#Computer Vision in Transportation

[rydotinfotech]

[nerdygirlramblings]

more spitfire soldier

tw: canon-typical violence

"I got yer six," you shout, "go go go!"

Ghost barrels through the next door. You hear the rat-a-tat-tat of his SA80 and sweep the room behind him, clearing any hostiles he might have missed or those who come running at the sound of his gun.

You count three bodies on the floor when you hear footsteps coming from your right. You turn and fire as two more combatants dressed in black turn the corner. Both go down quickly, but the second got off a few shots of their own.

You don't think anything of it, too high on adrenaline and too focused on the mission. But you notice your gait slowing as you catch up to Ghost.

He waits at the next door, watching you approach. "Sit rep, Mav?" he asks.

"Fookin' fine, Lt. Wha'd're we waitin' fer?"

"If yer not solid, I'm not gonna put us both as risk," he reminds you. His safety depends on you and vice versa.

"Feel fine, Lt, really." You meet his eyes. "Really."

He nods once and breaks through this last barrier between where you are and where you need to be. The room is filled with drafting tables covered with blueprints and files. You call over comms, "Looks like everything is hard copy, Captain. No computers in sight. How do you want us to proceed?"

You hear Price's muttered curse. Intel said this group had data about black market arms deals, but if it's all hard copy, it's going to be a hell of a lot harder to grab what you came for.

As you wait on Price to make a decision, you watch Ghost round the far side of the room. You can hear commotion from the direction you just came. "C'mon, Cap. It's gunna go tits up in five. We need orders and we need an exfil."

Price tells you to grab anything that looks promising and light the rest up. Six minutes later you and Ghost are heading out a service entrance Gaz found on the complex blueprints. When you hit the ground floor, you head west where transport should be only to find a bare stretch of woods.

"Captain, where the fook is exfil? Ain't no one 'ere!" You turn in a circle looking for a way out and stumble.

Ghost catches you under the arm and peers at your face. "Hey, Mav, you broken?"

You try to answer, but suddenly your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. You blink and notice black at the edges of your vision. You put a hand to your side and it comes away sticky. You look from your bloody hand to Ghost.

He wraps an arm around you, hoisting you against his side. You hear a roaring in your ears, or maybe it's just Ghost as he shouts to Price about your injury. You want to tell him to be quieter, he's going to let the enemy know your location, but you can't make the words come. Your last thought before you slip into unconsciousness is you've never heard that tone from Ghost before. If you could believe it, he sounds almost scared.

first previous

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Donnie Tech Part 1/?

After many moons here are the promised observations of the cartoon shtick logic of Donnie's weapons for season one!! Will link a season two and movie version Eventually, but keep in mind I can't explain in depth how each bit of tech works, rather that I can pinpoint the functions for the visual bit. Keep in mind that Donnie's tech can pretty much do any ridiculous thing you can put your mind to, and that it can also backfire in any ridiculous way you can put your mind to.

Tech Bo:

Collapsible, can become a shorter version of itself easily stored

Shoot a grappling hook AND function as a zip line

Can form a rocket from either end (usually at the same time, resulting in the bo spinning)

Is equipped to be a fire extinguisher

Can shoot out lasers

Has a button that activates the "Shopping Cart Protocol" to lock the Turtle Tank if it goes outside a set perimeter

Top can turn into a rocket powered fist

Turn into a giant drill

Turn into a saw

Turn into a tranquilizer

Turn into a tennis ball shooter

Turn into a selfie stick

Top can turn into a disco ball of "multidimensional reflective orb neutralizer"

Battle Shell:

Has rotary engines (think jet turbine or computer fan) that help him fly around. He calls them "rotors" for short

Can transform into a seat so April can sit on his back

Can split up into a DJ set up in "music mode"

Jet Pack Shell:

His fastest mode of transportation

Not much is shown, but April had a significant difficulty controlling it

Spider Shell:

Has four arms with three fingers

Arms can turn into saws

Has a seemingly endless toolkit inside that includes basic things like hammers and wrenches, but also blowtorches

Goggles:

Has night vision

Can function as binoculars

Is able to summon is tech ("communicates with microwave transceiver with class c encryption protocols")

Read mystic energy signatures after adding the crystal they found in Draxum's lab

Gauntlet:

Has an app that can tap into every security camera in NY

Bug Slapper:

Has a green Mad Dogs sticker on the side

Compacts itself into a metal suitcase and then expand back into a vehicle

So far only uses Big Mama's webbing material as projectiles

Shelldon:

Began as an automated smart lair designed with the intent as a cleaning assistant

Has a "disposal unit" which unlocks several of Donnie's weapons such as: guns, pinchers, drills, and flamethrowers

Can carry at least two turtles (Mikey and Donnie)

Is nicknamed "Cyber Bishop" by Donnie

Uses surfer dude slang: “dude”, “gnarly”, “buzzkill”, “okey dokey”, “dawg”, “you beefed it”, “brohounds"

As a smart lair has clear favoritism towards Donnie until tampered with. As a drone they share more of a familial or pet like relationship, and Shelldon has room to sometimes poke at Donnie's faults as well

In conclusion there's not much to worry about breaking canon, the physics of our reality, or understanding complicated tech and science to write about Donnie's tech. He can do whatever he wants as long as it's silly, overly dramatic, and includes an unnecessary amount of purple guns. His tech bo is especially flexible with breaking the rules even before we get to his ninpo powers.

I'm keeping the Turtle Tank separate, because it also deserves its own post. Happy writing!

[magical-thinking-magical-realism]

Hermitcraft/life series zombie apocalypse au based on this post by @saphushia (reblogs irrelevant I just wasn't bothered to find the original post)

This is Doc's journal. He's keeping track of everything he knows about everyone. What they're good at, what they're not good at, can he help them with that? As to why his name is marked ??, it's been so long he doesn't remember. Some of them have their real names marked down because he already knew them before the apocalypse, some of them are because he heard them screamed when their loved ones thought they were dead. He won't talk about those. Not talking about his patients helps him cope with the ones that have died.

Ladders

Named Ladders because of his knowledge of every single ladder in the city.

Real name: Etho

Species: Arctic fox

Skills: Knows the city inside and out. Agility. High stamina. Night vision.

Hindrances: Blind in right eye. Issues with breathing.

Notes: Ladders is constantly wearing a gas mask, even though we've confirmed the virus is not airborne. He tends to run ladder to ladder, rather than any sane method of transport.

Stitches

Named Stitches for their skill in first aid, particularly stitches.

Real name: Cleo

Species: Human?

Skills: Physical strength. Good at first aid. Smooth talker.

Hindrances: Low stamina.

Notes: Stitches seems more tired lately. We think they might've been bitten...

Gemini

Named Gemini for her ability to get from one place to another as if she was already in both places.

Real name: Taylor

Species: Fox?

Skills: Close-range combat. High stamina. Night vision. Speed.

Hindrances: Long-range combat.

Notes: Gemini and Pearl are very close. Possibly siblings?

Impulse

Named Impulse for his extremely impulsive behaviour.

Real name: ??

Species: ??

Skills: Long-range combat. High stamina. Night vision.

Hindrances: Empathy. Impulsive. Insomnia.

Notes: Impulse appears human, but I've seen him when he thinks he's alone, and I... Don't know what he is, and I don't think I want to.

Skizz

Real name: ??

Species: ??

Skills: Smooth talker. Combat. Night vision.

Hindrances: Empathy. Low stamina.

Notes: See Impulse.

Beans

Real name: Joel

Species: Tanuki

Skills: Smooth talker. Combat. Night vision. High stamina.

Hindrances: Attachment to Shadow. Ego.

Notes: N/A

Pearl

Real name: ??

Species: Moth

Skills: Flight. Night vision.

Hindrances: Insomnia.

Notes: Pearl and Gemini are very close. Possibly siblings? Pearl has expressed disinterest in romance.

Grian

Real name: ??

Species: Avian?

Skills: Smooth talker. Combat. Night vision. Flight.

Hindrances: Struggle with sudden change. Attachment to Scar. Insomnia. Can be a control freak.

Notes: Grian appears to be a parrot hybrid, but he has also hinted at other hybrid features. And he definitely should not have such good night vision.

Bdubs

Real name: ??

Species: tbc

Skills: Knives. Speed. Camouflage. Finding/setting up bases.

Hindrances: Empathy. Long-range combat. Low stamina. Constant injuries.

Notes: Bdubs is some kind of moss creature. We just don't know what it's called. He is also a walking accident, with a concerning amount of scars and scrapes all over him. Not to mention the black eye that never seems to go away.

Scar

Named Scar for the slew of scars practically covering his body. He chose it himself.

Real name: Ryan

Species: Vex

Skills: Smooth talker. Combat. Night vision.

Hindrances: Empathy. Low stamina. Impulsive. Unpredictable. Mobility issues. Overworks himself.

Notes: Scar claims he's fine, but we've all seen him stumble over nothing and continue to run with a heavy limp. He leans against the walls a lot, and holds on when he thinks we're not looking.

Tango

Real name: ??

Species: Blazeborn

Skills: Smooth talker. Explosives. Computers.

Hindrances: Empathy. Insomnia. Water.

Notes: Tango can't get wet. Due to his species, even a single drop of water touching his skin puts him at risk of hypothermia.

Doc

Real name: ??

Species: Creeper, goat

Skills: Medical. Physical strength. Low empathy. Speaks German. (According to everyone else, that's a skill. I don't see why it's useful. Zombies don't speak German.)

Hindrances: Low empathy. Insomnia. Survivor's guilt. Aggressive. Impulsive.

Notes: I'm the person everyone comes to for medical stuff. Sure, Gem and Stitches can do it in an emergency, but they can't do big things. Doc misses Ren more than he likes to admit. He won't say it himself, but he pretends he's still alive sometimes. He talks to him.

Shadow

Named Shadow for her ability to hide. It's almost like she becomes a shadow.

Real name: Lizzie

Species: Human?

Skills: Smooth talker. Combat. Aggressive. Confidence. Camouflage.

Hindrances: Empathy. Aggressive. Impulsive. Insomnia.

Notes: N/A

Solidarity

Real name: Jimmy

Species: Avian

Skills: Physical strength. High stamina. Flight.

Hindrances: Combat. Unpredictable.

Notes: N/A

Major

Real name: Scott

Species: Human?

Skills: Smooth talker. Combat. Physical strength. High stamina.

Hindrances: Empathy. Insomnia.

Notes: N/A

Author's notes: I'm not saying empathy is inherently bad, just that those people have trouble killing things because of it. And Doc having low empathy both as a positive and a negative is for that same reason. He has no trouble killing, but he has trouble reassuring his patients.

Pearl is aromantic. She just doesn't have a word for it. That's what the 'Pearl has expressed disinterest in romance' comment is referencing.

Anything on Doc's profile in blue is because he refused to write it himself and someone else put it in. Likely Cl- Stitches.

Anyone without a reason for their name is just that. They don't really have one, or at least, not one anyone remembers.

[zweetpea]

Interlude: Between wind and stone.

Cw: I don’t think anything, but if I’m missing something you can leave it in the comments

As you walk along the trail you couldn’t help but feel like someone’s watching you. You shake off the feeling and keep on your way.

“You won’t be welcomed in Liyue descender.” You hear a voice call from behind you. You turn around and see Dainsleif walk towards you.

“Every freaking time.” You pout. “I was promised hot dudes and mommy milkers, and yet twice now people have been hostile towards me.”

“You should go back to whatever forsaken land you came from and leave Teyvats people alone.”

“I can’t. I don’t know how. Honestly I’d love to listen to you, I have family, friends and a promising future back home. So far everyone has been very hostile towards me. There’s really no reason for me to want to stay. Yet I still can’t leave.”

“Follow me. There’s old manuscripts in the abyss that might help you get home.”

“Why should I trust you?”

Dainsleif sighs and pulls you closer by your hips. “If you be good and listen I’ll reward you.” You blush at his actions but quickly think of a comeback.

“Can I choose the reward?” You smile slyly,  not unlike a fox bearing its teeth and taunting its prey.

“No. You get a kiss.”

“Can you at least kiss me on the lips?”

“Fine.”

“For a whole minute.” You stipulate.

“5 seconds.” He argues.

“45 seconds.”

“6 seconds.”

“Hey! Fine 44 seconds.”

“5 seconds.”

“You can’t-! Fine, how about 10 seconds?” You pout. 

“Deal.” He finally agrees. He takes your hand and takes you through the abyss. At one point he has to fend off a horde of enemies and he just picks you up and carries you bridal style.

‘Is this going to be a normal thing? People just carrying me away without my permission?’ You think as he runs through this labyrinth of halls.

Finally we get to the library he mentions and he puts me down. We walk through and search for the books and manuscripts and texts we might need. The way Dain studies the books is so mesmerizing. He gets lost in them, you disappearing from his thoughts. 

10 minutes in you hear a noise coming from down the hall so you sneak away only to find a hydro slime bouncing towards you bring you a sunsettia and some cooked fowl. The small slime stops at your feet and bounces in front of you. “Is this for me?” The spine nuzzles your leg in a sign of approval as you take the food and pet the little dear. “Thanks.”

 You walk back towards the blond and he doesn’t even look up as he remarks, “You should be more careful around them.”

“Aren’t they your people? Why are you so hostile towards them?”

“I’m not hostile, but I don’t think that you should just go around eating everything that strangers give you.”

“Newsflash: I don’t exactly have a vision, I don’t have any mora, and I don’t have a weapon. Taking handouts is the only way I’ll be able to survive.”

“You’re supposed to have powers untold.”

“Well, I don’t. I’m a college student who’s studying computer science and engineering. I got sucked in here because I found Kate Kaslana and she got pissed at me.”

“Once you get back home you can make up as much as you want. ‘Computer’ what a ridiculous word.” Dain rolls his eyes. He grabs the book he’s reading and grabs some chalk. Then he draws a circle and a slightly smaller circle inside of the original, and finally draws symbols in between the two.

“Is this a transfiguration circle?”

“Transportation circle, actually.”

“I’m really going home.” You smile. “Hey before you finish I get my kiss.” You demand.

“I suppose that’s fair.” He gets up and takes your face in his hands. He then leans down and meets his lips with yours. You close your eyes and enjoy yourself. You put your hands on his broad chest and run them over his torso. Then, as quickly as it began, it ended. 

“That was so nice.”

“Um… glad you thought so. Now time for you to go.”

“I don’t think so.” A deep gravely voice calls for the entrance. The two of you jump back in surprise and see an Abyss Herald. “You’ve foiled our plans for far too long Dainsleif. It’s our turn to get the drop on you!” He charges in, grabs you, holds you under his arm and makes a run for it through a portal. 

[ussgallifrey]

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 27

✦ 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, the Eternals being really bad at lying, dealing with their trauma and grief like ADULTS, excessive drinking, insane levels of foreshadowing, language, modern-day Ancient Grecian festivals, Wanda's canonical love of sitcoms.

✦ Word Count: 17.6k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

✦ Author's Note: Oh. My. God. I can't believe we're here at the final chapter of the Age of Ultron arc, the very biggest chapter of the entire story. This was so much fun to write. There's going to be some translations, and a follow-up Author's Note at the end of the chapter to keep this part spoiler-free. Enjoy!

[Master List]

The echoing screams are what pull you away from the low-lit comfort of your bedroom. As the highest shriek trembles down into shuddering sobs in the gentle stillness of night. 

Putting your book to the side, you push away from the bed. Almost the second you open your door, the one across the hall from you is creaking open as well. With his ruffled bedhead and a muffled yawn, Steve gives you a familiar nod as you wordlessly move down the stairs to your unofficially assigned duties.

Pietro’s light is already on, his door ajar. While you continue down to the main level, Steve glides his way across the hall to the second door on the right.

Flicking the switch on the wall, the kitchen’s overhead light temporarily blinds your senses.

“Hey,” you give a worn sigh as you make your way over to the stove. “We talked about this. I know you have good intentions here, but - ”

“It is a calming method, is it not?” Vision questions in a slightly stilted tone as he holds the tea kettle above a red-hot burner.

Maybe those shrieking cries hadn’t just been from the traumatized girl upstairs, but from a whistling pot as well.

“Yeah, but it’s only effective if the water isn’t fully evaporated out. Sort of ruins the tea mix.”

“Ah,” he sighs, setting the kettle down on the adjoining burner. “This is still… confusing.”

With a shrug, you gently push him to the side as you move to fill the kettle back up at the sink, “Hey, you’re leagues ahead of most one-month-olds, give yourself some credit.”

He tilts his head, “I am not a human infant, the correlation does not compute.”

Pushing your hair over your shoulder as you return to the stove, you smile up at the man, “It was a joke, Vision. Or at least, an attempt at one. I’m too tired for this, honestly.”

“I was under the impression that deities did not require sleep.”

Placing the kettle down with a little more force than necessary, you fix the creation with a look.

It had been an odd month and a half for all of you.

Your time in Sokovia was still a close memory, as was apparent in the near-nightly nightmares of the youngest twin. Sometimes, when you close your eyes, you find yourself transported back to the battle. You could still hear the terrified screams, smell the decay around you, and worse yet feel the unmovable hand at your throat.

The team had stayed long after the battle to assist in the clean-up process. Which, in all actuality, just meant giving the bodies a dignified place to rest until a temporary morgue could be set up in a structurally stable location.

You all had worked well into the night before Steve began to wane. Gritted teeth and brushes of I’m fine went on for far too long before the multiple broken ribs, punctured spleen, and several large gashes finally took their toll on him. Natasha, Clint, and Sam hadn’t been much better off either.

But even after they were forcibly removed to seek medical treatment, you and Thor remained. To walk amongst the human race was an honor. You weren’t going to leave the scene of battle when such carnage was left behind. 

It wasn’t until morning, when a slow and steady sunrise peaked over the mountains, that you were finally finished in your duties; aided by a handful of SHIELD agents and local residents who had returned in the early morning hours to see what was left of their city.

There wasn’t much of Old Town that remained standing. And, by last estimates, some 17,000 people had been infected and killed by Ultron’s nano-virus. Another 3,000 were killed during the battle, followed by thousands of injured and seriously critical patients in neighboring hospitals.

You didn’t even like thinking of the week’s total now; between Sokovia, New York, Johannesburg, and London. Not to mention Seoul, where Ultron had attacked Cho’s lab while you all had been distracted by other threats.

“Have I said something to upset you?”

The kettle is whistling.

Blinking, you pull the pot off the heat and fill the awaiting mug.

“No, not at all. Just… lost in thought,” you say with a distant voice as you add the herbal mix.

Vision gives you a hesitant nod.

After letting the tea steep for a moment, you give the man a gentle wave before you head up the stairs. He knew better than to follow after you now.

This had been another adjustment for you, in the aftermath of the battle.

As the Tower had been destroyed, the team split off in search of temporary living situations. Tony went to Malibu, Sam back to his place in D.C., and Clint had an apartment in the city somewhere that he and Natasha were crashing out at. Thor had been offered lodging with Tony, at Pepper’s insistence.

Which of course left one particular supersoldier.

 Steve had been living at the tower for well over a year now; never bothering to get a place for himself in Brooklyn, or anywhere else in the city for that matter. It hadn’t even been a question to offer him a room at your house in Vermont after he was cleared from the hospital.

This only left the true question that was the twins and, well, Vision (as Thor soon named him).

They were technically minors and Vision was technically a weapon, but also a sentient being. The legality of it quickly became complicated by international law and Sokovian law and U.S. immigration and temporary refugee laws. You left all that up to Tony to deal with. He had an army of lawyers in hand for things of this nature, thankfully.

You didn’t want to just leave them there to deal with this newfound freedom on their own. You all knew HYDRA would be on the lookout for them, and if that wasn’t bad enough, you personally knew that SHIELD would be looking to take them in if at all possible as well.

And while it had been different for the others, who were all adults who could reasonably consent to things that Nick would offer, you were all too aware of the fragile state the twins were in. It was one thing to willingly join up with SHIELD, it was another to be convinced to join under possibly false pretenses.

You liked Nick, you trusted him to have your six, but there were certain things you would rather keep clear of his grasp.

If the tower had still been intact, perhaps you would have all gone to live there in a strange form of cohabitation. But, instead, you found yourself housing two mutants, a sentient computer, and a supersoldier. There were stranger things out there, you were sure of it.

Pushing the door to Wanda’s room open a little further, you offer the teen a gentle smile.

You had told Tony that you were used to dealing with teenage twins. Thankfully, he didn’t pester you with questions about that and had merely made temporary guardianship signed over to you.

Pietro is sitting next to her on the bed while Steve remains near the foot of the mattress.

Passing the tea along, you rest your weight against the dresser. Sometimes, she would be able to go back to sleep after a few minutes or an hour of talking. But, it looks like tonight is going to be another one of those situations.

After several minutes of the siblings speaking in hushed Sokovian to one another, the girl gathers the black comforter up and around her like a cloak and makes her way down the stairs with her brother at her side.

Steve gives a tired sigh, rubbing his jaw as he moves to stand beside you after flicking off her bedside light.

From here, you can hear the gentle click and hum of the box T.V. humming to life downstairs. You had offered up your vast collection of movies and shows to her on one of those first restless nights. She had an affinity for sitcoms and romantic comedies, oddly enough.

Offering the blonde a slow smile, you ask, “What was it tonight?”

He folds his arms over his chest, rocking back on his heels as he pointedly doesn’t look at you.

“Her, back in the cell… with the Hulk,” comes the terse breath a moment later.

You can’t help but grimace.

During the clean-up efforts, right after the battle, Bruce had transformed back to himself. And while the Hulk might not have noticed or even cared that Wanda was there, Bruce - the man - had very differing opinions on her presence there.

Holding a good amount of anger over her meddling in Johannesburg, he had almost fully transformed back into his green opposite when you and Thor had both tackled him - dragging him far, far away from the terrified girl. You understood, of course. She had gotten into his mind, had twisted it in such a way that he couldn’t regain control over his other self. 

To see her standing there beside all of you was like being sent back to Johannesburg all over again. And to know the damage it has caused to both the city, the people, and Bruce’s own psyche.

While she was apologetic for her actions, you all knew that she was only a child, following the orders of another abusive force in her life. Bruce logically knew that as well, but he couldn’t help that momentary burst of rage that crippled him like venom.

In that sense, you were grateful that the tower was no more. You weren’t sure how they would be able to exist under one roof.

Not that Bruce stuck around long enough after you landed to find out.

Steve reaches out, taking hold of your forearm with his warm hand.

“It’s going to get better.”

With a shrug, you reply, “It’s okay if it doesn’t too. Not everything can be fixed with hope and well-wishing.”

His eye color seems dim in this light, not the usual electric blue you associate with the afternoon sky. Everything about Steve seemed rather dimmed this past month and a half, though. Perhaps, even you were dimmed, a palette of dreary colors that didn’t quite resemble your past self.

It had been a hard victory; one that was soured by so much death and destruction that you weren’t even sure if you could call the battle a victory. It was just finished. That’s all. The finish to a terrible threat.

He gives you a crooked smile, “Still, nothing wrong with hoping for better days.”

“Yeah,” you nod, holding back a yawn of your own.

With Wanda’s regular nightmares shaking the whole house and her screams echoing across the foundations, it was hard for even you to feel energized. Even with your pendant having a permanent position around your neck.

“You going back to bed?” he asks, gently nodding at your second yawn.

“Honestly? I don’t think I could sleep even if I wanted to.”

With a warm chuckle, Steve shakes his head, “Yeah. Me too.”

Together, you make your way downstairs to the living area. The lights are blessedly low, while the program on the TV is a little hard to look at. Pietro is curled up next to his sister, already snoring at the end of the couch. Wanda gives you a thankful nod as she continues to sip from her tea, pulling the comforter closer around her shoulders.

You and Steve find a spot on the loveseat opposite the couch, just under the window. Vision is hovering in the corner of the room, glancing through a book, though his eyes keep looking up at the TV whenever the laugh track plays.

He had been an entirely different addition to your household. Tony had offered to keep him down in Malibu until there was an adjustment period, but Pepper had been more hesitant. It was only after he picked up Thor’s hammer in the rubble of the market square that anyone on the team even felt comfortable having him around. There was so much of Ultron that could have been left in there.

But Tony had sacrificed JARVIS to the net, wiping every last trace of the rogue bot out. He would chase him to the deepest corners of the web to ensure it. That included Vision’s programming.

And, well, since you had a brief moment of clarity on the rooftop together, you volunteered to house him as well.

Steve’s arm wraps around the back of the sofa, his fingers brushing up against your left shoulder as you lean into him. He didn’t really care for these shows, but he didn’t like staying upstairs while the rest of you convened down here either.

“Oh, look. When it started, I was just trying to be nice to her because she was my brother’s girlfriend. And then, oh, one thing led to another and before I knew it we were… shopping.”

“Oh! Oh my god.”

“Honey, wait, we only did it once! It didn’t mean anything to me.”

“Yeah, right. Sure.”

“Really, Rachel, I was thinking of you the whole time!”

Wanda snorts as Monica chases Rachel across their apartment. Steve lulls his head downward, glancing at you with his soft sleep-deprived eyes. You smile back at him, moving in closer to his side, resting your head upon his shoulder as you tuck in for the rest of the night.

The team had been actively avoiding the public eye in the aftermath of Ultron. It was for the best - that’s what Tony’s PR team told you anyway. That’s another reason your house had been the perfect location to place the twins and Vision. It wasn’t public knowledge, the location of your home, and it was a good distance away from any major city. Unlike Tony down in Malibu, who frequently had paps outside of his mansion - waiting for a picture.

That’s why they decide to keep Steve’s birthday a smaller affair - aside from Steve’s own insistence on not making a big deal out of it. Somewhere upstate where they’re less likely to be recognized; questioned, ridiculed.

Well, the plan was to celebrate the supersoldier’s birthday on his actual birthday, but in the realm of superheroes, plans have a way of falling by the wayside. The team is sent to Atlanta to deal with a threat - you stay behind, for obvious reasons.

You’re in the middle of preparing a lunch for the teens, the next day, when you get a text from Tony.

Change of plans. Meet us in Albany round 7 for Capsicle’s shindig? x.

It would give you time to come up with arrangements for the three others in your house. No one felt particularly comfortable with leaving them to their own devices just yet. Not with HYDRA still being an active threat in the world. 

And, since they were in the public image now, more than just the likes of an old military organization might want to get their hands on two enhanced kids. And a sentient being like Vision.

You make a call to an old friend and manage to arrive at the restaurant just an hour after the team does.

They’re all in an array of outfits - since they only had what was available in their go-bags to change into. Natasha has on a black cocktail dress, while Tony’s in a faded Metallica shirt and jeans. Thor has not changed from his armor, though his cape is absent. Clint has a baggy purple hoodie and grey sweatpants on. Only Steve and Sam look to be wearing their typical style of clothing, in all honesty.

“Hey, there she is!” Barton calls out, making everyone turn their head to see you.

“Who’s watching the Wonder Twins?” Tony questions, peering down from behind his sunglasses. Seriously, only that man would wear sunglasses indoors. 

You smile at the belated birthday boy as you take a seat opposite him at the table. Squished between Clint and the resident billionaire, you answer lightly, “A friend.”

“Ooh, like a godly friend, or - ”

“Tony,” Steve sighs with a gentle shake of his head. “Just for one night.”

Stark gives an exaggerated groan, “Oh, for our resident centenarian…”

“He’s only ninety-seven,” Natasha reminds him behind the rim of her drink.

“Thirty, actually. Thank you,” Steve clarifies with another unruly sigh.

Your eyes meet his from across the white-clothed table, a smirk toying at your lips. Leave it to Tony to find the fanciest steak restaurant around.

“What, are we not counting your years in the ice anymore? Cause if that’s the case, man. You really gotta up the game on modern speaking and tech,” Clint rolls his eyes as he lazily folds his napkin into a swan beside you.

“I believe the Captain looks quite healthy for his advanced age,” Thor goads from the end of the table. “A healthy ninety, for sure.”

Steve just buries his head in his hands, a smile tugging at his lips, “This is why I never go to team dinners.”

Your laugh makes him look up. The glimmer of life in his eyes makes your heart swell.

It would take time for all of you to recover from Ultron’s terror, but you would get there… in time.

“So,” Tony sighs, leaning back in his chair, his hand upon his stomach. “I have a schedule out for everyone’s birthdays. Where do I put you two?”

You had just finished a very expensive meal of prime-cut steak selections, fresh-catch baked fish, too many countless appetizers and sides to count, and a very decadent birthday cake with glowing sparklers - because ninety-seven candles on top of a cake are apparently considered a fire risk.

Glancing down the table at your fellow God, you just laugh, throwing your balled-up white napkin at Tony.

“We do not abide by such… mortal things.”

“Well, you gotta have a birthdate, right?” Sam speaks up, one arm on the table as his other hand points between the two of you. “Didn’t just pop into existence one day and forget about it, you know?”

“Well…” you lull your head to the side.

“I knew it!” Clint cheers, “Fucking, what did I say? From the head of Zeus comes the goddess ATHENA.”

Pushing at his shoulder, Barton goes cackling to the side, unable to help himself after a drink too many.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, I’m afraid it’s just not a done thing for us,” you apologize. “If you want, however. Pick a random Thursday, and call it Thor’s Day.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Thor chuckles, “No, it is quite literally my day amongst the practitioners of Norse beliefs in this realm.”

“And you,” Tony contemplates, words playing on his tongue. “Athena… Thena… Thur - no, Tue… no. Okay, help a guy out here.”

You laugh, catching sight of the content looking supersoldier from across the table. His eyes follow the conversation between you and the billionaire, a soft and equally amused smile on his face.

“Nothing like that for me, sorry, Tony. You’re just going to have to survive without throwing me a party.”

“Like hell, I will!” he sounds almost aghast, clutching a hand to his chest. “If you don’t give me one, I’m gonna go for April 1st or something, you know.”

Casually leaning back in your chair, you place your used utensils upon your empty plate. That cake had been delicious.

“Personally, I wouldn’t recommend it. Dionysus gets quite annoyed when people try to take his celebrations away from him.” 

When you catch Steve’s curious look, you return his gaze to explain, “April 1st is the beginning of the Great Dionysia, a celebration created back in the 6th century, BC. He would take it as a great offense that anyone would be trying to celebrate me on that day.”

“Hang on!” Clint remarks, tapping at the table. “Athens. They literally named the place after you. There’s gotta be some kind of thing for you. A party, or a day, a week-long festival, right? I’m right, aren't I?”

“Fellas,” Natasha groans, lifting her glass toward you. “Leave the girl alone. Bad enough we have to suffer through Steve’s dronefest of a party. No offense.”

Steve holds up his hands, “None taken. Wasn’t my idea.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony chimes in. “Was there a thank you, Tony, in there that I didn’t catch? Perhaps a thank you for wining and dining us all on this beautiful evening, Tony?”

There’s a collective groan of Thank you Tony and Many thanks Stark, which seem to satisfy the man’s need for recognition for the night.

When you’re outside, long after the waitstaff usually closed up - but Tony had a very generous tip for the restaurant, so they didn’t mind as much - Clint, Natasha, and Sam say their goodbyes. Wishing Steve a good, belated, birthday before they head out.

Tony lingers around as Thor and Steve converse.

“No word yet on our Strucker double. Just some local guy who went missing about three months before everything went down. And as for the other thing - look. I’m doing my best, but the records from back then are shoddy at best…”

You just nod in return. It had been one of the few requests you had made to the billionaire after taking the teens in. It wasn’t necessarily pressing, but after so many years spent in HYDRA’s captivity, you knew there was a chance that information might help them.

“How are they though?” he asks, voice lowered, sunglasses hooked onto his shirt.

“Good as can be, considering,” you answer honestly. “Wanda has nightmares, Pietro does too, sometimes. But they seem to be adjusting well enough. No… accidental outbursts of, you know, magic. And Vision is… well… he’s Vision.”

At that, Tony lets out a bark of laughter.

“Hey, thanks again for that. Taking one for the team just... yeah. You know? But, good news, groundbreaking on the new location is in a week, so we might be looking at early September, mid-October for move-in?”

You blink, “That fast?”

He fixes you with a look.

“Sweetheart, with the right amount of money, you can afford the best contractors out there. I’m not pinching a dime on these plans.”

Stark had been planning the new Avengers location pretty much since the ride home from Sokovia. The blueprints were good to go by the end of the week. And that was between multiple press conferences, a hospital trip, several angry phone calls from Pepper, and trying to safely and legally get two child refugees into the country.

“Sounds like a plan,” you say lightly.

“Well,” he claps his hands, smiling brightly - drunkenly - as he snags his sunglasses to put back on his face. “Come on, Point Break. Let's leave Mr. and Mrs. Rogers to get back home.”

“Tony - ”

You roll your eyes, “Just because we live together, Tony - ”

“Yeah, but you two? So adorable. Like a little nuclear family. Mom, Dad, the two kids, and your cybernetic… pet. You know what - ”

“Okay,” Thor chuckles as Steve drags a hand down his face, a flush of red doting his cheeks. “I think even you’ve had too much to drink, Stark.”

After the God of Thunder manages to corral Tony into the back of his waiting car, Steve saunters over to you - one hand in his pocket and the other tossing his keys up and down.

“Where have I seen this before?” you laugh.

Steve grins, “Come on, let a guy offer you a ride.”

“Well,” you drawl as you both walk over toward his bike. “It is your birthday, after all, so I guess…”

It’s a two-hour ride back to Vermont.

Your hands remain around Steve’s waist as you travel across the lonely freeways and backcountry roads. The warmth of his leather jacket and the rich smell of his cologne keep you company for the ride. You have his shield on your back while his small go-bag is stored under the seat.

At this time of night, you can make out the distant constellations up above. You point them out as you drive, shouting their names for Steve to hear. At one point, he reaches a hand down to squeeze your right hand that’s held tight across his middle.

As he pulls onto the vacant road that leads up to the house, the engine puttering softly, he tilts his head back to say:

“You know, I don’t even think I asked who’s watching Wanda and Pietro?”

You chuckle, leaning your forehead against his upper back, “Just an old friend. He was free tonight, no big plans.”

There’s a nearly audible arch of his brow, “Old friend?”

You nod, letting him feel the gentle up and down of your head against his shoulder.

“From college,” you add.

You know he wants to ask more of you, but he waits until you’re back at the house. A handful of lights are on when you pull up - through the illusion. Downstairs is aglow in yellow tones, while a single bedroom on the second floor has a flashing melody of colorful lights. Wanda was definitely a fan of the mood lights Tony had purchased for her.

Steve parks the motorcycle near the porch. Holding out a hand to help you off the bike, you eagerly stretch your arms.

“Two hours on that might be too much,” you chuckle.

The supersoldier shakes his head, “It was like… an hour-forty, at most.”

“Oh, so you were speeding.”

Cracking a smile in your direction, Steve pulls the keys from the ignition and pockets them in his jacket. Handing over his shield, the supersoldier takes it in his right hand. Wrapping his left arm around your shoulders, the two of you walk up the creaking steps of the porch.

The house, in all honesty, is usually pretty quiet. Even with two teenagers living there. But Wanda and Pietro definitely weren’t your average teens. So, you didn’t question the silence that sometimes overtook your home. After nearly a decade of existing within HYDRA’s grasp, you knew their willingness and ability to make much noise was still limited.

However, you’re slightly surprised to hear a rapturous conversation taking place the minute you enter the central hallway.

Steve’s eyes are immediately locked on the kitchen. A certain change to his posture as he stands straight, shoulders back, chin up, gaze piercing.

Pushing a gentle defusing hand to his chest, you kick off your shoes and move through the archway to your right.

“Is that right?” Vision asks with a sense of excitement in his tone.

“No, it’s quite a fascinating topic if you have the time for it. You know, not many people know this, but - aye! There she is!”

Your smile blossoms into a bright grin as you cross the kitchen to greet the other man.

“Hello, Vision,” you pat the creation’s shoulder politely before you move to hug your friend, “Hi! Thank you again. How was it?”

Releasing you, his hand drifts to rest on your left shoulder.

“Good, really good. Well… quiet, actually. But they’re not too bad. Good kids at heart.”

“Yeah, they are,” Steve stands in the doorway, his arms crossed as he stares at your companion.

“Ah, Captain Rogers,” he says, letting go of you in favor of going over to shake Steve’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Steve glances at you for just a beat before he returns the handshake.

“Huh, good things I hope. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Uhm,” you cough, moving to stand beside the two men, “This is… Isaac, friend from college.”

“Isaac?” Ikaris mouths at you.

“Yeah, you mentioned that already,” Steve stares down at you.

Ikaris forces a smile, “Yeah we studied at… college, together.”

You actually want to hit him. Sersi was so much better at this than him. God, it was awful. But at least Steve has a hint of a smile on his face. 

Leaning against the doorway, the supersoldier comments, “Didn’t notice a car in the drive.”

The Eternal looks to you, then, oddly enough, at Vision, before he answers, “Taxi.”

“Right,” Steve nods, biting his tongue. “Well, thank you anyway. It’s… sort of a sensitive situation here, you know.”

“Of course,” Ikaris nods in earnest. “Happy to help, obviously. And,” he looks down at you. “If you ever need anything, just… give me a call, yeah?”

“Will do,” you smile before pushing up on your toes to wrap him into a hug. “And thank you again. Hopefully, I’ll see you soon.”

He hums in return before he bids you all a goodnight.

You count his steps down the porch and into the yard before - yup.

Steve turns to look at you, “Power of flight?”

Offering him a sheepish smile, you shrug, “Amongst… other things?”

“God, sweetheart,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I think I’ve got the full picture of you and then you just go and surprise me again.”

You push at his shoulder, eyes locked on his as a smile teases at your lips, “You think you know a girl…”

“I'm sorry,” Vision interrupts, as he looks back at the two of you from his seated position. “Were we not supposed to acknowledge his enhanced state?”

Steve looks down at you, and you up at him before you both start laughing.

Even from out here on the porch steps, you can still smell the lingering scent of onion in the air. Latkes had become a bit of a staple meal around the house as of late. The twins only had vague memories of their life prior to HYDRA and that organization wasn’t exactly well-known for their catering options.

Wanda had newfound aversions to deal with, but Pietro was less particular in his meals. As long as it was filling, he would typically eat it. But the young witch had many opinions about the food you served, and how it was prepared. And you weren’t exactly known for your cooking skills, nor was Steve for that matter.

Potato pancakes were easy enough to make, and opening a can of vegetables or applesauce for a side seemed to do the trick.

It’s just the four of you again. Steve had been called away for a recon mission alongside Clint and Natasha two days ago. Even in a house full of people, his absence was felt by all.

Tony had honestly been right when he said that you had basically created a strange little nuclear family in your home.

“Hey,” you smile gently as you take a seat near Pietro on the steps. From here, you can watch the lightning bugs dancing in the tall grass.

The stars are just beginning to peak out from the violet sky as Wanda walks through the swaying flower fields with Pallas on her shoulder.

Your smile wanes as you catch him wiping a quick fist across his running nose, eyes trimmed with red rings.

The urge to ask are you okay is overwhelming, but you know better by now. It had taken some work with Steve to get him to refrain from asking that question too often as well. Ever since Pietro’s fist had gone through the wall beside the staircase.

His desperate no, I am not fucking fine still echoed in your mind.

He’s pointedly avoiding your gaze, just a step down from you, as he rests his arms on his knees, his head is balanced on the crook of his right elbow as he gazes out at the blinking bugs.

His voice cracks as he asks with a sniff, “When will the Captain return?”

Glancing down at Pietro, you turn your eyes to the evening landscape. The wind is warm on this late-July night. It sweeps across the fields and forest canopy, a loving caress against your bare arms and legs.

“I’m not sure.”

Wanda giggles as Pallas takes flight, swooping around her alongside the lightning bugs. She claps her hands together once, holding them to her lips as she watches the owl soar.

“You know,” you begin, leaning toward the boy. “Sometimes, you two remind me of my siblings. A twin pair actually.”

He hums in return, eyes still cast upon the land.

“Wanda reminds me of my sister. Keeping to herself, finding companionship in, well, everything but people,” you smirk as Pallas returns to her, landing upon her right shoulder before he toes his way over to her left.

“And you… an Apollo in the making. Bright, charming, quick-witted. He would have liked you.”

Pietro’s head lifts, a curious arch to his brow.

“I miss them,” you relent. “Almost twenty years since I saw either of them, but the ache doesn’t disappear.”

He nods, lightly jostling his leg up and down.

“I…” he clears his throat, drums his fingers upon his knee, “I don’t remember much before… you know. But sometimes I get these… glimpses of them. Our rodičia. I don’t think she remembers as much. Just that night when the apartment was blown up and that missile was just sitting there - for two days, two nights. But I…” 

Pietro smiles. “I remember my mama’s hair; long, curling brown, blowing in the wind. White sheets hanging on a laundry line, shadows, a laugh. It all seems so far away at times.”

“You were young when you were taken.”

“Seven,” he nods. “We had been on the streets for two years when we were picked up. I can’t even remember my otec now. They… wiped it all away with their words, their machines, bastardi!”

You let the silence between you simmer for a moment, letting him ease his woes in the safety of your presence.

“I can’t even remember my own mother,” you admit in a broken whisper.

Pietro turns his head to look up at you.

“I thought people like you just… burst into existence.”

You give a hollow chuckle, “Not quite. She… she sacrificed herself to save me when I was very young.”

He blinks, lowering his gaze, “And… your father?”

Wrapping your hands into an enclosed fist, you let out a long breath.

“That’s… that’s another story entirely, Pietro. Me and the All-Father have a… complicated history in regards to certain things. At some moments, we were as close as can be and others… after Art and ‘Pollo left… well, don’t let me bore you with a Greek tragedy.”

His brow lifts, “Was that a joke?”

You shake your head, offering him a smile in return, “A hint of a pun, yes.”

He hums in return, leaning against the steps - his weight causing the old wood to creak - as he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. The warm evening wind rustles his stark white hair.

Steve returns on the 12th, several days past when he wants to be home. Things had gotten so tied up between the original mission and the HYDRA agent who ended up being an opening into an even bigger operation near the Mexican border.

He had heard mentions of Rumlow’s name on the wires and it felt like he had been running for nearly a week, chasing after another ghost.

The new compound along the Hudson was coming along. Tony was pleased to announce, when they landed the jet late last night, that the main housing unit for the team was completed - they were just waiting on the interior designer to drive up on Friday to finalize that last part of the process.

In the meantime, Tony had a folding camping table and deck chairs set up in the room he deemed their ‘war station… or whatever.’ So, Steve, Nat, and Clint spent three hours going through every last excruciating detail, followed up by marking known locations for both bases of operations and HYDRA agents for SHIELD to deal with.

By the time the sun was clipping the horizon, the supersoldier was in desperate need of a shower and a change of clothes. Luckily, the showers were set up and Tony had stocked the bathroom with exactly three towels. But that was more than Steve had been hoping for anyway, so he spent a long time soaking his aching muscles under the welcomed heat of the shower’s spray.

As he’s about to exit, he spots the billionaire with his feet kicked up on the folding table, a hand held to his forehead.

Tony peeks between his spread fingers as Steve draws near.

“The convenience of modern-day technology,” he sighs as a call comes through on his cell phone. He almost immediately swipes it over to the reject call button.

Steve lifts his brow in question.

“Well, ever since our little fuck up, I’ve had no less than seventeen daily calls between myself and Secretary Thaddeus Ross. If it’s not about dragging me in for a meeting or threatening to lock our asses up, he’s asking about Bruce’s location. Which, yeah, the man can go fuck himself in that sense.”

Resting his hands on his hips, the supersoldier shakes his head.

Things hadn’t eased up after Sokovia. He was starting to wonder if they ever would.

“But, that’s for me to deal with,” Tony shoves his feet onto the ground and stands with a groan before stretching his arms. “While you run and save the day, I’ll make sure the fridge stays stocked and your uniform doesn’t burst into flames or whatever it is I do exactly.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve looks down at the man with a genuine smile.

“Yeah, well,” he gabs, smacking the blonde on the arm as he passes him. “Say hi to the Missus for me, won’t you? And the kids. Those two adorable, rambunctious little tikes.”

Steve sighs, glancing up at the other man, “You’re never going to lay off that, are you?”

“Not until you plan on doing something about it. I’m all for the long game, but the betting pool is getting high, Rogers and Pep’s not gonna let me throw much more into that pot.”

Tony watches him as he goes through the doors to the recently paved driveway and parking lot. His bike remains under a protected shelter, clear of the elements with some fancy Stark Inudstries-branded cover over the motorcycle itself.

Throwing his go-bag under the seat and his shield over his shoulder, Steve mounts the seat and turns the ignition. The bike purrs under his hands.

The billionaire offers him a two-fingered salute as he pulls out onto the main road.

He just knew that he wanted to get home, back to you, in Vermont.

It still felt strange, to call that place home. Steve hadn’t had a proper place to call home since he was a kid in the 40s. He had a house in the Lower East Side, before the Battle of New York. And an apartment in D.C. during his time at SHIELD. But neither of those places felt like home.

They were adorned with his things; trinkets and items, that could remind him of a time and place far away from the 21st century. He had pictures of his friends, the Commandos. But even then, it was not a home.

But this, this strange cohabitation with the twins and Vision, and most importantly you? This is where Steve could truly say he felt at peace. It had been awkward at first, figuring out schedules and dealing with personal preferences, and hell, just being around two teenagers who were fresh out of HYDRA’s grasp.

And it wasn’t that his room on the third floor felt particularly like something he would style - though he had been able to switch out the lilac bedding and frills for things that were more his taste - the house just felt more homey than anything he had lived in after being recovered from the ice.

That was, in all honesty, probably due to you.

God, he was an idiot. Stark was right, he should be telling you or trying to tell you what he feels in his heart. But now it’s more of a challenge to get you alone as Wanda is usually glued to his side and Pietro to yours and it seems like there’s always a chance of Vision just floating through the walls to see what he’s up to.

But regardless of where he’s at in regards to admitting his deeply-held feelings, he’s anxious to get back to the house. To the place he’s easily calling home now, to anyone who asks.

And sure, Nat’s smirking when he says it and shooting glances at Barton, but he doesn’t care. This feels right. Deep in his bones, he knows it’s right.

And… maybe it's because he can forget about the world around him for a little while. Hidden off the grid, in an unmarked location. He can tune out the neverending news reports that call the Avengers the enemy, that demand retribution for their actions or inactions. 

The endless journalistic segments that detail over each member of the team and their past failings. Histories that had once been buried under government security software. They call into question their integrity, their ability to handle situations, to aid in peace-keeping.

When he’s at the house, he can just push that all away.

He can just… sit on the porch, close his eyes, and breathe.

Steve’s not exactly expecting a welcome party when he pulls up the drive, two hours later. So, it’s a bit surprising when Wanda is running up to him.

Her hair’s tied back in a large puffy bun and she’s got a black sheer duster on that billows up behind her as she rushes down the stairs. And Steve’s got a quick remark on the tip of his tongue as he kills the engine on the bike, but there’s a look in her eyes that makes him pull it back.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t - they, they just came. And they took her and - ” her voice quivers as she points helplessly at the neighboring line of trees, just beyond the pasture. “And you said to stay at the house if any- if anyone came and I - ”

“Whoa,” he eases, standing up from the bike, his hands coming down upon her forearms in a gentle hold. “Who took her?”

“I don’t, I don’t know! We were in the kitchen and we were talking about Strucker and there was a knock and I didn’t even think! She just, gah, bodaj ho!”

Steve’s eyes are immediately intense, scoping the lay of the land, looking for a sign of struggle.

And then, from the forest, he hears the distant cry of:

“No! I swear to - STOP IT, right now!”

He’s not even thinking as he takes off running. 

Your voice is clear as day even from such a great distance. Wanda is just behind him, several yards back. But from the porch, he can hear the confused voice of Pietro calling out to them both. And then the boy is right beside him -

“What? What is it?” he asks, keeping pace a little too easily with Steve.

But then you’re yelling again and the boy is gone in an instant and the supersoldier knows that he shouldn’t have let him go. Sure, you faced Ultron a few months back, but he was still a kid. And he was Steve’s responsibility.

“I swear to the All-Father if you even think for a second that I’m going to - ”

Steve’s pace slows as he enters a clearing. You glance up from the center of a group of women - one of them has a linen measuring tape held to your waist. The cross look upon your face immediately melts when you see him.

“Uh… hi,” you force a tight smile. “Uhm, Steve. You really shouldn’t - ”

But he’s already in front of you, keeping a wary eye on the women around you, “Are you okay? Wanda said - ”

“About that, I’m sorry. Uh… this is awkward.”

Turning to face the others, you ask, “Do you mind? You kind of dragged me off before I could really explain.”

A woman with rich brown skin shrugs. Her dark curls are haloed by a crown of pink and purple hyacinths.

“Just be back by dusk. You know how Di gets.”

And it’s really only now, as the two of you briefly converse, that Steve takes a second to look around at his surroundings.

The forest clearing has been swept clear of leaves and debris. Women are hanging lanterns from nearly every branch around this massive open space. And… yes, that tree is physically moving away from the center of the clearing.

Vision’s nearby, conversing with a man who has… goat legs. Apparently, the sentient being had been with you the entire time. Pietro’s standing off to the side, chatting with a blonde girl in a flowing white tunic when Wanda comes over the crest. Her eyes are just as wide as she takes in the scene.

“She’s fine,” Steve clarifies as she draws near.

“What is… this?”

The supersoldier shakes his head, “I honestly have no idea.”

There’s a canopy being set up by a handful of women now, with wooden tables placed underneath it. Almost immediately, items start appearing upon them; apples, breads and other baked goods, olives. So many olives.

Pallas lands on his shoulder just a second later, obviously sensing his confusion and slight distress from afar. He shoves his beak into Steve’s hair and the supersoldier’s quick to place a hand upon the owl’s head.

“Yeah, I hear you, buddy,” he breathes out.

When you finally break free, you saunter over to him with such a sense of awkward tension that Steve almost doesn’t recognize you beneath it.

“So…”

He blinks, looking out at the women before his gaze drops back to your face.

“What is happening right now?”

“Do you remember, last month, at your birthday dinner?”

He nods.

“When I told Tony that they don’t really… do that for me and Thor. And I said that I don’t have any real celebration associated with me?”

Steve nods again. Pallas pecks at the shell of his ear.

“Okay, well… that might have been a bit of a lie. This is… well, it’s uhm. It’s the last day of the Panathenaia. And my very unofficial birthday.”

He’s gawking, he knows he is, but he can’t seem to close his mouth.

“You’re shitting me.”

“I know,” you scrub a hand down your face. “It’s just… I’m not a fan of the pomp and circumstance anymore.”

“You…” he stumbles over his words as he helplessly blinks down at you, a new revelation bursting like a firework in his mind. “Are you telling me you actually have a birthday and that you’ve been keeping it a secret?”

“Well,” you shrug, crossing your arms as you both watch another three oak trees uproot themselves and begin walking further into the forest. 

“Not so much a lie as it was an omission of truth, right? I mean, last year? I was in France when it came around, no one to tell, no one to celebrate it with. The year before that? I was on Olympus. And before that, I was on Axariun III with my father. And well, before that we didn’t even know each other yet. So, all in all… not really me lying.”

“It feels like lying,” he clips, but a smile is playing at the corner of his lips.

“Fair enough,” you sigh.

Steve drums his fingers along the seam of his jeans as he turns, slowly, to take in all the preparations - if that was even the right word.

“So… the Panathea - ”

“Panathenaia,” you correct gently.

“That. What exactly does it entail?”

You grit your teeth, rubbing at your arms for a moment as you look over at the ever-growing table of food that seemed to be materializing out of nowhere.

“Uhm, drinking, dancing, general merry-making. The occasional athletic competition. They throw me in a peplos and offerings are made in my honor, and someone inevitably starts an orgy before the night’s over.”

Steve’s head whips around to look at you, but you’re not even phased by the words that have just left your mouth.

Right, he tries to remind himself. Greek mythology was literally your personal history.

“And this is the… set-up for it?”

“Yeah. Usually, I’m back home when the day comes around, but… well, extenuating circumstances this year kind of kept me Earth-bound.”

“Right,” he nods. “Yeah, that… that makes sense.”

You’re staring at him with slightly concerned eyes, so Steve forces a smile while his mind is honestly still reeling from the new bombshell.

“Want me to introduce you to everyone?”

Noticing the twins off to the side, now conversing with a handful of women - one of them is placing a white floral wreath on Wanda’s head, Steve merely nods.

“Lead the way,”  he holds out his hand in earnest. Pallas ruffles his feathers.

First, you introduce him to the Dryads. A group of women with varying shades of rust-colored hair and bark-like skin, who saunter out of the oak trees.

“They were just moving them to clear the area,” you explain.

Steve just responds with a polite nod, because yes, of course, that was completely normal and didn't phase him one bit. He had witnessed aliens from space. Wood nymphs shouldn’t be all that surprising to him.

This is followed by the Anthousai, a group of flower nymphs who are shorter than even Wanda, all of which are decorated with intricate crowns of blooms and blossoms. 

The woman you had been speaking to earlier is Euphrosyne. She offers the owl on Steve’s shoulder a polite pat on the head.

“My half-sister. Goddess of joy, mirth, and merriment.”

Followed by a doe-eyed red-head who is named Pannychis who you explain is the Goddess of all-night festivity. And Thalia, who is also your half-sister, and the one in charge of the festive celebration and the provision of a luxurious banquet.

“Uhm, this is my nephew, Comus.”

A young teen with strawberry-blonde curls blinks up at him from behind the edge of a golden cup.

“Son of Dionysus, quite infamous for his revelries, festivities, and general merry-making. Which, weren’t you supposed to be helping Euphrosyne plan?”

“Don’t tell her where I am,” The boy smirks before he dips away, grabbing another goblet from a table as he goes.

“And there’s still a few around here who are too busy to introduce just yet. But… yeah, that’s the beginning of this madness, really,” you pause, looking around with your hands upon your hips. And then you turn to look back at him, “I’m honestly so sorry to be dragging you into this. If you want to just hang back at the house tonight and try to ignore the noise, I completely understand.”

Steve leans against one of the posts keeping the canopy aloft. Pallas gnaws at his hair.

“Are you kidding me? Like I’m going to miss out on this?”

Your brows lift in surprise, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, of course. You’re one of the most important people in my life, Athena. If you want me here, I’m going to be here.”

“Ooh, taking one for the team, I see. Well, even if I can’t have everyone else here tonight, at least I’ll have one Avenger on my side.”

He laughs, “I mean, it’s not every day you get to experience an otherworldly festival steeped in antiquity.”

You stare at him for a long silent moment before you shove at his left arm. Steve lets you move him, a laugh startling out from his chest.

“Hey, you’re making me sound old!”

“Aren’t you a little, considering?” he gestures at the flowing tunics of your companions and relatives.

“Yeah, but… you don’t have to say it like that.”

Steve wraps his free arm around your shoulders, gently jostling you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you a little sensitive about the age thing? Cause, take it from someone who frequently gets the grandpa jokes. I just want you to know, that I’m never dropping this.”

“Come on, Rogers! It’s funny when we say it.”

He snorts, “No trouble dealing it out my way, but not as fun when it’s returned, is that it?”

“Well,” you pull away from his grasp, wrapping your hands around your arms as you turn away, an indignant clip to your voice. “You know what they say about ladies and their ages.”

Steve laughs, trailing after you before he can wrap his arms around your torso. A furious blush graces his face as you lean back into him, your head against his sternum.

“Don’t be like that. It’ll be fun, I promise,” he speaks into your hair.

Your right hand comes up and pats at his arm that’s resting across your chest.

“You say that now. Wait till you see the dress they put me in.”

A twitch of arousal sparks through his body and he quickly releases you from his hold, but he plays it off with a laugh.

“Honestly, I can’t wait.”

You smack his chest with your hand, “You’re the worst, Rogers. Please remember that. The worst.”

As you walk away to go and converse with your relatives, Steve shyly scratches the back of his head. 

He makes the unfortunate mistake of glancing over at the twins, who are both looking back at him with nearly identical smirks on their faces. Fantastic, as if he needed two teenagers on his case now as well.

Turning in the opposite direction, he makes it up the hill - back toward the house - when he extends his arm out for Pallas to move down on.

The tawny brown owl blinks up at Steve with his dark eyes and a curious tilt of his head.

“Hey, pal. If I gave you a message, do you think you could deliver it to a few friends for me?”

He squawks in return, almost as if sensing what the supersoldier has planned.

The fading orange hues of sunset are just barely visible through the gaps in the forest’s lush canopy. Steve smiles at your loyal companion as he swoops across the established party area before landing in a tree along the outskirts of the circle. Keeping watch like always.

People in flowing robes and tunics move through the space with such ease that Steve feels even more like an outlier than usual. The twins, and even Vision, are in attendance - at your insistence. Wanda’s hair is loose, adorned by that white floral wreath still. Her eyes are alight as she watches the strangers with unbridled excitement.

Even Pietro has a leaf-woven crown on as he tries to chat up another girl with long dark hair and amethyst eyes.

“Guys, this is my sister, Hebe,” you interrupt with a tight smile as you loop your arm through the girl’s - effectively pulling her away from the boy. “Hedylogos was looking for you.”

The girl’s cheeks blush into a full blossom of red as she quickly darts off toward the other end of the party.

You look down at Pietro before slapping his shoulder with a light hand, “Seriously? If I’m told you’re hitting on another one of my relatives, I swear I’m going to throw those shoes you like out.”

He balks, “You wouldn’t.”

Steve smirks, lowering his stance to speak to the teen, “I wouldn’t risk it, personally.”

Wanda snorts, looping her arm through her brother’s, “Come. I see food and drink.”

“Guys, don’t take anything in a gold goblet!” Steve calls out.

“Especially if a man in purple robes hands it to you!” You add with a laugh.

With a sigh, you turn back to look at the supersoldier. Steve’s already looking down at you with warmth in his gaze. It’s like witnessing a different side to you, free from the heaviness of battle. Right now, you were removed from the usual expectations put upon you and it was beautiful to see. How you moved between the party-goers, an easy smile on your face, and a laugh on your lips.

“This is nice,” he comments, looking around at the simple gathering.

You blink.

“You know it hasn’t actually started yet, right?”

And then you’re sipping red wine from a goblet encrusted with jewels and you’ve got a playful look on your face and Steve, for as out of place as he feels, just wants to kiss you right here and now.

He shoves his hands into his jean pockets instead.

“Is that right?”

“Come on!” you exclaim, “We’re Olympians, this is barely a family gathering. Wait till the man of the hour appears.”

Shaking his head with mirth, he asks, “I thought you were the one being celebrated here?”

“Oh, I am,” you reassure as you take another drink. “But, well, you’ve met my brother but you haven’t really seen him yet. You’ll… you’ll understand what I mean.”

Accepting that as answer enough, Steve gives a nod and takes a sip of his own wine as more and more people begin to appear in the clearing.

It would surprise him if SHIELD or some other government agency wasn’t picking up on all of the energy signatures materializing in this forest in the middle of Vermont. Slowly but surely, the dance floor and surrounding tables and benches are filled up by more and more patrons.

You introduce him to a four-armed woman with a golden crown. Her dark hair is adorned with a large white lotus blossom. She smiles sweetly at him as she converses with you in another language entirely. Steve watches the two of you as her companion, a swan, pokes around at his shoes.

When she leaves, you turn back to him with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, I keep abandoning you to go talk to everyone.”

Steve’s brow scrunches in confusion, “It’s your party, you shouldn’t expect to have me glued to your side the entire night. Go, I can hang out with the kids and Vision. I’m sure you haven’t seen some of your friends in a while.”

“No,” you sigh, encircling his wrist with your palm. “Having you beside me is the only thing keeping me from running off right now.”

Looking down at you with an aching expression, Steve slowly slips his hand free from your grasp, only to lock your fingers together.

“Okay,” he says.

Your worried brow softens, a smile teasing at your lips once again.

“I do miss them. I haven’t seen Sarasvati in ages, but… I prefer small gatherings over, well, this.”

He squeezes your hand, “I understand, trust me.”

As a sense of true peace settles around the two of you, you’re swiftly interrupted by the sound of hand drums beating out a melody.

“Ladies! Gentlemen! And gentle beings alike!”

Steve cranes his neck, and you stand upon your toes, as a shrill voice calls out from the center of the party.

“That’s Eupheme,” you whisper.

“I have the sole honor of presenting the Lord of Celebration himself. The Granter of Blessings, the Kind-Hearted Savior, the God of Wine, our dearest Dionysus!”

Several people cheer, others clap, and some even whoop in delight as a processional band from atop the ledge of the forest floor begins to play.

“Τοῦ Διὸς ὁ παῖς ὁ Βάκχος, ὁ λυσίφρων - ”

As the large swaying line of white-robbed people begins making their way down to the party, you lean up - clutching his shoulder - as you begin translating:

“The son of Zeus, Bacchus,” you whisper-sing into his ear. “The liberator of mind, the Lyaeos, the Lyaeos, the Lyaeos.”

“ὅταν εἰς φρένας τὰς ἐμάς εἰσέλθηι - ”

Steve can feel the warmth of your breath against the shell of his ear and the length of his neck. He grips your waist in his right hand as you continue translating.

“When he enters in our mind. By making it drunk, making it drunk, making it drunk - ”

“διδάσκει με, διδάσκει με, διδάσκει με χορεύειν.”

“He teaches me, he teaches me, he teaches me to dance.”

The processional breaks through the space, a line of people and goats and musicians. Aloft a gold and purple cushion, held by four young men, sits your brother. A laurel wreath around his head as he raises his goblet at the many faces he spots in the crowd. He cheers your name as he passes, but you’re still there glued to Steve’s side. The melodic sound of your words against his ear is a heated delight.

“ἔχω δέ τι καὶ τερπνόν o, ὁ τᾶς μέθας ἐραστάς, ὁ τᾶς μέθας ἐραστάς,”

“And I the lover of drunkeness have, desire for satisfaction, desire for satisfaction.”

His fingers dig into the jut of your waist, pulling you impossibly tighter as everyone around you throws flower petals at the God of Wine.

“With beats and songs makes me happily as does Aphrodite, Aphrodite, Aphrodite. He teaches me, he teaches me, he teaches me to dance. He teaches me, he teaches me, he teaches me to dance. Again I want to dance, to dance - Oh!”

You’re pulled from his grasp by two women adored in ivy crowns. Giving a sheepish smile in his direction, Steve watches as you’re tugged into the center of the celebration.

As his heart eases back to a normal beat and the furious heat in his cheeks begins to lessen, the drummers begin beating upon their handheld instruments.

“My most beautiful friends!” Your brother cheers, his sloshing goblet held high above his head. “Tonight, on this blessed last night of Hekatombaiōn, I wish you all to welcome my lovely sister: the Champion of Olympus, the Beloved, the Wise, the Traveler Amongst Mortals, the Goddess Athena!”

Several loud whistles ring out across the forest as Steve joins in with the clapping. You’re shoved into your brother’s side, an unabashed smile on your face as you push back your hair.

“As the unofficial party master - ”

“Unofficial, seriously?” you ask with a laugh.

“I hereby declare that this Greater Panathenaia begins!”

As the crowd cheers in delight, the musicians belting out a jaunty tune, Steve watches as you shove at your brother’s arm before wrapping him up into a quick hug.

“You’re the worst, you know that right?” he can hear you ask.

The man shrugs, completely unbothered, “You’ll thank me later.”

“Wow.”

Steve turns his head, a smile immediately gracing his face as he spots Tony amongst the robe-clad patrons.

“I’m not gonna lie, I feel a little overdressed.”

He claps his hand in the supersoldier’s for a quick shake as the rest of the team slowly appears from behind him.

“Oh,” a sultry voice comes from beside Tony, a soft hand caressing his face. 

Steve’s brows rise.

“We can fix that,” the woman grins, a hand pulling at the billionaire’s arm as she begins to drag him away from Steve.

Tony chokes, “I mean, when I said that, actually, what I meant was - ”

Steve laughs, a deep belly rumble, as Stark helplessly looks back at him before he truly disappears somewhere into the roving group of partiers.

“We’re never letting him live this down,” Nat smirks, arms crossed as she watches the procession swoop you up into a dance number - you stuck in the middle as they circle around you. “Or Seven, for that matter.”

“Thanks for coming,” he says, his eyes never really traveling farther than you.

“Shame she tried to keep us out of the loop with it. Families though, they can be rough from what I’ve heard.”

He shrugs, taking a sip from his goblet. 

“Her’s don’t seem all that bad.”

Nat’s emerald eyes meet his in the lantern light and flickering flames, “You still haven’t met the old man yet, have you Rogers?”

With a twisted grin that seems to say it all, she takes Clint’s hand - he’s wide-eyed and his mouth is fully agape - and blends into the crowd.

Steve lets that thought simmer for just a moment in his head before he gulps down the rest of his wine and successfully pushes it to the back of his mind. Weaving through the other patrons, he spots the twins at a table under the canopy - talking to a group of Olympians who look around their age. But with godlike immortality, they could well be a thousand or so years older than Wanda and Pietro.

He smiles as the girl catches his eye, offering her a nod of reassurance before he moves on past the overflowing tables of what he now understands to be offerings.

You had explained it all rather quickly that afternoon to him. But he takes his time looking down at the array of items. Lots of olives still. But now he also spots wooden owl statues, pomegranates, oranges, feathers, small embroideries, and drawings. Hell, some of them looked like fan art the team regularly received, but with your image upon the crayon-dusted lines.

He accidentally bumps into the arm of a boy as a group of women crowds into the tent. Steve goes to apologize, but when the kid looks up at him, he feels rooted to the spot when he notices the rather large unfurled white wings on the youth’s back.

“Sorry, a bit of bad luck there, right? You must be one of those mortals my aunt’s always going on about. I’m Anteros. And you are… oh, wow. I see. Bit of a heart-on-the-sleeve type, yeah?”

As Steve goes to back away from the boy, the kid merely shakes out his bouncing dark curls and laughs. 

“You’re not used to that are you? Don’t worry,” he smiles as he nabs an apple from your offering table, taking a loud bite out of the fruit; juice dribbling down his chin. “She’ll get there eventually. I might not be part of the Fates, but I can see some things in that regard. Mmm,” he chuckles, chewing the white chunks with a slightly opened mouth. 

“Better stay away from my friend Pothos, or he’ll read you right down to the bone with all that energy going on in there.”

“Right,” is all Steve can say because he honestly has no idea what exactly has just happened, only that he feels very raw and vulnerable being next to this kid whose eyes are far too old for his youthful face and body.

As he exits the tent, he runs right into you. Oh, thank god.

“Hey,” you beam up at him with dazzling dark eyes. “Did I just see Hedona fitting Tony for a chiton? Also, when did they get here? How did they know?”

“Might have had help from Pallas…”

“Steve,” you beam.

But there must be a look on his face because your features fall.

“You okay?”

“Wha - yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry, there’s just a lot of relatives around and I feel a little… weird about meeting literal mythological legends. I think I just met your nephew possibly?”

You make a humming noise in your throat as you look over his shoulder, “Oh, Cronus. The Erotes. No wonder you look frazzled, Rogers. My deepest apologies. Stay away from the young boys with hearts in their eyes, okay? Menaces, all of them.”

And then you’re tugging on his arm, forcing Steve’s head closer to your lips.

“Come on, I’m trying to avoid the Charites for as long as possible.”

Words come to his lips like why and what, but they’re droned out by the raucous sound of music and inebriated party-goers.

Steve lets you lead him by the hand through the madness and joy. Swerving through dance circles and casual drinking groups, offering a word of thanks for attending the celebration and a surprising introduction on his behalf.

“Seshat! Thoth, so glad you could make it.”

You’ve just run into a woman with heavy kohl-lined eyes and a yellow animal print tunic. But beside her stands a man with a bird-like head and a long blue cowl. He’s only wearing a low-hanging robe around his waist. He tilts his head in a very bird-ish fashion as he looks down at the two of you.

“It’s been so long, my friend!” the woman beams, grasping your free hand in hers.

You hadn’t let go of Steve’s right hand yet. He’s trying his best not to feel smug about it.

He’s been introduced to the large and incredibly interesting friend group you had long been keeping to yourself. The supersoldier meets a man with a lion head, an Aztec or possibly Mayan deity (Steve couldn’t actually hear his name over the sound of the musicians striking up another song). As well as so many Olympians, he’s fully lost track.

But above all of the noise and splendor, he hears Clint start roaring with laughter. Trailing his eyes across the crowd, he immediately spots the source of his amusement. Tapping you on the shoulder, he stands back and watches.

You turn, the question of what is on your lips, but you immediately hold a hand to your mouth to keep from outright bursting into laughter.

“Okay, little more breezy than what I was expecting,” Tony admits as he draws closer to them.

“Wow, it’s… quite a look,” Steve attempts to restrain his own laughter.

Stark does a little spin, showcasing the simple red tunic with a single gold clasp at his left shoulder. The arc reactor glows a faint blue light from the center of the cloth, making him look both ancient and alien all at once. The hem of the garment is far above his knees, with the threat of showcasing more than Steve would ever wish to see just a sudden gust of wind away.

A camera clicks, followed by a flash, as Nat tucks away her phone.

“Very dashing. Watch out for breezes.”

“Eegh,” Tony groans, holding his hands to the hem of the fabric.

Steve’s so distracted by the strange display in front of him, that he’s failed to notice the woman you’re now talking with.

“I didn’t realize mortal men could be so dashing.”

“Surely you remember the likes of Perseus or Achilles.”

“Mhmm, but there’s something just... intriguing about these new ones. They don’t need you or the All-Father to be powerful, they just are on their own.”

His ears are burning as he tries not to interrupt your conversation, but then he feels your fingers slipping around his wrist, squeezing lightly against his pulse point.

“Sorry, I don’t think I had the chance to introduce you. Philophrosyne, this is my dearest friend, Steve Rogers.”

“Oh, pleasure’s all mine,” she smiles brightly. “But, I’m afraid I’m here for more nefarious means, apologies, sir.”

And then she’s got a hand on your forearm and she’s calling out, “SHE’S OVER HERE!”

Shooting Steve a helpless look, you whisper, “Save me,” before you’re dragged away by a group of smiling women.

He hears mention of a dress and Steve just chuckles, watching you go.

“You look divine, my lady,” one of the young girls says as she looks up at you with sheer delight.

“Thank you,” you respond with genuine gratitude.

While you had made a rather large fuss about the party and the dress and, well, everything to do with the celebrations, you did sort of enjoy it. Long ago, the Athenians had worshipped you in grand week-long festivals. It had been a point of pride and amusement for you as your temple was filled with offerings in your name.

Now, several millennia later, you found yourself, at times, nostalgic for those days. The concept of birthdays had never been a tradition amongst your people. But, as the decades drew on, some small mortal festivities became familiar on Olympus.

“It’s a very fine dress, indeed. I can see the love and hours spent upon it,” you remark with a wink.

Gazing before the standing mirror in your room, back at the house, you admire the sky blue peplos. The sleeves and waist are embellished with golden floral trim, with hints of purple thread that seem to shimmer against the soft blue linen. The sleeves are clasped by two golden pins, each of which is decorated with an owl’s head.

The loose fabric sways as you walk back across the pastures with your personal procession of weavers. Only, when you catch the strange silhouette against the moonlight, do you beg your companions for a moment of solitude.

Finding yourself following in the familiar footsteps left from a few months prior, you move to join Thor against the tall grass of the overlook.

“Ah, my Lady Athena,” he greets, beaming down at you. “‘Tis a fine garment.”

“Thank you. I had hoped to see you at the festivities this night, my friend.”

He chuckles. The loose strands of his hair flutter in the evening breeze, a warm stretch of summer night blanketing the sky with splatters of glistening stars.

“I can not intrude on such an event.”

Biting at your lip for just a moment, you nod, “Well, I suppose that would be true if you were not on the arm of the one being honored.”

His dark eyes gaze down at your offered arm for just a beat before his bellowing laugh echoes across the countryside.

When the two of you, and your procession, appear at the top of the hill leading down to the forest clearing, the musicians break off as your sister, of all people, takes the floor.

“My most gentle patrons, I wish for you all to now gaze your eyes upon the Daughter of Zeus, the Goddess… Athena.”

Giving a small giggle of anticipation, your hand grips Thor’s arm as you descend.

“My friends, family, and drunken guests!” you call out, receiving a chorus of laughter. “Tonight, I wish you all to welcome my honored guest with open arms as you would me. The Protector of the Nine Realms, the Wielder of Mjolnir, the Champion of Midgard, the God of Thunder, the Son of Odin, Thor.”

A few people clap, but you’re quick to add on:

“And if you refuse his presence, I’m going to have Dionysus throw out the good wine.”

“DON’T YOU DARE!” Comes the immediate and indignant shout of terror from your brother.

Soon, the partiers begin to laugh and cheer as the musicians pick back up with another song.

Thor leans down, kissing your cheek.

“Thank you for allowing me to grace your… humble celebration. Wait - ” His voice clips as he looks out over the crowd. “Is that… is that Bragi? I can’t be here but he damn well can?”

You give the God of Thunder a shrug, “To be fair, you have tried to kill or badly maim most people here, Odinson. You can’t expect them to not hold a grudge.”

“But… but…” he mutters, eyes shifting between you and his fellow Asgardian.

“And Bragi gets on well with a few of us, he’s always around for poetry readings and the every-other-decade book club meeting.”

His features pale, “You’re kidding me.”

“Wish I was,” you grin in return, lightly smacking his cheek with your hand. “Have fun. Don’t bed too many of my relatives. If they don’t try to slap you first, now that I think of it.”

You watch as he heads over to the bar filled with many of your brother’s finest spirits. With a smile on your face that seems incapable of fading, you make your way through the crowd in search of your other friends.

To your surprise, you find Steve locked into a conversation with both Sersi and Sprite - who remains in her natural form.

“ - yeah, no. We’ve known each other for… a while. Uhm, college roommates actually, in London.”

“Wow, really?” Steve asks, with a voice that clearly says that he’s not buying it, but his smile doesn’t really give him away and Sersi seems oblivious to his suspicion.

But as he goes to take a sip from his goblet, his eyes catch sight of you. And you can’t help it as you wrap your hands over your bare arms as you make your way over, feeling sheepish and strange in the garments of your kind.

“Whoa,” he says as he sets his goblet down. “You look… wow.”

“Hopefully that was a good wow?” you try to joke.

Sprite snorts, face in her goblet, “Obviously.”

“Hey! See you’ve met my friend from college and her… niece?”

Sersi nods quickly in return. Steve just turns his head, hiding his blossoming smile from her.

“Anyway!” she turns back, grabbing hold of your hands. “As is tradition, I have a gift for you!”

“Come on,” you begin to lament. “How many times do I need to say this: Sersi, my love, you do not need to get me anything. Your friendship is more than enough.”

“Just take the frog!” Sprite groans.

You flash the redhead a smile as Sersi shyly hands over a beautiful pale jade frog.

“Wow…” you murmur, cradling the fragile object in your hands. “This must be…”

“From the gift shop, yes,” the Eternal smiles tightly.

So it was very very old then.

The handicraft is exquisite, the jade is smooth and polished. Maybe… third century, around the Eastern Han dynasty, if you had to hazard an immediate guess?

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit, looking up at one of your oldest friends.

“Well,” she shrugs, chuckling. “Just say thanks. I managed to convince Kingo not to send a golden statute your way this year.”

“He almost went for an ice sculpture instead,” the redhead hums, eyes trained on one of the Erotes chatting nearby. Oh, not Himeros. Honestly, Sprite - have some decency.

“I’m sorry,” Tony butts in. “Are we referring to the Kingo? As in, the action movie superstar of the Indian subcontinent?”

You shrug, looking over at the billionaire, “What can I say? He was a friend from college.”

Tony balks for all of ten seconds before he snaps his mouth closed, “Well, since we’re doing gift-giving, which by the way, your royal highness - ” he steps closer to you, looking completely un-intimidating in his high-hem chiton.

“ - do you know how difficult it is to buy someone the perfect gift when they fail to mention that it’s their birthday and you have twenty minutes to be in the air?”

“Sorry?” you reply with a sheepish tone.

He clicks his tongue, “Yeah, well, your perfect gift is back at the house. Try to hold your thanks and just promise to show up for team training every now and then,”

Dipping away, toward the overflowing bar, you all watch him go. 

Sprite smirks, “I like him.”

“Don’t,” Sersi warns with little to no playfulness as she steers the younger-looking of the two of them away.

“No, yeah, I’m with Stark on this,” Clint perks up from his lounging position on one of the benches. Natasha sits beside him with his feet on her lap. “Are we just supposed to ignore your celebrity friend list or what?”

“I know one celebrity, okay?”

“And this? The plethora of pantheons? I’m pretty sure I saw Nike around here because I recognized her from her statue. That’s how insane this is. Speaking of, where’s the old man? Mr. Thunderbolt himself?”

You scoff, leaning back into Steve for invisible support.

“Clint, I’m from Olympus, this is basically a reunion. One in which, the All-Father will not be attending. Not as long as we’re on Earth.”

He lets out a low whistle as Natasha shoves his feet to the ground.

“Ignore him,” she says with a flicker of humor in her dark eyes. “And hey, happy birthday - ” you’re suddenly wrapped into a rare Widow hug, one that you accept all too eagerly as you wrap your arms around her shoulders. “How old are you, by the way?”

“Nooo, I’m not falling down that rabbit hole. Rogers already wants to start up Grandma Athena jokes. I’m good.”

The supersoldier chuckles, you can feel the heat of his breath on your shoulder.

“I’m just saying, they’re more fun to direct at someone else for a change.”

Natasha has a curious gaze in her eyes as she glances around at the other patrons, “I’m going to find out tonight no matter what. Might be easier to just tell me yourself.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” you tease, turning away to grab Steve by the hand as you disappear into the dance circle in the center of the party.

You don’t intend to stay there, in the middle of the dancers, but you’re almost landlocked by them. Unable to break free from their midst. Offering Steve a shrug and a laugh that can’t even be fully heard above the music, you begin to sway along with the others.

He remains still for just a moment, then a moment more, before he leans down to whisper-shout into your ear.

“You want to dance?”

With a nod, you lean up to reply, “I mean, it’s a party after all. Might as well.”

“I’m not really a dancer,” he laments with a flush of pink on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

You reach up, grabbing hold of the back of his neck to bring him down to your level. Fixing his eyes with a look, you say, “Neither am I.”

His laugh reaches your ears just as the musicians begin to play another number. A loud melody followed by several dancers clapping to the beat. Grabbing hold of both of your hands, Steve spins you around in a dizzying circle before you’re drawn back to him.

With an infectious smile upon your face, you let him lead you in a small space left only to the two of you as the rest of the dancers move and spin around you both.

One of his hands drops down to your waist, while the other dangles over your opposite shoulder as you move in closer - drawn into each other’s orbit like the Earth and the ever-present Moon. Resting a hand on his left shoulder, your fingers tickle the small hairs at the back of his neck as your other hand moves to his waist.

You sway to the beat of the music and ringing laughter and overall drunkenness as the world simmers down to just the two of you, dancing together, moving as one.

Steve looks nearly predatory with his gaze fixed upon your face, his blue eyes a distant memory as the darkness of his pupils takes hold. In his irises, you can see the dancing flames of the lantern lights and the reflection of your own face. Feeling too close, too hot, too much, you pull back.

Tugging on his left hand, you move yourself into a spin - one that Steve finishes with a laugh as you dip away from him before being drawn back in. He seems to take the hint as he leaves your right hands joined together, with his left situated loosely on your hip.

The hand drums batter away as a chorus melody begins. The pace is fast as feet go flying on the ground, hands clapping together in the air.

“Can’t dance, honestly,” Steve snarks as he spins you around once again.

You love the feeling of the sudden rush of summer breeze as it makes the bottom of your dress billow up. Sweat is dripping down your neck from the closeness of the crowd.

With a smile in return, you remark, “Says the man keeping to the beat.”

He shrugs, dipping you nearly backward before dragging you back up to his side, “I mean, I was no dance hall expert.”

“I don’t believe that,” you laugh, as you twist around him, returning on his right side.

“It’s true,” he says with a softened tone. “I would have had to get a girl to dance with me.”

“Oh, Steve,” you pucker, allowing him to pull you in closer than before, your bodies almost touching - the heat between you is electric. “Well, you have one now and she thinks you’re doing a great job.”

“Is that right?” he grins, his hand moving from your hip to your lower back as you’re drawn in flush against him.

Resting a hand on his shoulder, you nod.

“Class act, really.”

You can feel the light graze of his lips on the top of your head, then another press near your temple, and then one to your forehead.

Maybe that Olympian wine was finally affecting him after all.

When you pull back, his face is flushed and his gaze is unbelievably intense. But it’s the sight over his shoulder that has you frozen.

“Oh my god,” you groan, using the human terminology for the first time.

“What?” he questions, still oblivious.

Pushing on his right shoulder, you have him turning just enough to see -

“Oh, wow.”

“You didn’t tell me Sam was here,” you complain.

“He wandered off before I got the chance to,” he chuckles.

“Good thing her husband isn’t here, or we’d be scraping up bits of him for the next month.”

Steve shudders at the imagery.

It wasn’t every day Aphrodite went searching for other companions. Considering she still held a flame for Ares and was married to Hephaestus. But this? This had to be crossing some lines even for a drunken festival.

The man has a hand in her hair - blonde, you note - and their lips haven’t fully disconnected since you first spotted them. She’s got a hand on his chest, as she leans further and further into him.

“Well,” you proclaim. “I’ve officially lost any appetite I might have had. No offense to Sam, of course.”

“I don’t know,” Steve shakes his head. “I think it’s mostly him.”

With a sudden burst of giggles, you grab hold of Steve’s right wrist and proceed to tug him away from the dance circle - far away from the line of sight of an Avenger trying to get it on with your sister.

Pulling your hair back and over your shoulder, you shake your head once again. 

“At my party, of all places. Honestly.”

Steve wanders alongside you, careful of the forest floor as you dip away from the main festivities.

“Give a man enough wine…” 

Looking over your shoulder at him, you remark, “Seems like you might have had a bit yourself, Rogers.”

With a shrug, his eyes flash up to meet your gaze.

“I had two glasses, that’s hardly anything.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you tease. “Dionysus’ spirits are said to be even stronger than Asgardian liquor. I’d be careful if I was you.”

Resting against the cool bark of a tree, you blow upward at the loose strands of your hair that are sticking to your warm forehead. The early August heat was doing nothing for your sweaty skin and rapidly beating heart.

You’re halfway up the hill and you’re able to look upon the entire party from here. With Sam and your sister out of sight, you manage to spot Tony sitting on top of the bar - loudly proclaiming some outrageous story to a group of Olympians. Natasha, one of the few redheads in the crowd, is spotted a moment later, weaving her way through your relatives with disturbing ease. Clint, is in the middle of the dance floor, jumping up and down to the song.

Pietro has cornered another one of the Muses. He’s leaning against the post of the canopy, speaking into her hair. Wanda is surrounded by some of the Anthousai who all seem to be crafting new floral wreaths together. Thor is actively armwrestling Agon and you knew that was likely to go on all night. The god of competition would not be easily swayed by a possible defeat.

Steve is a few feet away from you, a little lower on the hill, as he too watches on. The paper in your pocket tempts your hands once again. 

You had been toying with it back at the tower before Sokovia. Hell, you had been contemplating it since 2014, when SHIELD was falling and you were technically considered dead for almost 48 hours.

A hand taps at your left shoulder and you completely startle.

“Cronus! You ass! You can’t do that!” you shriek as you slap Hermes' shoulder repeatedly.

Steve looks on edge while your brother merely tilts his head back and laughs.

To be fair, the last time the supersoldier had been in the same room with your brother, he hadn’t been an entirely charming force to be held.

“Oh, come on. Too easy,” he beams.

“Those damn sandals,” you grumble - staring down at the winged footwear that allowed him such stealth-like advantages.

“You love them,” he retorts, flashing his ankle as he tilts them for you to see. “I see you’re having fun.” Hermes lifts his gaze, nodding, “Captain Rogers.”

Steve offers a nod in return, his hands situated on his belt.

“I trust that my gift was helpful,” he gestures at the chain of your pendant.

Pulling the locket free from the peplos, you admire the silver jewelry, “I thought it was a gift from the Fates.”

“Deliverer of gifts then. Speaking of - ”

You watch with widened eyes as a golden halo of light appears from the heavens - three packages floating down into his waiting hands.

“Father sends his well wishes, of course.”

Taking the first box from him - a tiny thing, about the size of the palm of your hand - you lift the cover off.

“Oh my gosh,” you murmur as you stare down at the dazzling blue gems.

Hermes snorts, “I’m sure you know the meaning.”

With a nod, you carefully pull the first earring free.

A teardrop lapis lazuli with a golden clutch.

Looking back at him, you remark, “They’re stunning.”

He says nothing as he hands over the second package done up in purple wrapping.

From within, you retrieve an intricately beaded diadem. The peacock colors are entwined with gold latticework. It’s so delicate in your hand, that you barely even want to pull it free. But then you’re looking down at your companion, calling out a simple:

“Steve?”

The supersoldier, with a wary eye, takes a step up, then another. He’s standing directly in front of you as you offer him up the tiara. With a gentle look upon his face, he carefully lifts the diadem, rotating it around, before situating it carefully on the crown of your head.

With a whistle, he steps back.

“Hera always goes overboard with this one,” Hermes comments in Steve’s direction. “Athena’s about the only one she can stand.”

“Not true,” you murmur.

He blinks, “Seriously? We want to walk down that path?”

With a slow shake of your head - no reason to ruin a perfectly nice night - your brother’s smile slips free as he hands over the last package.

It’s a scroll, wrapped in on itself with a simple white ribbon.

“Careful now,” he comments. “That’s an antique.”

With a cautious eye trained upon your brother, you begin to unfurl the paper. The first glance at the contents has you rolling it back up as you snap, “Did you steal this?”

Holding up defensive hands, he grins, “I might be the God of Thieves, dear sister, but this came from a friend of ours. A certain… woman who puts even my speed to shame.”

You gape.

“She didn’t.”

He beams, “I think we both know she did.”

Turning it slightly for Steve to look at, you unfurl the map once again, “This is the Ebstorf Map.”

The paper extends out, further and further to the point that both men have to hold onto a portion of the map.

“It was created in the mid-13th century by a group of nuns living in modern-day Germany. This was said to have been destroyed in 1943, during the bombing of Hanover. This shouldn’t... oh, that clever woman.”

If anyone in your known circle could have gotten this to safety and kept it perfectly preserved, it would have been Makkari.

Steve’s eyes rove across the intricate work, an artist’s soul soaking up a historical artifact. One that probably shouldn’t be held by physical hands, now that you think of it. Carefully folding it back up and rolling it together, you push it over into Steve’s capable hands as you latch yourself around your brother.

“Thank you! And tell her thank you as well. Cronus, I should get her something in return. Wait a minute.”

You vanish from the forest before either man can utter a single word, appearing deep within the basement of the house. Well, it was listed as a basement, it was more like a museum storage facility, in all honesty.

Makkari might have her own collection on the Domo, but yours was equally impressive. Both between your home in Vermont and your temple back on Olympus. It only takes you a moment to find what you’re looking for - the perfect thing for her never-ending collection - before you reappear.

The two men look up, apparently caught in the middle of a conversation. Steve coughs, taking a step away, as you glance over at him. With a shake of your head, you speak to your brother.

“This isn’t much, but my gratitude can not be understated. Her gift was incredible.”

Hermes eyes you as you attempt to hand over the tablet.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Come on,” you groan. “You know it’ll be safe in her hands.”

With a half-hearted sigh, he takes the emerald tablet from your hands. Oh, she would be wild about it, you just knew it.

“I’ll see that it gets to her with signs of thanks.”

“I appreciate it,” you smile.

Steve helps you get everything back to the house. After rounding up the twins and Vision, the two of you escort your household members back inside. The teens, obviously, were all too willing to stay up late into the morning hours, but you cut them off around 2 AM. And you insisted that he return as well.

Considering the fact that he had just returned from a mission and hadn’t received any proper sleep in nearly 72 hours, he didn’t press too hard about staying back with you to enjoy the festivities.

“Trust me, they’ll only be getting drunker and louder as the night wears on. I can only tolerate so much.”

After Wanda and Pietro head up for the night and Vision disappears to the library down the hall where he had been spending most of his time these past two months, you collapse into a kitchen chair.

Steve lowers himself into the adjoining seat, looking out at the spread of gifts from your closest friends and relatives.

As you pull the diadem from your head, you rub at your tired face - your cheeks puffing up in a slightly adorable fashion.

Laid before him sits a pink bottle with a sea shell emblem, a golden hilt, and a silver dagger. In a very ornate clay vase sits a combination of flowers. You had told him their names, but he can’t recall them now. One has white petals and a yellow center and the others are simple six-petaled white flowers.

From an opened bag on the table, you reach in and begin peeling a mandarin orange for yourself. The sweet citrus scent wafts around him in the hot kitchen - the summer breeze from the open window does nothing to cool the room.

Steve gazes down at the two additional pieces of jewelry you were now adorned with. A golden snake-shaped ring on your left index finger and a dark green jade bracelet on your right wrist.

What’s completely confusing him, however, is the glass in the middle of the table.

Clearing his throat, he finally asks, “What’s with the water?”

You arch a brow as you take another bite of your orange, a dribble of juice sits at the corner of your lips. Your eyes travel to the glass before you swallow your bite.

“My uncle, I’m guessing.”

He nods, but you don’t seem interested in elaborating.

“Is it… special?”

“Steve,” you blink. “It’s water.”

And then you dip your pinky into the glass before bringing the soaked digit up to your lips to suck.

“I’m sorry, salt water.”

“Just… salt water?”

With a snort, you drop the peel on the table and lean back in your seat, arms crossed.

“You’re still not versed on my mythos, after all this time?”

He shrugs, mirroring your position.

“I’d rather hear it from you, honestly. No book can tell me your truth.”

A look settles over your face, one that he thinks is reading as pleased, but he’s a little out of sorts since the third goblet of wine.

“Let’s just say,” you ease. “We don’t get on very well. He was likely required to get me something, but he chose to do so in his own way.”

With a shake of your head, you stand up and pour the glass into the sink.

You stare out the window, at the glowing lights dancing in the center of the forest. Even from a distance, you can both likely make out the continued party down the hill.

After a moment, Steve says, “It’s more than what I got you.”

You turn, fixing him with a gentle look, “Your friendship will be the only thing I ever ask from you. Always, Rogers. No… piece of jewelry or $400 jacket - ” you point at the unwrapped box on the counter; Tony’s gift, “ - will ever be required of you. Just… you. You are enough for me.”

He can’t help it. Standing up and pushing away from the chair, Steve circles your left wrist with his hand as he pulls you in - slowly, gently - to a hug. He can feel the contend sigh you let out against his sternum as you bury your face into his chest. His arms circle your back, fingers tangling into the ends of your hair.

You both stand like that for minutes - though it could be hours with how truly at peace he feels - when, at last, you pull back. There’s a sheepish expression greeting him as you run your palms down the length of your sky-blue dress.

“Bucking tradition, I actually have something for you.”

He groans, closing his eyes, “Now I’m seriously feeling guilty over not giving you a present.”

“Come on,” you beg. “Open.”

When he blinks his eyes back open, he glances down at your extended palms. There in the center of the cupped pair, sits a scrap of paper.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he picks it up and examines the faded brown parchment. Turning it over with his fingers, Steve nearly stumbles.

Because he knows this paper.

He can barely hear your words above the thundering of his beating heart.

“I know, just, okay. So, this has been on my mind for a while now. Basically, this is going to be your link to me now. Whether I’m… across the ocean, or in another dimensional plane. Ever since Russia and honestly, now that we’re going on separate missions with the team, I just… basically - ”

Your fingers smooth over the parchment, landing on the owl constellation marked with ink.

“Long ago, there was a constellation in Pallas’ image. My constellation really. If there ever comes a time when you need me and can not reach me the normal way, I want you to push down on this, like - ” your fingers press into what would be the stomach of the bird, “ - and you’ll get Pallas, who will get me.”

As if on command, the owl swoops up to the window sill, pecking at the glass before you move to let him in. He lands on Steve’s shoulder, gnawing at his hair.

But the supersoldier can’t move, can’t even speak as he stares down at that imagery.

“Hey, I know it’s kind of - ”

He just shakes his head.

“I know this. I’ve seen it before… in my compass.”

You tilt your head, a curious pinch to your brows, “What are you talking about?”

Letting out a breath as he lowers his hands, the paper clenched with his right fist, he explains, “That day that we thought Loki might have been… with the scepter? After New York?”

You nod, after a beat, in understanding.

“You’re saying… you saw this, in the compass? The compass that wasn’t yours.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, feeling the weight of something he can’t even process expel from his chest. “I don’t know how. I just… I remember this being in there.”

Your hands encircle his forearms as you stare up at him.

“There are some things in this universe, that even I can’t explain. Maybe… one day it will make sense. But, I think I’d like to believe that you should hold onto this for maybe more reasons than I originally intended.”

Steve gives a sharp nod, a weird catch in his throat as he says, “Yeah.”

“You’re not going to be far, are you?”

Turning back around, a box in your hands, you shake your head. Pietro looks back at you from the open doorway to his room.

“No, I promised you both that we’d be close by while you get adjusted. I’m two down on the right, and Steve’s one past that. You guys are going to be just fine. Hell, even Vision has a place set up at the end of the hall.”

It had been a strange two weeks, moving everything over to the newly minted Compound.

The twins had their own fears over the move. Pietro had come to enjoy the space at the house in Vermont, the freedom he felt he had with just four other occupants. Now, this place felt a little more… official, and scientific. Tony had a whole section set up for research and development outside of his own personal labs. There were people coming and going nearly all day and night.

Though the private apartments were away from those areas, just looking out the windows would allow you see to the endless flow of people.

Luckily, you managed to lock down a separate corridor near the back of the building, on a lower floor too.

Wanda didn’t like windows. Well, she liked having some windows. But floor-to-ceiling ones made her anxious, and jumpy. She didn’t feel fully protected with them. Tony was all too understanding at your request.

That’s how you found yourselves occupying a hall mostly to yourselves.

Clint and Natasha were in the west wing of the building. Thor and Bruce had designated rooms on the north side of the apartments - though neither room was currently occupied.

Dropping the box off at Wanda’s room, you wipe your hands clean.

You knew it was going to take time for them both to feel comfortable and to adjust to their new living arrangements. But they seemed to understand that this was going to be the safest place for them to be for now.

Even though Tony never went into detail, you understood that the situation outside of the Compound was still… tense, to put it lightly.

Steve glances back at you. He’s on a ladder, helping Wanda arrange her mood lights above her bed.

Sometimes, you wonder exactly where you had been heading all those years ago. The anti-team mindset and your avoidance of people in general. Yet, here you are.

Leaning against the open doorframe, you watch as the pair interact together in hushed tones and soft laughs.

No, you could have never imagined this life for yourself. Not only were you going to have a room here, but you made up your mind that you would in fact be living here, on a semi-permanent basis. No more running back to Olympus at every chance.

You were part of a team now. These were your people, your friends, your pseudo-family.

At the vibration in your pocket, you pull your phone free.

Scoffing at the message - grannie, seriously - you call out, “Hey! Tony says he’s got a free hour if you two wanna head down to do a consult on those uniforms he mentioned.”

Wanda whips around, a look of equal trepidation and excitement mixing together on her face.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I recommend going. Otherwise, he might try and put some armor in there in red and gold tones.”

She makes a face, causing you to chuckle as she waves goodbye to Steve. Running off in search of her brother.

“Kids these days,” you comment for the supersoldier to hear as they both zip past you a moment later. “They grow up so fast.”

He just laughs in return as he folds up the ladder and places it along the wall. She still wanted some kind of canopy hung up above her bed, so you imagined he might have his hands full later.

“So, how are we looking?” he asks as you both head down the hallway toward the main living space.

“Well, it’s not the ‘27 Yankees, but I think we have some hitters.”

Steve snorts as you push through the next set of doors, side by side, striding together through the halls.

“They’re good. We’ll make them into a team.”

You share a smirk with the supersoldier as you make it to the newly finished gym, pausing at the doors as you say, “Let’s beat them into shape.”

With two of your biggest allies out of the picture - hopefully, temporarily - you were faced with the joint decision to mold the newest members into a proper fighting force. Ultron may have had doubts about your ability to come together and work as one, the media might still be feeding those very same doubts to the public, but you were dedicated to proving them all wrong.

Steve enters the gym with an assured look gracing his face. With a nod, the two of you get to work.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Author's Note: Oh my god, not Stethena pseudo-adopting the twins, am I right?

Anyway, here's some importantish notes from this particular chapter that might be of interest to a few people.

Translations: - rodičia: parents - otec: father - bastardi: bastards - bodaj ho: damn it

Clothing: - Chiton (image) - Peplos (image)

Gifts: - Lapis Lazuli earrings from Zeus - A peacock beaded diadem from Hera - A map from Hermes - Perfume from Aphrodite - A dagger and golden hilt from Hephaestus - A clay vase from Hestia - Narcissus flowers from Persephone - Asphodel flowers from Hades - Mandarin oranges from Demeter - A gold snake ring from Asclepius - A jade bracelet from Dionysus - A glass of salt water from Poseidon

The Guest List:

Fauns: half-human, half-goat creatures

Euphrosyne: goddess of good cheer, joy, mirth, and merriment

Dryades: tree and forest nymphs

Anthousai: flower nymphs

Pannychis: goddess of all-night festivity

Thalia: goddess of festive celebrations and luxurious banquets

Comus: god of revelry, merrymaking, and festivity; Athena’s nephew through Dionysus

Hebe: cupbearer of the Olympians; Athena’s half-sister through Zeus and Hera

Hedylogos: one of the Erotes, god of sweet talk and flattery

Sarasvati: Hindu goddess of art, knowledge, music, speech, and learning

Eupheme: goddess of words of good omen, acclamation, praise, applause, and shouts of triumph

Dionysus

Hedone: goddess of pleasure, enjoyment, and delight

Anteros: one of the Erotes, god of requited love; Athena’s nephew through Aphrodite and Ares

Pothos: one of the Erotes, god of sexual longing, yearning, and desire

Seshat: Egyptian goddess of wisdom, knowledge, inventory of writing, consort of Thoth

Thoth: Egyptian god of wisdom, knowledge, writing, magic, science, art

Apedemak: African lion-headed god of war

Mixcoatl: Aztec god of battle, hunting, civilization, and stars

Philophrosyne: goddess of friendliness, kindness, and welcome

Aphrodite

Bragi: Norse god of poetry

Sersi

Sprite

Himeros: one of the Erotes, god of sexual desire

Agon: god of contest

Hermes

Other guests in attendance:

Adephagia: goddess of satiety and gluttony

Agele: goddess of radiant good health

Aglaea: one of the Charites, goddess of beauty, adornment, splendor, and joy

Aike: goddess of prowess and courage

Ame-no-Uzume: Japanese goddess of dawn, meditation, and the arts

Angelia: goddess of messages, tidings, and proclamations

Antheia: one of the Charites, goddess of flowers and wreaths 

Apollonis: a muse; Athena’s niece through Apollo

Arete: goddess of virtue, excellence, goodness, and valor

Aristaeus: god of bee-keeping, cheese-making, and olive-growing; Athena’s nephew through Apollo

Bait Pandi: Filipino (Bagobo) goddess of weaving

Borysthenis: a muse; Athena’s niece through Apollo

Caerus: god of opportunity

Calliope: muse of epic poetry

Cathubodua: Celtic goddess of war and battle

Cephisso: a muse; Athena’s niece through Apollo

Clio: muse of history

Dikaiosyne: goddess of justice and righteousness; Athena’s half-sister through Zeus

Eirene: goddess of peace; half-sister through Zeus

Ekecheiria: goddess of truce, armistice, and cessation of hostilities

Eleos: goddess of mercy, pity, and compassion

Eleutheria: goddess of liberty

Elpis: goddess of hope and expectation

Eros: one of the Erotes, god of love and sex; Athena’s nephew through Aphrodite and Ares

Erato: muse of lyric poetry

Eucleia: goddess of good repute and glory

Eupraxia: goddess of well-being

Euterpe: muse of musical poetry

Gamayun: Slavic goddess of knowledge and wisdom

Gelos: god of laughter

Harmonia: goddess of harmony and concord; Athena’s niece through Ares and Aphrodite

Heimarmene: goddess of shared fate/destiny

Helios: god of the Sun and guardian of oaths

Hermaphroditus: one of the Erotes, god of unions, androgyny, marriage, and sex; Athena’s nephew through Hermes and Aphrodite

Himeros: one of the Erotes, god of sexual desire

Horme: goddess of impulse or effort, eagerness, starting an action

Iris: goddess of the rainbow and divine messenger

Nike: goddess of victory

Pasithea: one of the Charites, goddess of rest and relaxation

Philotes: goddess of friendship, affection, and sex

Polyhymnia: muse of sacred poetry

Polymatheia: muse of knowledge

Tekhne: goddess of art, craft, and technical skill

Terpsichore: muse of dance and choral poetry

Theros: youth god of summer

Okay, so while I have had so much fun writing the last few chapters in this arc and connecting lots of moments together into this big finale, I'm gonna need a bit of time before I move on to tackle the Civil War arc. I need to perfect the plot just so and make sure I have all of my loose ends wrapped up before we delve into that realm just yet.

So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for those of you who have kept up with the story and have been reblogging and commenting on it. It's honestly keeping my passion for this story going. So, thank you again, and hopefully I'll see you soon with the next installment :)

[homestuckreplay]

Meteor Impact #2 ☄️💥🔥

(page 984-993 & Rose Lalonde Bonus Content)

Rose’s sections are so different to the other kids’ aesthetically. She’s gone from the cool evening gray of Act 1 (above) through warmer grays in Act 2, bright snow in her winter flashback, everything green tinted in the lab, and now the burning burgundy of an imminent explosion. Everyone else is typically in regular light but Rose gets to be goth and ambient.

On page 984 Rose acknowledges that this tiny four-eyed mutant is her ‘new kitty’. Deeply important character moment <3

We then learn (priorities) that the lab transportalizer leads to Rose’s mom’s ‘room’, which is actually a well-stocked bar. This confirms that Rose’s mom sleeps in the lab, is maybe its sole employee, and is working with Skaian technology. This is really sad because it means Rose has been alone in that giant house every night, maybe for a long time, her mom just transportalizing out like it doesn’t matter what happens to Rose overnight. Also, finding out that Rose’s mom’s room is a ‘decoy’ room so soon after seeing John’s dad’s room… it does make me wonder if all the guardians’ rooms are a cover for something else.

So I wonder if this is cathartic for her. Finding out her mom was even more distant and secretive than previously thought, standing in this sprawling showroom house that’s never felt like hers, getting to watch it all burn to the ground.

But holy fuck Dave needs to get that beta. Rose’s creeping doom is suddenly a lot less creeping and a lot more ‘about to explode’. Also, the story is well into act 3 and almost at page 1000 so it is probably time that someone else started actually playing this game, else this will be a long journey.

It is very funny to cut to John just for one page to make a joke – typically I prefer longer sections with a single character but this is a good use of the format, where John demonstrates a total lack of awareness that Rose is in danger, due to being focused on loot. (And he’s starting to understand the appeal of serious business). ‘You're the one running around here putting your ass on the line. All she's got to do is mess around with her computer!’ is such a classic John thought – he’s regularly not great at seeing things from other people’s perspectives.

We then see more of Jade’s technology. When she sleeps, the orbs on her bed pulse and the orbs on a cabinet downstairs also pulse, so these pieces of tech are linked. Then, the cabinet door gets kicked down and a robot Jade bursts out with glowing red eyes, dressed in metal(?) versions of her regular clothes.

On the next page are THREE Jades across two panels. In the lower panel, Jade’s room as we know it, regular Jade snoozing cozy in bed, and robo-Jade stood next to her, eyes flashing. In the upper panel, an empty bed, human Jade standing in robo-Jade’s position, wearing an outfit we’ve seen in a picture hanging above her fireplace (p.918), her room lit in pink and orange with all the same technology but different decor.

The clear implication is that robo-Jade, in the waking world, is mimicking the movements of Jade in her dream. This could get complicated if the geography is different – dreams often don’t make sense – and while it’s insanely impressive as technology, I’m uncertain of its practical use. As for Jade’s golden outfit, it has a moon emblem, and a ‘luminous planet’ with ‘a single moon’ is something WV draws (p.702). Jade’s fireplace, where the picture hangs, is half yellow and half purple, also reflecting the luminous and ominous planets. As the luminous planet so closely orbits Skaia, they must be very connected.

This also isn’t the first time we’ve seen characters dream. On page 651, ‘[S] John: Wake up.’, John sees visions in the clouds (including of Jade) with a spirograph backdrop. Right away, Jade’s dreams are far more active – she’s doing things both in the dream and in the waking world, while John was entirely passive, just watching things happen.

On page 938, ‘[S] Rose: Fast forward to now.’ detailing the story of Jaspers’ life and death, a pink horseshoe flashes in the lower right corner at the end. I’d like to thank @wizardlyghost for pointing this out since I missed it when my laptop was broken! In this bonus page, Rose rides the pony Maplehoof (of pages 388-390) through a colorful pastel American Southwest-style land, scarf flying out behind her, interspersed with scribbled drawings. Rose previously rides Maplehoof on page 906, but only in a thought bubble while she reaches for the scarf – in the physical plane, Maplehoof’s location is unknown. So the bonus ‘[S] Ride.’ appears like an extension of Rose’s daydream.

So we have John’s dreams, where the clouds resolve themselves into shapes of things he likes. We have Rose’s dreams, perhaps daydreams, where she imagines herself on a silly adventure. We have Dave’s dreams, where Lil Cal is ‘real and hes talking to [Dave]’ (p.419). And we have Jade’s dreams, where she builds a robot so they can physically impact the world. These are all so different both in flavor and in how they’re presented in the story – a regular flash, a bonus page flash, a Pesterlog, and a series of standard panels. As usual, Jade has the weirdest dreams, but all four kids get something a little different.

> Jades: Walk over to windows.

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: February 18, 2025

Reworked Character #14: Doctor Amadeus

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death, crime, unethical experiments, self-harm, and SA.

Real name: Ghyslaine Laëtitia Comtois (she legally changed her name to Manfrida Amadeus)

Alias: Angel in Carnage

Nicknames: Ghys and Hakase

Occupation: Leading scientist and founder of the Amadeus Syndicate

Special skills: Proficiency in AI development and the manufacturing of advanced technological and biological weapons and machines, knowledge of biology and chemistry, psychological warfare, performing surgeries, and blackmailing

Goddess abilities: She can influence mental states, inducing insanity and sensory overload through manipulating self-perception by creating distortions of bodily transformation and vivid visions of personal and loved ones' demise. With a single, hyper-detailed thought, she can materialise advanced weapons and complex mechanical contraptions. Additionally, she can access her Tuatha Dé Danann monolithic computer module, simulating torture chambers with infinite variations of physical and psychological torment. Escape is only possible through self-sacrifice when she is distracted.

She can interact, communicate, and manipulate technology through electrical pulse sensing, physical contact, and sheer mental force. Her teleportation capabilities allow her to instantly transport herself to any location on Earth, while also enabling her to transport others within a specific radius of 50-90 ft (1524 cm-2743.2 cm) from her position. She possesses telepathic abilities, enabling her to communicate silently with sentient beings capable of speech. Additionally, she can exert total control over the minds of others, transforming them into unwitting instruments, by releasing spores from microscopic orifices on her neck. These spores, once inhaled, infect the brain's motor control, cognitive processing, and communication centres, granting her dominion over their thoughts and actions.

She can conjure an impenetrable barrier, comprising three layers: an illusion-causing smoke screen that disorients foes, parasitic vines that infect and transform victims into twisted mutants, and a core of solid adamant. This self-sustaining shield continually regenerates until she chooses to dissipate it. She has hyper-cognitive processing, allowing her to execute multiple calculations and thought processes simultaneously. Due to her superior photographic memory, she can retain and recall every thought, emotion, encounter, and experience with perfect clarity. Despite her incredible durability, a collective effort from powerful espers can inflict minute, albeit negligible, physical harm. However, full-blooded deities possess the capacity to effortlessly overwhelm and defeat her.

Hobbies: Spending time delving into scientific research and the maintenance of the White Baby computer virus, developing artificial intelligence, computer viruses, and virtual reality torture simulations, collecting fossils and rare plant specimens, preserving and posing animals in unsettling poses, and pseudoscientific theorising

Likes: The satisfaction she feels after successfully conducting an experiment, reading books on various subjects such as geopolitics, neuroscience, sociology, philosophy, and the occult, challenging the limits of the mortal body and the moral boundaries of scientific research, classical and industrial music, and genetic engineering

Dislikes: The constraints of mortal physiology and current scientific understanding, running low on smoking essentials (cigars and cigarettes) and sweet treats to snack on, her subordinates doubting her intellect and plans, losing valuable research data, and bright sunlight

Favourite food: Croque monsieur, beschuit with hagelslag, and homemade sweet snacks

Favourite drink: Pinot gris

Sexuality: Sex-indifferent, heteroflexible sapiosexual

Gender: Demigirl

Age: 54 (in 2022), 60 (in 2028), 62 (in 2030), 64 (in 2032), 66 (in 2034), 73 (in 2041), 75 (in 2043), 76 (in 2044), and 79 (in 2047)

Blood type: O-

Weight: 153 lbs. (69 kg)

Human design: She’s a 5’ 11” (180.34 cm) French ectomorph with a slender yet athletic build, sloping shoulders, small breasts, a well-defined waist, and curvaceous hips. She has limestone skin and heterochromatic eyes with visible bags underneath them: her right eye, a glass prosthetic replacement, is a light amber, while her left eye is grey-green with brown flecks. Ghyslaine has a few moles: one on the left side of her chin; one near the corner of her right eye; two above her right breast; one on the back of her left hand; and three slightly below her left knee. She has a silvery-pink birthmark on her left shoulder, almost shaped like a waning moon with five protruding spikes. Her waist-length raspberry red hair has messy, voluminous curls streaked with silver-grey, often pulled back into a low ponytail.

Thanks to experimental anti-aging drugs, she looks remarkably youthful, with her face showing subtle signs of aging limited to bunny lines, crow's feet, and faint tear troughs. Her right thigh features a tattoo of a statue of Prudentia made from griotte marble, depicted with a glass serpent wrapped around her neck. She cradles a Gallic rooster in her right arm, while her left arm holds a bouquet of red and blue poppies with a small purple mirror nestled at its centre. In contrast, her left hand and forearm are heavily scarred, evidence of severe burns and self-inflicted lacerations. Her upper right arm shows multiple injection sites, evidence of her experimentation with various substances. A healed scar on the centre of her forehead marks the site of her self-performed trepanation using a dental drill.

She wears a white lab coat, a silver ring with a red pearl on her right index finger, and a gold-plated monocle over her left eye. Her right lab coat pocket held a variety of items: a pack of cigarettes, her sweet snack of the day, Argentine blue neoprene gloves, a well-worn leather lilac journal full of scribbled notes, diagrams, and radical scientific hypotheses, six experimental serum vials (mutant, zombie, mummy, simian creature, and mantis monster), and a black gas mask with red-tinted lenses. Ghylaine’s left lab coat pocket contains the following: a box of cigars, two syringes (one for drawing blood and another for collecting sperm samples), a container filled with sterile swabs, a versatile multitool featuring pliers, wire cutters, a screwdriver, a knife, and a stun gun, and a red crystal from Sol Dae Rokker that radiates a yellow glow when exposed to sunlight. Her left hand wears a greenish-black glove with a Black Sun emblem on the palm, boasting a black centre and a metallic purple-to-gold gradient.

She wears a square-shaped silvery watch on her right wrist with a timepiece that boasts a gilt-brass dial, adorned with amethyst-coloured hands and white numbers from 1 to 12, interspersed with five delicate etchings. Additional features include a secondary display bar indicating AM/PM, while a reddish-black strap is securely fastened with a silver snap-on buckle. Ghyslaine wears circular nazar charm earrings, outlined in gold, suspended from medium-sized silver hoop rings. She wears a right-side drop leg holster for a Colt Anaconda with a 6-inch barrel, accompanied by four greenish-black pouches on the left side of her belt that hold .44 Remington Magnum cartridges for the revolver. She wears teal trousers secured by a sage green belt with a silver buckle, paired with red-laced Prussian blue dress boots.

She wears a long-sleeved teal shirt with eight golden buttons running down the front and two breast pockets. The shirt features a turned collar that frames a velvet fern green cravat, patterned with horizontal goldenrod stripes and cardinal red triangles. It’s adorned with a 2x6 white-and-red chequered patch of 12 squares (six above, six below) above the left breast pocket. Her breast pockets carry a metallic red-green lighter, a black ink pen, and three highlighters in yellow, green, and pink. Underneath her dress shirt, she wears the bulletproof vest of the E-Armour.

Goddess design: She’s a 13’ 6” (411.48 cm) nude entity with a flat chest, incredibly smooth malachite-hued skin, elfin ears, three pointed tongues, and two rows of carnivorous gold teeth. She retains her original hairstyle, now lengthened to reach down to her ankles, woven with streaks of dark brown, and adorned with red and blue poppies. Her face features six silver-outlined eyes with cardinal red slit pupils: the left three eyes in a dull amber and the right three in light cyan. Her chest bears the same Black Sun symbol on the palm of her greenish-black glove, placed directly in the centre. Her back is heavily scarred from severe burns, brutal cuts, and hacked-away flesh, revealing bronze-hued muscles. She has an identical tail to Schwarz Metzelei from Metal Slug Attack, but the tip is always open and it features a notable colour variation: the red accents are replaced with teal and the grey is substituted with a shimmering goldenrod hue.

She has horns similar to those of Drache Goldenes from Metal Slug Attack, but they appear to be made from a material resembling griotte marble. She possesses the lower half of Awakened Blume Metzelei from Metal Slug Attack, combined with the birthmark of her original self. Emerging from her upper back, she has two large bat wings with an amethyst-hued membrane, Prussian blue-colored forearms, wrists, thumbs, and fingers, and a reddish-black claw protrudes from each thumb. She has a partially exposed sapphire ribcage, revealing a rhythmic, tide-like pulse that synchronises with each heartbeat.

She has six arms protruding from her lower back and two more where her malformed kidneys are supposedly located. Each hand has pointed, clawless fingers and a Greek letter in the middle of their palm: for the lower torso arms, her right has β (beta) and her left has Ω (omega); for the first lower back arms, her right has ζ (zeta) and her left has Δ (delta); for the second pair, her right has λ (lambda) and her left has ξ (xi); and for the third pair, her right has φ (phi) and her left has Ψ (psi).

Character summary: She’s a composed and wise leader, boasting a genius-level intellect, who derives great satisfaction from pioneering new discoveries and pushing the boundaries of human potential, scientific innovation, and ethical standards. Driven by her insatiable curiosity, Ghyslaine fearlessly conducts self-experiments and utilises human and animal subjects in her controlled, scientific research. While she's a visionary thinker with grand ambitions and an obsessive attention to detail, she tempers her perfectionism with pragmatic decision-making when circumstances dictate it. She's a sadomasochist with a strong aversion to willful ignorance, disregard for knowledge, experimental setbacks, and opposition that thwarts her plans.

She presents herself as polite, open-minded, and willingly generous, but beneath that facade is a ruthless manipulator, driven by arrogance and stubbornness to get her way, no matter the cost. She consistently prioritises her own self-interest, forming alliances and collaborating with others only when it advances her own agenda. To achieve her objectives, she employs manipulative tactics, such as exploiting others' vulnerabilities and showering them with insincere praise. She tends to delegate manual tasks to others whenever possible, but is willing to get involved and take charge when circumstances require it.

She's a cunning and calculating strategist, consistently outmaneuvering her competitors and adversaries. She’s a highly analytical and emotionally detached megalomaniac, adept at keeping secrets through her tight-lipped nature, strategic evasion, and expert use of vagueness and deflection. She's an optimistic nihilist who revels in her vast wealth, technological prowess, and recognition as the world's most brilliant scientist. Ghyslaine is a hypervigilant and seductive individual who believes in a collective consciousness and exhibits traits of psychopathy, including an uncaring temperament, boldness, and a strong desire for social dominance. She prioritises satisfying her scientific curiosity and rigorous work ethic over others' needs, and has no qualms about deliberately harming people to advance her own ambitions. She has zero tolerance for betrayal and is particularly sensitive to skepticism about her intellectual abilities. She finds it infuriating when others suggest she might be senile or ignorant, or question the validity of her ambitious plans.

She's surprisingly cynical and misanthropic towards humanity, viewing them as worthless, filthy parasites who don't appreciate knowledge or the beauty of reality. She believes that people are more inclined to prioritise basic survival, gratuitous violence, sexual gratification, the glorification of disturbing topics, and self-destruction over everything else. She's a staunch believer in the existence of unseen, authentic deities beyond mainstream human religions and mythologies, such as Sol Dae Rokker and the Avatar of Evil. In Ghyslaine’s view, the God revered in Western religions is a malevolent impostor, and she holds that a genuinely benevolent deity worthy of the name—transcending human understanding—lies beyond the cosmos. Her vision for the New World involves achieving apotheosis, triggering the Alator, merging with the Avatar of Evil, and ultimately becoming the omnipotent goddess of a rebooted timeline.

Ghyslaine maintains a positive relationship with General Morden, admiring his charisma, leadership, use of manipulation tactics, and commitment to his soldiers' well-being. She strongly supports his efforts to combat government and military corruption, believing it will bring about positive change and overcome entrenched systemic injustices. In exchange for the Rebel Army's assistance in securing resources and protecting Amadeus Syndicate assets—including mines, worksites, weapon and medical facilities, underground laboratories, and the Amadeus Mainframe Base—she offers to aid the his army’s technological advancement and provide essential supplies, such as medical equipment and financial resources. Their dynamic is underscored by subtle sexual tension, fueled by Ghyslaine’s alluring nature and strategic flirtation, which she employs to maintain a facade of innocence and avoid arousing suspicion.

She’s also on good terms with Rootmars, deeply respecting her mission to safeguard Earth's valuable resources. This alignment stems from her conviction that humans are wasteful and fail to utilise natural resources to their full potential. Additionally, she holds Martians and Invaders in high esteem, acknowledging their technological superiority over humanity. She finds Ptolemaios to be a captivating figure, intrigued by rumours suggesting he may be the first esper in all of human history, predating even Hyakutaro. Ghyslaine holds him in high esteem, respecting his vast experience, unwavering faith in the authentic deities, unrelenting dedication to the Ptolemaic Army's advancement, and calculating mindset.

She deeply appreciates Oguma's loyalty and willingness to support her as he demonstrates a clear understanding of her ambitions and genuine respect for her intellectual pursuits. She enjoys sharing a few drinks with him, engaging in lively conversations, and playfully teasing him about his serious demeanour and flustered reactions to her compliments.

She previously shared a cordial connection with Marco, largely due to her admiration for his exceptional intellect and vast expertise in computer science, which surpassed that of most Regular Army soldiers. Despite severing their relationship after exploiting his vulnerability, she remains drawn to Marco's physical beauty, stoic demeanour, and impressive intellectual prowess. She finds Clark's melancholic nature exhausting, while Nadia's playful antics, sporadic laziness, and love of shopping sprees are thoroughly irritating and disruptive. To her, Nadia represents a profound disappointment—a willfully defiant and uncooperative individual who has failed to live up to expectations as the intended successor to the Amadeus Syndicate.

Backstory: Ghyslaine Laëtitia Comtois was born on October 5, 1968 in Annecy, France. She comes from a family with a notorious history of clandestine partnerships with corrupt government agencies, inhumane wildlife experimentation, and the development of devastating bioweapons and malicious computer viruses. Two of her most prominent ancestors, Duke Koudou and Parker Eugene von Wittenberg, have particularly troubling legacies.

Marmaduke Koudou was infamous for brokering shady business deals that advanced the political interests and technological capabilities of his government allies and his own company, which specialised in military technology and biochemistry research. Following his death from septic shock, his company was dismantled. In collaboration with renowned biologists, Duke Koudou conducted extensive research on the Elder Centipede, which he referred to as the "Sea Worm”. His studies revealed that this sea creature, boasting biomechanical properties and sclerotized scales, has existed since antiquity, coinciding with the Hadean Eon. Notably, his research identified the Elder Centipede as an antediluvian arthropod due to the presence of unknown microorganisms attached to it. Marmaduke proposed exploiting the Elder Centipede's unique characteristics—its ability to automatically attack moving objects and inject lethal microorganisms in the form of purple acid—as a potential bioweapon for space applications.

Parker Eugene von Wittenberg was a notorious hacker who worked secretly with government agencies across Southern Europe and North America, crafting malicious computer viruses for use against enemies during times of war. His most infamous creation was the highly classified "First Baby" virus, designed to infiltrate and extract sensitive data from adversary systems. Outside of cyber exploits, his research was deeply problematic, focusing on eugenic experiments that sought to control and manipulate wildlife populations, while also studying their social behaviours. He used his cybersecurity firm as a front to conceal his illicit experiments, but his life was cut short when an unknown assailant spiked his glass of cider with a lethal dose of tramadol. The assassination not only claimed his life but also marked the loss of the First Baby computer virus, which vanished without a trace, never to resurface again. Rumours suggest that the First Baby virus was either acquired by the Earth Federation or destroyed by the unknown assassin.

She grew up in a middle-class family. Her biological father left her mother, Jacqueline Comtois, 4 months before she was born for reasons unknown. 2 months after giving birth to Ghyslaine, a sole survivor of triplets whose siblings were stillborn, Jacqueline married Yoshihiko. Yoshihiko was the president of a Japanese video game development company. As part of his role, he travelled the world promoting the company's games, always carrying AES cartridges, a catalogue of new products, and a set of memory cards in his briefcase. However, he had a tendency to get distracted, and his briefcase often went missing. Invariably, he would blame the person he was with at the time. On every birthday, her parents would take her to visit a local museum featuring regional artifacts, including Alpine furniture and religious art, as well as a natural history exhibit.

At just 6-years-old, she demonstrated exceptional intellectual prowess by articulately outlining Sigmund Freud's psychosexual theory and reciting the entire periodic table with flawless accuracy. However, by age 7, having discovered her family's troubled legacy of unethical research and shady business dealings, she resolved to forge a different path. Ghyslaine’s insatiable curiosity drove her to explore diverse interests: science, medicine, computer science, occultism, mythology, religion, philosophy, politics, and human and animal psychology and sociology. With these passions in mind, she aspired to become a psychologist, humanistic philosopher, and biomedical scientist, determined to make a positive impact.

In 1976, a conflict erupted, spanning Western, Northern, and Southern Europe as France, Luxembourg, Austria, Denmark, the United Kingdom, Greece, Portugal, and Montenegro engaged in battle. The conflict erupted from a skirmish during a joint military and archaeological expedition on Ultima Thule, commonly known as Scrap Island, between Austria and Portugal. The dispute centred on two key issues: the exploitation of Ultima Thule’s resources and the fate of the ancient deity believed to be buried on the island, pending its discovery. The situation escalated into full-scale war with the involvement of France, Luxembourg, Denmark, the United Kingdom, Greece, and Montenegro.

Two rival alliances emerged, each with distinct objectives. France, the United Kingdom, and Austria formed an alliance to harness the island's resources for military advancements and construction materials. Their primary goal was to excavate the deity, seeking insight into ancient history and the divine realm. This coalition received significant support from the Regular Army, and Germi family, who shared their vision. Luxembourg, Denmark, Greece, Portugal, and Montenegro joined forces to exploit the resources for medical breakthroughs and jewellery production. Their ultimate aim was to excavate the deity to develop a bioweapon for collective use. The Gutenschiff family provided limited support, aligning with the coalition's goals but refraining from full commitment.

To mobilise support, each country leveraged patriotism and nationalism, appealing to the sense of duty and loyalty among its citizens. The ultimate objective was to assemble a formidable army and emerge victorious on behalf of their aligned faction. However, not all citizens were driven by ideological conviction; some joined the fight solely out of concern for the safety of their loved ones, coerced by fear of the consequences of inaction. The conflict would become etched in history as the Thule Expeditionary Conquest and would culminate in 1988 with the signing of a landmark peace treaty among all involved nations and the Earth Federation, aimed at preventing similar events from occurring in the future.

At age 9, Ghyslaine's life took a drastic turn when her family was tragically killed in an airstrike during a battle in France. Annecy found itself at the crossroads of a multifaceted struggle as France, Austria, and the wealthy, superstitious, and battle-hardened Germi family clashed with Portugal, Montenegro, and the bloodthirsty and fearsome Gutenschiff clan. She was initially consumed by deep fear as the war brought chaos to the streets. Crime ran rampant as opportunistic individuals exploited the conflict for personal gain. Mass hysteria gripped the city as many people either hid in fear or panicked and acted out of desperation.

With no one else to turn to, she was forced to rely on herself for survival. She gradually became acquainted with the harsh realities of the streets, navigating the underworld of petty crime and vulnerable individuals fighting to get by. As time passed, she became more skilled at manipulating others to get what she needed. She used her words to exploit their vulnerabilities and influence their actions. Ghyslaine also developed expertise in shoplifting and pickpocketing, and sold illicit goods and bootlegged liquor, often acquiring these items through theft or chance discovery. Underneath, she would cultivate a cynical and misanthropic outlook on humanity, veering towards nihilism. Despite this, she remained optimistic, holding out hope for a brighter future. However, the rampant poverty, crime, and violence surrounding her increased her risk of developing psychopathic tendencies.

After being severely burned on her left hand and forearm while fighting off a sexual assailant, she retaliated against her attacker, ultimately killing them. She embarked on a path of vengeance against those who had wronged her, using her knowledge of psychology and chemistry to inflict unhappiness on others. In an attempt to cope with the emotional turmoil of the war and the harm she caused, she briefly resorted to self-harm, which left scars on her left hand and forearm.

At 14, Ghyslaine was among the teenagers from Annecy taken into the Regular Army's orphan program by urban troops. The program relocated her to Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada, providing refuge from the war. There, she received shelter and education, including English language instruction, which sparked her fascination with foreign languages, particularly Chinese, Spanish, and Afrikaans. However, her time in the orphan program was short-lived. A wealthy Canadian couple from Victoria, British Columbia, discovered her connection to Marmaduke Koudou and Parker Eugene von Wittenberg and promptly adopted her.

They lavished her with every comfort, introducing her to an opulent lifestyle that she secretly adored. Her adoptive parents, while strict and occasionally dismissive of her emotions, encouraged her to prioritise academic and professional excellence. They rarely disciplined her, convinced that her exceptional intelligence and self-regulation made her inherently responsible and incapable of wrongdoing. Ghyslaine didn't mind, as she was driven to excel and immersed herself in intellectual pursuits, such as political theory and scientific philosophy.

Upon graduating from high school, she received 8 prestigious awards and 6 scholarships in recognition of her outstanding achievements in calculus and STEM fields, biology, chemistry, computer programming and software development, geopolitics and international relations, religious studies, philosophical debates and ethics, and psychological and sociological research. She proceeded to university, driven by her ambition to become a leading scientist. Ghyslaine’s unconventional research and theories sparked controversy, exploring topics such as the potential therapeutic applications of controlled substances, ethical population management strategies, the interconnectedness of human consciousness through shared ancestry, neural electrical pulses, and subconscious processes, and the concept of digital immortality through consciousness uploading and cybernetic bodies.

She would also cultivate an obsessive fascination with pushing the boundaries of science, marked by a penchant for conducting self-experiments. These experiments included learning how to self-sterilise without medical aid, creating and taking anti-aging drugs, removing her own eye to study the ocular microbiome, and exhuming freshly buried corpses to explore ways to make a severed body part function without a host. Ghyslaine also performed self-trepanation, hoping to reduce bodily stress by improving cerebral circulation and alleviating neurosis. Additionally, she injected herself with various psychoactive substances, narcotic analgesics, and central nervous system stimulants to document their potential therapeutic benefits and explore possibilities for legal medications with less addictive side effects.

After graduating from university, she mysteriously got in touch with a hitman named Oguma, who possessed Tuatha Dé Danann DNA. At her command, Oguma ambushed her adoptive parents, disposing of their bodies and erasing evidence of the crime. She was driven to secure her inheritance, the substantial sum her parents had set aside for her. After accessing the funds, she relocated to Britain, where she went on to become a renowned scientist for the British government. Her breakthrough achievement came when she genetically modified active cancer cells into dormant ones, significantly reducing the likelihood of reactivation in children. After Oguma shared information about the ancient lore of the Tuatha Dé Danann and apotheosis, this newfound interest sparked a grand vision for her New World. 

Ghyslaine secretly masterminded a human and animal trafficking ring, as well as a theft operation targeting precious British artifacts. By exploiting these illicit resources, Ghyslaine furthered her research by developing simian and mantis serums, collecting DNA and bodily fluid samples, crafting pharmaceuticals from biological materials, designing cybernetic prosthetics, and conducting eugenic experiments. However, British authorities soon uncovered her clandestine activities and issued a warrant for her arrest, forcing Ghyslaine and Oguma to flee. They escaped to the Republic of Bashkortostan, where Ghyslaine assumed a new identity: Manfrida Amadeus. To maintain their empire, they resorted to peddling illicit substances and stolen artifacts, while also sharing sensitive government secrets. Bounty hunters from the British authorities and mercenaries from the Ikari Warriors who pursued her would vanish, leading to a collapse in the pursuit. As fear spread, the remaining hunters and mercenaries backed down, and the bounty on her head was quietly dropped.

After maintaining a low profile for five months, Oguma introduced her to President Marx, who was eager to collaborate with such a talented scientist. This meeting proved pivotal, as President Marx successfully persuaded the Chief of the Regular Army to partner with her. Contrary to expectations, the Chief readily agreed. With the Regular Army and President Marx providing substantial funding, she established the Amadeus Syndicate and constructed the Amadeus Mainframe Base in the Arctic. In exchange for their support, she agreed to develop cutting-edge weapons and war machines, and conduct experiments utilising psionic energy and involving living subjects. She pioneered numerous innovations, including the development of the E-Armour, Slugnoids, laser guns, the Thunder Cloud, the Mobile Satellite, the special suits that high-ranking peacekeeping troops wear, Walking Machines, cyborgs, and a mandatory hospital protocol for uploading human consciousness into cyberspace.

Following a meeting with high-ranking Regular officials at the Joint Military Operations Headquarters to discuss the SV-001 prototype, Protogunner, and esper super soldier program, she crossed paths with Donald Morden. The two forged a cordial bond over dinner at an upscale Genoa restaurant, sharing stories about their lives and future aspirations. Later, while treating Tequila's battle injuries sustained during a skirmish against pirates in Riyadh, she met the seasoned mercenary. Her path would again cross with skilled operatives Gimlet and Red Eye during a visit to the Amadeus Mainframe Base, where they were restocking medical supplies, laser guns, and AR-10 Autorifles.

Impressed by Tequila, Gimlet, and Red Eye's exceptional combat skills and accomplishments, she conceived an idea: transforming them into super soldiers. However, recognizing the untimeliness of such a proposal, she opted to put the notion on hold, biding her time. She decided to befriend them in order to appear friendly and trustworthy. Gimlet welcomed her with open arms, while Red Eye warmed up to her gradually. However, it took a lot more effort to win Tequila over.

In 2010, utilising advanced Martian cloning technology, she created Nadia through a test tube in an underground laboratory owned by the Amadeus Syndicate in Quimper, France. Her goal was twofold: to produce the perfect heir to the Syndicate and to experiment with clone physiology and psychology. To foster an independent sense of identity, she kept Nadia's true status as an imperfect clone a secret, allowing her to believe she was her own person. Additionally, she withheld information about Nadia's family legacy to prevent her from questioning the Syndicate's motives or abandoning Doctor Amadeus’ research, which was crucial to realising her vision of the New World.

During her time working with the Regular Army and involvement in President Marx's defence contract endeavours, she developed an artificial intelligence capable of simulating the psychological and sociological behaviours of children as they mature. This AI primarily drew upon research conducted on Nadia, utilising data from the Amadeus Syndicate's files, to which it had authorised access to. Initially dubbed Young Deus, a nod to her legally changed name, the AI's language use and responses to commands resembled those of a child, but its programming quickly evolved to mimic the characteristics of a mature adolescent.

Upon learning of her advanced artificial intelligence, the Chief of the Regular Army and President Marx urged her to adapt it for military applications. She subsequently transformed Young Deus into Iron Fortress, reprogramming it to commandeer enemy tanks and utilise them to safeguard Amadeus Syndicate members and registered affiliates, thereby promoting global peace and security.

However, Iron Fortress's flaws became catastrophically apparent during a guerrilla warfare incident in the southern United States. The AI mistakenly identified Regular Army urban troops as hostile forces and attempted to neutralise them, prioritising the protection of perceived innocent civilians who were, in reality, criminal insurgents. Recognizing the devastating potential of Iron Fortress, she swiftly shut it down and sequestered the virus in a secure, isolated compartment within her files. This decision brought relief to the Chief of the Regular Army but dismayed President Marx. Unbeknownst to them, she secretly redeveloped Iron Fortress into the White Baby computer virus. This revamped iteration could bypass the primary military systems of nations worldwide via the internet.

Three months before the Great Morden War, the alliance between the Amadeus Syndicate and the Regular Army shattered. The relationship imploded due to the Amadeus Syndicate's secretive creation of a bioweapon designed to further their plans for global domination, utilising the excavated extraterrestrial entity on Ultima Thule for experimentation. Additionally, Doctor Amadeus was involved in the sexual assault of Marco Rossi to harvest his DNA and semen samples. The Syndicate also transformed Regular Army soldiers into Mutated Soldiers and created terrifying creatures, including the Chowmein-Conga and Enormous Morays, on Pallas Island and in the Oro Sol Ruins. The final blow was the illicit plundering of advanced Tuatha Dé Danann technology, aided by pirates and the Ptolemaic Army.

Ptolemaios offered refuge to Doctor Amadeus, Oguma, and their team of scientists and soldiers, fleeing the impending Great Morden War. Furthermore, Ptolemaios deployed his troops to support the Syndicate Infantry, repelling the Regular Army's assault on the Amadeus Mainframe Base, securing a decisive victory. During the war, she seized the opportunity to finalise her groundbreaking bioweapon, known colloquially as Wysteria. In addition to this, she designed cutting-edge weaponry and advanced gas masks for the Ptolemaic Army. Meanwhile, she chose to keep Ptolemaios company, having observed his loneliness, and used this chance to forge a deeper connection with him. Through their interactions, she discreetly laid the groundwork for a potential future alliance.

Following the Great Morden War, General Morden forged an alliance with her, entrusting her with the bodies of Tequila, Gimlet, and Red Eye. United by a shared vision, they aimed to revolutionise these individuals into super soldiers, resulting in the creation of semi-clones. She integrated their recently updated digital consciousness into a biomechanical brain and nervous system. The experiments she conducted would heavily alter the three individuals: Gimlet and Tequila were imbued with psionic energy, while Red Eye received a Super Devil form and two new abilities. She ensured that they couldn’t recall the circumstances of their death, aware that such memories would pose significant risks to their loyalty and effectiveness within the Rebel Army and Amadeus Syndicate. In the heavily fortified basement of the Amadeus Mainframe Base, she maintained Tequila, Gimlet, and Red Eye in cryogenic stasis, alongside Wysteria, ensuring their secure containment.

[samwpmarleau]

fic: ginger root

whumptober day 24: motion sickness masterlist: tumblr, ao3 Galaxy-jumping and Robbie’s stomach do not, apparently, mix well. Fortunately, there’s a source of tea and saltines on board by the name of Daniel Sousa. part 1 | part 2

Robbie can’t remember the last time he felt so nauseas. Disgusted, sure. In pain, definitely. But being on the precipice of throwing up, skin clammy and ears ringing, it’s been quite a while.

He hasn’t yet found a way to prepare and prevent when he hears over the intercom the dreaded words, “Jumping in three … two … one …”

His stomach lurches as everything in his vision goes blurry. Intellectually, he knows it takes only seconds. He knows that, but from where he’s standing — or sitting — it’s the longest hour of his life. They’ve jumped three times since he was resurrected, and if anything, it only worsens.

He keeps his head against his knees as the ship comes out the other side. His bunk isn’t the most spacious of places, but it’s the one place that he doesn’t have to worry about someone coming across him in the state he’s in now. He’s already an interloper, he doesn’t need mortification, too. What kind of grown man feels like a child with stage fright from a silly little warp drive?

Right as he’s deciding he’ll keep his breakfast down, he discovers that maybe even his bunk isn’t safe, for there’s a knock at the door. The panel to open it is so far away.

“It’s Sousa,” comes the visitor’s voice.

Sousa? The man’s been plenty polite so far, but Robbie’s still amazed by the fact that he was transported here from the 1950s looking not a day over forty. And everyone acts like that’s just another day in the life. Which it must be for them, but Robbie’s playing catchup. Existing as Ghost Rider’s host had been so simple. Hacking and slashing and portaling, most of the time not even aware of what his body is doing. Time travel is beyond him.

He has no real reason to deny Sousa entry, however, so he rises to his feet and holds his hand to the panel.

The agent arrives in his typical business-casual fit (a hard-won upgrade from formal business, Daisy’d said) with a sympathetic smile and a cup of tea.

“That for me?” Robbie asks. He grimaces at the wobble in his voice.

“Yeah. Ginger root.” Sousa hands him the cup, along with most of a sleeve of saltines. “Took me awhile to get the hang of jumping, too.”

Robbie takes a sip of the well-prepared tea and nibbles on a cracker. “You’d think after thirteen years of dimension-hopping I’d be used to this.”

“Different kind of travel. And you’re no longer …”

Robbie waits in mild amusement as Sousa searches for a nice way to put it.

“… enhanced.”

“Possessed,” Robbie corrects. “I sold my soul to the devil, man. You don’t need to talk around it.”

Sousa gives him a self-deprecating smile. “Right. Sorry.”

“Did Daisy send you? No matter how many times I tell that girl not to worry —”

“She does. Don’t I know it.” Sousa helps himself to one of Robbie’s crackers. “No, she didn’t send me. She’s working on tuning static out of the comms system. New solar system, new frequency to figure out. I’ve noticed you’re always in your bunk when we jump and skip lunch, so I made an educated guess.”

Well, that’s better than having his business aired to the entire ship, he supposes. Still, he’d rather not dwell on it. “My brother would have a field day with all that techy stuff. He planned on majoring in computer science.”

Gabe’s face flashes in his head, the way he wears his joy after deciphering some equation or experiment, and the sullen way he gets when he can’t. At least, that’s the way Robbie remembers it. He’s talked to Gabe a couple times since he was brought back, and every time throws him for a loop. When Robbie had left with the Darkhold, Gabe had been a seventeen-year-old kid about to graduate from high school.

Now, he’s a twenty-four-year-old man with two degrees, a steady relationship, and a good job. While Robbie knows Gabe had been excited to see him, there’d been an ensuing awkwardness that Robbie once would have said was unthinkable. He doesn’t begrudge him that, he understands that Gabe must’ve mourned him as dead long ago when it was clear Robbie’s trip to hell wasn’t a short one. Nevertheless, that disconnect feels like a gaping wound.

Once we’re home, everything will be fine, Daisy had encouraged shortly after giving up on the sham of not eavesdropping.

Robbie hopes she’s right. It’d just be helpful to know when that’ll happen. There’s not much Daisy and her team can contribute to Earth’s chaos, or so says Mack — no, Director Mack — and everyone they love are accounted for, so their original cosmic schedule remains the same. His desires are not, unfortunately, high up on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s list of priorities.

“Bright kid,” Sousa says. “Daisy checks in on him every couple months and visits on resupply. They played long-distance Scrabble for awhile until she got tired of losing. It’s Trivial Pursuit now, though I’m not sure who’s —”

“You’ve met him?”

“Oh. No. No, that was something Daisy always wanted to do alone. She just had had a lot to say when she came back.”

Robbie feels some relief at that. He has no ill will towards Sousa, but the idea of Daisy inviting the man into the promise she’d made him, Robbie, sits uneasy in his gut. An uncharitable feeling, perhapas, but Robbie can’t help it.

He takes a generous sip of tea. That, Robbie has no problem with. He says as much, and the compliment lands. Brightly, Sousa replies, “I learned from the best. Agent Peggy Carter didn’t have much tolerance for a bad cup of tea, that’s for damn sure.”

Not for the first time, Robbie marvels at that. It breaks his brain a little to know the man in front of him dated the famed progenitor of S.H.I.E.L.D. simultaneously ten and seventy-five years ago.

“Force of nature, I’ve heard,” Robbie says. There’s not a whole lot of books to read on this ship, but S.H.I.E.L.D.’s history is one of them — protocol, probably, to keep a copy on every vessel — so he’s been left to brush up on the agency’s inception. With a wry smile, he adds, “I think you have a type, Agent Sousa.”

Sousa’s cheeks tinge faintly pink. “Guess I do.”

“Hey, no shade, man. I get it.”

“You, too, huh?”

“Well, I haven’t had anyone follow me up with Captain America, but yeah. You could say that.”

“How it’d end?”

Robbie slowly drains the rest of his tea, buying himself time to beat around the bush. “Uh, I mean, we never dated. It wasn’t the right time, and I don’t know if she felt the same. I thought maybe …” She’d seemed receptive back then, almost flirty, even. The memory of being in the control center, fully human for the first time in years, spending his last remaining moments with her, is one he’d kept forefront in his mind as his body hurtled through dimensions and rivers of blood. Not that it meant anything in the end. “It wouldn’t have worked anyway. I had to leave and didn’t know if I’d ever come back.”

“You’re back now,” Sousa points out. “You could give her a call. She might hold the same torch.”

The idea has crossed his mind no less than a thousand times. But he hasn’t felt any interest from her since he returned, and even if he had, Robbie doesn’t trust that he won’t be snatched up again. That the Rider wasn’t lying about enjoying his new host, that he isn’t merely waiting until Robbie’s settled and happy to take over. More importantly, he wouldn’t want to saddle Daisy with that uncertainty. She deserves a hell of a lot better than that.

She deserves a hell of a lot better than him. Ghost Rider or no Ghost Rider, he’d never match up to the man in front of him. Robbie’s not even sure who he is anymore without the demon.

Which leaves only one answer to Sousa’s optimism: “Unlikely.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

You wouldn’t be if you knew who it was, Robbie doesn’t say. He’d gotten the sense on day two that it wasn’t Sousa who’d brought up the notion about being more compatible as friends than lovers.

He does say, “It is what it is.” He studies Sousa’s earnest face and admits despite himself, “I’m still trying to deal with the whole space and being brought back from the dead thing. I’ve been in crazier situations, but it’s like —”

“— you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

Sousa’s bang on, which brings no comfort. Robbie’s nightmare had been far more public than he’d like, but the rest of it, how it feels to be himself again, what the Rider’s conditions had been, he’d only told one person. “Did Daisy say something to you?”

“No, nothing like that. I can relate, that’s all,” Sousa says. “Not the hell part, obviously. Feeling like an outsider, though? I’ve been there. It’s not easy to be dropped in the middle of a world you weren’t expecting.”

“You seem to be doing fine.”

At least you have a job on this ship, Robbie sulks.

Sousa snorts a laugh. “Daisy thought the same. Between S.H.I.E.L.D. and the SSR, I’ve spent two decades among superspies and dealing with blowhards who like to punch down. I know my way around a poker face.” Sousa puts a hand on Robbie’s shoulder. From someone else, maybe it’d feel patronizing, but Robbie knows the guy’s too genuine for that. “You’ll get there, Robbie. Give yourself time.”

Robbie almost rolls his eyes. Time? Since when? He expects to hear the Rider’s snicker in his head — yet there’s nothing. Not even a whisper. The Rider-voice prickles at the edges, sure. But Robbie’s not an idiot; he can tell the difference between his subconscious and the real deal. If Ghost Rider keeps to his word, then, incredibly, Sousa might be right. Time would be a luxury he’d have.

He’d have choices.

“Tell you what,” Sousa says, either not noticing or courteously not mentioning Robbie’s realization, “I bet Agent Reedy could use a hand down in the mechanic bay. From what I understand, you’re a damn good grease monkey.”

“Yeah, for cars. I don’t have any experience with planes, let alone spaceships.”

“If I could figure out an iPhone, you can figure out a spaceship. Unless Daisy was gassing you up for no reason and you’re worse than a kid in a shop class.”

Robbie scoffs. “Hardly.”

“Great,” Sousa grins with a clap on the back. “I’ll tell Reedy he’s getting a partner.”

Robbie regards Sousa with renewed curiosity. He hadn’t envisioned having anything in common with a Greatest Generation Boy Scout, yet here he sits in kindred. From time disorientation down to nausea on space jumps. “Well,” he says, gesturing to the tea and crackers, “thanks for this. And the conversation. You’re a good guy, Sousa.”

“As are you.”

Robbie raises an eyebrow. “Did you forget the part where I sold my soul to a demon?”

“No,” says Sousa, “I didn’t.”

[rydotinfotech]

Computer Vision Applications in Transportation 

Computer vision applications in transportation are becoming more widespread and trending. With the help of AI vision technology, supply chain, and transportation facilities are improving their efficiency and advancing their supply chain and logistics management systems. 

Computer vision solutions have digitized the way transportation activities operate. This technology handles the entire transportation flow, from the movement of goods to the logistics process. Additionally, it supports human operation in transportation through AI-visual capabilities, reducing human error and enhancing safety. 

Apart from this, computer vision in transportation is also useful for tracking real-time traffic and logistics movements using image detection and object detection technology. It enables automatic number plate recognition (ANPR) and real-time movement tracking, helping logistics management make critical decisions with accurate time estimates, further improving supply chain operations. 

What is Computer Vision in Transportation? 

Computer vision in transportation is shaping the future of the sector by reducing accident risks and improving cost-effective logistics management. AI-powered image and object detection track traffic patterns like human vision—but with greater speed and accuracy. 

According to the World Health Organization (WHO), over 1.35 million people worldwide die in road accidents each year. To mitigate such accidents, industries like healthcare, retail, security, manufacturing, and agriculture are leveraging computer vision solutions effectively. 

Read More: Top 8 Computer Vision Use Cases in Agriculture 

How Computer Vision is Transforming the Transportation Industry 

The global logistics system has faced disruptions due to various global challenges, increasing concerns regarding effective transportation facilities. In response, companies like Uber, Seven Drive, and Deliveroo are leading the way by utilizing computer vision applications in transportation. AI-vision technology enhances transportation by facilitating real-time activities, improving passenger safety, reducing traffic congestion, lowering carbon emissions, and minimizing accident risks. 

Several computer vision technologies are revolutionizing transportation, including: 

Image segmentation 

Object detection 

Facial recognition 

Edge detection 

Pattern detection 

Image classification 

Feature matching 

These technologies play a crucial role in detecting and classifying objects (e.g., road signs and traffic lights), creating 3D maps, estimating motion, and enabling autonomous vehicles. 

According to a market research report by MarketsandMarkets, "The global market for AI in transportation was valued at $1.2 to $1.4 billion in 2017 and is expected to grow to $3.5 billion by 2023, at a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 12-14.5%." 

Applications of Computer Vision in Transportation 

Corporations, industrialists, manufacturers, and governments are the biggest users of computer vision technology in transportation. It is particularly useful for governments to manage traffic flow and enhance transportation facilities, contributing to economic growth. Additionally, corporations are developing AI-driven solutions to improve their logistics and transportation efficiency. 

Keyways Computer Vision is Transforming Transportation: 

1. Detecting Traffic and Traffic Signs 

Computer vision services are widely used in traffic management, helping to save transportation time and fuel. By detecting vehicle numbers and monitoring traffic conditions, it streamlines traffic flow and optimizes signal timing. Computer vision applications can also be connected with cameras to intelligent transportation systems (ITS) to identify various incidents and anomalies. 

2. Traffic Flow Analysis 

Urban congestion is a growing concern, leading to issues such as noise pollution, financial losses, and increased carbon emissions. AI-integrated drones and camera surveillance help monitor traffic flow, track vehicle movements, and alert drivers to potential accident risks. Traffic monitoring solutions can detect the following: 

Vehicle speed 

Wrong-way movement 

Stopped vehicles 

Other traffic violations 

3. Parking Management 

Smart parking management systems enable real-time tracking of available parking spots. The system identifies occupied and vacant parking lots, improving parking efficiency in high-traffic areas like airports, shopping malls, and hospitals. Automated parking solutions help reduce congestion and enhance user convenience. 

4. Automatic Number Plate Recognition (ANPR) 

Automatic Number Plate Recognition (ANPR) offers an optimal solution for efficient parking and traffic management. It allows registered vehicles to enter parking areas automatically while identifying non-registered vehicles based on check-in and check-out times. ANPR also assists law enforcement in tracking stolen or suspicious vehicles. 

5. Detecting Stopped Vehicles and Road Obstacles 

Pedestrians, trees, diversions, and other obstacles contribute to road safety risks. AI-powered computer vision models can detect stopped vehicles and potential hazards in real-time. By processing video feeds from surveillance cameras, AI-driven solutions enhance road safety by issuing instant alerts to drivers and traffic authorities. 

The Future of Computer Vision in Transportation 

With the rapid advancement of AI and computer vision, the transportation industry is undergoing a paradigm shift. From self-driving cars to smart traffic systems, transportation is becoming more automated and data-driven. As AI technology evolves, its integration into transportation will continue to enhance efficiency, safety, and sustainability. 

Stay tuned for more updates on emerging AI-powered transportation solutions! 

[imtrashraccoon]

And here we are! I wrote this oneshot for @wendelin-utt as a prize for being so dedicated to booping everyone during the April Fools event. (Shut up, it is not fifteen days late!) They requested MC being isekaied and meeting Nostra.

Nostra is owned by @megalommi

Partially inspired by an audio by @improvidence318 and a oneshot by @aka-indulgence

Thank you! (I apologize if tagging any of you was annoying!) 乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ

My Papa is a Hypnotist...and a Mobster?!

SkeletonChild!Reader & Nostra (Platonic if it wasn't already obvious.)

Word Count: 4,558

Our story begins in a dark room. It could be a bedroom or an office, but sitting in front of a desk, framed by the glow of their computer monitor is our protagonist.

And what are they doing at this ungodly hour you might ask? Well, dear reader, they are dedicating their very last moments to what will become a life changing event.

And the name of that event? The Boop-meter.

Overnight, their favourite hellsite had gone wild with the concept of...booping. You press a button and your target gets booped with a virtual kitty paw.

Truly a revolutionary idea.

Our protagonist has been clicking away at their computer for hours by now. Their goal? To achieve the coveted status [TUM BLR] and max out as many Boop-meters as they can at the same time.

Why? Well, clearly the site admins gave them too much power. Bapping strangers with hundreds upon hundreds of kitty paws without having to leave the comfort of your home? Well, no mortal alive could resist such an allure.

Ding!

That wasn't the sound of a Revenge Boop.

It seemed someone had sent you an Anonymous Ask.

"Do y0u bEli3ve iN 0thEr wor1ds?"

You snickered. No one used leetspeak unironically anymore and it was such a random question too. Your nimble fingers flew across the keys as you typed out an appropriately silly response.

"Sure, if it means Nostra exists somewhere! My life would be complete if I could get the chance to meet him!"

You went back to the vigorous tapping that maxing out these Boop-meters all but required. A few minutes later though, you received another ask.

"Bo0p!"

It occurred to you that when you set up your blog, you had forgotten to enable asks. So how had this Anon gotten through...?

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light from your computer.

Everything went black...

~ - < ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ > - ~

Where were you?

No matter how much you tried to blink them away, your vision was covered in bright spots.

The first thing you noticed was that you were outside in an alleyway. The second thing was that the world seemed so much bigger than before.

You could hear sounds of a struggle and when you looked around, spotted three figures in suits kicking another on the ground. It was then that you noticed that you were sitting in a pile of...ash? It stuck to your clothes and irritated the gaps in your bones.

Bones...

Why...were you a skeleton...?

Your ribcage hurt and it felt like your soul was going to burst.

This wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

All of the fanfiction and manga you had read hadn't prepared you for this. It felt like the world was rapidly spinning around you; as if you were stuck in the eye of a hurricane.

What had happened?

Living skeletons weren't real. You'd often wished they were but you knew it was impossible since magic didn't exist and never would. So that begged the question, had you just been transported to another world?

The thought was exciting and terrifying at the same time. On one hand you were fascinated with the idea that magic could exist and that you might be able to use it. On the other though, you were alone and knew nothing about the rules of this world. For all you knew, this society was vastly different from the one you had grown up in and there was a good chance that you wouldn't understand the local language.

It didn't help that you felt so small.

At some point, the sounds of struggle ceased and suddenly there were several people crowded around you. They spoke in hushed tones and you could tell just by looking at them that something terrible had just happened.

Through context clues, you managed to piece together that "you" had been heading home from the cinema with "your mother" when the unthinkable happened. They didn't seem to know if the attack had been premeditated or completely random though.

The men in suits looked really tough and seemed to have been acting as bodyguards, which explained why they had been beating up the thug who'd presumably been the one to carry out the grisly deed. So, did this mean that you were someone really important in this world?

Thankfully, they seemed to interpret your silence and bewilderment as symptoms of shock, which wasn't entirely wrong, as this whole situation was incredibly overwhelming. You were apparently lucky to have survived at all.

The next few hours were a bit of a blur. You were whisked away to what you soon learned was a safehouse, where you were examined by a kind bunny monster who you assumed was a doctor. She was very gentle and did her best to calm your nerves.

You ended up taking a nap since you were rather worn out from the whole ordeal. Although, not even an hour later, you were woken up to the sound of muffled voices outside the dimly lit bedroom.

"S-sir! Please, I know you're worried, but-"

The speaker was cut off by a much more gruff voice. "doctor...i need to see them now."

There was a beat of silence before she answered in a much calmer tone. "Yes... Of course, forgive me for overstepping, sir..."

He hummed in a non-committal way. "don't let anyone disturb us until i return."

"Yes sir."

You sat up and brought your legs up to your ribs, so that your chin was resting on your knees. At the same time, you tugged the blanket closer, only leaving your skull exposed as you peeked out from beneath it.

The door opened and another skeleton stepped softly into the bedroom. He was actually shorter than you'd expected but he had a rather stocky build that more than made up for it. He was wearing a dark tailored pinstriped suit, an expensive looking red and blue striped tie that had been hastily knotted, a pair of high quality leather shoes, and a blue suit jacket that he'd evidently thrown over his broad shoulders.

If it wasn't for the concerned look on his face, you might have been scared of him. He had sharp teeth that reminded you of a shark and his crimson eyelights only served to highlight how dangerous he was.

Your eye sockets widened when it suddenly struck you who this mysterious skeleton was, which he unfortunately seemed to interpret as fear, and his bonebrows furrowed. He clenched his fists and for a moment, he seemed to war with himself on how to best approach you.

That mysterious Anon must've done this! You had no clue how or why though. Still, you weren't complaining since it seemed like you'd gotten your wish. You were actually going to meet Nostra!

He moved carefully to the bed and knelt down on the floor to seem more approachable. You were desperately trying to keep a straight face but inwardly, you were practically screaming that this was actually happening right now.

"how are ya feelin', buttercup?" he asked softly.

"I... I'm okay..." you stammered.

His concern seemed to melt away and he gave you a warm smile. "good, i'm glad." He gently stroked your forehead with his knuckles and while you were a bit concerned at first, the sensation was actually rather pleasant.

You didn't know what to say, so you just sat there and let him continue trying to soothe you. His movements seemed a bit stiff but also incredibly tender at the same time, almost as if he wasn't used to comforting a child. He was so careful not to hurt you with his claws that, if you didn't know better, you wouldn't think he was even capable of actually using them to hurt someone.

At some point, you became so relaxed that you let go of your knees and sat up properly. In response, he wrapped his other arm around your small frame and pulled you up against his chest. You didn't really know if you should hug him back, so you ended up just sitting there and letting him hold you.

"i'm sorry that i wasn't there when ya needed me most," he murmured. His voice sounded more husky all of the sudden, as if he was desperately trying to keep his emotions in check.

You lightly patted his arm in an attempt to comfort him. "Don't cry," you whispered. "I'm here and everything will be okay."

His hold tightened ever so slightly before he hugged you closer. He very gently nuzzled against the top of your skull but didn't say anything else.

~ - < ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ > - ~

As the days passed, you began to get used to both your new body and this new world. You tried to play the part of a grieving child and while you were pretty sure you'd been convincing, you still worried that someone would notice that something was up. You were kept inside most of the time and almost never left alone, but that didn't stop you from gathering as much info as you could.

Everything felt like you'd stepped foot into the eighties. From the decor and styles of furniture to the absence of a lot of common technology to the types of clothing people tended to wear. There was a sort of charm to it though.

The safehouse was quite a bit larger than you'd first thought and had a few dedicated staff to handle the upkeep of the place. They ignored you for the most part and other than the nice bunny doctor, who you'd since learned was named Miss Flopsy, Nostra became your primary caretaker.

While he was often busy, he regularly set aside his work to spend time with you. If you even briefly suggested wanting something, he was quick to make sure you got it, no matter what it was or how much it might cost. You were only slightly tempted to take advantage of his generosity but had managed to keep your requests pretty reasonable so far.

You could sense that Nostra was grieving, even though he was quick to put on a smile whenever you were around. He was trying to be there for you but it was pretty easy to tell that he was struggling, in more ways than one. You knew it must be rough for him to have lost his partner as well as almost losing his only child.

You really couldn't help but try to comfort him but was hard. While you knew some children could be very empathetic, it would seem strange for a child to approach the topic like an adult might. So most of the time you would resort to giving him hugs and thanking him for every nice thing he did for you.

One evening though, you snuck into his office and, unbeknownst to him, caught him in a vulnerable moment. He wasn't really crying, but his body language seemed to suggest that he had recently, and he looked like an absolute wreck.

As quietly as you could, you crept around his desk until you were standing next to his chair. His skull was buried in his hands and by the empty bottle of scotch next to him, you knew that he had likely been drinking as well.

Hesitantly, you reached up and placed your small hand on his arm. "Papa?" you asked in a whisper.

Nostra stirred with a groan and turned to look down at you. His eyelights seemed much more dull than usual and there were dark grooves underneath his eye sockets. He was too worn out to even fake a smile like he had been previously.

"You look so tired."

He sighed and ran his phalanges over your cranium. "yeah... you've always been so observant, buttercup."

"Are you done with work yet?" you asked.

" 'fraid not. there's always more paperwork to finish or people to manage."

You crossed your arms and pouted, or at least the best you could manage to without lips. Nostra made a soft tisk sound before lifting you into his lap. He nuzzled the side of your skull and traced soothing circles into your shoulder blades.

"i'm sorry but that's just how it is at times," he said in a soft voice.

"I know," you grumbled. "But even if you can't sleep, you should at least make time to relax."

His movements suddenly stilled and when you glanced up at him, he had an odd look on his skull. He didn't seem angry, just slightly confused.

You pressed your teeth together as you tried to figure out what to say next. Something you'd said must've seemed odd. Were you not supposed to know that he couldn't actually sleep thanks to his hypnosis powers?

"I don't like seeing you so stressed, Papa. It makes me sad..." You trailed off and ducked your skull against his chest, muffling a sob as you did so. Hopefully your acting would be convincing enough that he would forget about whatever weird thing just happened.

After a moment, he pulled you closer and patted your back. "i'm sorry, sweetheart. i know it's not easy right now but i'm here for ya."

You clutched at his shirt and twisted the fabric. He'd probably have to have it ironed later but that was the furthest thing from your mind right now.

"Promise you'll take breaks from your work?" you asked.

He hesitated before pressing his forehead against your skull. "alright. just for you, buttercup," he hummed.

~ - < ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ > - ~

You might have been a bit too observant for your own good.

It didn't help that you were good at sneaking around and avoiding the people who were supposed to be taking care of you. It was actually something of a game to see how long you could stay out of sight and make them panic while searching for you.

One day, you were dodging your assigned tutor and managed to slip into the basement. You knew that you were forbidden from going down here but surely there wasn't anything actually dangerous. This was a safehouse; it was literally in the name.

So, imagine your surprise when you peeked into what looked like a meeting room, only to see Nostra was inside. You were about to step out of hiding when you suddenly realized that he wasn't alone.

Sitting across from Nostra was a well dressed older gentleman. He wore a black suit with a dark green tie and his fedora has been set on the table next to him. His posture seemed a little stiff, especially since Nostra was almost lounging in the chair across from him.

They seemed to have been talking for a few minutes, although you weren't entirely sure what about, but it looked like things were going well. You noticed they both had tumblers of what looked like scotch which seemed to indicate that this was a casual encounter.

You were about to leave before someone found you down here, when you heard Nostra ask the gentleman a question.

"do ya mind if i smoke, pal?" The man barely had a chance to respond before he pulled out an expensive looking cigar and lit up. "thanks."

You grimaced as the slightly pungent smoke began to lazily drift around the room. You hated when people were inconsiderate of others and smoked inside, but at least it didn't stink as bad as cigarettes generally did.

You would've left right then and there if the colour of the smoke wasn't so mesmerizing. There were two colours actually, a bright red and a vivid blue. The smoke curled around Nostra everytime he exhaled but oddly, the colours didn't mix together like you thought they should.

The mafioso probably thought it was some sort of monster cigar, but other than his eyes widening ever so slightly, he kept a stiff poker face. You noticed that he did seem a little uncomfortable with the smoke but not to the extent that you were.

"as i was sayin', the previous arrangement still stands. if ya want to move trucks through, ya gotta pay the tax, same as everybody else." Nostra's voice was low and measured, giving the sense that he was serious about this.

"And I'm telling you that your tax is too damn high," the man growled and clenched his fists in frustration. "We'd be selling at a loss..."

Nostra leaned forward slightly and exhaled, causing the coloured smoke to practically assault the pathetic man's senses. "seems to me that there's not enough demand... maybe your boss should be more worried about losin' ground than tryin' to jip me..."

The mafioso coughed and rubbed at his eyes with his fist. "How dare...you imply that...there's no...demand...?" He was struggling to speak all of the sudden, let alone stay awake.

Nostra chuckled, "oh i wasn't implyin' anythin' of the sort." He paused for a moment and studied the man in front of him with a smirk. "tell your boss to get his act together an' if he still wants to do business, he's gotta pay up."

The man suddenly slumped forward and nearly fell out of the chair.

Nostra sighed and shook his skull. "guess i overdid it again," he muttered.

The red and blue smoke slowly dissipated although he continued smoking his cigar. After a moment, he picked up the phone on the table and dialed a number. When the other person picked up, he spoke quietly into the receiver.

"i got a job for ya, get this waste of space out of my sight... i don't care where, so long as he's able to deliver a message to the lombardi's when he wakes up."

He returned the receiver to its cradle and ran a hand over his face. With a heavy sigh, he stood up and after taking one last glance at the dozing man, turned to the door.

You gasped and dunked out of sight, but you weren't fast enough. You knew you were caught when Nostra suddenly called out after you. With a sinking feeling in your soul, you hung your skull and braced yourself for the scolding that was sure to come.

Except Nostra didn't look angry, just very concerned. If anything he seemed almost horrified that you'd likely witnessed everything that just happened.

He knelt down to be more on your level and his crimson eyelights flicked over your face for a moment. "ya aren't s'posed to be down here..." he finally said.

You fiddled with the hem of your top, finding it incredibly hard to look him in the eye right now. "I know..." you muttered.

"i know you're curious, but there's things i do that i'd rather ya not know too much about right now."

"Like what?"

He sighed and stroked your cheekbone affectionately. "business stuff. kids like you deserve to have fun an' learn things while ya can, not be burdened with adult problems."

"Your magic is really cool though," you huffed and crossed your arms. "If you want someone to do something, all you gotta do is hypnotise them and bam!"

Nostra narrowed his eye sockets and scrutinized you again. "it doesn't always work like that, buttercup. sometimes people are smart, so it's not always wise to use magic right away."

You nodded thoughtfully, "I guess that makes sense."

He hesitated for a moment and then wrapped his arms around your small frame. "there's a reason i didn't want ya to know about this. my work is dangerous and i don't want ya to ever be in danger again, okay?"

You nodded and did your best to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. "I'm sorry, I won't come down here again," you murmured.

~ - < ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ > - ~

"you're positive that's what happened?"

"I'm certain. You can ask Joey and Marco but I swear they were dusting. I remember there was a flash of light and the next thing I know, they were fine."

(...)

You were happily sketching away in your room. There was just so many interesting things in this world and as of late, your creative juices had been flowing freely. Although, you were very careful not to leave your drawings out for just anyone to see. It would probably be pretty suspicious for a child to have the skill level that you did when it came to art.

There was a gentle knock on the door that had you scrambling to hide your sketchbook under your sheets. You grabbed a random book from the bedside table and plopped yourself on top of the concealed drawings.

"hey, can i come in, sweetheart?" Nostra called through the door.

"Yep!"

You smiled brightly when he entered your room, but his expression remained serious, which was concerning. You waited until he had crossed the floor and sat down next to you on the bed before trying to figure out what was bothering him.

"Did something happen, Papa?" you asked carefully.

He frowned at that and you noticed his hands clench slightly before he took a steadying breath to try to calm down.

"no, but i was wonderin' about somethin', so i need ya to be honest with me, okay?" he asked in a quiet tone.

You pressed your teeth together as you set the book aside. You hadn't seen him act this seriously towards you before and it was frankly a little terrifying. Had you done something wrong? Could this be related to the attack that had happened before you appeared in this world? Had you slipped up somewhere?

Turning back to Nostra, you nodded. "Okay..."

"do ya remember what ya used to call your uncle?"

Your proverbial heart sunk. This was really bad! You hadn't even considered that his brother was even in this world and you sure as hell hadn't met him. Actually, you hadn't even met any of your mother's family now that you were thinking about it.

When you couldn't answer, Nostra's bonebrows pinched together with concern. "what about your birthday last year? do ya remember what flavour of ice scream ya had?"

"Chocolate?" you tried.

His face remained passive, giving no indication if that was even the right answer or not. "what about what your mother's favourite animal was?"

Again, you had no idea how to answer. Your mind was scrambling for any excuse to get out of this situation. Would it be too much of a stretch to claim that the attack had given you amnesia?

You jumped when Nostra put his hand on your back. He waited until you glanced up at him again before speaking.

"is there somethin' that ya need to tell me?"

The jig was officially up. You could hear your bones rattling from how badly you'd started shaking, but he was remaining firm, waiting for an answer.

"I... I'm not..." You were struggling to even speak at this point and your eye sockets were starting to sting, unshed tears threatening to burst through the dam and spill down your cheekbones.

"I'm not your child," you finally said.

Nostra's eye sockets widened a fraction and you felt the hand on your back twitch slightly, but he otherwise remained calm. "what do you mean?"

"I don't know how to explain it..." You stared at your hands for a moment as you wracked your non-existent brain for the words. "I look like them...but I have memories of being someone else. I'm...not even from this time period..."

He let go of you and ran his hand down his face with a heavy sigh. It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop if you weren't already nearly going deaf from all the rattling.

"Nostra, please...!" You started to reach for him but stopped yourself. Maybe it wouldn't be a good idea to potentially risk setting him off.

"I never wanted to hurt you..." you whispered, although your soul ached at the realization that by pretending to be his child, you had deceived him.

"where are ya from?" he asked.

You paused for a moment as you tried to figure out the best way to explain it. "I'm from another world... It's kind of like this one but without magic and monsters. You were...a character that someone created for fun..."

You could feel the way he was staring at you all of the sudden. You didn't blame him for being confused or even a little freaked out. You would be too if someone just randomly told you the things that had been coming out of your mouth.

"so, that's how ya knew i'm an insomniac..."

You nodded solemnly. "And how I know about how your hypnotism magic works."

"i...don't know what i was expectin' earlier... it wasn't anythin' like this though," Nostra muttered. "i thought maybe ya had memory loss or ya somehow absorbed someone else's soul... not somethin' this...complicated."

"I'm sorry."

He sighed and rubbed at the space between his eye sockets. "i should've done more. maybe i would've noticed sooner if i wasn't always so damn busy all the time..."

You remained silent.

"was it an accident?"

He was looking at you again and by the look in his crimson eyelights, you knew everything rested on the answer to his question. He didn't look angry, yet, but the way his pinpricks were flickering and how tightly he was gritting his teeth, you could see that he was barely containing his emotions.

"Yes. I was sent here without warning and I don't know if it's even possible to go back."

He held eye contact for several long seconds and you struggled not to look away for fear that he might think you were lying.

"i see."

"I understand if you're mad. I knew I shouldn't have tried to deceive you in the first place and there's really no excuse for my behavior."

"i'm not mad, not really... this is just a lot to process."

You reached over and placed your hand on his arm. "Again, I'm so sorry. If you want me to leave...?"

"no!"

You gasped at his sudden outburst but he quickly gave you an apologetic look.

"i'm sorry. just, don't leave..." He started to reach for you but hesitated, letting his hand hover near your face. "i know you're not them...but i can't handle losin' you too..."

You swallowed and blinked rapidly to keep the tears from breaking free. "If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't keep pretending to be them anymore."

Nostra nodded, "i need to think this over, but for now, i think that would be best." He cupped the back of your skull and when you gave him a slight nod, he pulled you into a careful hug.

You hugged him back as tightly as you could. While you weren't sure how your relationship would progress from here, you had hope that you could at least remain friends with him. Although you would need to work hard to establish something genuine.

Pretending to be his own kid was kinda weird anyways.

[leggerefiore]

Hey Fi, do you remember that one ficlet you wrote forever ago where reader nearly got kidnapped by Yan! Submas from an alternate universe, then saved by OG Submas?

Would you consider doing one for Cyrus, or if Yandere is too OOC for Cyrus, maybe OG vs. Rainbow Rocket? A third option, if you have some ideas for who Cyrus could've been without, or at least with less, abuse would be Cyrus vs. a healthier Cyrus.

High Five Anon

cw: yandere, unhealthy relationships, happy ending(?), cyrus being a bit ooc since one is yandere but too much

pairing: Cyrus/Reader (x2)

Spirit Of Corruption

The breath in your lungs was knocked out by the way the Renegade pokemon seemingly slashed through reality itself. A tear within space and time, to which Cyrus could only stare in pure, silent terror as it consumed you before his eyes. He had been working with the legendary to investigate possible other options for his perfect world. Unfortunately, his research seemed to take a bad turn. You tried to reach out for his hand as he rushed towards you, desperate to bring you back to reality.

The pure fear of losing someone he loved again burned harshly in his eyes. He misses you by only a few millimetres, and you hear him shout your name. His monotone is broken with worry and desperation. Your heart aches at the pain that simply pours from him.

It is the last thing you see as your vision is obscured by a sudden brightness that bleeds into an endless darkness.

Around you, there is simply nothing.

A void.

Then, there is everything.

You fall from the sky and land on a stone ground. Dull pain sprouts out from your bottom as it took a majority of the fall. Desperate breaths are sucked in as you gaze around the area. Instantly, you recognise it.

Spear Pillar.

The peak of Mt. Coronet.

Shakily, you stand. Had you just been kicked out of the Distortion World? Your terror faded as you took in the sights from the peak of the mountain. You were safe, well, and in a familiar location. It was peculiar, everything that had come before, but you supposed it was just like that crossing in the portal that broke space and time. You lean against a pillar in your relief.

However, a voice calls out your name from behind. Turning around, you see Mars. She shakes oddly, eyes wide and mouth agape. Hurried steps are rushed towards you as she grabs your arms. Her grip is tight as she looks you over in bewilderment. You tilted your head. Cyrus's “team” was not something you were deeply familiar with, but you had come to know his commanders somewhat after he had refused to leave the Distortion World.

“Where… Where have you been?” she asked with wide eyes, “He's been looking all over for you! He was convinced you had died!” Her words felt confusing and nonsensical. Who was looking for you? The context of assuming death made you think of Cyrus, but she seemed far too frantic.

“… I was just in the Distortion World,” you cocked a brow up, “Cyrus was there doing experiments, and I joined him.” Her face twisted in a strange way. For a long moment, she was silent as she seemed to try to observe you much too closely for comfort. Whatever had spurred her suspicion was apparently pushed to the side, however.

“Mhm…” she nodded, “Something happened, then, right? He's back at HQ, worried about you. C'mon!” The redhead pulled at your arm with an alarming amount of strength. Was something wrong? Perhaps you had travelled slightly forward in time… That seemed like the only reasonable explanation for everything. You sighed and let her pull you down the winding mountain's caves and towards the quickest transport to Veilstone. The trip into the Galactic building was met with a few stares from members and even an expression of shock.

She knocked on the door to Cyrus's office as she nervously gazed around the dead-end hallway before straightening her posture. The doors clicked open to reveal Cyrus sitting at his desk, eyes not moving away from his computer. He seemed his usual self, despite the obvious upset he had been in when you were dragged into the portal. Relief flooded your system.

“What is it?” his voice was harsh, and it was clear he did not want to be bothered. Mars stepped into the room and glanced back at you. She wanted you to follow her in. You did as she wanted.

“Um, Master Cyrus,” the commander greeted him politely, “I found your... er, partner.” She looked to you for confirmation. You just blinked a few times. Cyrus visibly tensed before breaking his gaze to look at her. His eyes landed on you first, however. Something in his eyes felt strange as his expression nearly broke his usual stone-face.

“… I see,” the Galactic Boss nodded, hiding whatever it was he wished to say to you away, “I will provide an adequate reward for this. You are dismissed.” He stood up and fell into his usual pose with his arms behind his back. She gave a slight nod and awkward grin before heading back out of the office. The doors closed behind her.

Was everyone normally this awkward? You swore she seemed to be all over him normally. Mars seemed afraid to even meet his eyes. Before you could question anything, Cyrus had made his way over to you. His eyes peered at you in a scrutinising manner, almost as if he were trying to verify it was actually you. The strange behaviour was somewhat reasonable, you supposed. What just happened would naturally bring out worries.

His hand came to cup your cheek. He swallowed and closed his eyes. “Beloved…” The familiar term of endearment warmed your heart. You leaned into his touch and brought a hand to rest on his. “I thought I had lost you forever,” Cyrus whispered. You could only smile. Yeah, you thought you were, too. Here you were, though. Safe and unharmed and back where you belonged.

“It was a bit scary,” you admitted, “I thought I was going to die, but I ended up back with you in the end.” His eyes met yours. Something odd spiralled in them. He removed his hand to instead pull you close to him. When was the last time Cyrus had been this clingy? You leaned into him once again.

“Let us go home,” the blue-haired man spoke, “I… I wish to go to a more comforting environment.”

You could only agree, feeling disgruntled by the feelings the headquarters brought you.

~

You watched as he slid the key card to your apartment in the slider. A beep followed, and the sound of the lock pulled back. Cyrus opened the door for you. Strange, you thought. Normally, he would just walk in. Maybe he was feeling an urge to be extra careful after everything that had happened. You stepped inside, greeted by your apartment. Looking around, you felt it was strangely off. Not in a way that was easily described in words, but something that you simply perceived and understood.

You gazed out the veranda doors after pulling back the blinds to see the evening sun enveloping Veilstone beautifully. Slipping your hand in the door's groove, you found it unmovable. Cyrus's hand came to grasp your shoulder. It was tight and heavy. Turning your head, you met his gaze. Something was still so wrong. Your stomach churned as you considered the situation.

“… How did you escape?” his voice is empty and demanding. You froze. What? What could he possibly mean? Escape? From the portal? Your silence upset him as he spun you around. His hand moved to instead hold your chin and make you meet his eyes. You swallowed.

“From… the portal?” you answered with a question, “Cyrus, it just spit me out at Spear Pillar.” His eyelids narrowed, and his grip became tighter. Pulling you closer, he frowned truly.

“From this apartment,” Cyrus clarified, “Do you know how many locks I have had installed? I had to change them all.” You froze. Despite obviously seeing your distress, he continued, “I am happy that you realised the foolishness in your actions and opted to return, but I must know how you escaped in the first place.” You felt as if the gravity in the room became ten times as strong. An uneven breath escaped you.

“… I… don't know what you are talking about,” you shook your head, “Are you feeling well? This isn't like you at all, Cy!” Escaping his hold, you grab onto his shoulders and frantically look at him. He cocks a brow up at you. Silence overtakes the room. His eyes then close.

“… I could ask the same of you,” the Galactic Boss mumbles out. He removes your hands from his shoulders. Holding them, his grip is strong. It seemed he understood there was something that neither of you had understood about each other. Before more could be said, his phone went off. A sigh came from him as he checked the message. Whatever it said made him stiffen. “I will return,” Cyrus shot a stern look at you, “We will continue this conversation when I get back.”

He then marched right out the door, locking it behind him. You felt ill staring at the weird code system on the inside of the door alongside another card reader. The locks clicked shut, and you realised that you were trapped within the apartment. Trying the door knob was fruitless as panic overtook your mind. Cyrus would never do this. Not your Cyrus. He was too caring and gentle. Nothing like whatever this was.

Everything felt hopeless as you rushed around the apartment, trying every last possible way to escape. The veranda door was truly unable to open, while most windows had a lock or were simply not the kind that opened. Terror blossomed in your chest as you sat on the couch with your head buried in your hands. What was this? You felt as if the only answer that made sense was this being an alternate world. Cyrus had spoken about the possibility but seemed uninterested unless it was one that lacked spirit. You felt this one had too much if this Cyrus's behaviour was anything to go by.

The alternative you of this world had seemingly escaped this apartment and fled from him. Lucky them. You had unwittingly replaced them. Would he keep you when he realised you were not truly the same you that had escaped? The thought was terrifying. Somehow, you felt that he would find you a worthy replacement. Your Cyrus would probably never find you and assume you were dead.

The dread nearly consumed your heart as you sat there in the eerily silent apartment.

Then, your phone went off.

It startled you as it broke the lack of sound and filled it with your loud ringtone.

You pulled it out in shock and stared at it in bewilderment. A call was coming through. The caller's ID left you floored.

Answering it, you pressed it to your ear.

“Where are you?” the voice of your boyfriend came through, “I used Giratina to enter the portal.”

Your heart fluttered in pitiful relief.

“Our apartment,” then you rethought your words, “Er – our apartment in this world.”

“… Interesting,” his tone changed subtly, “Then, I presume you have met a version of me in this world.” You could tell he was wondering how you understood his words so easily then.

“Please. Hurry, I don't think there is really a good time to explain this,” you worked to placate him instead, “He's strange. Stranger than you. I was locked in our apartment by him.”

“I see,” he sounded like he was attempting to hide his thoughts, “I will then. Please do not do anything to provoke him, then.” With that, the call was ended, and you were left in silence again.

Hopefully, Cyrus would get you out, and you both could return to your world in peace.

~

A hand firmly shaking your shoulder broke you from the small slumber you had fallen into at some point, having curled up on the couch while unsure of what to do while waiting. Rubbing your eyes, you saw Cyrus looking down at you. He pulled you to your feet and looked you over. Your tired mind lagged for a moment before he let out a sigh of relief.

“The door had countless electronic locks on it,” Cyrus looked exhausted, “I found a way to disable most, but the few I had to brute force raised my concern about it attracting the version of myself in this world.” You stiffened. He sighed and shook his head. “How odd. I never felt a need for such things,” he commented, “What are his intentions… I feel as if I should understand it, but I do not.” You really did not, either. When you tried to consider Cyrus's actions, none of them involved locking you in your apartment.

“… I don't know either,” you agreed with him, “I want to leave, though. Let's go back to our home, please.” You grabbed tightly onto his arm. His eyes shifted to something oddly soft. A nod was his only reply before he shrugged off your grip. The two of you soon departed from the odd parallel of your shared apartment and out onto Veilstone's streets. With a recalled knowledge, Cyrus easily navigated through them to head to the nearest station to get out of the city. Opening a portal would draw too much attention and onlookers there, after all.

But, as you both approached the location, familiar uniformed people stood out among the people going in and out of it. The Galactic Leader let out a breath. A few confused Galactic grunts wandered over to Cyrus and stared at him. Their eyes moved from between you and the man as they seemingly tried to understand something you both did not know. It was easy enough to find out, however.

“Master Cyrus… Didn't you order us to look for your partner…?” a female grunt finally offered up what was bothering them. Cyrus shot a harsh look at them and nearly made them recoil. You wondered if he felt the urge to actually express his upset towards whatever his alternate self was doing.

“Perhaps I did,” he agreed, “However, is it not obvious that the situation has changed if I, myself, are with them? Tell your other members to end their search at once and return to HQ.” Her eyes went big at the order given to her by her believed boss. A 'yes sir!' came from her as she quickly began to spread it between her and the many other grunts. It would unfortunately feed more information to the other Cyrus, but for now, you two simply focused on getting on the train.

He held his head in obvious frustration as you both took your seats. You had sat near the window, trying to hide yourself as best you could. Neither of you wanted to deal with another situation, after all. Leaning your head on Cyrus's shoulder, you let out a shaky breath. Thankfully, the grunts were too blinded by their dedication to him to truly question his sudden changes.

“… He's using Team Galactic to search for you,” Cyrus mumbled to himself, “How odd.”

Odd, indeed. Your Cyrus barely told you much about Team Galactic outside of treating it as a normal company. He had not wanted to know of his plans, as he was fully aware that you would attempt to stop him. You never really even met any members outside when you tried to surprise him at work. Of course, the receptionist refused to let you up to his office.

“I bet you used Team Galactic to find me earlier,” you joked and tried to lighten the heavy mood. It would all be over soon. You would go back home to your normal apartment with your boyfriend and probably demand he actually cuddle with you after everything. Maybe food would be ordered.

“… I used our technology, certainly” he sighed, “I do not trust my grunts to cross dimensions.”

You held back a laugh.

~

Night had now settled in the world as the twinkling stars above lit the void of space that hung in the sky. The moon glimmered ominously, reflecting the light from the ever shining sun. The dewy grass was cold against any exposed skin. The Galactic Boss readied himself to send out the Renegade pokemon. Your heart pounded. The area was completely absent of other people. It was time to return home.

Before he could release Giratina, however, a loud cawing broke the silence of the night. Above you both, a Honchkrow flew around, belting its lungs out. His head flung up as his eyes went wide. You screamed as your body crashed to the ground. Sharp claws threatened your skin as the red eyes of a Weavile stared at you. It was more than apparent what was going on. Cyrus sent out his Houndoom without any hesitation and ordered a flamethrower. The Weavile acted quick, however, and jumped off from you.

Cyrus's eyes were fixed upon a location as you got yourself back onto your feet. You followed to where his harsh look was directed and felt your blood run cold. It was more than apparent from everything else who it was. The other Cyrus stood there with the Weavile and Honchkrow at his sides. His gaze felt constricting as he took a step forward. You rushed back to your Cyrus.

“… Quite intriguing,” the other Cyrus replied, stopping as you hid behind your own, “I would ask where you found such a dedicated impersonator, but I can grasp it all now.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “A portal…” he mumbled out, “Of course, you were from another world. You acted nothing like they had.” His Weavile suddenly attempted an Ice Punch on Houndoom. It was dodged narrowly by the dark-type. Cyrus instantly called for another Flamethrower. It was a distraction as the other Cyrus moved closer, gaze solely upon you. “I will accept you, nonetheless,” he spoke to you alone, “I will not allow anyone else to take you, not even another version of myself.”

You flinched as he suddenly rushed towards you to grasp you. Your reaction time was slow as he caught your wrist. He pulled you to his body. His hold was tight and suffocating. You struggled against him. Whatever attempt at pokemon battle was going on was forgotten as your Cyrus instead rushed over. The rage on his face was something almost foreign to you as he forced the other man's hold off from you.

As you fell back from the surprising force Cyrus had used, you grabbed a certain pokeball from his waist. The two seemingly identical men stared intensely at each other, with no words said. However, from the slight grimace on the other Cyrus's face, you could tell that your Cyrus's grip on his worst was something painful. His eyes looked nearly blank as he knocked the other man to the ground.

Turning away from whatever they were beginning to do, you sent out the pokemon from its ball. Giratina's shrill cry echoed in the bight as its glowing eyes shined. An order to open a portal back to your world was shouted, and it instantly obeyed. A tear in space and time was clear as day as he finally moved to look back at the two men. Your Cyrus remained on top of the other one. His Houndoom tried to pull him back as he pressed the alternate version of himself into the grass and dirt below.

“How disgusting,” he hissed at him as he still tried to turn his gaze to you, “An obvious effect of the incompleteness of spirit.” Before whatever conversation of the century could unfold between the two men, you aided Houndoom in pulling him back. His head turned around to the portal as he was relieved. You ran towards it while he called back Houndoom to join you. Jumping in, you could hear an angry yell follow.

Whatever happened was unknown as you landed on a rocky floor. Behind you, the portal swirled for a few moments before Cyrus stepped out, with Giratina following him. You handed him the legendary's pokeball as the portal slowly came to a close, leaving you both in the silence of the cave. Turnback cave again… You let out a shaky breath and collapsed to your knees.

What was all that? You felt insane for a moment.

Cyrus laid a firm hand on the middle of your shoulders. You looked up at him. He had not seemed himself in those final moments, either. Blathering his usual nonsense about spirit, sure, but… You let out a shaky breath. He had never been violent before. It just seemed foreign to his nature.

Standing up, you embraced him tightly, burying your face into his nape. His arms came around you slowly, understanding you needed comfort over anything else for now.

“Cy,” you finally spoke after a few moments, “Take off tomorrow.”

“… I will,” Cyrus agreed, “I am deeply sorry you had to experience all that.”

“Just… don't install any new locks, please.”

“I will not,” he shook his head, “I would never allow spirit to corrupt me in such ways.”

Corrupt… spirit…

You could only silence whatever ramble may overcome him with a kiss.

[strxwberrybtch]

A Hellish Love Story // Pt. 1

Pairing(s): Vox x F!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Alcohol and Drugs

A/N: Hello my lovies! This is my first fic here on tumblr- it's a little short butttt I'm hoping to make this a multi-part series. This will definitely be a NSFW series with eventual smut ;) I would love to hear your input on this first part! Without further ado, enjoy :)

---

In life, the art of literature enthralled you. It captivated you in more ways than one. The way that words could transport you to another place completely fascinated you. At first, you treated it as a hobby or one could argue a distraction. One to drown out the harsh words that your parents constantly threw back and forth at each other.

It was no surprise that you found yourself constantly with a pen and paper in hand, jotting down your never ending ideas. You started taking it more seriously once you started high school. Normal english classes didn't excite you as much as the creative writing course did. Once you were done with school, you began to devote your young adulthood to writing. You quickly found a sufficient job and instantly got to work. All you wanted was to do was share your creative visions with the world. You wanted people to feel the passion and emotion that you felt while writing it.

It was a somewhat peaceful day at the shitty office you worked at. You had pulled an all nighter the night before working on a screenplay. Not just any screenplay though. This had to of been your best work yet. It was your ticket out of the slums and to the big leagues. This was your chance.

You sat in your tiny cubicle typing your heart away. Solely relying on caffeine and adderall- which you may or may not have abused from time to time. But this was your livelihood, your purpose in life if you will. The sun had slowly began to set at the office. Many of your fellow peers were chit-chatting about their plans for the weekend. You easily tuned them out as you focused on the writing in front of you. Feeling a wave of tiredness, you popped another pill into your mouth- washing it down with your coffee. The adrenaline and thought of being so close to being finished had you eager and motivated. You almost didn’t acknowledge the loud screech of the building’s fire alarm.

Apparently a fire had broken out and quickly began to ensue absolute chaos within the building. Of course with the building being in a not so fortunate area- the sprinklers had stopped working years ago. While your coworkers scrambled to escape the ever growing deadly smoke and flames, you stayed behind at your desk. You anxiously gnawed at your nails, waiting for your files to download onto a usb drive. You cursed at yourself for getting carried away with writing and not saving throughout the day as you usually did. Your career's future was on that computer. You’d rather die than lose it all.

Unfortunately that’s where your human life had come to a fiery end, engulfed in the flames along with your life’s work. So you assume that’s why you ended up with fiery, crimson eyes and the ability to manipulate fire. Ironic.. in a shitty sorta way. Scratch that… a very shitty way.

After seeing ‘Writers Wanted’ at the end of a VoxTek commercial, your heart fluttered at the thought of pursuing your passion in the afterlife. Hell, you did die for it so you might as well give your death meaning. You quickly memorized the address and beelined it to the VVV tower.

Given your obvious passion for the job, you were immediately hired by a higher up employee, of course with the quick text of approval from Vox. After getting a brief job description, you were over the moon excited. Writing scripts for TV, like are you kidding?? You had spent your entire mortal life trying to get to that point in your career. Who woulda thought all it took was well… your life.

You didn’t have think twice before signing over your soul to the demon overlord. Why would you? Selling your soul in exchange for your dream job was an easy decision. Especially since it came with great pay and an apartment to live in.

As for Vox though, you really never saw him too much. When you did he always gave a charming smile your way which you kindly reciprocated. He was undeniably attractive, even with a TV for a head.

Whilst working at the V tower you were able to meet the one and only adult star, Angel Dust. He quickly introduced you to Cherri Bomb, and boom (no pun intended) your trio of friendship was born.

It’s been a few years since then and that’s how you ended up here, sitting at your desk aimlessly typing away listening to a very whiny spider demon.

“Come onnnn Y/N!! We haven’t gone out in forever and we both have the night off for once” Angel exasperated, throwing his arms up into the air, desperately trying to convince you to go out with himself and Cherri.

You sighed quietly to yourself knowing this wasn’t going to end soon. He had been going on and on about how you work too much and haven’t been able to have fun for the past 20 minutes now. You rubbed your temples and took off your blue light glasses. Quickly closing your laptop and spinning around in your chair, you were met with Angel laying upside down on your bed, with his head hanging off the side.

“Okay! Fine! You win! And you shouldn’t lay like that,” You laughed while leaning down to lightly flick his forehead.

Angel swatted your hand away and sat up. Though you could tell he did it too fast after he placed a hand to his head, feeling dizzy from all the blood rushing back to the rest of his body. All you could do was shake your head and smile at the goof.

“HAHA YES!! I’ll text Cherri and let her know. Now get your ass up outta that chair and get ready! Show them what all of hell’s been missin lately,” He winked and quickly picked up his phone to message the missing piece to our trio.

You rolled your eyes briefly and went into your bathroom to make yourself look presentable.

“Can you find me something to wear pretty pleaseee!” You shouted from the bathroom.

“Oh you know I gotcha toots,” By hearing the muffled tone of his voice you could just tell he was smirking. You had a feeling you’d regret asking for his help but quickly shook the thought away. Angel was right. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you went out with your two troublemaker friends. It had to of been at least a few months. You needed this.

You deserved this.

With one last glance at your bare, tired face you got to work. Seeing as it had been forever, you decided to go all out. It took only about an hour or so for you to be satisfied with your hair and makeup. Once finished you came out of your bathroom to see Angel was no longer on your bed. However replacing him was the outfit he had picked out for you.

A simple black crop top, the shortest denim skirt you owned, a silver chain belt that connected with hearts, and to top it all off a pair of black chunky heeled boots. He knew you all too well.

After putting on the outfit you stared at yourself in the mirror. You almost didn’t recognize the reflection in front of you. It reminded you of when you were in high school. Sure you were addicted to writing but your living friends were a little bit of a bad influence, much like the ones you have now. They had convinced you to get a fake id so that you could go clubbing with them. And to be honest, you were glad they did. Who would’ve wanted to miss out on a early 2000’s club scene? You had a lot of fun during that time. Yet, that’s the very place you discovered the drug that got you through pretty much the rest of your living life.

A smile began to spread across your face as you checked yourself out. The outfit accentuated every part of your body perfectly. Out of all the time you’ve spent in hell, this was undoubtedly the best you had ever looked. With one last once over in the mirror, you turned off your bedroom lights and went to find Angel.

It didn’t take long to find him sprawled out on your couch with his phone in hand. A VoxTech sitcom played quietly on your tv in the background.

“You ready to go?” He asked without looking up once he heard you enter the living room.

“What do you think?” You questioned him with a coy smile.

He quickly glanced up at you and dropped his phone onto his lap. In an instant he was standing in front of you.

“Holy shit toots! I knew you were good looking but this makes me question my own sexuality,” He said in a teasingly, seductive voice as he twirled you around.

“Shut up loser,” You laughed, shoving his shoulder.

“I’m just speaking the truth! But come on Cherri is already there,”

You turned off everything and locked your apartment. You held onto the door knob for a moment before taking a deep breath and letting go to trail after Angel.

---

It wasn’t long before you and Angel arrived at Club 666, one of the Pride Ring’s most popular clubs owned by your boss’s situationship, Valentino. You never really came across the moth man while you were at work, only hearing stories from Angel Dust. Some of the stories were good but the majority… not so much. It's pretty safe to say, you don't want to cross him while he's in one of his moods.

After climbing out of the cab, your hands found the hem of your skirt almost instantly. You hastily pulled down the short material that had ridden up your thighs on the way there, almost flashing the black lace panties you decided to wear. Once situated outside of the club, hand in hand, you and Angel made your way into the booming club. After fighting your way through the seemingly never ending crowd, you spot Cherri at the bar downing a shot with a group of random sinners, not very surprising.

She perks up at the sight of you and Angel, waving her hand in the air with a toothy grin.

“There you fuckers are! I thought you up and ditched me for a second there,” She said quickly pulling Angel into a tight hug. Once she got to you she paused for a moment with both her hands on your shoulders.

“Holy shit Y/N, you look hot!!” She exclaimed examining every part of you.

“Awe thanks Cherri,” You smiled and brought her into a warm hug.

“Hey! How come when I complimented you earlier I got shoved?!” Angel asked with his arms crossed.

“Because I’m used to your flirty compliments,” You laughed as his pouty expression slowly turned into a sly smile.

He brushed his hair back and huffed out, “Point taken. Alright enough bullshit. Let’s get this party started bitches!”.

---

You had lost track of how many shots you and your friends had taken. You knew it had to of been a lot though with how much the club was spinning. It wasn’t spinning in a bad way though. Sure you’d feel like shit in the morning but at this point you didn’t care. The lights of the dance floor strobed bright green as it flashed through the fog. You felt euphoric and giddy as you danced alongside Cherri.

Angel had ditched you both pretty early on once he noticed Val. He took place under one of Valentino’s lengthy arms. Even in your drunken state, you glanced over a few times to make sure he was okay. And from what you observed he was laughing with a fellow star, taking in the moth’s red smoke. Cherri broke you out of your worry as she tapped on your shoulder.

“I’m gonna go grab another round yeah? Want one?” She slurred with a lazy smile, shouting over the intense music.

You thought for a brief moment before slightly slurring back, "Sure why not!"

You watched as her form slowly disappeared through the sea of dancing, sweaty bodies. Feeling the music, you felt yourself truly let loose. This was the most fun you had in a very long time. A dazed smile found its way across your lips as you swayed your body to the beat of the music. You danced without a care in the world. As if nobody was watching.

However, someone was watching.

From a secluded area of the club, a certain TV demon sat with a drink in one of his clawed hands...

Watching your every move.

///

AHHHH I really hope you guys enjoyed this first part. I wrote it in one sitting... oops XD. Let me know what you think!!

[doomedgrrrlblog]

Visions by Grimes was made to be listened when you're in the public transport at night and Geidi Primes was made for when you're sitting in front of your computer, lonely in your room during afternoon hours

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump Day 13: "You weren't supposed to get hurt,

The first thing Whumpee saw upon being reactivated was Caretaker’s face standing over them. They looked tired, deep shadows resting under red eyes. A quick check of their internal clock told Whumpee that it was late into the night.

And yet Caretaker was smiling.

“Oh thank god–,” A relieved giggle burst from their lips, a hand reaching to grab one of Whumpee’s. “You’re okay! Thank god, I was so worried…”

Whumpee’s eyes scanned the room, system slow to respond. They were in Caretaker’s lab, body laid flat on top of a metal table. They could see various pieces of themselves scattered around, twisted and ruined metal plating tossed aside, damaged limbs in the process of being replaced.

Error warning flashed across their vision, making them aware of the various forms of damage they’d sustained. They did not recall being damaged.

They took a moment to look through their memory. There had been an attack on the base. As a safety and recovery unit, Whumpee fulfilled their duty by extracting non-combatant staff to a safer location.

They’d been found on the way. Whumpee remembered a mask figure shouting at them to freeze, lifting their weapon before anyone could comply. They remembered the weapon aiming for Caretaker–

Whumpee forced their error messages away, wincing at the unpleasant sensation. They ignored the discomfort and launched their scan protocol. Caretaker froze on instinct as the warm green light emitted from Whumpee’s eyes and ran across their body, searching for injury. Bruised skin, wrapped in a thick layer of bandages, were hidden underneath Caretaker’s oil stained shirt. Two of their ribs appeared on their scan, highlighting them as cracked.

They’d been hurt. Whumpee was supposed to protect them. “You were not supposed to be injured. I apologize.”

“Whumpee, it’s okay. I’m fine–,”

The wound seemed to already be tended to, but that was not enough. They were injured, they should be resting in the medical bay.

Whumpee moved to transport Caretaker to the medics. Or, they tried. Their system was still running slowly, still readjusting to their limited functionality. And so they didn’t realize their legs had not been fully reconnected until they’d tipped off the table.

“Hey hey hey, slow down!" Caretaker caught them, body trembling with effort. “I just needed to make sure your AI was undamaged; I haven’t fully repaired you yet,” With a strained hiss, Caretaker pulled Whumpee back onto the table. Whumpee did their best to assist, uncoordinated limbs pushing themselves back into place.

When Caretaker let go, they were panting, one hand moved to carefully hold their ribs.

Whumpee’s protocol screamed for them to act. “You should be resting. You are injured.”

“Whumpee,” Caretaker huffed, “I’m fine. Your legs are currently half attached to your body.”

“You have two broken ribs. I do not consider that ‘fine’, Whumpee countered. “Further, I could have waited until after your recovery. My damage was not enough to put my system in jeopardy, and leaving me deactivated would have done no harm.”

“Your chest was torn open. I wasn’t just going to leave you like that while I waited for a few injuries to heal!” Caretaker hissed, turning away. The gingerly sat themselves down at their computer table, the slightest sigh of relief leaving them. They focused their attention on the screen.“Now hold still, I need to run some tests.”

Whumpee did as commanded, body locking. “I would have been fine. I am not human, despite my appearance. An injury such as that is not fatal for me. You should have begun repairing me after you recovered.”

Caretaker didn’t respond. They began entering commands into the module, brow furrowed with an expression Whumpee was unable to decipher. As they worked, Whumpee could feel the tests running through their system, warning signs fading one by one.

They fell into a peaceful silence, the only noise the gentle clicking of Caretaker’s typing. After several long minutes, the clicking stopped. Caretaker paused, staring at the screen, expression contemplative.

“You saved my life, you know,” Caretaker suddenly spoke. “When they turned their weapons on me, I froze. I would’ve died if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Yes.” Of course they had. It was their duty.

“You put yourself on the line for me. You could’ve died doing that. How could I leave you carved open, collecting dust while I sat around waiting to recover?”

“I did not nearly die, I simply sustained too much damage to be functional. Waiting to repair me would have done no harm.”

For a moment, Caretaker looked prepared to argue. But then they sighed, shoulders slumping, a hand coming to run through unwashed hair.

They turned to face Whumpee. Distress was written on their face, brows knitted. Whumpee longed to comfort them, but did not know how.

When Caretaker next spoke, their voice was slow, words chosen carefully. “I’m not here because fixing you now is the smartest thing to do. I’m here because I care about you, and seeing you injured hurts me.”

Whumpee flinched at their words, immediately beginning to run a new scan on Caretaker to find any new injuries. Without looking away, Caretaker pressed a button on the module and canceled their scan. “Emotionally, Whumpee,” they clarified. “It upsets me to see you hurt.”

Whumpee paused, considering. They knew they were limited in emotional reactions. It wasn’t beyond inorganic life, but it was something they had to learn, not a skill that could be programmed into them.

It wasn’t logical, but Whumpee knew better than to dismiss Caretaker’s words simply because of that.

They recalled how it felt, saving Caretaker. The programming that caused them to move without regard for their own safety. The blaring warning signs that flashed through their vision, the sight of their body tearing apart, crumbling. They remember feeling themselves fall apart, and only feeling joy knowing they’d protected Caretaker.

If they hadn’t shut down after that, wouldn’t they have used their damaged and struggling body to tend to Caretaker’s wounds? Is that what Caretaker felt now?

The situation was not the same. Whumpee was designed to protect Caretaker, not the other way around. A human should never hurt themselves for an inorganic.

Caretaker’s distress was illogical, but Whumpee would not say as much. They knew that continuing to argue would only upset Caretaker further. And that outcome was…unacceptable.

(nothing in their programming stipulated Caretaker’s emotional well-being as a priority. It was just something Whumpee knew-)

“I understand,” Whumpee said. They weren’t quite sure if that was true. But the smile that came to Caretaker’s face, twinged with exhaustion and yet full of relief, made that uncertainty feel unimportant.

[telomeke]

LAST TWILIGHT – DAY THE LITTLE PRINCELING

Not seen anyone comment on this yet (I've also not been scrolling Tumblr lately) but I'm certainly not the only one to have noticed this. Still, I'm just gonna put it out there for the public record...

So Episodes 1 and 2 of Last Twilight have had more than a couple of references to The Little Prince, mostly the text read aloud (e.g., during Mhok's interview to be Day's caretaker in Ep.1), and when Day gets the audio version read back out to him by the computer in Ep.2.

But there's also a pretty strong visual call-out removing all doubt that Day strongly identifies as Le Petit Prince himself – it's the giant artwork of the badminton player above his bed:

(above) Last Twilight Ep.2 [1‌/4] 7.32 – Mhok is fascinated by the artwork above Day's bed

The poster is focused on a golden-haired badminton player, jumping so high in pursuit of a feathered shuttlecock that he has breached the atmosphere and launched himself into outer space, with elements of the galactic landscape visible all around him (distant stars, a rocket ship, a ringed planet and a satellite). The badminton player is smiling serenely, confident in his element, as his yellow scarf trails behind him.

The artwork is quite possibly inspired by this one, entitled L'Envol du Petit Prince (The Flight of the Little Prince, or The Little Prince Takes Off):

(above) L'Envol du Petit Prince (artwork in the style of the original illustrations by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry for his book) – the Little Prince is pulled out into space by a flock of birds, his long yellow scarf trailing behind him and with stars and a planet in the background

There are several parallels in both works. In Day's poster, the golden hair and yellow scarf are absolutely identifiers borrowed from the Little Prince, who is depicted in the book as having golden curls and wearing a scarf. In L'Envol du Petit Prince, common elements include the stars and the planet, and the Little Prince borne aloft as he is pulled along by a feathered flock (he is after all an interstellar traveler, much like the badminton player in Day's poster).

In Day's previous life, his badminton career was uplifting, unbounded, high-flying and joyful. His poster (though its presence is more felt than seen) and his obsessive replaying of The Little Prince (in his mind as much as on his computer audio) are cruel, self-inflicted reminders of the life he once knew, in which he was forever pulled into the sky, not tethered and clumsily earthbound even as vision dims around him.

Just as the Little Prince was able to escape gravity to explore the universe, Day only needed to leap for the shuttlecock to be transported.

Now that those days are over, it seems our Little Princeling is unable to let fully go of the golden, yet leaden, memories that hold him back, pull him down and keep him from soaring anew in a different, but perhaps just as fulfilling, trajectory.

So will Mhok be the one who will help our little grounded princeling take flight again? Or will Day find a way to launch himself skywards once more, but on his own? We have but to wait and see.