#Royal Arctic Institute

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

The Royal Arctic Institute - From Coma To Catharsis

The only problem I had with the Royal Arctic Institute's previous release, From Catnap To Coma, was that it was too short. Now, with its follow-up, From Coma To Catharsis, that problem has been solved. As its title implies, this one picks right up where the NYC-based "cinematic jazz quintet" left off with a gorgeous mini-album's worth of dreamlike compositions, like Tortoise covering Santo & Johnny. Once again recorded with pristine delicacy by Yo La Tengo's James McNew (hey, they've got a new album, too!), the six instrumental tracks here are intricate without being fussy, lovely but not without a slightly restless undercurrent, glacially paced but with plenty of forward momentum. All very nice contrasts! Catharsis awaits.

[bossybigeyes]

new James Fitzjames display thing in the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich - at least I’d say it’s new because I’ve been several times and never seen it before and it makes reference to his remains having been recently identified!

OBJECT IN FOCUS

An act of 'gallant heroism'

On 1 February 1835 ship's mate James Fitzjames saved the life of James Dickinson, who had fallen into the River Mersey near Liverpool. Fitzjames was on board the ship George Canning when customs officer Dickinson, who was helping to load supplies from a steamer, slipped into the river. In a letter to his uncle, Fitzjames described how he spotted Dickinson - who was unable to swim - 'floundering away like a porpoise'.

Without hesitation, he jumped fully clothed into the fast-moving and freezing cold Mersey.

He managed to keep Dickinson's head above the water until they were picked up by a small boat a considerable distance downriver. Much to Fitzjames's embarrassment, his story made the national newspapers and he received several awards in recognition of his bravery.

Presentation cup

E. Terry & Co., 1830-31

The Corporation of Liverpool presented this silver cup to seaman James Fitzjames at a celebratory dinner in February 1835 after he saved the life of James Dickinson. He later took it back to his ship, where it was filled with mulled port and the whole crew drank to his health. Fitzjames was also granted Freedom of the City of Liverpool, while the Royal Humane Society and the Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI) awarded him silver lifesaving medals (the RNLI medal is also in the National Maritime Museum's collection).

MY CHOICE

'I chose this cup because the person it was awarded to deserves more recognition. James Fitzjames is a true maritime hero who I think history has neglected. After the act of bravery for which he was given the cup, Fitzjames went on to have a distinguished naval career, before losing his life during Sir John Franklin's ill-fated Arctic expedition (1845-48). Using DNA analysis, researchers finally identified his remains, recovered from King William Island, Canada, in September 2024. It was this moment that inspired me to suggest this object for display!

Suzy Jenvey, Visitor and Sales Assistant

[crancisfrozier]

My Franklin Expedition journey culminated today in a visit to the National Maritime Museum, the old royal naval college, and a viewing of 3 arctic explorer portraits that the national portrait gallery has in storage! I wanted to go to Greenhithe so bad but my body just wasn’t up for it, but that’s okay! It means I have to come back and see it along with the Scott Polar Research Institute, Lady Jane and Sophia’s graves, and James Clark Ross’s grave!

[ussgallifrey]

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 25

✦ 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, demisexuality on full display, language, mentions of minor character death, baby can you taste the foreshadowing in this chapter?

✦ Word Count: 5.2k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

[Master List]

Tony has absconded your rotary phone and secluded himself in the living room, calling numerous numbers on a list he keeps waving around in his hand as he paces back and forth. You watch him go, catching only a few words of his rapid-fire conversation before you move to join the others at the back of the house.

The three rooms at the rear of the home had once been an office, a ladies’ parlor, and a dining area. You had them all converted to be one large library. While the archways remained in place, separating the three areas, they looked nearly identical. Emerald wallpaper covered the tiny slivers of walls that weren’t obscured by the floor-to-ceiling bookcases.

Clint is sitting on the chaise lounge with his legs kicked up over the powder blue fabric, his head dangles over the edge. Steve is respectfully listening along to whatever Bruce is working on. The doctor had found an old chalkboard of yours and was currently writing down several things with a small stub of white chalk.

Looking to your left, you see the assassin currently perusing the shelves in the first room - where your oldest items were held. While, ordinarily, you wouldn’t want anyone to be anywhere near those books and scrolls, you knew you could trust the redhead with the precious items. 

Wordlessly, you slide past the archer.

Natasha is hunched slightly as she stares at a framed document on the wall.

“Wow, an MA from Cornell?”

Her eyes flicker up as you move to stand beside her. Crossing your arms, you stare at the old degree.

“Mhmm.”

“It’s a good forgery,” she comments. “Did you get Brandon or Nadia to do it?”

Back in your SHIELD agent days, those two were the best when it came to making forged documents: passports, ID cards, certificates, you name it.

But you merely shake your head, chuckling as you lean your weight down onto the edge of the small wooden desk, “No, that one’s legitimate.”

She’s silent for just a moment before she hums, “That makes sense.” And then she’s turning to look at you, snapping a ball of evergreen gum, “How many more you got hiding around here?”

“Oh,” you smile, easing up from your spot. 

Crossing the room, you bend down to pick up a stack of frames, all lying on the carpet beside an olive-green velvet armchair. You flip through them, old memories pulling up to the surface as you view the degrees for the first time in a long while.

“I have nine here,” you say as you hand them over to Natasha, one by one. “University of Sydney, Art Institute of Chicago, Royal College of Arts, University of London, uh… Bedford - that was my first medical degree, Göttingen, Washington University.”

She smiles that secretive little smile of hers as she inspects each one. Holding up the last frame, she states, “This looks pretty old.”

You snort, “Near ancient really. That was… Cronus, 1794? They started allowing women into their lectures just a few years before that. Actually! My oldest one is from Bologna, in Italy. That was…1431?”

Her brows arch, “They gave women degrees in the 15th century?”

“13th. Professoressa Gozzadini was one of the first to graduate and teach at the university. I sat in for a few of her lectures, but law was never really my interest.”

She lets out a low whistle, “Look at you. Probably the most educated out of the group.”

With a shrug, you take back the frames - returning them to their rightful spot in a pile on the floor, “I’m not the one who went to MIT, I don’t have any degrees in engineering or mathematics. I certainly wouldn’t call myself the most educated.”

She reclines back on the desk across from you, “Why did you bother?”

“Pursuit of knowledge, mostly. And, back then, before a government-appointed forgery artist, you had to have an MA to be a museum curator. I mean, once I started working for SHIELD, I had a few made up just to give me access to other places. It tends to raise a few brows when you show up with a degree marked thirty years older than what you look, you know?”

Natasha offers you a gentle laugh.

“I imagine so.”

“So, even though I have fake degrees from Yale, and Harvard, and U of M, and Cambridge, I’ve only ever actually attended about ten universities?”

“More than me. The KGB didn’t really hand out degrees for… my training.”

Your smile fades as you watch the flicker of something distant dance in her green eyes.

While you had checked in on everyone earlier that afternoon, Natasha had been with Clint when you came in. He had assured you that they were both fine then and she had nodded in agreement. But you could tell, there was far more under the surface than she was willing to let see the light of day.

“You doing okay?” you ask, voice hesitant as you move closer to her.

She glances up, back down, and then up again, “Mhmm.”

“Hey,” you draw closer, enough to gently nudge her arm with your elbow. “It’s honestly no one's business, but… if you did want to talk to someone other than Barton about it… I mean, we’re the only two women here and I imagine, even though you guys are friends, it might be harder to talk about some of these things. I don’t know, I’m not great at the whole friend thing these days.”

She snorts, a smile playing on her lips as she looks over at you.

“You’re doing fine, Seven. And you know, me and Clint aren’t just friends. I can tell him pretty much anything and he’ll listen. Even if he’s got his aids out.”

There’s a nod of understanding as you breathe out, “Yeah, I guess you two have been through a lot together. Budapest and all that, right? Hard to shake a friend like that.”

Natasha pauses, dropping a hand to your wrist as she meets your eyes.

“We’re more than friends. I mean, don’t go… talking about it to everyone. But, wow, I thought we were a little more transparent?”

Your line of thinking pauses, resets, and starts moving again before you’re able to get any words out that sound even remotely coherent.

“Oh… you’re… together?”

She nods, offering a little humming sound.

“I did not know that.”

The redhead laughs, “Well, welcome to the party. Everyone else has been pretty… respectful about it actually.”

You shake your head, “No, I honestly had no idea. That whole… realm? That’s kind of beyond me.”

She blinks.

“Relationships?”

Looking toward the wall of shelves where medieval manuscripts and musty age-worn books reside, you take a steadying breath.

“Romantic relationships. Eros, if you will.”

She lets the words sit for a minute before she says anything further.

“I mean, I didn’t want to perpetuate the virgin goddess stereotype, but…”

“Hey,” you shove her arm. “I got enough of that kind of talk from Sharon. I don’t need you jumping into it too.”

“Carter?”

You hum in reply.

It may have only been a year since you last encountered the blonde agent. But your short time on Olympus with the humans had been cemented in your mind for some time now. You could recall the young woman’s words, her inquiries into your… past love life, or lack thereof.

Humans spoke so freely about that topic these days. But… that was not for you. And though you understood their curiosity when it came to you, they had to know that the way you existed was far different than the way they did when it came to love. 

You knew the worlds of agápē and philia. Even storge, philuatia, and xenia. But eros… that had always remained far from your reach, slipping through your fingers like wispy mist. And that was just the way it was; the way it had always been.

The way it would likely remain.

“Hey.”

The two of you turn to see Clint resting in the doorway.

  “Whatcha talking about?” he grins.

You and the redhead share a look before simultaneously replying:

“College.”

“Relationships.”

Your eyes seek out Natasha’s but she merely winks at you before returning her attention to the archer.

“Right…” he drawls, itching the back of his head for a moment before he continues, ”Stark says he can’t get through to Cho’s lab. He’s trying to get someone on Hill’s team to go look into it, but…” he ends with a vague shrug.

Feeling the pull of the previous conversation fall to the wayside, you blink, “She was working with regenerative tissues, right? Oh, that is so obvious I want to smack myself!”

“Okay?” Clint calls as you breeze past him into the central room of the library.

Steve stands from the lounge as soon as you walk in, moving to stand alongside Banner as you peer over his shoulder at the chalkboard.

“If I was looking to evolve, as an artificial intelligence, why would I need living tissue?”

Bruce nods, juggling the chalk between his hands, “Exactly what I was thinking. Vibranium is more than enough.”

“So, why would you want a humanesque body if you believe you are the superior life form?”

The others circle into the room as the two of you begin to brainstorm.

“Uhm… relatability? You know, a friendly face to the humans you’re trying to protect?”

You shake your head, “No, he’s artificial he can’t care about that. I’d say maybe he’s trying to circumvent the Laws of Robotics in some way, but that seems like a far fetch.”

Steve stands beside Bruce, tilting his head to look down at the current list of theories the doctor had written out.

“Would he be able to convert vibranium to be like a form of skin?” he wonders aloud.

You both let the idea simmer for a moment before reaching the same conclusion.

“Anything’s possible, I suppose,” Bruce admits, looking to you for a differing opinion.

With a nod, you add, “And if anyone could accomplish that, it would be Helen. Her work in the field is above anything else to date.”

“Bet she wouldn’t be doing it willingly,” Natasha points out as she browses through your literary collection.

The supersoldier lets out a breath, realization dawning, “That’s why he needed the scepter.”

“And a million distractions,” Clint huffs.

As the idea rests upon your consciousness, Tony finally makes an appearance. Surveying the gloomy atmosphere, he whistles.

“Wow, brainstorming without me. So… got in touch with my contacts at Nexus. Looks like we were right, someone’s been scrambling the launch codes. Faster than Ultron can figure them out, I might add.”

Natasha perks up, “We have an ally?”

You offer her a look, “Ultron has an enemy. We can’t assume that’s the same thing as an ally. All things considered.”

Your eyes land on Steve and he seems to give a small nod, agreeing with your sentiment.

“So,” Tony begins. “I think I want to head to Oslo, see what’s what.”

Steve crosses his arms, “And Dr. Cho?”

“I think we can safely assume we dropped the ball there as well,” the billionaire gestures a small explosion with his hands.

The supersoldier’s eyes harden.

“We’re not abandoning her.”

“Is that what I said?” Tony clips, squinting at Steve as he moves to cross the room.

Natasha knocks her head back against the bookshelves, “What happened to not splitting up?”

Tony turns to look at her, “What are we? The Mystery Gang? Zoinks, Scoob, let’s go fetch the metal man.”

“Hey, look,” Clint moves to stand between the two men. “No offense, but as someone who’s been on the other side of that damn scepter, I wish I had someone running to come undo it.”

Beside you, Bruce tugs off his glasses and gives a slight sigh.

Observing the room, watching the team begin to tear themselves apart once again in the span of a single evening, you finally step forward.

“If you - ” you address Tony, “ - head to Oslo and track down this entity or person or whatever, the rest of us can go to Helen and figure out what exactly Ultron might have needed from her.”

“Or, we can trust that Hill and her agents have it in hand and we figure out where the bastard is hiding out,” Tony suggests with a knowing smile.

Before you can even ask why he would consider that option, your landline begins ringing its shrill bell tone. You stare at the billionaire for a moment more before you push your way out of the room to answer the call.

“Hello?” you ask into the receiver.

“It’s Hill,” comes the instant reply. “Stark was right. I’ve got people at the labs right now and she’s still coming out of it. It sounds like Ultron made out with something of hers - hell if I know what, right now. Give me some time and we’ll get an answer out of her. She’s… pretty shaken.”

“But unharmed?” you question, glancing back as you notice someone coming down the hall.

“Luckily, yes.”

There’s a beat of silent static, but you sense there is something more she wants to say.

“What is it?”

“We… uhm, we intercepted an image before it was broadcast to every major news network.”

Tony’s, surprisingly, the one standing beside you. His eyes are wide and imploring, but you merely wave your hand at him.

“What was the picture?”

“Strucker. Dead.”

“His usefulness ran out,” you surmise.

“Pretty graphic stuff, honestly. But we’re keeping it from the airways for now, so.”

It made sense, of course. For the perfect peacekeeper to remove a threat once it was no longer helpful to him.

“Any idea on the location?”

“Funny you should ask,” she says. “It was taken in the mutants’ cells, back at his hideout.”

Now that, was interesting.

“Okay,” you sigh, rubbing your forehead as you glance back over at the billionaire. “Well, I’m going to hand you back to Tony before he forcefully rips this out of my hand.”

Before you can even hear her reply, Tony does in fact take the receiver out of your hand.

“Talk to me,” he says, offering you a wink as you shake your head before he dips into the living room to continue the call.

When you walk back to the library where the others are still conversing, Steve looks toward you with a questioning look.

“Well, I hate to say it,” you huff. “But Stark was right. She’s in good hands right now and yes, she’ll be fine. We might have a location though, for Ultron.”

Bruce’s eyes brighten as he looks over at you, “Where?”

You offer them all a tight smile.

“Sokovia.”

The house is bathed in the hushed tones of evening. The halls are painted with the cool hues of starlight and the feint ambiance of a lone lamp in the library. 

After Maria’s revelation, the team had a quick conversation before it was admitted that they would need at least a few hours of sleep before anyone was in any condition to go anywhere near a robot hell-bent on your collective destruction. So, you bid goodnight to Clint and Natasha - now understanding why the two were sharing a room. As well as Bruce, who was guided up to a room on the third floor.

Tony was determined to head to Oslo as soon as humanly possible. He had taken his suit and decided to fly to the internet hub after his last call with Hill.

That only left…

“Are you just incapable of sleeping?” you ponder as you lean against the wooden archway of the library’s main entrance.

Steve blinks up at you before offering a tired smile, “To be fair, I’m not sure if I could sleep even if I wanted to right now.”

He’s sitting on the blue lounge with a book in his lap. A black-bound story with lettering so faded on the cover you’re not immediately sure which book it is. You take a few steps into the room before you drop down beside him on the chaise.

“From fear of our possible demise or… from that vision?” you ask, tone soft as you begin to tread difficult waters.

The supersoldier’s mouth gapes before he snaps the book closed.

Ah, Treasure Island.

“Little of both?” he answers honestly.

You give him a nod before taking a breath for yourself.

“Do you, uhm, want to talk… about it?”

He looks at you before he drops his gaze to his hands. His silence makes you think you’ve waded out too far into the unknown, but after another stretch of quiet, he says:

“I saw my Ma, actually.”

“Really?”

With a nod, he places the book on the end table beside the lounge. Leaning against the back of the chaise, he entwines his hands into a fist in between his legs. His eyes are locked on the ceiling.

“Everything before that was… hell,” at that, he glances over at you, before almost immediately pulling his gaze away. “And then… I saw her. She looked just like she did before…” he gives a sigh.

“It didn’t feel like the beginning of the vision. That felt like I was completely at the mercy of the nightmare. This part, with her, it was… I don’t know, different.”

Your hand finds purchase on his right forearm, silently imploring him to continue.

“She verbally snapped me out of it, I guess you could say.”

“Must be one powerful woman,” you comment with a small smile.

Steve’s left hand rests comfortably over your own, his thumb rubs at the area just above your wrist. You find yourself leaning into his side, your head coming to rest on his shoulder.

“She was.”

And then, he gives a warm chuckle.

“She, uh, actually used to read me this,” his hand lifts from yours to gently pat the book on the table beside him.

“Oh, such a classic,” you smile.

You can feel him nod, “Honestly got me thinking I was going to grow up to be a pirate one day.”

Pulling back, you fix him with an incredulous expression, “You? Seriously?”

He grins, “What, can’t see it?”

“The rule-breaking and lawlessness? Oh, absolutely. Pillaging and treasure-taking, not so much. You don’t seem the type.”

Steve gives a low-belly laugh.

“I’ll concede to that.”

“Though, now that I think about it,” you pull away just to appraise him. “Captain Rogers does have a certain ring to it if we’re dealing in the realm of piracy.”

He shakes his head, looking down at the book for a long, quiet moment.

“God,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve read this since I was a kid, actually.”

“You want it?”

His head whips back to look at you, an immediate shake of dismissal, “Nah. No, Athena, it’s yours. And it looks, truth be told, older than even me.”

“Well, that’s not much, considering,” you schmooze.

Pushing up from the chaise lounge, you swipe up the book for yourself. The raised leather feels familiar in your hand as you trace your index finger over the embossed green letters.

“It’s a signed copy, you know.”

You flip open the front cover to reveal the signature.

He blinks.

“You’re shitting me.”

“No,” you laugh, collapsing back on the lounge next to him with your legs tucked in under you. Shoving the book in his direction, you point to the dedication.

To Minnie, Wishing you a wonderful adventure. - Robert Louis Stevenson

“I was his nurse for about three months in 1884. Real sweet guy once you got him relaxed and comfortable. I think I have his copy of Jekyll and Hyde around here somewhere…”

Steve’s still staring at the words written in ink, so you carefully deposit the book into his lap. You lean back onto the opposite end of the lounge, waiting for him to say something.

“Minnie?” is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, however.

“Oh, yeah. That.” Rubbing at your arm, you look toward the shelf of books across from you. “Athena’s not too common of a name for most of history. I ended up going by the name the Romans gave me: Minerva. Minerva Polias; Minnie, for short.”

He nods, still a little transfixed.

“Do you still go by that, or…?”

You drop a hand on his arm and he immediately turns his attention toward you with wide blue eyes.

“Steve. Please. Never call me Minnie. I gave you my real name three years ago with the intention that you would use it. There’s no need for aliases between friends.”

He lets out a small breath as a sweet smile comes to his lips.

“Good,” he settles on. “Almost had me worried for a minute there.”

“Hey,” you bump his shoulder with your own. “Can I convince you to try and get some sleep? It’s almost two in the morning and I’d like you to be in top condition if you’re throwing that shield around tomorrow. Don’t need to have you taking off Clint’s head.”

“I wouldn’t - ” he starts to say, but the look on your face settles him. “Okay, fine. You too though.”

“Me too what?” you question with a tilt of your head.

“Sleep. You have to sleep sometime, I’m sure of it.”

With a shrug, you stand from the couch and offer him your hands, “If it’ll get you to try, I’ll do it.”

Steve chuckles, setting the book back down on the table before he pulls the drawstring on the lamp, pulling you both down into the heavy darkness of night.

“Guess it’ll have to,” he says, voice low as the embers of light fade away.

His hands slip into yours and you don’t really have to pull him up, but he allows your fingers to stay entwined all the same. Up the stairs you go, walking slowly to avoid the creaking steps, a hand still held in his.

On the third floor, you can hear the very gentle breaths of Bruce’s snoring from down the hallway. In the sliver of moonlight drifting through the stairwell’s window, you can make out Steve’s features. They’re chiseled like Grecian marble, his eyes are ablaze with the lonely dots of shimmering starlight.

You stop outside of his room, your hand slipping free from his hold.

“It’s a deal then?” you ask in a hushed tone. “You’ll try and sleep if I do the same?”

He nods as he looks down at you. His hands are shoved into his jean pockets.

“Can’t make any promises,” he admits with something somber in his words.

Unable to help yourself, you reach out your hand to cup his cheek. His skin is warm under your touch and you can feel him dip his head down into your palm. Dark eyelashes flutter closed.

You offer the supersoldier a sad smile.

With everything that had happened today and everything that was still to come, it would surprise you if Steve was able to even drift into a light sleep, let alone keep his thoughts at bay long enough to fall asleep.

You’re a little surprised when the man in front of you turns his head ever so slightly. His lips gently press against your open palm before his eyes blink open to look down at your surprised face.

“Get some sleep, Rogers,” you murmur, letting your hand drift back to your side, feeling a ball of tension building in your stomach. “I’m just across the hall.”

His eyes lift from your face to peer at the door directly behind you. A small smile appears on his lips.

Without another word, but several long looks, Steve goes into his guest room and you move across the hall to the room you had long ago claimed as yours. Your door clicks closed first, followed a moment later by the sound of his.

You do not sleep that night.

Your mind is a labyrinth of thoughts, and plans, and ideas that may or may not come to pass. Working through imaginary strategies well into the morning light. You do not feel the draw of exhaustion that you imagine your mortal friends do.

So, as the glimmer of orange and magenta light drifts over the horizon, you take hold of your pendant - still resting comfortably, if not heavily, against your bosom. You offer a silent prayer to whoever wishes to listen before you begin gathering your things.

Coffee is running in the pot for the others, though you have no real food to offer them. You knew Clint and Steve kept a well-stocked snack pouch in their go-bags; mostly granola bars and the like. But it would have to be enough for today.

The others emerge at their own pace, starting with Bruce and then Natasha. Followed by Clint and eventually Steve. The plan had been made the night before, when all six of you were still present, that no matter what, the five of you would leave on the quinjet this morning - regardless if Tony got into contact or not.

Which, he did, sometime just around 6:30.

“I found our ally. Had to pick up the pieces and reassemble him back together.”

“JARVIS?” someone had asked.

“He didn’t even know he was in there, that he was fighting back Ultron. He was still following protocols from within.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Still working on that,” he had said.

After placing the last coffee mug onto the drying rack, you take one final look around the house. It would be some time until you returned, you were sure of it.

Pallas is perched on the porch rails when you finally close the front door.

“Hey,” you coo with a soft sigh. “It’s gonna be a while till we see each other. I want you to head back home and stay there. Where we’re going is going be no place for you, bud.”

He bites your finger for good measure before he ruffles out his feathers and soars up into the early morning sky. Celestial blue starlight drifts behind him like a fluttering veil before he pops out of existence.

Steve’s waiting for you at the ramp, already dressed in his uniform - free of his helmet and shield for the time being.

“Once we’re twenty miles clear, we’ll open up the channels again,” Clint says, already behind the controls.

Tony had said there was a bag full of intel that Hill was waiting to tell you all. Settling into the seats behind Clint, you watch as the house grows smaller and smaller, and eventually, gives way to a projection of a forest canopy. And then you’re zipping across the landscape, ascending into the cloud coverage.

Only ten minutes out and they get their call from Hill. Steve watches as you begin to pace the length of the jet.

Right now, you were still down two players. Tony was wrapping things up in Oslo and Thor was still… nowhere to be found.

The public’s understanding of the entire situation was about as bad as it could be. Marking the team as the true villains of the day with endless coverage looping clips of the Hulk destroying Johannesburg and the two Gods going blow to blow in a debris-ridden New York street.

There were countless interviews with eyewitnesses and civilians who had been in the crossfire who praised the help they received from the Ultron bots. There was no mention of you or Sam in London, or Tony’s efforts to aid the people in South Africa.

For all the world knew right now, Ultron was their promised savior.

“What else?” you had asked, voice clipped as your head lay heavy in your palm.

Hill reported CCTV footage of the mutants in multiple locations across Sokovia’s capital city - seemingly hiding in alleyways and shadowy areas. As if trying to avoid detection.

“They flip sides?” Clint had questioned with a note of hope in his voice.

“Unknown,” was all Maria could offer you.

At least they had an answer for what Ultron had been seeking from Dr. Cho. For better or worse.

“A living body?”

“Well, that’s fucking terrifying.”

While they had been split across two continents, fighting mindless battles, Ultron had entered South Korea, otherwise undetected. He had used the scepter on not only Helen Cho but her entire team. Her precious cradle had been corrupted for his nefarious means.

She reported that the mutants, Pietro and Wanda she recalled, had left quite suddenly. And that it had been the girl who released Helen from her forced state. Ultron had escaped with the cradle right after. Helen and her team had been left completely unharmed.

As they crossed the Atlantic, only more questions lay heavy in the air. Multiple unknowns for what they might be walking into. While everyone appeared for all the world to be ready to face whatever lay ahead, Steve knew that appearances could be deceiving.

Just getting the wings fixed, Sam had texted him. Give me some coordinates and I’ll be there.

Steve had shown you the message, noticing a look of relief drifting across your features. He had almost forgotten how close of a call it had been at the Tower, thanks to everything else going on at the time. Between his own nightmarish memories and his need to get you and the God of Thunder away from each other before the city was destroyed any further.

“Only the Abomination could destroy something made out of Adamantine,” you had said with a slight shake of your head.

But as they draw closer to the country, Steve can feel the physical tension hanging in the air. So, when Clint calls out an ETA, the supersoldier stands up to address the team. If not to quell the anxiety in them, then perhaps to help with his own.

“Ultron likely knows we’re coming,” he starts, letting his hand fall onto the back of your chair. “Odds are we’ll be riding into heavy fire. And that’s what we signed up for. But the people of Sokovia, they didn’t. So, our priority is getting them out. We find the cradle and we clear the field. Keep the fight between us.”

He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

“Ultron… he thinks we’re monsters. That we’re what’s wrong with the world. It’s not just about beating him. It’s about whether he’s right.”

His eyes drift over to your face.

They all had been rattled by Bruce’s confession last night. And that, perhaps, was the most terrifying part of it all. He completely understood where the doctor was coming from. They were a rag-tail group of people from supremely different backgrounds who were supposed to be the elite protective force for the entire Earth.

And yet, there they were arguing over dinner, in a helicarrier with a scepter three feet away, in the middle of Manhattan.

Steve wouldn’t deny the fact that the team wasn’t perfect.

But the fact that Ultron propped himself up as the better option. An inhuman supercomputer who could decide the fate of everyone on the planet. No, even with all their imperfections, the Avengers Initiative was the best - the only - true option out there.

You nod, darkened eyes meeting Steve’s. And then a smile twitches at the corner of your lips.

“I’m still not ghostwriting your speeches,” you mouth.

Steve looks down with a chuckle before he grips your shoulder. Staring out the window, he watches as the distant stretch of land peeks past the waves of rolling blue ocean.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

[greypetrel]

Oooh I'd love to know more about Rolling a Wave 👀

Hi Mo!

It's the general plot of my original story which I'm translating into English. I'm working on character studies, but it's been slow these last months. I hope I'll finish Raina's in this winter break and quickly design secondary characters. I may pick Priscilla back as a design, who knows. I can't wait to start planning actual pages. xD

First act summary under the cut, tagging also @bfire92 who asked me about this. :3

ACT I – Iceland

1907. A marine biologist, Aisling, is finally at the head of her very own arctic expeditions to study the social behaviour of sperm whales. She has to reevaluate her plans, when she saves a harponeer from the shiprwreck of the Hvalur, a whale fishing ship caught in a bad storm. She’s the only survivor, and also a woman, Naroa, from San Sebastian, who crossdresses to work on the ship, and tells her that it was a sperm whale to cause the wreck.

The expedition was born unlucky: Aisling has received very low fundings, both because nobody really trusts her in a leading position as an unmarried woman, both because her father was a former professor for the same institute that funds her. Small detail: he was stripped of his role and exiled from the Kingdom for having used public money from the university to finance the Irish rebels/Fenian society. Aisling was really able to get some money and sponsorship because she asked for years upon years, has a couple of contacts that vouched for her, and basically is a person that causes very little trouble. Her goal is to gather enough data to demonstrate that sperm whales are highly intelligent social animals, and that their hunting should be severely limited before their number drops. It’s very important to her, not only for personal satisfaction and crowning a lifelong dream of becoming a proper scientist, paid enough for a living and with prestige that female researchers in female colleges were not granted in England, but also to avenge her family. She MUST publish in Oxford because it was the institute that kicked her father out, she must reinstate the good name of the family.

So, with very little money to her name, she rented the smallest, most run-down hovel she could find, 40 minutes from the harbour, fix what she could to make it inhabitable, and hire a small sloop with a fully female crew. Ex piratesses running from the law, widows of fishermen and other figures that needs a living runs the Lusca, not for gold, but to chase whale pods.

In spite of being broke, Aisling welcomes Naroa in until she feels better. Their forced convivence is difficult at first: Aisling is over-enthusiast over whales and is actually diving with the whales to observe them better during the day (“I thought I would have drown today, but Cacciucco was absolutely adorable, you see, so it’s ok, he can bump me again.” “… Da fuq.”), Naroa had fished them for years, and after the shipwreck has not much love for the animals, of course there is only one bed. After a while, Naroa starts working, and embarks on the Lusca to help out, too, there’s some mutual pining and they slowly confess they like each other, fuck gender roles and so on and so forth.

Until one day arrives a letter from the Royal Society, informing Aisling that they’re gonna cut her fundings: the season good for sailing is ending, they’re not willing to pay her to stay another winter doing nothing. Winter that Aisling was planning to use to organize her notes and write the essay for the peer review: it must be done exceedingly well if she wants to have a chance, she doubt they’ll give her another chance if she fails now. She manages to obtain another month, but nothing more.

She quarrels with Naroa: the harponeer tells her that even if her research should fail, it won’t be the end of the world. She has a roof upon her head, a fucking university degree (in France, more open for women), she can decide to do anything else, she has brains and possibilities, what’s the problem? Plus, if her research gets published, it could hit an industry that offers work and livelihood to so many people that have not her chances and possibilities, and for whom losing the job would be much more of a problem. For Naroa it would be: her family is still in San Sebastien, she’s the first of 4 sisters, her father died, and she’s sending money home. Don’t mention she introduces herself as a man because she doesn’t fully feel herself in women clothes and canonically female roles: she can’t afford to lose the job. Plus, she’s Basque, and technically in Iceland it was legal to murder Basques until 2014 (old medieval law they forgot to abrogate). Naroa can’t understand why Aisling is so stubborn and so compliant towards a bunch of idiots that don’t consider her, and all for what? Personal pride? What if her research fail, she’ll be better off without it.

Aisling gets mad, just a little bit. She can’t tell the RS to fuck off, and chances for female biologists aren’t that many. She isn’t very sensitive for whalers, as Naroa fails to understand why an academic research is so important. They split up pretty badly, Aisling leaves for London.

ACT 2 - London

ACT 3 - Alghero (necessary quote)

[you-know-that-i-bought-it]

about me

beware, for I am fearless, and therefore powerful - Frankenstein

hello, my name is finn, welcome to my blog :)

any pronouns | 17 | demisexual lesbian | genderfluid | infp | rock climber | board game enthusiast | book lover | I speak English and french

info:

I love interacting with people and making friends!! please send me asks, tag me in tag games and message me

I have cyclical vomiting syndrome, sometimes I might post about that, if you don't wanna hear about it I will always tag with tw emetophobia

free palestine 🍉 (unfortunately I am unable to donate though)

whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same - wuthering heights

books: riordanverse, osemanverse, red white and royal blue, it, the institute, keeper of the lost cities, all for the game, pride and prejudice, six of crows, the goldfinch, the secret history, shatter me

shows: stranger things, good omens, the owl house, gravity falls, hazbin hotel, avatar: the last airbender and the legend of korra

films: spiderverse, star wars, lord of the rings, howls moving castle, dead poets society, wicked, coraline, how to train your dragon, knives out, little women (2019), the wild robot, shrek, tangled, jurassic park, the count of monte cristo (2024), puss in boots: the last wish, klaus

music: taylor swift, my chemical romance, sabrina carpenter, chappell roan, Fall Out Boy, boygenius (+ solo projects), paramore, harry styles, Olivia rodrigo, gracie abrams, conan gray, hozier, maisie peters, the 1975

other: Dan and phil, taskmaster, animal crossing, frogs

currently reading: it by Stephen king

current favourite song: 505 - arctic monkeys

last edited: 27.12.24

dividers by @cafekitsune

[capitaine-du-terror]

Lanterna Magica

Aurora Borealis Arctic Regions – sur la banquise, des marins anglais fraternisent avec des Esquimaux. L'un d'eux regarde son visage dans un miroir que lui présente un Anglais. Un bateau est pris dans la glace, un mur de glace a été construit pour éviter que le navire soit brisé. Dans le ciel bleu et violet, une magnifique aurore boréale.

Visible en ce moment au Musée de la Marine, dans le cadre de l'exposition temporaire Objectif Mer: l'océan filmé (jusqu'au 05/05/2024).

La « lanterne magique » apparaît en 1659 à La Haye, dans le laboratoire de l'astronome hollandais Christiaan Huygens. La lanterne magique permet la projection amplifiée, sur écran, d'images peintes sur verre. Ces images peuvent être fixes ou animées, grâce à des superpositions de verres mobiles.

Au XIXe siècle, avec la commercialisation des plaques et appareils par l'opticien Philip Carpenter et les spectacles de la Royal Polytechnic Institution. La lanterne a joué enfin le rôle de messagère d'informations, projetant les derniers événements politiques ou sociaux, comme lorsqu'une expédition s'approchait du pôle Nord...

Arctic Scene – une mer houleuse, encombrée de gros blocs de glace qui semblent enserrer deux voiliers, dont l'un, rempli de neige, paraît abandonné.

Mock Suns – dans le ciel bleu sombre, le soleil de minuit sur la banquise. Un voilier est pris dans les glaces. Des marins marchent sur la banquise.

J'ai trouvé très (très) peu d'informations quant aux plaques qui étaient dans les vitrines de cette exposition, cependant, la Cinémathèque française possède d'autres plaques parfaitement identifiées qui montrent l'expédition de Ross en Antarctique et les expéditions à la recherche de Sir John.

Vous pouvez voir le catalogue (avec d'excellents photos) ici: http://www.laternamagica.fr/resultat.plaques.php?collection=Royal+Polytechnic

Et quelques infos en plus dans cet article de la revue du cinéma : https://www.persee.fr/doc/1895_0769-0959_1996_hos_1_1_1152

Lien vers l'exposition: https://www.musee-marine.fr/nos-musees/paris/expositions-et-evenements/les-expositions/objectif-mer-locean-filme.html

Carpenter et Westley, plaque sur l'expédition de 1850 à la recherche de John Franklin.

Coll. Cinémathèque française.

[daggerzine]

MY FAVORITE RECORDS OF 2023! (lists in no particular order....well, sort of)

MY 20 FAVORITE RECORDS OF 2023  

Anna Hillburg- Tired Girls (Speakeasy Studios)

RVG- Brain Worms (fire) 

The Tubs- Dead Meat (Trouble in Mind) 

Seablite- Lemon Lights (Mt St Mtn)

The Reds, Pinks & Purples- The Town That Cursed Your Name (Slumberland)

Lewsberg- Out and About (12XU)

Melenas- Ahora (Trouble in Mind)

Blues Lawyer- All in Good Time (Dark Entries) 

Colored Lights- S/T (Bobo Integral)

Doe St- Stepping Stones (Legless) 

Guardian Singles- Feed Me To The Doves (Trouble in Mind) 

Corvair - Bound To Be (WIAIWYA)

The Garment District- Flowers Telegraphed To All Parts of the World (HHBTM)

Royal Ottawa- Carcosa (self released)

Tough Age- Waiting here (Bobo Integral)

Soft Science- Lines (Shelflife)

The Midnight Sailors- S/T (self released)

Robert Forster- The Candle and the Flame (Tapete) 

Civic – Taken By Force (ATO) 

Sumos- Surfacing (Meritorio) 

WAIT….HERE’S 20 MORE!

Connie Lovatt- Coconut Mirror (Enchante’)

En Attendant Ana- Principia (Trouble in Mind) 

Withered Hand- How to Love (Reveal) 

The High Water Marks- Your Next Wolf (Minty Fresh)

The Feelies- Some Kinda Love: Performing the Music of the Velvet Underground (Bar-None)

Connections- Cool Change (Trouble in Mind) 

The Ex Bats- Song Machine  (Goner)

The Photocopies- Top of the Pops (Ultra Modern)

Amanda Brown- Eight Guitars (Lillipilli) 

Arthur Alexander- …Steppin’ Out!  (Big Stir Records)

Eyelids- A Colossal Waste of Lights ((Jealous Butcher) 

Panic Pocket- Mad Half Hour (Skep Wax)

Yo La Tengo- This Stupid World (Matador)

Swansea Sound- Twentieth Century (Skep Wax)

Kevin Robertson- Magic Spells Abound (Futureman)  

Super 8- Hoopla (The Beautiful Music) 

The Radio Fields- Dos and Dont’s (Subjangle)

Joe McAlinden- Where The Clouds Go Swimming (self -released)

The Black Watch- Future Strangers (ATOM) 

Rob I Miller- Companion Piece (Vacant Stare)

….AND HERE’S 10 MORE

The Lost Days- In the Store (Speakeasy Studios) 

Life Strike- Peak Dystopia (Bobo Integral)

Belle & Sebastian- Late Developers (Matador)

Lauds- Imitation Life (Fort Lowell) 

The Hepburns- Only the Hours (Lavender Sweep) 

Lomma- Torrey Pines (self released)

C.O.F.F.I.N.- Australia Stops (Goner)

Special Friend- Wait Until the Flames Come Rushing In (Skep Wax)

Burning Ferns- World of the Wars (Country Mile)

Wojtek the Bear- Second Place on Purpose (Last Night From Glasgow)

I ALSO REALLY LIKED ALBUMS BY:  Diners, Moving Targets, Bill Orcutt, Skull Practitioners, the Suncharms, Divine Horsemen, The Flashcubes, Hurry, Teenage Fanclub, Lydia Loveless, The Make Three, Shana Cleveland, The Ekphrastics, Ryan Allen, Fruit Bats, Nicole Yun, Dippers, Lost Film, Tony Jay, Cindy, Class, The Clientele, Lemon Twigs, Sweeping Promises, The National Honor Society, The Whiffs, Infinite River, Silver Biplanes, Jason Isbell, The Cuticles, Mudhoney, Alex Lahey, Crocodiles, Peter Hall, Cherry Fez, The Angles, Scott Gagner, Mainland Break, Christian Kjellvander, Sick Thoughts, Grand Drifter, The Motifs, The Sunshine Convention, The 1981, Roy Moller, Youth Valley, Soft Covers, Deadlights, The Smashing Times, The Spires, Helen Love, Motorbike, Silverstiles, Water Damage, Uni Boys, The Royal Arctic Institute, Gina Birch, Gee Tee, etc.

MY  10 FAVORITE REISSUES OF 2023 

The Chills- Brave Words (Fire)

The Replacements- Tim (Sire)

The Ocean Blue- Davy Jones Locker (Korda)

Wild Carnation- Tricycle (Delmore) 

Neutral Milk Hotel- The Collected Works of Neutral Milk Hotel (Merge)

Das Damen- 1986- Keeps Me Wild (Dromedary)

Heavenly -Le Jardin de Heavenly (Skep Wax) 

The Verlaines- Bird Dog (Schoolkids Records) 

The Toms- S/T (Feel It) 

Celibate Rifles  Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (Bang!)

MY 15 FAVORITE EPS OF 2023 

Lightheaded- Good Good Grief (Slumberland)

Minor Threat-  Out of Step outtakes (Dischord)

The Cucumbers- Old Shoes (self released)

The Reds, Pinks & Purples- Unloveable Losers (digital) 

The Vapour Trails- On a Beautiful Day (Futureman)

Blues Lawyer- Sight Gags on the Radio (Dark Entries)

Deary- S/T (Sonic Cathedral)

The Wends- Better Will (WWNBB) 

Te Vista- S/T  (Cripes) 

Red Sleeping Beauty- From Sarah With Love (Matinee)

Letting Up Despite Great Faults- Crumble (S/T) 

The Prize- Wrong Side Of Town   (Anti Fade) 

Touch Girl Apple Blossom- S/T (self released)

Galore- Blush (Paisley Shirt) 

Lost Tapes- Crossing Towns (Shelflife)

MY 5 FAVORITE COLLECTIONS OF 2023 

The Particles- 1980’s Bubblegum (Chapter Music)

Primal Scream- Reverberations (Travelling in Time) (Acid Jazz/XTRM/Young Tiki)

The Shapiros- Gone by Fall: the Collected Works of (World of Echo) 

Dot Dash- 16 Again (Country Mile)

Comet Gain- The Misfit Jukebox (Tapete) 

Eric "Eggman" Eggleson's favorite records of 2023!

A Colossal Waste Of Light - Eyelids

Aeterna - Vinyl Williams

Away From The Castle – Video Age

Babydoll – Rat Columns

Bananasugarfire – Golden Apples

Careless By The Coast - Marvin Powell

Cartwheel - Hotline TNT

Colored Lights

Compact Trauma – Ulrika Spacek

Continue As A Guest – The New Pornographers

Disenchanter - Alaska Reid

EP IV – Yumi Zouma

Flowers Telegraphed To All Parts Of The World – The Garment District

Henry St. - The Tallest Man On Earth

Hindsight is 50/50 – Ghost Woman

I Held The Shape While I Could – Bodywash

Javelin – Sufjan Stevens

Left Hand - Becca Mancari

Life and Life Only - The Heavy Heavy

Love as Projection – Frankie  Rose

May Cause Dizzy Ness - The Musical Chairs

My Entire Life – SUSTO

Pearlies – Emma Anderson

Perennial - Woods

Pictures – Dean Owens

Praise A Lord Who Chews But Which Does Not Consume; (Or Simply, Hot Between Worlds) - Yves Tumor

Prize - Rozi Plain

Radio Red – Laura Groves

So Soon Now – Trillion

Strange Loops and Outer Psyche – Andy Bell

Suntub – ML Buch

The Greater Wings - Julie Byrne

The Natural Lines

The Queen Is Not Dead – Spiritual Front

the record – boygenius

The Sunshine Convention

The Twits - bar Italia

This Candle Is For You - Spearmint

Waiting Here – Tough Age

We Live In Strange Times – Ian M Bailey

When Horses Would Run - Being Dead

[fruityyamenrunner]

It is customary to think of the Renaissance as a time of great flowering. There is no doubt that linguistic and philological developments of this period are interesting and significant. Two new sets of data that modern linguists tend to take for granted became available to grammarians during this period: (1) the newly recognized vernacular languages of Europe, for the protection and cultivation of which there subsequently arose national academies and learned institutions that live down to the present day; and (2) the languages of Africa, East Asia, the New World, and, later, of Siberia, Central Asia, New Guinea, Oceania, the Arctic, and Australia, which the voyages of discovery opened up. Earlier, the only non-Indo-European grammar at all widely accessible was that of the Hebrews (and to some extent Arabic); Semitic in fact shares many categories with Indo-European in its grammar. Indeed, for many of the exotic languages, scholarship barely passed beyond the most rudimentary initial collection of word lists; grammatical analysis was scarcely approached.

In the field of grammar, the Renaissance did not produce notable innovation or advance. Generally speaking, there was a strong rejection of speculative grammar and a relatively uncritical resumption of late Roman views (as stated by Priscian). This was somewhat understandable in the case of Latin or Greek grammars, since here the task was less evidently that of intellectual inquiry and more that of the schools, with the practical aim of gaining access to the newly discovered ancients. But, aside from the fact that, beginning in the 15th century, serious grammars of European vernaculars were actually written, it is only in particular cases and for specific details (e.g., a mild alteration in the number of parts of speech or cases of nouns) that real departures from Roman grammar can be noted. Likewise, until the end of the 19th century, grammars of the exotic languages, written largely by missionaries and traders, were cast almost entirely in the Roman model, to which the Renaissance had added a limited medieval syntactic ingredient.

From time to time a degree of boldness may be seen in France: Petrus Ramus, a 16th-century logician, worked within a taxonomic framework of the surface shapes of words and inflections, such work entailing some of the attendant trivialities that modern linguistics has experienced (e.g., by dividing up Latin nouns on the basis of equivalence of syllable count among their case forms). In the 17th century a group of Jansenists (followers of the Flemish Roman Catholic reformer Cornelius Otto Jansen) associated with the abbey of Port-Royal in France produced a grammar that has exerted noteworthy continuing influence, even in contemporary theoretical discussion. Drawing their basic view from scholastic logic as modified by rationalism, these people aimed to produce a philosophical grammar that would capture what was common to the grammars of languages—a general grammar, but not aprioristically universalist. This grammar attracted attention from the mid-20th century because it employs certain syntactic formulations that resemble rules of modern transformational grammar.

Roughly from the 15th century to World War II, however, the version of grammar available to the Western public (together with its colonial expansion) remained basically that of Priscian with only occasional and subsidiary modifications, and the knowledge of new languages brought only minor adjustments to the serious study of grammar. As education became more broadly disseminated throughout society by the schools, attention shifted from theoretical or technical grammar as an intellectual preoccupation to prescriptive grammar suited to pedagogical purposes, which started with Renaissance vernacular nationalism. Grammar increasingly parted company with its older fellow disciplines within philosophy as they moved over to the domain known as natural science, and technical academic grammatical study increasingly became involved with issues represented by empiricism versus rationalism and their successor manifestations on the academic scene.

Nearly down to the present day, the grammar of the schools has had only tangential connections with the studies pursued by professional linguists; for most people prescriptive grammar has become synonymous with “grammar,” and the prevailing view held by educated people regards grammar as an item of folk knowledge open to speculation by all, and in nowise a formal science requiring adequate preparation such as is assumed for chemistry.

This is Eric P Hamp in the Britannica. Hamp (1920 - 2019) was of the same generation as Burgess (1917 - 1993), educated in philology around the time of the World Wars. This is the generation suceeding that of Tolkien (1892 - 1973).

I have highlighted two bits of temporal deixis. He sees, correctly, there having been a sort of scientific watershed around the period of the Wars.

"Nearly down to the present day" I interpret as being more metaphorical than temporal -- the hope of the postwar scientists was that in "the present day" of peace, the bright light of linguistic science would illuminate the world more than tangentially. Since he lived to 2019 he will have been well aware that this failed to happen despite his efforts, and therefore the Priscian darkness continues to hang around -- but "nearly" almost not.

[random-writerings]

Hi, you're on my OC Creator Bingo card. Can you share 7 facts about Thea Belacqua?

Hi Bingo friend! Thank you so much for your asks! :)

Her daemon, Ollie, is a Common Dwarf Mongoose.

Her father's daemon, Camilla, is a Peregrine falcon. Her mother's daemon, Florian, is an Eastern American red fox.

She's an accomplished scholar and one of the few female members of the Royal Arctic Institute.

Thea is headstrong, ambitious, and independent. She rebels against traditional gender roles and follows her dream of becoming a scholar. She is also fascinated with flying and Lee often jokes that she loves his balloon more than him.

She used to be close friends with Marisa, but they don't talk anymore.

Her parents are very traditional and hate her aspirations to be a scholar. In an attempt to curb her curiosity and ambition, they marry her off to Asriel (Thea never forgives them for this).

Thea is left alone in Oxford when Asriel goes to the North to research Dust. In this time, she becomes close with Lyra and Roger.

[dicknelson9988]

2024 ASC Deterring Russia in the Arctic by Air & Space Forces Association Via Flickr: Pannel Discussion: Deterring Russia in the Arctic — Gen. James B. Hecker, Commander, U.S. Air Forces in Europe — Lt. Gen. Case Cunningham, Commander, Alaskan Command, U.S. Northern Command — Maj. Gen. Jonas Wikman, Air Chief of the Swedish Air Force — Major General Øivind Gunnerud, Chief of the Royal Norwegian Air Force Moderator: Maj. Gen. Larry Stutzriem, USAF (Ret.), Director of Research at AFA’s Mitchell Institute for Aerospace Studies at the Air, Space & Cyber Conference on September 17, 2024. Photo by Mike Tsukamoto/Air & Space Forces Magazine

[viciousgold]

I wrote a meta thing for our au @mrscoultxr

Falling. Endless falling, surrounded by darkness. She watched as Stelmaria and her own daemon slowly begin to fade away, and Marisa thought about what it would feel like to be without her soul. It was what she had done to countless others. It was a fate she deserved, she decided. Still, the actual thought of it terrified her. Being like those blank-eyed nurses, incapable of anything beyond basic functioning.

When everything went black, Marisa thought that was it. Her soul was done for, and this was what it felt like. However, she found herself opening her eyes, seeing landscape that surrounded her. Landscape, not abyss. No longer falling. Her brutal wounds from fighting Metatron all healed.

Once she recovered from the shock and confusion, her eyes darted to find her daemon. He was by her side, and surprising to both of them, Marisa picked him up and held him close to her chest.

The two of them wandered around for hours, until they found a tavern. She learned two important things upon arrival; she was in a world with daemons, and she was in the English countryside. She was surprised to see another world with daemons, she didn't think they existed, but if the Barnard-Stokes theory was completely accurate, she supposed that smaller branches of different pathways could happen. Worlds with daemons could still exist, just with different choices and paths. As for why she was here, perhaps one of the angels had somehow saved her life. Why they would do that was beyond her.

When she sat down at the bar and began talking to the bartender, she learned another fascinating thing.

"Barnabus O'Riley." The man with an irish setter daemon introduced himself. "You?"

"Marisa Coulter." she stated.

He raised a brow at that.

"Marisa Coulter? That first woman scientist in London?"

Marisa nodded, suppressing her surprise at finding that she was apparently back in her own world. That also made her worried, wondering if she should regret stating her name.

"Yes."

"Huh." Barnabus stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head. "Nah, you're pulling me leg, you en't her." he chuckled. "You look like her though, I'll give ya that. Almost fooled me."

She stared pointedly at him.

"I think I know who I am." Marisa spoke in confusion.

"Nah, my nan, she loves her, she's got pictures. Newspaper clippings. Hold on." He went to a back room behind the bar, and Marisa sat in stunned silence at this interaction. He soon came back with a newspaper clipping, a tiny hole at the top of it, clearly pinned to a wall previously. "That's Marisa Coulter." he spoke as he placed it on the bar.

Marisa looked at the picture in shock. There was the golden monkey daemon, the dark hair, the sharp cheekbones, but it wasn't her. It was a different woman, someone who she shared a definite resemblance to, but nowhere near exact.

"What is this?" Marisa spoke quietly.

"Marisa Coulter." Barnabus chuckled. "First woman Royal Arctic Institute member, first woman Magisterium member. Nan just goes crazy over her. She'd probably love to meet you, you know, you're practically a spitting image of her. I could probably tell Nan you're her if we take her glasses off."

She didn't know how to respond to this. She saw the year on the newspaper clipping. She remembered the date of this article for her, it was a few years ago. But this newspaper article had this year on it. Left with so many questions she couldn't ask, she found herself standing to her feet.

"I should get going. I need to... find lodging." she sighed.

"Hey, this en't just a pub, y'know, we also got rooms people can rent for the night. What's your real name?"

She had to think. Marisa still didn't know what was going on, but she had to say something.

"Mari Delamare." she answered. "I'm actually Marisa's sister." she spoke with a convincingly feigned chuckle. "Sometimes I try impersonating her to get free drinks."

"I didn't know she had a sister." Barnabus chuckled. "Well that definitely explains the resemblance. Hey, tell you what, you do me a favor, right? Pass along to Mrs. Coulter how big a fan Nan is. You're free to stay here for the night."

This place wasn't typically the place she would choose to stay, but she didn't really feel like herself anymore in some ways. Marisa wasn't really herself, was she? In more ways than one. She didn't look like herself, both in disheveled appearance as well as clearly not having the exact appearance of this Marisa equivalent. And she had slept in a cave. A run down tavern was technically a step up.

"Thank you." Marisa told him.

The night turned into a week. It wasn't like she had money to go somewhere else. She straightened herself up though, licked her wounds. Marisa at the very least looked presentable now. Still, perplexed by all that had happened, she questioned what she should do with herself. She spent the days feeling aimless, practically floating about the place. It became evident that Barnabus had put pieces together that she didn't spell out, that clearly she was going through something and down on her luck. He kept letting her stay, providing her meals. She couldn't tell if he was taking pity on her or if he was just being kind. Kindness like that still wasn't something she was used to, but she was trying to accept it. After another week, she tried repaying it. She helped out around the tavern here and there, and she chatted with Barnabus and his nan. After all, she would likely be on the streets if not for them taking her in. She had nowhere else to go. Nothing to do with herself. She couldn't go back to her own world, couldn't have her Lyra, her Asriel of her world, and clearly this one already had another Marisa Coulter.

Which brought an idea. Perhaps a stupid one, but what else was she going to do? She didn't have a career, she didn't have Lyra, she didn't have Asriel, she had absolutely nothing. But she remembered the event that was in the newspaper. She had visited a hospital when she was thirty-three. That photo was taken only a few months before she went to Jordan College to take in Lyra. Somehow, the events of this world were set years later. Marisa Coulter was still thirty-three here. Marisa realized that it meant perhaps this different version of her still had hope for an actual future. One that didn't end in her causing even more pain, in her needing to sacrifice her life in order to save her daughter's life, and her possibly falling for all eternity. Perhaps that was why she had been saved from the abyss, Marisa thought. To save her. To save herself.

Coming down the stairs, Marisa had a bag packed, full of the clothes that Barnabus had given her. He said he had a girlfriend once that was her size. She went over to a table he was cleaning to say goodbye to him.

"Oy, don't you look spiffy." Barnabus chuckled as he looked up, pointing out how Marisa was actually wearing delicate makeup, a thing of mascara and lipstick she had managed to steal from a shop, had her hair styled, and was wearing one of the nicer dresses he had given her. "Looking sharp, Mari. Any occasion?"

Marisa nodded. "I'm leaving. I've got to go see my sister in London. She needs me."

Smiling, Barnabus clapped a hand on her shoulder. "We're gonna miss you 'round here, y'know. Come back sometime, yeah?"

Marisa smiled a bit. "I'll try. Thank you, Barnabus."

The irish setter daemon wagged her tail as she said a soft goodbye to the golden monkey. He silently nodded.

Before the two of them left, her daemon had managed to steal a few wallets from some of the patrons. Surprising to her yet again by this change of heart she was having, she actually hadn't wanted to do this. But she needed to have money for the zeppelin to London. On the ride over, she tried thinking strategically. All of her mistakes in order. Everything that failed, that went wrong. The chain of events that was more like a line of falling dominoes. She thought of them in order and thought of what she would change and of what she knew now that she didn't know then. She had no clue of whether or not this would work, but she had to try. This was what she was brought here for, she thought. To give Marisa Coulter a second chance.

[magicaemaxima]

@mothersmalice

Adele had met the woman a few times now, each time being more fascinating than the last. The way Marisa spoke, the way she carried herself, it was breathtaking. But her daemon reminded her that they needed to stay focused on what she was saying, rather than how she was saying it. They could form a friendship with the other pair, nothing more, she heard Bastian chide her. But they both knew that this sort of thing had happened twice before. Both relationships had provided for a good story, but both ended badly. One ended badly when the story came out, and the other one Adele hadn't published the story, deciding against it for her feelings had become too strong, but she had still found out from someone that Adele was researching her, and it still ended anyway.

"I don't think she even is, Bastian." she murmured quietly. "She doesn't seem to be the type. She had a husband. She had a lover who she had a child with."

"You never know that. You didn't think Diane was, and look at how that turned out." the butterfly whispered in her ear. "No feelings. We need this to go well."

It was then she was finally let in, the Royal Arctic Institute doorman opening the door for her, allowing her to join the rest of the guests. There was only one she was interested in. Once inside, she immediately sought out Marisa, smiling brightly when she did.

"Hello again, Mrs. Coulter." she greeted. "It's lovely to see you again. I said again twice, sorry about that."

[deficd]

⁉️

send a ⁉️ + a muse , & i’ll tell you what muse of mine i see interacting with yours ! || @viciousgold || always accepting.

Are you just asking for your Marisa blog? :p 

I read the His Dark Materials books a long time ago, and I haven't watched the film yet, so my memory is a bit rusty until I do so. In the meantime, here are some muses I’m seeing meshing well with her:

Paper Star/"Star": A child that could be kidnapped lmao, although maybe in a verse where she isn’t a trained assassin.

Ragnar, Ratonhnhakéton/Connor Kenway, Hilda Ragnarsdottir, Sindre Isleifson: Could all be made to be members of the Royal Arctic Institute and have to go on some northern expedition and yes-- I am reading through your wishlist as I write this.

616!Dr. Strange and/or Dr. Strange Supreme: this one is obvious because they can both multiverse hop, and could run into Marisa or vice versa, maybe one gets trapped in the other’s universe... because they were going there to take something?!

The Outsider: By nature he can just sort of... go where he wants, or maybe something to do with Dust forces him into her world. Bonus points if he gets to keep his weird godlike powers. Extra bonus points if he loses them. Alternatively, because he likes to “gift” those he finds interesting, maybe he follows her around, contemplating offering his mark/powers to her because he’s entertained by her awfulness.

Geralt and Dragonfly: Both hailing from The Witcher universe, but I think a crossover could fit well. 

[woodencup]

Money Holiday Monday [Some Brand and not so Brand new tracks to enjoy when you're off (or on)]

Golden Brown - Traveling Waves Acetone - Things Are Gonna Be Alright (Demo) The Royal Arctic Institute - The Elated World Angel Olsen - Time Bandits The Asteroid No.4 - Golden Girl of Spain Aldous Harding - Fever North Americans - The Living End Floating Action - I Knew I Felt It

[psychicstatic]

That new episode I was talking about is now live! Todays guest is John Leon of @theroyalai ! We talk early life, getting bitten by the bug, chasing the dream ending up in Austin, becoming a session musician ultimately backing one of #psychrock ‘s founders, Roky Erickson! Also, his latest band The Royal Arctic Institute have a new EP out on @alreadydeadtapes ! Get it kids! 📸 by @dresherphoto #johnleon #theroyalarcticinstitute #fromcomatocatharsis #alreadydeadtapes #douglassdresher #gametheory #lolitanation #scottmiller #influentialalbums #essentialrecords #interview #podcast #psychicstatic https://www.instagram.com/p/CpSU2scrwv9/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=