Earth-22. she appears in the Kingdom Come series, where she has her own issue and everything! she's shown as protective of her family, like her father, and just as strong-willed as her mother.

if you'd like more info on Mar'i here's a like to the wiki article: Mar'i Grayson (Earth-22)

fun fact: in Kingdom Come, Dick and Kori are actually divorced, while in most fanfic, people portray them as together. Mar'i is also part of the Teen Titans on her earth, along with Lian Harper and Irey West.

in this post i'll be reference a few head canons such as; Dani being considered a Princess in a Ghost King Danny au and Dani possibly having an ice core (we don't know what core she has in canon.)

Why is the dynamic interesting?

they are prime Sun and Moon couple energy

Mar'i who lives her life in the sun as a public figure, her powers fuled by the sun and just as bright as her, while Dani hides in the shadows of society, lurking. giving Dani and ice core adds an extra layer of opposites.

they are equal parts soft sapphic girls, and battle hardened heroes. they're both incredibly capable political figures (in a Ghost King Danny Au) who always have to put up a front, they have to be the perfect leaders their kingdoms need them to be. they would understand each other in ways that other people couldn't

i also imagine them bonding over being the child of very famous/rich parents.

they also have colorful girlfriend and grunge girlfriend vibes.

Dani deserves to run Tameran like a fortune five hundred company while Mar'i is off being a superhero. the dynamic works strangely well for them.

Dick and Kori would love Dani, and if Mar'i doesn't marry her they're adopting her

Mar'i can be scary when she wants to, just like her mom. Dani thinks it's very hot.

Mar'i inherits her mother's height, which makes her both taller and stronger than Dani, and Dani would love it.

i like to imagine Dani having purple eyes or powers later down the road (since Vlad's are pink and Danny's are green/blue) which would make them almost opposites. it could be a fun story device to use.

A lot of people compare Mar'i to her mother, but realistically, i think she would be a lot like her dad's family, specifically Tim. it would be fun to explore the dynamics between Mar'i and Tim as niece and uncle, and they dynamic between Mar'i and Damian as sort of siblings (yes, i am a 'Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne's dad' fan). it could be prime real estate for a little bit of Danny/Damian or Dan/Tim or Jazz/Cass on the side.

Mar'i inherited her mom/dad's anger, and he Uncle Tim's ability to compartmentalize her feelings until she breaks. enough said.

through Mar'i, and by extension the batfam, Dani learns what real love looks like. she finally understands how abusive Vlad was to her. this could be in the context of a Vlad trying to redem himself, or a Vlad trying to manipulate Dani back into his life, but now she knows better.

with how much Mar'i hung around Raven as a kid, it would be interesting if Mar'i knew that Dani was not normal before everyone else. maybe Mar'i even knows a little bit of magic.

Some Prompt Ideas

a photographer and model au

Dani joins the Teen Titans and meets Nightstar

Vlad and Bruce are business rivals, but neither Dani or Mar'i particularly care and get together anyways.

Mar'i sees a clip of Dani in her ghost form with her green powers and thinks she's Tameranian. Mar'i channels her inner Uncle Tim and goes all detective to find Dani.

Dani is a mechanic and Mar'i is a student who refuses to get her very old car replaced.

Mar'i gets lost in the Zone after the destruction of her universe. She had no idea what to do or where to go. Dani finds her, and together they traverse worlds they were never meant to see.

Fic Recs

(i will admit the second one is self-promotion but i'm working with a small pool of fics lol)

Our Love Will Last Us by foldingfacets (READ THE TAGS)

Dani fell in love with the hot girl who watched her smash her skateboard into a dude without care. Little did she know the girl saw her first and fell in love faster. Maybe, just maybe, Dani doesn't have to be alone anymore. Maybe Mar'i would stay.

Can I have this Dance? by petitechatonne

When Dani goes to a gala with Sam, originally intent on keeping her friend company, she meets someone who sweeps her off her feet. Literally.

Playlists

Pintrest Boards

this paring has the ability to be cute and horrifyingly angsty at the same time, with a good helping of family chaos on the side!!! i will admit i'm quite bias about this one as the first ship i really made, but i also think they have the potential to have interesting and complex stories. there aren't enough sapphic pairings in the dp/dc fandom and yes, i am trying to single-handedly change that. join the revolution today!!!

-- find the wonder in creating. love, Kate💗

#slept on ships #kate rambles #dpxdc #space princess ship #dani fenton #mar'i grayson #dani fenton x mar'i grayson #danielle phantom #batfam #Spotify #playlists #aestheitcs #pintrest boards

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constantlymisspelled · 9 months

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Tarre Vizsla - Fan Canon

It’s of no coincidence to me that the Modern Star Wars lore would have us believe that Manda’lor Vizsla’s time occurs 1051 BBY as it simply proves that they haven’t even bothered to open a wiki article on Mandalorians to fact-check themselves.

At the time of 1051 BBY, old Star Wars lore had claimed that as the era of Manda’lor the Uniter, who had saved their home from being completely destroyed by the suspected biological weapon, the water based Blue Shadow Virus. Considering how much of Mandalore was destroyed at that time, and that in the era of Manda’lor the Uniter, the Republic had recovered from the virus and had begun to heal, the fact Mandalore was so targeted creates the notion that the virus was some kind of ill-fated bio weapon. The truth of that is unknown, but what is known is that the time of 1051 BBY was a bad time to be a Mandalorian. Only a tenth of the population survived, and that is the conservative estimate. Even if one removes Manda’lor the Uniter, the existence of the Blue Shadow Virus at this time (which is a canon occurrence in the Clone Wars as well) weakens the idea of Manda’lor Vizsla occurring so late in history, so they must be from an earlier time.

Skip back to the era of the Sacking of the Jedi Temple, and you have a whole new problem. Tarre Vizsla can’t have existed before this time, simply because the wars leading up to the Sacking were between the Republic, and both Mandalore, and the Sith (with Mandalore being the focus of the Republic, and the Sith the focus of the Jedi - roughly speaking, although conflict was had between all factions during this tremulous period) and that creates issues, with Manda’lor Vizsla being both a Mandalorian and a Jedi. Considering that is literally what they are best known for being.

That puts them occurring at a time before 1051 BBY, but after 3760 BBY, and that is a great deal of time to cover.

But why must Tarre Vizsla have existed before 1051, you ask? Well… you see, the Republic and the Jedi committed this terrible war crime called ‘orbitally bombarding a currently peaceful populace that you had a standing truce with out of fear that they might, perhaps, maybe, feel like attacking you first.’ Great job, guys, now the Mandalorians can never forgive, and never forget. If they weren’t going to attack you before, well they sure are now!

Mind you, the Mandalorians of the Crusades and Neo Crusades and perhaps even earlier, had been pretty fucked up, but the point of Manda’lor the Uniter was that they fixed a great deal of that. As should have Tarre Vizsla, if they were born before this event - which, they had to have been, to even exist wearing armour. That means the Republic and the Jedi annihalated a currently unarmed, peaceable culture out of their own fear for actions that the living, at that time (1000 years difference between the events of Knights of the Old Republic games and the destruction of Mandalore - that is a long ass time, even for generational memory) hadn’t even witnessed.

So, between 3000-1000 BBY… that’s well over 2000 years that Tarre Vizsla could have existed in. Hell, there were multiple orders of Mandalorian Jedi in that time, surely they were a part of at least one of them. Additionally, the darksabre was donated, by old Clan Vizsla, to the Temple, after Tarre died.

That means, considering that no other mention of the darksabre in Mandalorian history exists outside of Tarre Vizsla, with the next wielder literally being Tor Vizsla, the creator of modern Death Watch himself, that means that the Jedi Temple was broken into after the Dral Haran (the burning of Mandalore and its once arable worlds) and frankly, as much as I find considering someone leader by right of fancy sword, I can not blame the Vizslas for stealing it back.

Not after such a betrayal. I’m sure Tarre Vizsla is furious that their weapon is now ‘the sign of Kings,’ but I don’t think they mind that it was robbed from the Temple. Nothing justifies the near eradication of a people out of fear. That’s the point. It is even the point of Jaster Mereel’s break from the ideals of the Mandalorians of old. This concept is what the Clan Wars are about - why should a Jedi relic decide the Mandalorian future.

Now, that doesn’t mean that modern Mandalorians aren’t ill-informed - they probably are. Many Mandalorians have probably been grasping at straws to justify their existence and way of life to each other after the Dral Haran. That doesn’t mean we can ignore that it is a lie. The darksabre isn’t the sign of kings, the leadership is.

[any additional thoughts on this topic? Feel free to spam me down below, or link me to someone who has discussed it before. I think it’s a major hole in much of the writing, but that’s just my nerd ass talking.]

#tarre vizsla #star wars #mandalorian culture #mandalorians #Mandalorian clan wars #Mandalorian civil wars #mando'ade #fandom #fanon #fan canon #headcanon #the darksaber #Manda’lor #manda’lor tarre vizsla #let me know what you think #Mandalorian history #mandalorian clans

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lucky-draws · 8 months

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scholarly article: maria silent hill.

uhhmm i feel like ive got a lot of maria thoughts that have been floating in my head for ages and they need to escape captivity. this isn't structured analysis though this is just me trying to explain why i like her in a rambling and disorganised manner. (and sort of hoping it might help me to do some art or something.)

the obvious thing that makes maria such an interesting character is that she's not Real...she's the product of james' imagination (at least, that's one interpretation..) ...she's an idea, a symbolism, a hallucination, a ghost, whatever. but in born from a wish, you get to play as her, you get to hear her thoughts, you experience her and she feels as "real" as any other playable character, and it's like. its just so so good, because she's a self-aware unalive girl and there's so much to explore regarding her sense of self, and her sense of identity. like.

she has no past, no memories. or does she? does she have mary's memories, or tastes, or habits, or was she "born" as a blank slate? there's so many different ways to think of her, but in the case of her being a product of james' mind as a kind of idealised version of mary/expression of his sexual repression, i like to think that some of james' desires manifest in her, like maybe she has this kind of restless energy, a restless hunger/desire that she can't really control or finds it hard to suppress. idk its hard to articulate. ( listen to sister of night by depeche mode if you like because that is a song that makes me think hoh....this is maria ! )

and the whole thing of her knowing that she only exists in james mind/because of james. she tries to cling on to him, tries to convince him that "i'm always here for you, james!" because she knows that as a figment of his imagination, if he decides he doesn't want her anymore, she will just cease to exist. james is her "creator" basically. she's at his mercy.which is a horrible and tasty dynamic. and i just enjoy the whole thing of can she break free of him; can she break free of her connection to him, to mary, can she develop thoughts and feelings and desires that are entirely her own. could she become a "real" person. does she want to? she knows she's a ghost; but when she decides not to kill herself, is that out of a desire to live or resignation to the fact that she can't die? she's an incredibly lonely character.

(also if you've ever seen tarkovskys solaris or read the book maybe you will understand me when i compare her to the character of hari i.e. an apparition/hallucination who possibly becomes/believes she becomes real. idk. unalive girls who become alive even though its sort of not possible. i just enjoy them. )

i also have a very specific sort of canon-divergence flavour of idea related to the rebirth ending and in a sort of maria x mary way; my vague imagining is that james succeeds in bringing mary back to life, through the ancient Powers of the town or whatever. but there's a catch, so to speak; maybe the town demands that for a life to be reborn, a life has to be taken, and so james um. conveniently for shipping purposes. dies. but mary lives, and so does maria, because the mysterious and tricky town considers her to be inseperable from mary/kind of the same person, so they both end up alive and in silent hill. which opens up so many issues like. how does maria come to terms with looking at someone who is her copy (and vice versa.).

does mary even want to be alive? maybe she isn't "properly" alive; maybe she's just a ghost like maria. maybe james isn't really dead; maybe they're both existing as products of both his imagination and the town's influence; either way, now there's two unalive girls in an empty, monster-filled town. and it's like do they hate each other are they just sad ghosts together do they have gay sex sometimes we just dont know. i wanted/still kind of want to write fic about this idea in some form or other but so far i just haven't really managed to find time or braincells but maybe i still can at some point.

of course, there are other ways of interpreting maria; i've seen the theory that actually, she's the product of mary's desires; she's who mary wants to be, an idealised mary who isn't sick. and maybe she felt some kind of repression or opression being with james. and it certainly fits the "born from a wish" title very well; a wish to be healthy, a wish to be free. who knows. that idea is equally tasty and fascinating, really, but i only have room in my tiny mind for one interpretation so im kind of just leaning for now towards her being born from james' mind intstead . so uhm.

conclusion: she's just so so fascinating to me and she rotates in the back of my mind 24/7. i love sh2 and i looove born from a wish its sooo interesting to be able to play as someone like maria.

also she's sexy .

the end.

#silent hill #sh2 #maria silent hill #this is so long SORRY LOL #just trying to write down my thoughts and understandings of her rly

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scarsbloodandleather · 1 year

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had this in the drafts for a LONGGG ASS TIME:,,,

i just stayed up all night thinking about trans dean!!! (hbo dean) and wrote an approximate 5 page essay of my thoughts!!! (written by a transmasc)

(just on how dean is trans while keeping majority of the plot is the same, but also better than canon..)

Starting at the beginning. born Deanna. Dean always wanted to present more masculine. as a little kid always wanted to play with the boys stuff and dress in daddys clothes not mommys. in the first scene of him holding baby Sammy, it’s very much possible that he could still look pretty much the same considering the popularity of bowlcuts in young kids especially amongst little girls at that time. After Marys death, john never knew how to shop for girls clothing, so Dean just got the most basic looking clothes, already making him slide into that masculine nature. He probably grew out his hair after Mary died for a while (because of johns inability to take care of his kids and give them regular haircuts), until lets say 6?? when Dean figured out how to use scissors on his hair. John is unfazed, like as long as it doesn’t get in the way, and monsters cant grab deans hair(idk, things like that)

Bobby is the first to figure out Dean is trans. obviously. he pays more attention to the kids than john does. Dean just acts like a boy, thinks he’s a boy, though still being technically a girl. He’s complained before to Bobby about wanting to be a boy and hates being seen as/called a “dyke” or a “tomboy” by classmates and teachers. Dean doesnt think anything is wrong with expressing those emotions, still being just a young kid.

Around 8?9? Dean end up just straight up telling john he thinks he’s actually a boy and john couldnt care less tbh, trans men were nearly invisible to society at that time, especially to someone like john who probably grew up under a rock about those things more than anyone. John probably just somehow believed what dean said.. but in a twisted fucked up way… In Johns head Dean is now “a boy with feminine parts, and that is not right, you cant be a man and feminine.” (something like that) So John double time forces hyper masculinity upon dean much too early, as a compensation for anything possibly non-masculine about dean. Trans men are not a concept in johns mind and he doesnt care at all what it could mean other than Dean just being fucked up. This ideology weighs heavily into Dean’s trauma and daddy issues. Especially when john has angry drunk outbursts of ridiculing Dean for the way he is, doing things like deadnaming and misgendering Dean on purpose.

John obviously didnt know or care about anything gender confirming beyond, “I have a son, I buy boy clothes, it’s easier in so many ways having two sons now.” Bobby was the one who fully supported and understood dean and tried to do everything he could to understand deans situation and help him with the transition.

also. no one really knew of john as a hunter at the start. so its easy for john to switch to saying he has two sons, without causing problems.

Puberty for Dean would fall around 1990/91. By that time hormone blockers were already a thing available for kids who had puberty too early, [BUT amongst my research on hormone blockers for trans people I couldn’t find when That became a common practice, and when or where it became easy(ish) to get such treatment without being denied or hatecrimed in some way...] (will have to do more research on some subjects, I still have several books and articles I need to go through) However, I do know testosterone was actually an accessible thing around the 90s for trans men(ofc i still cant find what the age is for being aproved to start hrt unfortunately).

But, I believe, thanks to Bobby’s cunning schemes, he can get what Dean wants/needs in an easy way (ex; lying about Dean’s age or gender[saying he’s intersex or a male with a hormone deficiency], stollen medical prescription forms, etc)

So maybe, most of Deans life he is stealth to most, (even if he doesnt get testosterone until later in life, there are multiple accounts of trans men more than fooling a vast majority of people into thinking theyre cis, even when literally having sex with women believe it or not(ex; Brandon Teena/Boys Don’t Cry film, a popular 50s gospel singer i forgot the name of, much more) Dean is definitely super crafty in canon so he is always finding ways to pass.

Sam knowing Dean is trans makes sense(even if he doesnt have a word for it at first) considering how close they are as siblings. And I think funnily enough he might not even know Dean is “trans” until he attends a gsa class in college(bonus: Sam is he/she/they nonbinary in my hc and they find out that too)

[Side note, because of genes*, it’s very possible for an afab in the winchester family to be up to 5’10(lets say dean is 5’9 though). He wears those 1 1/2 inch heeled boots he does in canon (funny how he’s canonically trans coded sm), with shoe inserts on top of that and, boom. easily 5’11-6’0. yet, he is still more than four inches shorter than his younger brother.(idk i think sam should chill like maybe he can just be 6’2or3 in hbo, bc *john is still 6’1or2, and mary’s family also has tall men*)]

Moving on. According to the timeline dean discovering girls (and boys) happens next at 12/13 (pls help i’m on the aro spec and dk the normal age you get crushes)

but since we already know john is even more strict about Dean’s masculinity than he would be with someone whos amab (notice john canonically is less forcing of masculinity upon sam... i wonder why....) Well in saying that, here comes the intense homophobia. Dean cannot like men. “thats for girls. and Dean said hes actually a man, and I cant let dean be feminine in any way” or some bullshit like that.

Somewhere in the future, before Dean turns 17, john is “worried” about deans possible attraction to men. Sends him on the nun hunt by himself. It’s a big step especially for Dean being afab and john still seeing him as weak and feminine despite believing Dean is actually a dude. (I think this is also the same reason, canonically, sam is so surprised that at 26 dean is going on his own hunts??)

But like- so if the last time Sam saw Dean, Dean was 22 and still an irresponsible youth, still new to the freedom of things that came at 21 and what not(even if dean has been drinking from a young age) and considering johns treatment of Dean, and Deans dependency on johns toxic grasp on him, Sam could still be surprised dean is on his own now[even if dean went on his own at 17, but sam wouldnt know that,, and plus it was just so john could teach him a lesson] So maybe john also let Dean go on his own at 23(before then dean always went with another person) and because he would soon see Dean and his hunting partner of the time, Lee, getting along “too well” he would just fr gaslight dean to just go on his own from then... (something like that)

Focusing back on Dean’s transition, I actually have no idea when dean would get top surgery bc of the busyness of a hunters life. but im thinking it’s a top priority of Deans for a while because of the discomfort of not being able to wear a binder when hunting, only a sports bra, which depending, could still be very uncomfortable for him dysphoria wise. (i know the struggle) Again, Bobby probably one to help with the whole process of payment, recovery and scheduling a good time.

When dean finally gets his top surgery it is when he is with Cassie. (theyre literally both t4t bi4bi) Dean by luck finds a nice girl at a queer bar and settles down with her and decides its time to chop the flesh bags and Cassie helps him in his recovery. (of course i think dean still goes hunting in secret and messed up the healing process and ends up with sorta messed up scars)

Now lisa well... (actually I think canon dean dated her before cassie, but she was only introduced later so-) okay Lisa lowkey gives me transphobe vibes-.. I wonder if it could be that even after they hook up she still isnt even aware that dean is trans, she still finds out someway though. (rip ben actually being from a random biker in this au, bc canon he is 100% deans kid) When Dean sees her again, they run into eachother and catch up despite lisa still being transphobic. She’s fine with just talking but keeping distance. Ben, already liking dean like a father figure, doesn’t understand why lisa dislikes him, even after she explains how Dean is trans, like most kids at that age it’s simple, if he looks and acts like a boy, he is a boy. Kids dont fucking know a thing about body parts or genders... Ben with that ideology, ultimately opens Lisas eyes on trans people and is now okay with Dean.

The only next big plot point I can think of?? is..

Cas raising Dean from hell. While recreating Dean, he sees Deans entire being through Deans perspective. and how Dean is meant to be rather than how he was born. In my mind it makes sense to cas as angel, by seeing Dean’s soul, his memories, everything that makes Dean, well.. Dean, that he is indeed a man. Also because angels have no construct of gender(besides how humans are born) and being genderless in the first place, Cas doesnt associate body parts with genders. He just knows dean is a man and is like “well if hes a human man he must have these parts i guess?”, Deans views of himself blurring his previous form, everything on how dean looks is slightly masculinized. Cas doesnt even think about how come these scars on deans chest are significant and important to him, at any point in the future he could still easily remove them, but he knew they meant something to dean in his mortal development and despite being a “flaw” they are the two scars he didnt wipe clean off of Dean’s body. Everything else, its like- as if Dean was born a man, or at least, however Dean wanted to look. (and still, cas removes all of deans tattoos. dean is pissed asf at cas. even if they had significance to dean, cas still removed them as it was not a part of his body and soul like the top scars, just a foreign blemish made of ink)

That is all i should probably fit in a post now, lmao

#my post #hbo spn #hbo supernatural #hbo castiel #hbo dean winchester #hbo sam winchester #spn #supernatural #hbo spn castiel #hbo spn dean #hbo spn sam #dean winchester #trans dean #trans dean winchester #hbo spn trans dean #transmasc #trans #transmasc dean #transnatural

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fandomloreblog · 1 year

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🧊 🔥 ⚡️ DRAGON ORIGIN THEORIES BOTW/TOTK ⚡️🔥🧊

⚠️ SPOILERS FOR TEARS OF THE KINGDOM ⚠️

Gonna talk about Dragon Tears and their associated memories, along with the final boss, you have been warned!

So, everyone’s seen that cutscene where Zelda eats a secret stone and becomes a dragon. This is the ONLY confirmed way that someone can turn into a dragon/how dragons are created in the BOTW/TOTK universe.

So does that mean that Farosh, Dinraal, and Naydra were all human/hyrulian race at some point?

This is the only canon way for someone to become a dragon, or for dragons to be created. So that means at some point in time, 3 people consumed a secret stone, therefore becoming dragons. These dragons are Farosh (Lightning), Dinraal (Fire), and Naydra (Ice).

Transformation Theories

General

As of the time of this post, none of the dragons have been spotted in Rauru’s time, also known as the origin of Hyrule. The most recent spottings have occured in the BOTW game, and at the latest appearance chronologically, was before Link awoke in the Shrine Of Resurrection, 100 years after The Great Calamity. Now, there’s always the chance that the dragons were in hiding during the events of The Great Calamity, along with The Imprisoning War, but for the sake of clarity, im just gonna say that they weren’t around for Hyrule’s founding by Rauru and Sonia.

According to the Hyrule Compendium articles for each of the dragons, they are said to have existed since ancient times. Since there’s a likely chance that these dragons didn’t exist during Hyrule’s founding, the most likely time that they first were created was 10,000 years ago, during The First Calamity, in which the Zonai incarnation of Link (Link with the ancient heroes aspect) and the Zelda from 10,000 years ago, fought off Calamity Ganon with the Divine Beasts and 4 Champions for the first time. That is the most likely era where the dragons were first created.

🧊 Naydra 🧊

I think out of all of the dragons, Naydra would have been the first to become a dragon. Out of all of the 3 core dragons (Going to exclude the Light Dragon and Demon Dragon, since they either became dragons recently, or returned to human form), Naydra has the most emphasis and screen time, to the point where they even had their own side quest to purify them in BOTW, since Ganon himself deemed them as a threat and corrupted them with Malice.

Naydra mainly circles around the Lanayru and Necluda regions of Hyrule, even full on circling Hateno village in TOTK. Im going to assume that they were a Hylian, like Zelda, and perhaps circle their own hometown (Hateno) to watch over and protect it from Malice and evils after their encounter with Ganon in BOTW. Considering the ammount of effort Ganon went through to seal/impair them, Its likely that Naydra was a sage or priest towards Hylia, likely being a person of importance and immense power.

My idea as to why they swallowed a secret stone revolves around the sage idea. Perhaps during/after the events of the Great Calamity, fearing the return of Calamity Ganon, swallowed a secret stone in order to help the heroes in the future against Ganon, or maybe to just watch over their home. Some other ideas is that they were at the brink of death, injured during the calamity, or simply at old age, and wanted to keep fighting. Either way, they were likely a religious figure of great importance who wished the watch over their hometown.

🔥 Dinraal 🔥

Dinraal resides in Eldin and Akkala (along with a bit of Hebra in BOTW), and mostly hangs around Death Mountain in TOTK. I think Dinraal would have been the second dragon to transform into one. While they definitely don’t have as much focus as Naydra, there is an associated side quest involving the leviathan ruins that leads you towards their location.

Obviousl, Dinraal would have been a Goron, hanging around Eldin and Death Mountain, and mostly fire-related areas, except for traveling around Hebra during BOTW. Considering that Ganon himself ignored both Dinraal and Farosh, it’s likely that these two dragons weren’t sages or priests, but there is a likely chance that Dinraal was a sort of protector of Eldin, perhaps even being the Goron Champion during The First Calamity.

The reason as to why Dinraal became a dragon has to do with my theory of them being a protector of Eldin. In order to watch over their home, they swallowed a secret stone and became a dragon, fully devoted to watching over their home. But, as they were a protector of Goron City, it is likely they couldn’t travel far during their days before dragonization, which in turn results in them venturing towards Akkala and Hebra during BOTW, doing the exploring they never could.

⚡️ Farosh ⚡️

Farosh, of course, is the youngest dragon out of the 3. Compared to the other two dragons, Farosh is relatively ignored gameplay wise, with my only discovery of them being when they emerged from Lake Hylia during their route. Compared to the other two dragons as well, Farosh has the most diverse path across both games, from 3 seperate spawns in Lake Hylia, The Spring Of Courage, and the Gerudo Highlands, and later in TOTK circling around the lower Gerudo Desert, leads me to belive that they are the youngest of the 3.

Considering Farosh’s path, it is likely that they were either a Gerudo or Luerlin Village Hylian, hanging around the Faron and Gerudo regions mostly. However, considering Naydra’s Hylian background, along with Farosh’s lightning element, I am more inclined to trust the Gerudo bloodline more. Their inconsistent path, along with being relatively ignored story-wise, leads me to believe that Farosh wasn’t a well known figure during their life before before being a dragon.

Leading on from the fact that Farosh wasn’t well known, there is a high chance that they consumed a secret stone to become well known. Perhaps they wished for the attention and praise they never received, and thus became a dragon in order to compensate for the lack there of. Even if this theory isn’t true, there is a high chance that Farosh consumed their secret stone in an impulsive move, maybe to defend it from the Yiga Clan (If the Gerudo Bloodline is considered fact), or in a bid for praise and recognition.

Feel free to share your own ideas on this theory, along with your interpretations of how the dragons came to be!

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hostess-of-horror · 11 months

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@minnesotamedic186 @mimizzin @darkmedolie @randomrabbidramblings @deezeyrabbidy @pastelprince18 @salamifuposey @bramble-scramble @sneklover

Okay, I need to get this on a full post because I've been completely baffled ever since The Last Spark Hunter DLC came out.

[Spoilers Below, just in case]

I made a couple reblogs about this, but I really wanted to express what I think is going to happen in the upcoming Rayman DLC, specifically with Phantom.

As of recently, Phantom has made somewhat of an appearance in The Last Spark Hunter as a giant plushie/inflatable object(?) with Beep-O emphasizing on how the Heroes will never, ever, ever see him again. Ever.

And, of course, a good majority of us believe that this is a BIG case of suspicious foreshadowing.

While I am on the side of "OMG PHANTOM'S COMING BACK!!!", that's not the only thing why I'm making this post. I'm making a post because Ubisoft has been making Phantom... weirdly similar to how I make Phantom to be. I'm not saying that Ubisoft is spying on me, but it is a very startling coincidence.

First, it was Madame Bwahstrella's mention of Phantom's infidelity in The Tower of Doooom DLC:

"You didn't need to be a psychic to predict the Phantom dumping Bea for one of her backup dancers, but would she listen?"

The above text is from the Super Mario Wiki and is available under a Creative Commons license. Attribution must be provided through a list of authors or a link back to the original article. Source: https://www.mariowiki.com/List_of_Mario_%2B_Rabbids_Sparks_of_Hope_quotes

---

Although my depiction of Phantom is far less adulterous, it still creates an undeniable similarity between the fanon and canon lore. Both Phantoms are devilish heartthrobs, delving deep into a romance the moment the opportunity has presented itself. I believe this also implies that canon Phantom has or had plenty of flings and relationships (all of which were not so great). When the Rayman DLC comes out later this year, I genuinely hope we get to see even a glimpse of Phantom being flirty or even "easter eggs" of previous love affairs and crushes.

Now, with The Last Spark Hunter out, it is revealed that Phantom wears eye makeup. While this may be a design choice for the Phantom Plushie, again it's another similarity. I chose to draw Phantom with eye makeup because I felt it was appropriate for an opera singer and overall thespian. Plus, I was heavily inspired by 80's traditional Goth makeup, specifically Siouxsie Sioux, as well as German Expressionist films like "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" and "Metropolis".

While we wait for the final DLC for Sparks of Hope, allow me to make even more predictions for Phantom's supposed arrival with my headcanons. Because I apparently have the power of Future Vision and I want to manifest some really cool shit. /j

Phantom lives underneath the theatre in Spooky Trails. This, obviously, is a reference to the original Phantom of the Opera. Considering that the Rayman DLC appears to be located within a hotel, perhaps Phantom will have some secret lair underneath for our Heroes to discover. As @minnesotamedic186 described it, maybe Phantom will "pull a Helen Gravely" and reveal himself as the host/owner of the hotel.

This one is very evident in my headcanons, but Phantom has a major crush on Princess Peach. Again, like the underground lair, it's another POTO reference and... honestly, how could I not ship these two? If there's going to be a moment within the DLC that confirms this, I like to think it would be like an unfinished song, a sketch, or maybe a small shrine dedicated to her. But it would be even better if Phantom has a mannequin dressed up as her (similarly to how the OG Phantom had one of Christine Daae). However, if it's revealed that Peach is not Phantom's crush, it better be Rabbid Peach or maybe a brand new character within the DLC.

Phantom studies magic in his spare time and, through his abilities, can (and has) created servants/assistants/company with it. Now, this headcanon is more in-depth, as it applies to his fused DNA as well as his emotional state. Since he's part Boo, powers such as invisibility and hypnosis come naturally to him. On top of that, the ability to possess objects into helpers plays into the idea that Phantom doesn't have much in terms of friends. The concept of him conjuring magic may be a far stretch in terms of canon lore, but maybe the DLC will present a scenario where Phantom gains or plans to gain a very strong source of power.

This one applies to the previous headcanon: Phantom has multiple powers, including hypnosis, invisibility, illusions, and fog transformation. His wide variety of powers references how the OG Phantom was a Renaissance man with a ton of skills under his belt, ranging from ventriloquist to composer. If Phantom makes his debut in the Rayman DLC, he needs to be cunning as well as almost invulnerable. He would make quite the formidable main villain, just like how Rabbid Kong was the main villain in the Donkey Kong DLC.

Another headcanon I have is that Phantom loves to dress up in costumes! I'm putting this out there because my man definitely deserves some drip - be it a brand-new suit, an opera cloak, or an elaborate costume for an upcoming performance. It would be so cool if Phantom has a Red Death costume for his final battle or even a picture of him wearing it.

#phantom of the bwahpera #phantom #rabbid phantom #tom phan #rayman dlc #sparks of hope dlc #mario rabbids sparks of hope #mario + rabbids sparks of hope #mario rabbids #mario + rabbids #sparks of hope #dlc predictions #headcanons

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captain-astors · 1 year

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Omg wait 20, 23, and 24 for Touka, Ayato, and maybe maybe Renji :OO

Alright here we go! Kirishima family.

Touka, such an icon, if I don’t see her giving up on her dreams for Kaneki it didn’t happen.

20. A weird headcanon

Yoriko briefly really wanted to start a band, and Touka actually got really good at playing the electric guitar because of it. The band never happened but she retains the skill. Karaoke night at Anteiku is all fun and games until Touka breaks out the guitar and now everyone’s just sitting on the floor in awe while she duets whatever song gets chosen on the jukebox out of their small catalog. She’s got Wonderwall down to a T at this point, everyone say thanks Koma.

23. Future headcanon

After the utter chaos of the dragon died down, she returned to her ambition of researching the origin of ghouls! She became widely respected in her field and wrote a couple books with theories that were used far into the future, and eventually one of them was proven.

24. What do you think is a secret they have that they never told anyone?

When she worked at Anteiku, she collected little scraps of travel magazines, research articles, etc. and kept them in a drawer. Just motivation for days when pretending to be a human at school was difficult.

Ayato! Garbage child, committed 3 war crimes before he learned what a kidney was, banned from 4 public restaurants.

20. A weird headcanon

If he wasn’t a ghoul his beverage of choice would be some terrible soft drink or just straight milk with no alternative. I can’t specify the prior because I’ve had a singular sip of about 2 sodas in my entire life but I can speak for the latter, because the two of us are very similar in certain ways and I thrive on milk. No one has ever made the interesting critter joke and it saddens me.

23. Future headcanon

I know he’s canonically 5’5 (170cm) by the end of the series but consider, it would be way funnier if he just stayed 5’2 (159 cm) and for that reason I will always draw him shorter than everyone. Pry short Ayato out of my cold dead hands Ishida you can’t make me believe this idiot is even average height.

24. What do you think is a secret they have that they never told anyone?

Generally he did a lot of stuff at Aogiri he’s not proud of at all anymore. Many ghouls are forced to kill from very young ages on account of their parents being taken by the CCG, but they’ll still have someone to help them compartmentalize it, and typically they’re not slaughtering for the sake of slaughtering in the name of a terrorist organization. He had a lot of power and a need to prove everyone wrong and to prove himself, so he blindly committed at least a few atrocities mindlessly following a command. He refuses to open up about any of it.

Renji! Uncle by birth, good one by choice.

20. A weird headcanon

He genuinely does not know how to tie a standard shoelace knot. Any pair of shoes with laces he owns were tied once by someone else and are functionally slip-ons. Uta refuses to teach him because he thinks watching this grown man struggle to keep his shoes on is the absolute HEIGHT of comedy, and Yomo refuses to ask anyone else because of pride. So Uta will continue to lose his goddamn mind in peace. Why did the mask maker just fall off his chair cackling? Look across the room, Renji’s probably fighting for his life with a piece of string and losing.

23. Future headcanon

Constantly anticipating the next murder attempt from your closest companion is… an objectively miserable way to live. But he’s also still well aware Uta will go right back to “tormenting everyone you love because I desperately need your attention if I can’t have your affection.” So he has no choice but to tolerate it for a very long time. However, I like to think it gets more tame with time. From ward-shaking battles to simple poison in his drinks and whatnaught. Sometimes Uta just jumps out of his closet and stabs him halfheartedly 3 times with a stolen quinque and then goes home and that’s the murder attempt for the week. It’s a funny dynamic because that’s a miserable day for Uta and he’s probably going to be pondering the emptiness of his own existence for the rest of the night and is only held back because of lack of drive, and a good one for Renji because in his mind less murdering is a sign of calming down, right? And he can focus on his actual healthy family and friends. Also like a couple others I’ve seen, I do like the thought that eventually Uta is successful. It fixes nothing.

24. What do you think is a secret they have that they never told anyone?

Overall he's a very secretive person but I should probably think of something relatively amusing because I could go on about genuine regrets for a while... As a teenager in the fourth ward he'd graffiti ravens with bloody claws, and thought it was very cool and tragic at the time, but on account of his poor art skills they kind of just looked like weird black blobs with red feet. That unrecognizable form was a blessing and a curse because he can insist that it definitely wasn't him without major suspicion.

#Another fun one! I adore the kirishimas and I was hoping someone would ask for them #speaking of which if anyone sent some numbers for furuta I would love you /p #touka kirishima #renji yomo #ayato kirishima #tokyo ghoul #miscellaneous not-art things #zeph answers questions about media/characters/ships

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quietblueriver · 1 year

Text

Judith at the Banquet

S2 Ep.3 - Just a quick bit of canon divergence. Ava and Beatrice make it to the Prado after all.

“You want to go sightseeing? Right now?”

“Yes! I spent my whole life in an orphanage. I mean, this is Madrid! Villa y corte. The city of the bear and the strawberry tree! I wanna see everything!”

Ava’s arms are spread wide and her smile is bright and familiar. It’s the same smile she uses to try to convince Beatrice to abandon their run for a trip to the bakery or the pool. It’s the same smile she uses to tempt Beatrice into a walk to the coffee shop, Ava claiming she wants some sweet concoction when really she just knows Beatrice is having a difficult day and could use a cortado. It’s the same smile that led to Beatrice drinking lemon drops and letting her hair down, pressing close to Ava on a dance floor. It’s effective more often than it should be—Ava is earnest and eager and beautiful and trying and Beatrice is, despite herself, entirely in love with her. Today, though, as she watches the pattern on her cross flash over and over again, she shouldn’t agree. She can’t agree.

“I understand, but now is really not the time. Come on, it’s this way.”

Ava rolls her head back in defeat but follows Beatrice toward the meeting point. As they get close, she hesitates. There are at least three men watching the door. They may be compromised. She stops short of the gate at the entrance and considers. Ava stops just behind her, close enough that Beatrice can feel the warmth of her, their arms brushing as Ava rocks her body restlessly.

“Bea?”

“Keep your eyes ahead. We’re being watched.”

Ava tenses as she moves closer to Beatrice, stills. “How many?”

“Three that I see so far, but I’m concerned that there may be more inside.”

She turns to face Ava, letting her eyes pass over the men across the street. Ava says, eyes just over Beatrice’s shoulder, “Right. That guy is window shopping at an accountant’s office.”

Beatrice hums. “Yes, and there are two others behind you, not to mention whoever might be inside.” She glances at the door. She doesn’t see movement but that doesn’t mean much. “Even if nobody is inside, we can’t take the chance that we lead them to the others. We have to lose them.”

Ava bounces on her heels, pulls at the brim of her hat. “Yeah. Let’s lead them down a side street and take them out.”

It’s an incredibly Ava plan, meaning it’s rash and it ignores everything Beatrice has taught her about strategy. She reminds her, again: “Never spark a conflict until you have a complete understanding of your odds.”

Ava’s already moving toward an alley, turns to face Beatrice as she walks backward. “Mmm. More of a punch first, maybe ask some questions, and then punch again kinda girl.”

Beatrice thinks of the street fight with Miguel, of the FBC informant. The lingering weight of her fear for Ava sits low in her stomach, even as she rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’ve noticed.” She looks back at the flower shop and then at Ava, watches as two of the men start toward them in an entirely unsubtle way. Amateurs. FBC, if she had to guess, but she can’t imagine Vincent would send anyone this green. Then again, she couldn’t have imagined that Vincent would be acolyte to a demon, so anything is possible.

The two men behind Ava are huddled together now, and their attempt at conversation over a newspaper article is ridiculous, the henchmen’s version of bad improv. One of them has his eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline and is nodding so hard that the tip of his nose is nearly parallel to the ground on each dip. The other is holding the newspaper out in front of them so demonstratively that he might as well be a mime.

Beatrice leaves them to their show and assesses. She’s not willing to go into the shop without more information, and she’s concerned, deeply concerned, that Vincent has gained access to the coordinates. She doesn’t know where Mary’s cross is. She doesn’t know who else he might have working for him. There’s every chance the shop is full of wraiths or that Vincent has set some other trap. It’s not a risk she can take, not with Ava.

They’ll have to find somewhere to regroup and think of another means of contacting Superion and Camila. A call is out of the question, but Camila would pick up any digital breadcrumbs Beatrice left, she’s certain. It may be the best option. She’ll need to find a burner phone, a wifi connection, and somewhere to pass the time until Camila can find them. Beatrice considers the bus stop, thinks of Ava’s indulgent smile every time she orders Beatrice’s cortado. Well. They are in Madrid. She puts her cross away.

“Ava.”

Ava stops, tilts her head in acknowledgement.

“How would you feel about a detour?”

Ava shrugs. “Sure. Want to lead them somewhere else?”

“Not exactly. I was thinking,” Beatrice steps closer to her, nods her head in the direction of the bus stop, “that we could go to the Prado.”

Ava’s on top of her immediately, arms wrapped around Beatrice’s neck as she laughs and whoops in delight. Beatrice wraps her own arms around Ava’s waist and holds her off the ground for a moment as Ava jumps. When she lands, she presses a kiss to Beatrice’s cheek, distractingly close to her mouth, and takes her hand.

“You’re my very favorite, you know that?”

Beatrice feels her face grow hot, knows it must be visible because Ava’s smile softens, her eyes full of something tender, and the hand not holding Beatrice’s reaches up to trace knuckles over Beatrice’s cheek. The window shopper moves in their direction and Beatrice snaps herself back to reality. Before anything else, they’ll need to deal with the stooges. If their current behavior is indicative of their general level of competence, it won’t be terribly difficult to shake them. She reaches up to take Ava’s hand from her face, squeezing to let her know it’s not a rebuke, even though, Beatrice knows, it probably should be. She pulls Ava by her other hand back toward the side street.

“Let’s shake them. I need to do a few things to get word to Camila, and then we can catch a bus.”

Ava nods eagerly and bounces on her toes. “Whatever you say, boss.”

It takes nothing, two minutes ducked behind a gray Fiat, one and a half of those purely out of an abundance of caution, and they’re free. Beatrice gets them back to a populated street and walks a few blocks, tracking back and on high alert for any additional danger. She thinks, for a moment, that she sees a familiar face, the flash of a clerical collar, but when she looks again, it’s gone. They’re in a crowd now, and Vincent is unlikely to make a move that would draw negative attention to Adriel and call into question his angel persona. It’s unlikely, but she murmurs to Ava anyway, “Be on watch for Vincent.” When Ava looks at her in alarm, eyes darting through the crowd around them, Beatrice pulls her closer, their hands having remained linked since they emerged from behind the car. “It’s okay. I can’t be certain that I saw him. I just,” a man bumps Ava and Beatrice lets go to steady her, keeping her hand at the small of her back long after it’s necessary, “I don’t want him anywhere near you.”

Ava leans into her further, pulling Beatrice’s arm fully around her waist. “I’m gonna kick his ass, Bea.” The determination on her face makes Beatrice want to take her back to their flat, keep her tucked away. There is nothing dutiful left in her desire to protect. It’s a scared, selfish thing. “Ava, please be careful.” Her tone is pleading, telling, but Beatrice cannot bring herself to be embarrassed. (“I am your best friend, and I cannot watch you die.” The truth and so much less than the truth. A confession and a prayer.) Her hand moves against Ava’s waist, fingers brushing bare skin where her overalls open, and she’s startled enough at the intimacy of it that she pulls away. Ava catches her hand before it gets far, rubs her thumb over Beatrice’s knuckles as she secures it back around her waist. She stops them in the middle of the crowd, unconcerned at the inconvenience she’s causing, and her eyes are understanding and, maybe, a little bit sad. “Okay. It’s okay, Bea. I’ll be careful." She starts walking again, and Beatrice moves with her, directing them to a corner store advertising SIM cards in its window.

---

Ava’s eyes are wide as she takes in the city through the window of the bus. Beatrice splits her time between watching Ava and watching the passengers around them, nodding and answering, where she can, Ava’s questions about the city and their route.

When they reach the front of the Prado, Ava’s eyes are as bright as Beatrice has ever seen them, and she takes Beatrice’s hand and links their fingers as they enter, bounding toward the stand of maps. Biting her lip, she hums as she unfolds a pamphlet and examines the layout of the museum, thoughtful. It’s much more intentional than Beatrice would have anticipated, but she would never say so. “It’s silly. I don’t…” She shrugs a bit, almost embarrassed, and Beatrice steps further into her space and presses a palm against her back, just below the halo, feels Ava’s muscles relax against her. The desire for physical proximity, for her own sake as much as for Ava’s, is instinctual in a way it never has been with anyone else. “I’ve never seen anything like this, Bea. I don’t even know where to start. I…I’m so excited, I just…” There are tears in her eyes, and Beatrice says, catching the moisture on Ava’s cheek with the thumb of her free hand, “I feel very lucky to be able to explore with you.” Ava’s smile wobbles but there are no more tears. “Come on. We’ll start here.” Beatrice laces their fingers after Ava tucks the map into her pocket and leads them toward the first hall.

Beatrice has been to the Prado and the Reina Sofia on more than one occasion. She has been to the Louvre, the Musee D’Orsay, the Rijksmuseum, the Van Gogh Museum, to countless others scattered across Europe and even more beyond that. She has wandered while on trips with her school and her family, on weekends in the summer when she felt like exploring and her parents deemed her proposed itinerary appropriately culturally enriching—endless hours and always with the knowledge that she could return. At home, of course, she could navigate the V&A with her eyes closed, could still schedule a private tour of any collection in the British Museum with one call, and her parents’ donation of a Cezanne to which they were not particularly attached led to several particularly enthusiastic welcomes at the National Gallery over the course of Beatrice’s youth. At one point, in the year before her parents sent her away, she knew the security guards at the Tate Modern by shift.

She has taken a vow of poverty and has given up worldly things, but moving slowly with Ava through the Prado makes Beatrice feel the unshakeable reality of her privilege, something that can’t be undone with any vow, with a deep kind of shame. Ava reads descriptions and stares, bottom lip caught between her teeth in concentration. She tugs Beatrice close when she finds something she likes especially, or when she reads a fact she wants to share, and there’s a slight tinge to her cheeks as she asks about pronunciation, her mouth moving over the syllables as Beatrice helps. Beatrice stays close and answers questions conversationally but with her voice low enough that Ava won’t feel embarrassed. She doesn’t think she would be, knows she shouldn’t be, but Beatrice isn’t taking any chances.

She’s done enough to discourage Ava today. Every day, if she’s as honest as she should be. Beatrice lives with a temperance appropriate for her vows, discipline and dedication and caution her guiding lights. Ava has no interest in temperance, and Beatrice understands why—she had been abused and kept isolated for most of her life, had died because someone else decided her life was not worth living. It’s another thing to admire about Ava, that she emerged from that blazing and determined to take as much as she could while she could, to live when she’d been denied a life for so long. Ava is resilient, brave, defiant.

Beatrice is a good soldier. She knows how to fall in line. She has spent her time with Ava convincing herself that she’s protecting her by reining in her impulsivity and her brashness, tempering her for her own good. Certainly, that is partially true. But right now, Beatrice’s chest is tight with the knowledge that in another world, they are not here today but moving furtively through the city, caught in a fight, maybe, or recovering from one. Ava had given in so easily, following her to the shop and taking Beatrice’s dismissal, her disbelief at Ava’s desire to explore, in stride. She knows Ava takes her role as halo-bearer seriously. It makes sense that Ava would fight her more about their morning run than she would about something that might actually put Beatrice, or anyone else, in danger. And she knows Ava doesn't resent her for keeping them focused on the mission. Of course she doesn't; Ava has been, to Beatrice's constant anxiety, eager to get into the fight. Still, Beatrice itches under her skin at the thought that she hadn't understood Ava in that moment or even, really, after Ava explained. How often had Beatrice told Ava no without any real thought as to what it might mean for Ava for her to say yes?

Ava’s staring at Perseus as he frees Andromeda, tiny sweater-jacket hanging off one shoulder and cap flipped backward, her head angled up and tilted slightly as she evaluates some detail on his body. Her ever-in-motion body sways just enough for Beatrice, standing half a step behind her, to notice. She’s beautiful. Beatrice has never loved Rubens, but she would happily stay here all day.

She imagines a world in which she can stay, in which they can stay. Together. She wants to be here for as long as Ava wants to be here. Then, tomorrow, she wants to go with Ava to the Reina Sofia, which she knows without any doubt will spark something bright in her. She wants to wander with Ava through El Retiro and listen to her talk about her favorite pieces, then take a tour of the Royal Palace to hear her get excited in an entirely new way. She wants to take Ava to Barcelona, to walk with her through Park Guell and climb the stairs of the Sagrada Familia. She wants to call Andres, who handled her family’s art acquisitions, and throw her family name around like she never has before, to get Ava all the time she wants anywhere she wants, tours with a curator or a personal guide. She wants to go back to London, undeterred for the first time in a very long time by the thought of her parents, because she thinks Ava would love the V&A especially. She wants to hear her gasp and exclaim, unabashed, at the colors and the textiles and the range.

“Bea?”

Beatrice brings herself back and smiles at Ava. “Sorry. Sorry.” Ava bumps her shoulder into Beatrice’s and then threads their arms together. “You okay?”

“Yes.” She takes a breath, says as if it’s simple, “Just thinking of all of the places I’d like to go with you.”

It’s more than she would usually allow herself, but the ache in her chest is still there, pulsing, for a version of Ava who missed this day. For a version of Beatrice who let her. For their sake, she is trying a more direct honesty. For their sake, and for her own, she wants Ava to know. I want to say yes to you. Surprise flashes across Ava’s face and she tugs Beatrice closer. Her fingertips press into Beatrice’s bicep as she curls around her, and she rests her chin on Beatrice’s shoulder.

“Yeah? Not ready to be done with me yet?” It’s teasing, mostly, breathed out against her cheek, but Beatrice answers earnestly, trying for some of Ava’s bravery. “I don’t ever want to be done with you.”

Ava stills, and Beatrice worries, for a moment, that she’s given too much away. Then there is the soft press of Ava’s lips against her cheek and the even softer, “My very favorite person.”

The burner phone in her pocket buzzes just under an hour later. She takes it out and sees, in a code she can actually read with ease, a location. She types back, simply, “Knock, knock.” A moment later, it buzzes again, “Banana.” This is nonsense, but it’s nonsense only Camila would know.

Ava’s rocking back and forth, turned away from the Rembrandt and toward Beatrice, coiled and ready. She wants to tuck the phone away, just as she did her coded cross, and say to Ava, “How do you feel about another museum day tomorrow?” Instead, with the smile she can manage, she says, “Looks like we’re going to the movies.”

Ava flips her cap back around and takes her hand. “Fun. Oh, Bea! Can we get popcorn?”

Beatrice says, Ava’s hand warm in hers, “Yes.”

#avatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #warrior nun #warrior nun fic

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