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littlemisspascal · 4 years ago

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The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 3

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,320

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: I don’t know much about starship mechanics so probably nothing in this is accurate but it’s fanfiction people so cut me some slack please, reader gets a nickname 🥳, plot plot plot, discussion of loss of loved ones, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, this is a slow burn but it’s also ridiculously self-indulgent so I’m including as many cute getting-to-know-you scenes as I can, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: Thank you anyone and everyone who has read even a sentence of this story! Special thanks and love to @dindja for creating this stunning, fantastic, amazing piece of fanart for me 💖💖💖 I still can’t believe how perfect it is. I mean, I’m such a sucker for pinky promises it’s not even funny and this is just beautiful 😍😍😍

Part 2

Cross-posted on AO3

For as grand and wide-reaching as the Galactic Empire has become in its ten years of existence, it had relatively small beginnings. A group of radical Force-wielders banded together under the leadership of an old, beady-eyed man named Sheev Palpatine who believed it was his divine destiny to seize control of the entire galaxy, rewriting the ancient laws to match his own beliefs. His cult, the Sith Order, gained attention by attacking Jedi temples, capital cities, places with large populations until every corner of the galaxy had heard of them. Most regarded them with fear, but over time they began garnering a startling amount of followers who were discontent with the status quo and willingly drafted themselves as soldiers in Palpatine’s fight for control.

At first everyone in your village thought Palpatine and his cult of followers weren’t worth worrying about—after all, Shili was a peaceful planet that never drew much attention to itself. But within the first year of its inception, the Sith Order captured Ryloth and the similar peaceful characteristics between the Twi’lek planet and Shili were too glaring to overlook. A seed of anxiety took root in every Togruta’s mind after that, and continued to grow with every planet seized as the years progressed.

The Decimation of Alderaan didn’t start as a tragedy, believe it or not. The Mandalorians, Jedi, and Alderaanians combined their numbers in an all-out fight against the Sith Order. It was the largest battle ever fought in the history of the galaxy, thousands of souls willing to die to defeat Palpatine’s followers. For the first three days of warfare, the fight seemed to be in favor of the allies with many noteworthy Sith members reportedly killed in the fray, such as Palpatine’s second-in-command Dooku and lethal Zabrak assassin Maul. You remember there was a sense of hope felt within your village as everyone listened to the news reports blaring across the Holonet. A belief that things were finally, finally going to return to normal after so much chaos.

But on the fourth day, the Sith Order brought their own ally onto the battlefield.

At the time there wasn’t a name for the droids that slaughtered every opponent they faced. They were described as indestructible, unharmed by blasters and the intense heat of Mandalorian flamethrowers. Not even lightsabers could damage them. The allies didn’t stand a chance, brutally murdered one by one, their dying screams echoing across the Holonet, forever haunting listeners far and wide.

The Dark Troopers were unleashed upon Mandalore afterwards and out of the ashes rose the Galactic Empire, except, in a twist nobody—not even the Sith Order—saw coming: Palpatine died before taking on the title of emperor, passing away in his sleep. A mediocre ending for the monster who permanently altered the foundations of the universe. One of his loyal followers from the cult’s early beginnings took control in his place, a vile man with a penchant for spilling blood and a deceptively bland name: Gideon.

Only seven years-old then, you didn’t understand the unbalance in the Force your aunt kept referencing. You didn’t understand the meaning of the word genocide either. But you did understand the galaxy would never be the same ever again, and the lesson was only further established as truth when the Imperials seized your village.

There is no normalcy to return to anymore.

And as long as Emperor Gideon remains in control, there is no future to hope for either.

Silence reigns in the aftermath of Maar’s explanation as the long list of tragedies hangs heavy over the four occupants. There is tension in the air as you await the Mandalorian’s response to the extinction of his people, whether that be an outburst of anger or tears, and each passing minute only intensifies the nervous energy thrumming through your veins. Your leg starts to bounce restlessly, a bad habit you have had since childhood.

The Mandalorian stands eerily motionless. Your eyes keep flicking from your lap to his visor though you know it is rude to stare. His helmet hides his expression, but you don’t need to see it to know he is floundering right now, mind scrambling to piece together all the details thrown at him. From personal experience, you know the loss of a loved one hits like a tidal wave, hitting you over and over again until you must decide if you are going to stand up or surrender to drowning. Grieving the loss of your parents is the hardest experience of your lifetime to date.

But this...this is vastly different. The Mandalorian didn’t just lose his loved ones. He has lost his friends, neighbors, comrades, acquaintances, everyone all at once. This loss isn’t a tidal wave. It is a kriffing avalanche, burying him ten feet under in total darkness, and there is no one he can count on to save him.

Finally, after the longest five minutes of your life, he shifts, resting his hands upon his belt with an unexpected air of seriousness. “I need to go.”

You frown, head tilting. That is his reaction?

“Go?” Ahsoka echoes, sounding as incredulous as you feel. “Go where?”

“To look for survivors,” he answers, blunt and harsh, the words forced through clenched teeth.

Ahsoka is struck silent, and you feel your heart break on his behalf. Your mother’s stories about the Mandalorians had always included, one way or another, their lifelong bonds with each other. You had felt those ties when you had connected with the Mandalorian, believed for a moment as strongly as he did that his fellow warriors would come search for him, that his absence would be noticed and missed amongst them. And here he is now, still desperately clutching to them, unable—or, perhaps unwilling is more apt—to believe a stranger telling him those bonds have been cruelly severed.

“What you need is to rest,” Maar says, gentle yet firm, letting her authority as the eldest in the room seep into her tone.

He shakes his head, not backing down. “I’ve been asleep for ten years. I don’t need any more rest.”

“Your ship, it, uh,” your shoulders hike up defensively when his visor snaps in your direction, pinning you with its blank stare. Clearing your throat, you continue with a slight grimace, “It’s going to need some repairs before it can take off. I can help you fix it.”

Ahsoka looks over at you in surprise, and then in worry. You don’t blame her, especially since the offer had slipped out without you consciously meaning it to. Once again, the Force is calling the shots and you are just along for the ride, a passenger in your own body.

He considers you for a long moment, then asks, “What do you know about the mechanics of a gunship?”

If anyone else had asked you that same exact question, you would have bristled at their condescension and retracted your offer in the next breath. But with the Mandalorian, there isn’t even the slightest hint of patronizing courtesy. It is a serious question prompted from genuine curiosity.

You sit up straighter, smiling at him now. “Enough to confidently say I’m your best shot at getting off the ground.”

“What’s your plan, exactly?” Ahsoka asks you, braced against the wall with one eye on you and one on the Mandalorian across the garage, patiently waiting for you to finish assembling your tool kit.

“Huh?” You reply distractedly, trying to decide if you should bring your carbon chisel or not.

“You don’t have one, do you?”

Not. There are bigger concerns than a bit of carbon scoring. You move to grab your favorite screwdriver with a tapered socket, only for Ahsoka to snatch it away, holding the tool hostage.

“Hey!”

“Have you thought about what you’re doing?” Ahsoka asks slowly, staring you directly in the eyes. “Once you fix his ship, he’s gone. And he’s taking our best chance at escaping Shili with him.”

A quick glance over your shoulder shows the Mandalorian studying the scattered BB unit parts on your workbench. You are missing a few vital components needed in order to bring the little droid back to life after a stormtrooper shot a plasma bolt through it for accidentally bumping into his leg, and haven’t had any luck convincing the village traders to track them down for you when they went to the capital.

“We can’t keep him here against his will,” you manage at last, turning back to your sister. “Otherwise we’re no better than the Imps.”

When Ahsoka doesn’t say anything, you shrug a shoulder, adding, “Besides, I think I’m supposed to fix it for him. The Force seems pretty insistent about it.”

She makes a face at that. “I liked you better when you ignored your Force instincts. You didn’t make me worry as much.”

A laugh escapes you, embarrassingly loud in the otherwise quiet space, and your cheeks immediately start burning. Ahsoka’s lip twitches like she wants to smile, but instead she schools her features into a blank expression when the Mandalorian’s head turns at the sound. Only once he diverts his attention elsewhere again does her stare lose some of its intensity, looking less like she wants to dissect him beneath a microscope. You can practically see her protective-older-sister-instincts buzzing, reacting to the warrior’s presence.

As much as he is a chance at providing an escape, he is also first and foremost a complete and total stranger. Even worse, he is a complete and total stranger who knows how to handle weapons.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You squeeze her arm reassuringly. “Shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours. You’ll be so busy smoothing the Elders’ ruffled feathers you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Ahsoka finally relinquishes the tool, exhaling a quiet sigh. “You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.”

Walking side by side with the Mandalorian in silence isn’t awkward, per se, but it definitely isn’t comfortable either. He is close enough your arm keeps accidentally grazing against his, the cold brush of metal against your skin startling you each time. You would have considered his nearness strange if you hadn’t heard Ahsoka threaten to castrate him if you wound up hurt before she sent him flying at the juni tree branch outside your window with an unnecessarily strong push of Force.

To his credit, the warrior handled her rough treatment with the same ease he has handled everything else thrown at him. You are beginning to think Mandalorians don’t just wear beskar—they are made of it too. Other than the few glimpses of frustration earlier in Maar’s office, he keeps his cards close to his chest, impossible to read.

He watches everything though, reacting to the slightest of movements and sounds. Constantly alert. You are certain he is watching you right now, despite the fact his helmet is facing forward, your nerves prickling in response to the sensation of eyes upon you.

To your surprise, he is the one to break the silence first. “You sneak out often.”

It is a statement, not a question.

You suppose the dots are easy enough to connect to reach that conclusion. Still, the certainty in his voice has your heart skipping a nervous beat. He hasn’t even known you a day and yet he is privy to secrets no one outside your community is aware of. “Yeah,” you nod your head after a brief lapse of silence, “Ahsoka can’t train in the village. Not with the stormtroopers around.”

“Has your village tried to run them out? Fight back?”

It is only because you know he is just trying to understand your village’s predicament with the little bits of information he has that you don’t snap at him for being so insensitive. He has no idea what these past five years have been like for you all. No idea the amount of losses and sacrifices the community has suffered.

Your grip on your tool kit tightens. “I was twelve when they came. The community is mostly traders and hunters, not trained fighters. The few weapons we had were nothing compared to their blaster rifles, but some of the adults tried to defend the village, including our parents. They...” You swallow, or try to, at least, your throat suddenly dry as sand. “Our aunt looked after us until last year we woke up one morning to find a note she’d left to join the rebellion. We haven’t had any contact with her since.”

The Mandalorian’s gloved hand brushes against your knuckles. This time you think it might have been on purpose.

“I lost my parents as a child, too. There was a riot and they died protecting me,” he offers his own private details with the same reluctance as one volunteering to have their teeth pulled out. “The Mandalorians took me in, raised me as one of their own.”

You say nothing about the way his breath slightly hitches when he says Mandalorians, appreciating his openness as it puts you both on somewhat equal footing with each other.

“I owe it to them to look for survivors,” he tells you, and your montrals detect the quietest hint of a plea in his voice.

“I understand,” you answer, keeping your tone light to preserve the fragility of this moment. This kind of situation doesn’t happen often—two strangers on the same wavelength, exposing their vulnerable underbellies, desperate to be heard and yet skittish at the same time—and it is oddly therapeutic.

A decision is made right then and there in the span of a heartbeat. And even more significantly, it is 100% your own choice without any intervention or manipulation from the Force.

You stop walking, causing the Mandalorian to halt as well. He scans the area for a threat, then visibly jerks when he turns back to find you have your hand held out towards him, pinky raised high, reacting as if you are pointing a weapon at him.

“I don’t understand,” he says, blunt and almost suspicious sounding. Are you just imagining it or can you actually hear him frowning? “What are you doing?”

“Haven’t you ever made a pinky promise with someone before?”

“...A what?”

You snort, ducking your head to hide your smile, and then reach for his hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t protest your touch.

“A pinky promise,” you repeat as you make his hand form a fist, curling his fingers towards his palm, and then adjust his pinky so you can wrap yours around it. He watches the whole process wordlessly. “It’s a sacred vow shared between two people. The Elders say once it’s sworn, the promise can never be broken.”

He cocks his head, skeptical. “Never?”

“Never,” you reaffirm with a nod. Licking your lips, you look at his visor, right where you instinctively know his eyes are staring back. “I promise I’m going to help you. No matter the odds.”

And something leaks into your voice then, something resolute and binding and otherworldly. A tremor shoots down your spine, too quick for you to make sense of it.

Your sister’s words echo in the back of your mind, ‘You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.’

You try to pull away, self-doubt gnawing a hole in your stomach, only for the Mandalorian to wrap his pinky tighter around yours, holding you still. A gasp escapes your lips, muffled by the bleeding sincerity in his voice as he swears:

“I promise I will be there when you need me. No matter the odds.”

And although your sister could undoubtedly provide you with a long list of reasons why you shouldn’t, you believe his promise to be true.

The Mandalorian heaves a heavy sigh at the sight of his crashed ship.

“I can’t do much about the landing gear,” you inform him, believing honesty to be the best policy for cases like this. “And I brought some foam-jet for the cockpit viewport, but it’s not a permanent fix. You’re going to have to find someone offworld to replace them.”

“Right,” he agrees absently without turning his eyes away. It occurs to you then that this ship is the closest thing to a home he has now. One of the few precious relics from his past he can still physically cling to.

“Does your ship have a name?” you ask.

He looks at you, as if coming back to self-awareness, and answers, “Razor Crest.”

A good name, you think. Strong. A bit mysterious. Just like its owner.

You nod decisively. “I like it.”

His modulator crackles faintly, a quiet noise produced from a sudden exhale of air. You blink at the unexpected sound, surprised to realize you recognize it. A laugh. The Mandalorian just laughed at something you said. What is next in store for you? Are akul going to sprout wings and start flying?

He steps around you, heading for the side entry door still open from yesterday with its ramp laying on the ground, pebbles shifting noisily beneath his boots with each step. You don’t realize you are staring, oddly entranced by the swish of his cape and his purposeful strides, until he calls out your name to ask if you are coming.

You nearly drop your tool kit in your haste to follow after him into the Crest’s interior, ignoring the flaring heat radiating from your cheeks.

For the next few hours, you and the Mandalorian work in companionable silence, engrossed in rerouting wires and welding damaged components with your trusty hand torch. The gunship is older than you initially assumed, perhaps even as old as yourself, and you idly wonder if the Mandalorian found it in a scrapyard somewhere or maybe inherited it from another Mandalorian. You notice the way he handles each piece with an experienced and respectful touch; the same kind of care someone reserves for their most cherished possessions. Anyone with eyes can see how much he loves the Crest just by watching him.

Once you have finished sealing the numerous cracks dissecting the cockpit’s viewport like a spiderweb with foam, you approach the Mandalorian to see his progress on returning power to the dashboard. He is on his back beneath the steering controls, rearranging a mess of wires, and barely acknowledges your presence when you squeeze yourself into the tight space next to him.

“The red wire goes before the white one,” you point out, noticing the mistake immediately. “Fire hazard.”

He pauses, looks at where you have gestured, and corrects his error without criticizing your intervention. You bite back a smile, pleased to be heard. Within your community, even though you have proven your skills time and time again, some of the villagers, usually men, don’t always adhere to your advice, thinking you are too young and too female to know about technology, until they inevitably make their problems worse for themselves and come back to you with their metaphorical tail between their legs.

You help him reattach the cover plating once he has finished, screwing the bolts back into their corners, and then watch, fingers crossed, as he attempts the ignition sequence, flipping a series of switches.

None of them light up with even the faintest flicker of life.

“Dank farrik,” he growls under his breath, slamming a fist upon the console.

You take a tiny step forward, hesitant to direct his frustration your way. “Can I try?”

He tilts his head, probably thinking he knows this ship better than anyone and if it doesn’t work for him then you aren’t going to have any luck either.

Eventually he steps back with a shrug, uttering a simple, “Sure.”

Although you can’t remember the last time you were on a ship, it doesn’t take long to refamiliarize yourself with the various controls and screens once you take a seat in the pilot chair. When your hobby for fixing broken machines changed into a passion you wanted to pursue as a future career, you started memorizing any reading material you could find on the Holonet, including the flight manuals for different classes of starships. You flip through the stored information in your mind about gunships as you press a few buttons on the panel overhead, trying out different sequences for a response.

When your third attempt fails, you bite your lip, racking your brain for a solution. You think about Huno’s kitchen droid and how you had been on the verge of ripping off one of your head-tails trying to repair it after one of its fuses blew, causing it to malfunction. Your tools and knowledge hadn’t been able to fix it in the end. It had required a special remedy to bring it back to life.

You lay your palms flat on the console, just as you had held onto the droid’s square torso. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the Mandalorian fidget, as if he wants to come closer but is hesitant to crowd you. You ignore him, pressing your fingertips harder against the metal, visualizing in your mind the unseen gears, cables, and components stiff and powerless. You imagine the parts working properly, a current of electricity running through each wire, life ultimately returning to the entire ship, and whisper under your breath a request to the Force.

“Please work, please work, please work…”

An invisible pulse of energy burns down the length of your arms and discharges through your fingertips, strong enough you jerk backwards against the seat. Every button and screen on the dashboard lights up all at once, beeping with alarm at being so rudely resurrected.

You sit there helplessly, stunned and breathless, hands twitching in your lap. The kitchen droid hadn’t required even half as much energy to restart, barely a pinch. Now your body feels like you have been thrown against the electric fence a dozen times. Wordlessly, the Mandalorian comes to your side to help, punching buttons and turning knobs until the alarms quit blaring. A distant part of your brain thinks the Razor Crest as a whole seems strangely soothed by his presence, not quite as cold and dark, but it is hard to follow that train of thought due to the distracting pain throbbing along your temples.

“That’s quite a spark you’ve got,” he says, not unkindly or accusingly, just a statement of the obvious. He looks down at you, not outright asking for an explanation, but giving you the opportunity to open up if you wanted to.

“Yep, that’s me,” you reply, forcing a cheerful smile, praying it doesn’t resemble a grimace. “Sparks Tano at your service.”

He chuckles again, oblivious to how your heart stutters at its raspiness. “Thank you, Sparks. I appreciate it.”

“Well, we’re not done yet.” You rub at your temples under the guise of adjusting your headband. “I need to take a closer look at the engines before we attempt flying out of here. I—”

“I’ll do it,” he cuts in, already heading for the ladder. “You stay here, see if you can update the navicomputer settings.”

You know he knows that updating the navicomputer is child’s play for you. Clearly you aren’t as great at concealing your pain as you thought you were and this is his way of giving you a break. A small part of you is irritated at being treated like a porcelain doll, but you push those negative feelings aside as quickly as they develop. Your aunt always used to remind you and Ahsoka it was okay to accept help when it was offered, that needing support didn’t in any way make you weak.

“Hey, wait a second,” you call out as you spin around in your seat, freezing him right before he disappears from view into the hull. He holds onto the ladder, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Back at Maar’s place you didn’t introduce yourself and it’s weird just calling you Mandalorian in my head,” you say, awkwardly drumming your fingers on top of the armrests. He doesn’t answer, eliciting a sigh from your mouth after a drawn-out beat of silence. “What’s your name? You do have one, right?”

“I do, but I can’t tell you it,” he admits at last. “By Mandalorian Creed, only other Mandalorians or my riduur—my spouse,” he corrects, seeing your confusion, “are allowed to know my name and see my face. This is the Way.”

He doesn’t linger to hear your response, dropping down into the hull with a resounding thud. You slowly turn back around, staring absently out the glass. Every culture is unique, including your own, but you think there is something especially interesting about the Mandalorians’. It sounds like a lonely existence, only able to show your face while in select company. What would have happened if he had been unconscious and you had slipped the helmet off his head? What consequence would he have faced?

And if there truly aren’t any Mandalorians left besides him, his spouse will be the only one to ever know him completely. It almost sounds like a love story, if not a little bit heart-wrenching.

Two high-pitched dings from the console jerk you out of your thoughts with a wince. You look for the source, finding the radar lit up and actively scanning the area, and bristle when you see a pair of red dots moving across the screen.

Not even a minute later you are sprinting out of the cave, ignoring the Mandalorian’s alarmed shout from the roof of the Razor Crest. They’re early, you think with panic, looking towards the sky where two starships with Imperial logos are heading straight for your village. Why have they come back so soon?

You push your legs to run faster, your surroundings a blur beyond the trail in front of you, but the effort is meaningless. You won’t make it back home before they land.

And when your absence is noted, bloodshed is not a possibility.

It is a guarantee.

Series taglist: @pedro4ever @cannedsoupsucks

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Permanent taglist: @promiscuoussatan @vintagesaph @over300books @chibi-yuki @theocatkov @oh-no-a-whovian @absurdthirst @freeshavocadoooo @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @lin-djarin @happiestsparkleofall @randomness501 @gallowsjoker @coaaster @captain-jebi @leilei-draws @disgruntledspacedad @melobee @stilllivindue2spite @pointy-sharp @artsymaddie @waywardmando @asta-lily @thisshipwillsail316 @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @grogusmum @sherala007 @mejswho @uncle-kenobi @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives @tacticalsparkles @mandocrasis @littlebopper96 @you-got-me-starry-eyed @kiss-evans @writeforfandoms @pbeatriz @anaaaispunk

#my fic #my writing #Mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfic #Din Djarin #din x you #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #togruta reader #ahsoka tano #the last mandalorian #pedrostories #art

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fictionadventurer · 4 years ago

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So Strong as Gentleness; Or, Powers and Prejudice 2/?

Chapter 2: Immovable Object

For generations, the Bingleys had been the staunchest allies of the city’s superhumans, and the current generation had lived up to the family legacy. It was commonly conjectured that Charles Bingley himself numbered among the city’s masked superheroes--that he was the alter ego of the Storm King or the Nighthawk or the Blur--but it was just as commonly argued that this would unite too many blessings in a single man. Charles Bingley was good-looking and gentleman-like; he had a pleasant countenance and easy, unaffected manners. He united personal fortune with personal charm, and he had no need of superhuman talents to make him one of the city’s most extraordinary citizens.

It was with great astonishment that Jane noted his presence at Bingley Enterprise’s headquarters when she and Lizzie arrived at the recruitment event. The crowd was vast, but Mr. Bingley darted through with astonishing speed, shaking hands with everyone, delighted by the day and pleased by all in attendance. Though the strictures of the event required Jane to spend most of her time filling out forms and conducting interviews with middle management, she received a moment’s attention from the man himself. He approached her just as she was departing from an informational table, offered a handshake, and desired to know her opinion of the event, her occupational and educational history, her opinion of Netherfield, her favorite popular musicians, and if she had noticed the heavily laden refreshment table in the main lobby. Jane provided all the information desired and was surprised to find Charles Bingley genuinely interested in the answers. A few moments of conversation left her convinced that Charles Bingley was all that a young man ought to be--sensible, good-humored, lively. She had never seen such happy manners--so much ease, with such perfect good breeding.

It was not until she caught sight of Lizzie--reapproaching her after they’d been separated by the crowd--that Jane remembered their mother’s purpose in sending them to the event. But by this point, Mr. Bingley was already being pulled away from the conference.

In the course of the day, Mr. Bingley had gained a shadow--a tall, dark-haired young man who was as aloof and elegant as one expected the heir to a corporation to be. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was head of a Pemberley corporation, with fortune and fame for such that eclipsed the Bingley reputation. He rarely left the city of Pemberley, and Jane could not fathom why a Bingley event had drawn him away from his own business concerns.

It seemed that Mr. Darcy had similar questions for Bingley, because after Darcy had pulled him a few steps away, Jane overheard him scolding his friend. “You shouldn’t waste your time with this nonsense.”

“Nonsense? Darcy, you know as well as I do that vetting future hires is a prime security concern.”

“You are socializing when you’re needed elsewhere.”

“Caroline has it well in hand. If my help is needed, I can rush to the rescue, but until then, my time is as well spent here as anywhere. Bingley Enterprises is a powerful force for good in this city.”

“Not as powerful as some.”

“Don’t force me to modesty, Darcy. I know our organization is primitive compared to what you have in Pemberley, but our strategies are effective for Netherfield, and if you could just trust...”

It was at this point that the two men moved too far away from Jane for her to hear any more of their conversation. Turning to her sister, she asked, “What do you make of that, Lizzie?” Her sister had undoubtedly overheard the same conversation--perhaps was hearing it still, as her senses retained some of their animal acuteness even in human form.

“Is it not obvious?” Lizzie said with a laugh. “It appears our company is not exalted enough for the grand Mr. Darcy. In the heights of his villainy, he has deprived you of a charming conversational partner and destroyed your chances of personal happiness.”

Jane sighed. “Mother will be disappointed. I made no mention of--”

“This has nothing to do with our mother. I was speaking of your obvious infatuation with a certain philanthropist.”

Jane had, from a young age, trained herself out of all outward displays of emotion--a necessary habit when any physical outburst had the potential to tear down walls--and she was proud that she did not so much as blush in response to Lizzie’s insinuation. “He is very charming. But I do not think five minutes of conversation is enough for you to pin all my happiness upon him.” She watched the two men disappear further into the crowd. "Perhaps, if my application is accepted, we can renew our acquaintance, but I have have lost my chance today.”

In this, Jane soon found herself mistaken. As the event was ending and Jane and Lizzie were exiting through the revolving doors of Bingley Enterprise’s main lobby, she found their compartment suddenly shared by a third person, who was none other than Charles Bingley himself.

“Miss Bennet,” he said. “I am glad to have found you. I wished to apologize for my abrupt departure from our earlier conversation.”

Jane found herself stunned by more than the sunlight as they emerged onto the sidewalk outside. “No apology is necessary. I understand you have many other concerns.”

“That is no excuse for uncivility,” Bingley said, “Though Darcy would argue otherwise. He is always telling me to devote my time to more serious matters, but I say it is always worthwhile to be on friendly terms with our neighbors.”

Lizzie said, “It seems Mr. Darcy is uncommonly conceited.”

“No better man in the world!” Bingley said, rising to a good-hearted defense of his friend. “Only too apt to take the weight of the world on his shoulders and demand that I carry the same burden. I dare say he has a point, but one can better do good in the world by knowing the people within it.”

“A sensible philosophy,” Jane said.

“And apt to make you much more popular with us common citizens,” Lizzie said.

“No one is common,” Bingley said, “especially in Netherfield.”

Jane was struck by the fear that he was about to realize just how true that statement was. For Lizzie’s attention was suddenly riveted to the bank across the street, and her pupils had already turned to cat-like slits.

“What is it, Lizzie?” Jane asked, hoping by conversation to keep her sister tethered to her human form. Lizzie had gained a great amount of control over her transformations, but the jaguar was likely to emerge unbidden in moments of danger. Lizzie had never transformed in so large a crowd before, and Jane did not know, in the case of disaster, if the jaguar could distinguish threats from innocent bystanders.

“Something is happening,” Lizzie said. “At the bank. I think there might be--”

Her words were drowned out by the explosion. The facade of the bank erupted into flame, and debris was headed in their direction. Jane tried to position herself as a shield to Mr. Bingley and Lizzie, but the sudden movement left her off-balance and falling.

Before she could right herself--before she could even see the results of the explosion--Jane suddenly found herself standing in an alleyway two blocks distant from Netherfield Enterprises. Mr. Bingley was at her side, bent over to catch his breath, with the blue half-mask of the Blur half-pulled over his face.

“Mr. Bingley?”

The man turned away, shielding his face with his hand. “You weren’t supposed to see--I’m usually gone by now, but you--you’re heavier than you look.”

Most other girls, perhaps, would have been offended by such comments, but Jane was merely impressed that he had moved her at all. If she hadn’t been falling, he wouldn’t have managed it--she had been told that trying to move her from where she was standing was like running face-first into a steel girder.

“What’s happening?” she asked, helping Mr. Bingley to straighten his skewed mask. The daughters of Mrs. Bennet knew that there was nothing so important to the average hero than the secret of their identity.

“Heist of some kind,” Bingley said. “We thought there might be villain movement today, but didn’t think they’d strike so close to the Enterprises building.”

“We have to go back!” Jane shouted, dashing out of the alley. “Lizzie!” There was no doubt that the jaguar was loose, and Jane was best able to keep her sister in control of her humanity.

“Wait!” he shouted in alarm. “I can go back to help her, but you mustn’t endanger yourself.”

Jane continued another city block, unheeding. She could see the bank now, chaos erupting as crowds fled from the disaster. From the destroyed facade, some variety of spidery, villainous robot had emerged, tossing aside people and vehicles that hindered its attempts at escape.

“Miss Bennet, please!” Bingley was at her side, apparently attempting the same rescue he’d completed moments before, but unable to budge her an inch.

“Help them!” Jane said. “I’ll be fine!”

At that moment, the rampaging robot picked up a green sedan and tossed it over the crowd, directly toward Jane’s position. Jane lifted both arms and caught the car by its front bumper. She held it aloft until she was certain the sidewalk before her was clear of bystanders, then she set it lightly on the ground.

She turned around to see the Blur, Netherfield’s most famous speedster, standing motionless, his jaw slack.

“I see,” he said, gathering his composure. He stepped toward her. “I must apologize. It appears you were not in want of a rescue. But if I may ask, are you in possession of a good mask?”

#adventures in writing #so strong as gentleness #powers and prejudice #pride and prejudice #superheroes #jane/bingley #jane austen #pride and prejudice superhero au #here it is!#for what it's worth #which is admittedly not much but hopefully it's a little fun?#the bingley rescues civilian jane is probably a textbook darling in need of killing #because i had to invent this vague and implausible scenario to get civilian jane in bingley's presence #but it's still a fun scene and i can do what i want with this story #this story is an exercise in writing garbage #i am purposely releasing short segments without anything but the lightest of line editing so i'm forced to keep moving forward #if i hadn't been doing that i probably would have already rewritten that opening segment in different styles at least three more times #it's certainly a choice and i'm having fun with it #but as you can see the austen style is probably going to have to relax as we get more overtly superhero-y scenes

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insomniacowl · 4 years ago

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Neon Genesis Evangelion analysis chapter 19: Tabris, The final angel Trigger warning: Bodily harm

Nagisa Kaworu is concurrently the 17th angel and the Fifth children and even his name is full of word plays. 渚(Nagisa) is シ者 (= Shito = Angel) placed together and カヲル(Kaworu) are each words that comes after オワリ(Owari, meaning The end/ Final). His name is already full of clues to his identity as the final angel.

While he is classified under the category of angels, he is also a ‘human’ with Adam’s soul, just like how Rei is a ‘human’ with Lilith’s soul, and yet Kaworu himself refers to humans as Lilin, cluing us into his mindset that he is not a human, this mindset is his greatest distinction from Rei. Adam’s soul was likely captured during the contact experiment that lead to the Second impact or soon after, but the identity of the body is unclear. Rei’s body was constructed with Yui’s DNA as the base, thus Kaworu’s body too should have come from another person. Some argue that it could be Misato’s father, but it will not be delved into as the lack of information will only lead us to speculate.

Shinji: AT field?!

Kaworu: Yes, that’s what you call it. A sacred territory that no one else can invade. The light of the soul

Lilins should understand as well. Everyone with a heart can put up this barrier.

While Kaworu is living as the container for the Soul of Adam and act in accordance to it, he is an Angel called Tabris. Some say that his name appears on the Dead Seas Scroll but there are no supporting evidence. Rather, considering that he is an artificially created angel, and the difference he shows from the angels we have seen, it is likely to be a lie purported by Seele. In the canon materials, Tabris is referred to as the angel of “Freewill” and concurrently the angel of “Betrayal”.

This is why Tabris was able to break his promises with Seele and designated the future of humankind to Shinji. He has the body of a human but is able to materialise his AT field like the angels. But that does not mean that he has the S2 engine like the angels, rather from his conversation with Shinji, we can understand the AT field is light of the soul that everyone has and Kaworu is able to materialise it as he is aware of his nature of existence. Humans that live as atomized individuals that survive through cooperation need to use the AT field only to the extend of stabilising their bodies, Adam’s descendants that are singular unified being utilise AT field out of necessity for survival.

Music is great! It shapes your heart in a beautiful way. It is the pinnacle of Lilin’s culture

Because Kaworu was born with the mission to destroy humanity, his interest in them was inevitable, showing great interest in their culture and psychology, just like the angels that came before him, and who are also his descendants. When he first meets Shinji, he is humming to Beethoven.

He especially praises music and this is key is understanding the adoration he and the other Adam based creatures have towards Lilins. Unlike Adam based lifeforms, humans are capable of death, and are equipped with knowledge to deal with the adversities, and it is through this knowledge that civilisation and culture is based on.

It is in similar vein as Lilin’s adoration of the angels’ capacity for life. Perhaps Kaworu was also in adoration (and Loved) Shinji. The melody that is hummed and played over and over again in this episode is Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 and this has to be seen as an apt choice by Anno. The forth movement of this symphony, one base on “Ode to Joy” is a poem telling the message that all humans are equal in the eyes of God. Furthermore, the lyric that plays when Kaworu is descending down to Central dogma is “und der cherub steht vor Gott!” translated to “The angel stands before God”. No more needs to be said.

Comparison of Rei, Shinji, and Kaworu’s synchronisation rate

Fuyutsuki: I take it that this data is accurate?

Maya: According to magi, there is no chance of errors in the data. It’s unbelievable that he can achieve this numbers without needing a replacement core

Misato: But it is happening right in front of us.

Misato: we have to accept the fact before probing to understand the cause of it

When Asuka has been mentally decapitated, there was no one that was left able to control Unit – 02 with the soul it contained, and it was only Kaworu with the soul of Adam that was able to do so. This sets him apart from Rei who was able to move Unit – 01 just to the functioning level. This comes from the difference of Kaworu’s awareness of his and Unit – 02’s identity as Adam, while for Rei, she was only following orders and only with slight awareness of her ‘special’ nature.

This awareness that Kaworu had of himself gave him grounds to see himself as complete and therefore able to open himself up to the emotions of others. We can imagine him becoming friends with Shinji in this vain, but his intentions at this point is unclear. All we can say for sure is that through his interaction with Shinji, he came to learn the “Value of living” that he was unaware of.

Hey, did you wait for me?

Not… exactly but…

Kaworu: What are you doing today?

Shinji: Erm, since all the tests are done, I just need to shower and then go home

I think it’s great to have a home to go back to. – Perhaps this sums up the feeling of the angels who have lost their homes.

In their first meeting, Kaworu sees in Shinji experiencing a strong feeling of the fundamental pain and loneliness of humans. And by his side, Kaworu sees Shinji overcomes this feelings, and come to be able to smile once again through interaction with others. It makes us wonder what was going through Kaworu’s mind as he lay beside Shinji talking openly about his feelings beside him all night long.

There is a man striving to attain the power of the gods

There is a man other then us trying to open the pandora’s box

That man is trying to shut the box before Hope has the chance to leave the box

Before we move onto other discussions, lets talk about the relationship between Kaworu and Seele. In Seele’s point of view, Kaworu’s purpose was to initiate the Third impact. This mindset had the premise of atonement of Lilith and that the burden of “carrying” it out was to be on Seele that saw themselves as the “Representatives of all Lilins”.

Understanding their relationship is central to understanding Kaworu as a character yet in the series, we see him communicating with Seele once, at the lake that was created when Unit – 00 self-destructed.

Hope? You mean that of Lilins?

Adding on to the conundrum is that this sequence was only added in the Complete version. But, as covered in Chapter 10, we can see that Anno believed this sequence to be important in the understanding of the series as it was added in this version. And to prove this point, in this conversation we are told of the White and Black moon, of Adam and Lilith, and other secrets that are important in the understanding of this series. But there is something that stands out in this scene. As mentioned before, here we see fifteen monoliths (thus members of Seele) instead of the normal twelve. Furthermore, when we see from Misato’s (Who was spying on Kaworu) perspective, we do not see the monoliths, we even here Misato saying that he is talking to himself.

While Misato not being able to observe the Monolith is explainable with Kaworu’s ethereal existence, it is difficult to justify why there might be fifteen monoliths here when it has been a constant twelve until this point. Some in the community simply brush it off as a mistake in the production phase, there is a chance that is represents souls of the Angels that have came before Kaworu did (If we consider Israphel as having two souls, that makes total fifteen). This theory is further supported by the manga version where Sandalphon and Matarael does not make an appearance, of Evangelion having thirteen monoliths in this scene.

We entrust you with our hope

During this scene, we see Kaworu standing on a bizarrely shaped stone that has changed in its design during this sequence. It is named “The angel stone” in the development document and it contains many foreshadowing and references. During his first encounter with Shinji, Kaworu is sitting at the area pertaining as its “Head”, and this clues us into his relationship with this sculpture. Later during his conversation with Seele, he is at the same spot standing and the sculpture has now lost its head. This foreshadows his soon to be met fate of losing his head by Unit – 01.

After the scene of his decapitation, we are shown the sculpture one last time, with red blood flowing out of it.

Foreshadows the end of Kaworu

This sculpture serves as a reference to other things that are shown later in the ‘End of Evangelion’. Namely the being that is Lilith (+ Adam). Its wings also resemble that of the mass production models, especially since it was Kaworu’s Dummy plug that was used to pilot these models.

Yet the breast of the sculpture is feminine, along with its arched back resembling that of Lilith as she drops her mask it can be considered a reference of her as well. And since she was also decapitated in the end its not a farfetched argument. If we were to postulate, this may also clue us to the possibility of a loop in the story structure.

Are you the first children Ayanami Rei?

You are just like me

Kaworu: Does all of Lilins on this planet have the similar form?

Rei: Who are you?

Kaworu’s first meeting with Rei is also important. He makes a gentle smile as he tells Rei that they are similar beings, and the note that Anno made on this scene personally was the “Smile of betrayal”. So who is he betraying? His smile is directed at Rei, but the betrayal was towards Seele. In other words, Kaworu proving Rei with the clue to her Identity (as Lilith) was him breaking the agreement that he had with Seele.

When seen from Seele’s point of view, Lilith is the object of atonement, restraining her was of absolute necessity. That is the reason why they have kept Lilith’s soul separate from her body. If Rei was to come to a realisation of her identity, it would serve as a variable in their plans, putting it in jeopardy. This betrayal reaches its climax when Kaworu makes his decent into central dogma.

Kaworu: Now kill me. If not, all of you will perish.

And you are not a being that deserves to die like this.

Kaworu looking at Shinji

Kaworu looking at Rei

And the smile

Kaworu’s decent into central dogma was followed by two people. First was Shinji piloting Unit – 01, the other was the Third Rei. Kaworu came to realise that Rei did not understand the situation she was in, albeit she was sharing her soul. If we look at his expression when his eyes met Rei’s in central dogma, it is as though he is telling her “Look, that is your real body”. As for his surprised reaction when he saw Lilith, if we were to think at how he said it, carefully stating out that it is not Adam but Lilith, he is explaining for someone. An exposition for the audience, but also, to tell Rei that this is Lilith.

Whatever the truth behind that smile may be, we can be sure of the fact that Tabris intentionally approached both Shinji and Rei to confess his feeling for both of them. Rei followed after Kaworu after emitting powerful wave of AT field and Kaworu knew that she was watching. After his final goodbye to Shinji, he looks at Rei and smiles the “Smile of betrayal” for the second and the last time. It is right after this scene, that is depicted in the starting sequence of End of Evangelion that Rei breaks Gendou’s glasses and returns to Lilith alone.

End of Kaworu

It appears that Kaworu was prepared for his fate before entering central dogma. He uses Unit – 02 to hinder Unit – 01, but unlike Shinji who aimed at Unit – 02’s neck, Kaworu aimed only for the non-vital areas and bought time. He confirmed the presence of Lilith’s body in central dogma himself and conveys his feelings towards Lilith (Third Rei), and without regrets entrusts his fate to the Lilins who he loves greatly. He entrusted the decision to Shinji.

I know. That why I am here

Seele considered Lilith and Lilins to be sinners and sought for the atonement of the original sin, yet Kaworu who was entrusted with that role only comes to curiosity and an even greater love towards Lilins.

When he sees Lilith’s empty husk in the central dogma awaiting the return of her soul, he realises the difference of meaning each Lilins attach to “Hope”.

That means that I love you

It may have been just for a day, but through his interaction with Shinji, he comes to understand the pain, suffering and anxiety a pure fourteen-year-old boy faces and live with.

Kaworu: Do you hate people?

Shinji Not really, I just don’t care what happens to them anymore. But I hate my father.

Why am I telling him all this?

Throughout this process, Kaworu as Adam have come to forgive Lilith and Lilins. The old man of Seele called this betrayal. And Shinji who has come to love him mistook his actions as betrayal as well. But it is at this moment that the original sin of Lilith and Lilin was forgiven. This lead to my claim to the central thesis of Neon Genesis Evangelion. It is that “True love comes from the effort to understand the other, thus achieving completion (Instrumentalization)”

Perhaps Tabris, the final angel knew this and acted accordingly.

I might have been born to be able to meet you.

#Neon genesis evangelion #Evangelion #Eva #End of evangelion #Nge #Nagisa Kaworu #Lilith #Sci-fi #Ikari Shinji #Soryu Asuka Langley #asuka #Ayanami Rei #rei #Anno Hideaki #Katsuragi Misato #Anime #Analysis #Review

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years ago

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Stark Spangled Destiny

Ch 3: F**K You, Mr Stark...

Chapter Summary: Katie’s whacked out journey through her subconscious continues and she’s taken back to a time full of Hammer Drones, Senate Hearings and a Pirate Goth…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So these chapters contain flashbacks of sorts- but they’re not flashbacks as Katie is watching the events unfold in front of her-a “Time heist” of sorts. However, to keep it clear and hopefully not confusing, the events she is watching are depicted in itallics instead of me trying to keep calling her 2010 v 2030 Katie…

Please let me know what you think- comments and re-blogs muchly appreciated.

“Oh come on Kiddo…” Tony sighed as Katie got out of the car, slamming the door behind her. “You hardly spoke two words to me over dinner. I thought by taking you for your favourite double cheese and chilli fries you might have calmed down by now.”

“Well you thought wrong.” She seethed as she turned to look at him. “What the hell were you thinking? Why didn’t you just stick to the cover that Coulson gave you?”

“Why should I?” Tony looked at her “It’s my suit. I made it, I own it…”

“God, you are so fucking arrogant.” she glared at him, storming up to the door of the mansion. “Look, will you just chill out!” Tony followed behind her “You saw the reaction, everyone loved it.” “Oh get your head out of your ass Tony!” she wheeled around, blazing as she pressed her hand to the entry pad to the side of the door “You just painted a huge Target on our heads!”

“On my head…” “Yeah, and by proxy that includes ME!” she shook her head, walking into the house as the door clicked open “Jesus Fucking Christ.”

She stepped into the entrance hall, Tony following her. “JARVIS.” he called.

“Welcome home Sirrrrr.” JARVIS’ voice distorted and trailed off. Tony paused and looked at Katie, the two of them standing side by side as they glanced around the room. Tony stilled, his arm going out to the side in front of Katie to stop her walking any further into the room as they both spotted someone stood in the dark behind the couch, looking out of the large glass windows over the ocean.

“I am Iron Man.” The person spoke, not moving “You think you’re the only Superhero in the world.” The man, dressed in a long black trench coat turned and began to walk forward a little as Tony did the same, Katie following. “Mr Stark you just became part of a bigger universe, you just don’t know it yet.” Tony looked at his sister, then to the mystery man, frowning “Who the hell are you?” The man walked forward into the light of the lamp by the sofa and Katie looked at him. He was tall, black and bald, an eyepatch covering his left eye “Nick Fury, director of SHIELD.” He said simply.

“Oh.” Tony replied as if someone breaking in to their home was a regular, every day occurance.

“I’m here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative.”

“The what?” Katie asked.

“An initiative that SHIELD has.” Fury looked at her “An idea, to bring together a group of people with powers and abilities to keep the world safe.” “Powers and abilities?” she dead panned, arching an eyebrow. “What, like…Superman?”

“No, he doesn’t exist.” Fury shook his head simply, unperturbed by her blatant sarcasm “I’m thinking more along the lines of extraordinary people, if you get my drift.”

“Like who?” Tony asked, his tone clearly disbelieving.

“2 of my agents, the best I have” Fury said “And I am considering you and Dr Bruce Banner. If we can track him down that is.”

“Banner?” Katie frowned “Who’s that?”

“He’s a scientist.” Tony replied his eyes not moving from Fury “He injected himself with some version of the serum the SSR used on Steve Rogers back in the day but it gave him a few side effects”

“And unlike the ones Captain Rogers got they’re not permanent.” Fury finished

“What do you mean?” Katie asked.

“9 times outta ten he’s Dr Bruce Banner.” Fury continued “But when the Hulk as they call him takes over…well he’s big, green, and he struggles to control himself.”

“And you clearly have no idea where he is.” Tony spoke “Which isn’t surprising” he turned to Katie “The story I heard is that he found out the army wanted to use him as a weapon so he went underground.”

“Right.” She nodded, turning to Fury “And now you guys at SHIELD want him as a weapon? Along with tony and these 2 other agents?”

“Not weapons, no.” Fury shook his head “As a last line of defence.”

“Defence from what?” Tony looked back at Fury.

“Threats you couldn’t even begin to understand.” Fury said simply

“I’m pretty good at understanding most things, being a genius and all so try me.” Tony demanded.

“I’m well aware this all sounds a little crazy, Mr Stark but believe me when I say you simply have to trust me on this.”

“Erm, you break through my security, which I’m kinda disturbed about, then sit there like some kind of…” he waved his hand up and down, gesturing to Fury’s appearance “…spooky goth pirate and you want me to simply trust you?” Tony held Fury’s gaze and shook his head “Sorry, no can do.”

Katie looked down at the floor, biting her lip at Tony’s summary of Fury’s appearance before she raised her head to see the Director was looking at her brother, an almost amused expression on his face.

“Alright.” He shrugged, and with that he walked towards the pair of them, pausing as he reached their side. “Just give it some thought.”

“I won’t.” Tony said simply.

Fury sighed and turned his attention to Katie “Agent Coulson was impressed with you yesterday. SHIELD could use someone of your calibre.”

“Me?” Katie frowned “For what? I don’t have a suit…” “Not all superheroes wear fancy outfits” Fury said simply, “And not all heroes are super.” Katie blinked “Like I said, give it some thought. You have Agent Coulson’s number.

And with that he turned and headed through the door, leaving the siblings looking at one another in stunned silence.

Katie turned to Tony “Goth pirate…man, the first time you said that I nearly died. Did you see my face?”

Tony grinned and Natasha smiled “You know, it was actually one of his favourite nicknames.” “No kiddin’?” Tony turned to look at her. Natasha nodded and Katie snorted at her brother who simply gave a huff of laughter. The three of them left past Tony and Katie who were furiously in discussion about their encounter with the Director and the door shut behind them as they strode into the dark Malibu night.

“Ok, so where’s next on this whacked out, fucked up dream trip?” Katie asked as Tony pulled the car out of the gate and onto the freeway.

Tony looked at Natasha in the rear view mirror, simply winking and Katie rolled her eyes. Again, she blinked and found herself looking up at Capitol Hill, in the daylight. Tony once more pulled the car to a stop, abandoning it basically in the middle of the road and they strode out, heading straight past the security guards at the gate as if they didn’t exist.

Which, Katie had to remind herself, they didn’t.

She followed Tony, taking in the familiar décor of the inside of the building, before she stopped as she looked at the large set of double doors at the end.

“Oh my God…please tell me this is the Senate Armed Services Committee meeting?” she turned to her brother, a smile on her face.

“Yup, welcome to the Weaponized Suit Defense Program Hearings…” Tony grinned as he yanked open the doors and they walked into the large senate room. She spotted herself and Tony sitting on the rows of benches at the front, the row of 8 senators all raised slightly higher at the front of the room, Stern perched in the middle.

“You know what…this has to be one of my favourite Tony Stark moments ever!” Katie turned to look at her brother.

Tony looked at her, smiling “Yeah, you’ve said that once or twice.”

“Mr and Miss Stark, could we pick up now where we left off?” Senator Stern spoke, banging his gavel down and Katie nodded at him, but Tony wasn’t paying attention. He was facing the opposite way, trying to speak to Pepper who was simply giving him a furious look telling him to turn around. There was more banging and Stern spoke again “Mr Stark. Please.”

Katie elbowed Tony and he turned around “Yes dear?”

“Can I have your attention?” Stern asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Do you or do you not possess a specialised weapon?” Stern looked.

“He does not.” Katie shook her head, looking at the Senator who was trying to keep his face straight at the fact she was answering, not Tony. As part owner of Stark Industries she was also under scrutiny too, but she was both Legally and Commercially trained, and Stern knew his. He was going after Tony, because he was known to be the flashy, flamboyant one, the one that in their opinion would slip up. But she knew Tony. Well. Better than anyone. And for that fact she knew that Stern was seriously underestimating him.

This was going to be fun.

“You do not?” Stern looked at her.

“We do not.” She shook her head.

“Well, it depends on how you define the word weapon.” Tony added. Katie turned her head to look at her brother, narrowing her eyes as the cameras from the various press members in front of them continued to flash.

“The Iron Man weapon.”

“No, my sister is right. My device does not fit that description.” Tony shook his head.

“Well… how would you describe it?” Stern asked, leaning forward.

“I would describe it by defining it as what it is, Senator.”

“As?”

“It’s a err, it’s a high-tech prosthesis.” Tony said. The people in the room laughed and Tony looked around before turning back to look at the Senate “That is… That is… That’s actually the most apt description I can make of it” Tony said, looking at Katie as he placed both hands on the table in front of him.

“It’s a weapon. It’s a weapon, Mr Stark. And we’re here today to...”

“Please, if your priority was actually the well-being of the American citizen…”

“My priority is to get the Iron Man weapon turned over to the people of the United States of America.” Stern spoke simply, looking at Tony.

“Well, you can forget it. I am Iron Man.”

“The suit and Tony are one.” Katie shrugged “To turn over the Iron Man suit would be to turn over Tony.” “Which is tantamount to indentured servitude or prostitution, depending or what state you’re in.” Tony shrugged as more laughter rang out

“You can’t have it.” Katie shrugged.

“Look, I’m no expert…” Stern began but Tony cut him off.

“In prostitution? Of course not. You’re a senator. Come on.” He slapped the desk and turned round, holding his hand up waving as the room laughed. Katie looked at him, then to Pepper exasperatedly. Pepper was glaring at Tony. He mouthed “no?” and she shook her head slowly, with the manner of a mother telling off a small child.

“I’m no expert in weapons. But, we have somebody here who is an expert on weapons. I’d now like to call Justin Hammer, our current primary weapons contractor.”

Katie looked at Tony who raised an eyebrow and leaned forward to the microphone as Justin took a seat at the end of the bench. “Let the record reflect that I observed Mr Hammer entering the chamber, and I am wondering if and when any actual expert will also be in attendance.”

The room let out a little ooooh and Katie fought back a chuckle and looked at Tony as he shot her a small wink. Stern hammered on the desk once more as Hammer raised his glass of water to Tony, smiling a little as he took a sip before he laughed as he pulled the microphone towards him

“Absolutely. I’m no expert. I defer to you, Anthony.” Hammer looked at Tony, gesturing to him with his hand “You’re the wonder boy.”

Tony arched an eyebrow a Hammer continued.

“Senator, if I may…” the man stood up. “I may well not be an expert, but you know who was the expert? Your dad. Howard Stark.” He looked at Katie and Tony. “Really a father to us all, and to the military-industrial age. Let’s just be clear, he was no flower child. He was a lion.”

Tony took a deep breath and Katie gently dropped her hand onto his, giving it a discrete squeeze as Tony looked up at Stern, before his eyes flickered back to Hammer.

“We all know why we’re here. In the last six months, Anthony Stark has created a sword with untold possibilities. And yet, he insists it’s a shield. He asks us to trust him as we cower behind it. I wish I were comforted, Anthony, I really do. I’d love to leave my door unlocked when I leave the house, but this ain’t Canada. You know, we live in a world of grave threats, threats that Mr Stark will not always be able to foresee.”

At that Katie rolled her eyes as Hammer moved to take a seat.

“Thank you. God bless Iron Man. God bless America.”

There was muted applause, the most of it coming from the Senators and Stern leaned forward again

“That is well said Mr Hammer. The committee would now like to invite Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes to the chamber.”

“Rhodey?” Katie frowned, looking at Tony who was also frowning.

“What?”

The cameras started flashing again and they both turned to see Rhodey walking towards the front. Tony got up and headed down the aisle a little to greet him, shaking his hand.

“Hey, buddy. I didn’t expect to see you here”

“Katie didn’t catch the rest of their hushed conversation, but she watched as Tony and Rhodey approached the bench, Rhodey smiling softly at her.

“Hey Kiddo.” He greeted as he took a seat between her and Hammer.

There was a little introduction to the room about Rhodey being the USAF Weapons Procurement Liaison, before Stern finally got to the exact reason he’d called Rhodey to the hearing.

“I have before me a complete report on the Iron Man weapon, complied by Colonel Rhodes. And, Colonel, for the record, can you please read page 57, paragraph four?”

Katie felt herself grow cold as she glanced at Rhodey who was frowning.

“You’re requesting that I read specific selections from my report, Senator?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It was my understanding that I was going to be testifying in a much more comprehensive and detailed manner” Rhodey said calmly.

“I understand. A lot of things have changed today.”

“I bet they have.” Katie said loudly. Stern turned to glare at her and she folder her arms, her gaze never faltering. Eventually he turned away and looked at Rhodey.

“So if you could just read…”

“You do understand that reading a single paragraph out of context does not reflect the summary of my final…”

“Just read it, Colonel. I do. Thank you.”

“Very well” Rhodey opened his report to the relevant page and took a breath “As he does not operate within any definable branch of government, Iron Man presents a potential threat to the security of both the nation and to her interests.”

He glanced then to Katie, the pair of them looking at Tony as he was lounging back in the chair, his face devoid of any humour as Rhodey started to talk again.

“I did however, go on to summarise that the benefits of Iron Man far outweigh three liabilities and that it would be in our interest…”

“That’s enough Colonel” Stern but in but Rhodey continued.

“ …to fold Mr Stark…”

“That’s enough”

“…into the existing chain of command, Senator.”

Katie glanced at Rhodey who looked at Stern, his face passive. She smiled, loyal to a fault, her brother’s best friend had done his best to ensure the full picture was seen, trying to curtail the attempted hatchet job from Stern.

“I’m not a joiner, but I’ll consider Secretary of Defence, if you ask nice.” Tony said, to laughter form the crowd. “We can amend the hours a little bit.”

Besides her Rhodey sighed, reaching for his glass of water, taking a sip

“I’d like to go on and show, if I may, the imagery that’s connected to your report.” Stern ignored Tony and looked a Rhodey.

“Imagery?” Katie asked, as Rhodey shook his head.

“I believe it is somewhat premature to reveal these images to the general public at this time.”

“With all due respect, Colonel, I understand. And if you could just narrate those for us, we’d be very grateful”

Rhodey shrugged, defeated and waved his hand at the screen to their left “Let’s have the images.”

“Intelligence suggests that the devices seen in these photos are, in fact, attempts at making manned copies of Mr Stark’s suit….”

Katie kept one eye on the images and then noticed Tony lounge in his chair as he pulled out his StarkPhone as Rhodey continued.

“This has been corroborated by our allies and local intelligence on the ground…indicating that these suits are quite possibly, at this moment, operational.”

“Hold on a second buddy. Let me see something here.” Tony said, leaning forward and holding his device in front of him, tapping at it. As he did so, a separate box on the screen full of small lines of code, and the words “Welcome Mr Stark popped up. “Boy, I’m good. I commandeered your screens.” Tony said as voices began to chatter. He turned to the right and did the same to the screen at that side. “I need them. Time for a little transparency.”

He leaned back in his chair, still looking at his device as he lay it flat on the desk. “Now, let’s see what’s really going on.”

“What is he doing?” Stern asked.

“Adding a little objectivity.” Katie smirked as Tony took a breath.

“If you will direct your attention to said screens, I believe that’s North Korea.”

Tony tapped a few times and a video of a crude suit began to play. The suit didn’t work very well at all and fell over, its guns cracking the camera screen.

“Can you turn that off? Take it off.” Stern said loudly as talking broke out behind them, and Justin Hammer stood up.

“Iran…” Tony switched the footage to show another suit, this one could fly…for all of five seconds before crashing, judging by the smoke, probably on fire. “No graved threat here…” Tony mused and Katie nodded at the screen which was now showing a familiar face.

“Is that Justin Hammer?” she said, grinning, because it was clear it was, compounded by the small Hammer Advanced Weapons Systems logo in the bottom left hand corner. “How did Hammer get in the game?”

Tony grinned as the room started to mumble as the footage of Hammer, with a suit that didn’t really work played. “Justin, you’re on TV. Focus up.” Tony said as he looked at Katie, giving her a wink before the pair of them turning to Rhodey, almost identical smirks on their faces. Rhodey hastily hid his own smile behind his hand, rubbing at his top lip with his index finger.

“Okay, give me a left twist. Left’s good.” Hammer’s voice sounded from the TV “Turn to the right. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.”

“Language Justin.” Katie grinned as Hammer found the plug and the screen went dark.

“Wow. Yeah, I’d say most countries, five, ten years away.” Tony nodded “Hammer Industries, twenty” “I’d like to point out that that test pilot survived.” Hammer hastily clarified into his mic as he sat down.

“I think we’re done is the point that he’s making.” Stern spoke as he stood up “I don’t think there’s any reason…”

“The point is, you’re welcome, I guess” Tony said lazily, waving his hand.

“For what?”

“Because I’m your nuclear deterrent. It’s working. We’re safe. America is secure. You want my property? You can’t have it.” Tony said, his last few words punctuated by his hand slapping the desk. “But I did you a big favour.” At that he stood up and Katie looked at him, grimacing as he smirked “I’ve successfully privatised world peace.”

Both his hands made the peace signs and everyone in the room stood up, all talking at once and applauding. Katie looked at Pepper who was shaking her head, her face stony.

“What more do you want? For now!” Tony clapped as he turned around, gesturing to the members of the committee “I tried to play ball with these ass-clowns.”

Katie groaned and then her head whipped to Stern as he sat down and spoke into the mic, his professional front completely gone.

“Fuck you, Mr Stark. Fuck you, buddy.” He seethed. Tony cupped his hand round his ear, mockingly as he smirked and picked up his sunglasses. “We’re adjourned. We’re adjourned for today.”

Tony put on the glasses and grinned at Stern “Okay.” he gave Stern the thumbs up.

“You’ve been a delight.” Stern snarked as Tony began to blow him kisses.

Present day Katie was doubled over, tears pouring from her eyes as she watched Tony flounce down the aisle in the courtroom towards the doors at the back. Her eyes strayed to her past self who was sat, looking at Rhodey, biting her lip trying hard not to laugh. She remembered thinking at the time how she should be as pissed, as Rhodey and Pepper where, at the fact Tony never took serious things seriously but this had been a hatchet job from the start. And Tony had outwitted them all, as usual.

“Fuck you, Mr Stark…oh, it’s a classic.” She wiped her eyes, turning back to her brother.

Tony grinned, before he sighed, looping an arm round he shoulder. “Fun times huh…”

“Fun might not be the word I would use but…it was certainly entertaining.”

“Which is why I thought we could see it again.” Tony grinned “A little reminder of just how you were by my side, once again.”

“I hate to break it to you but this next bit isn’t quite so hilarious.” Natasha said, moving forward so she was at the side of Katie.

“That’s because it doesn’t involve me.” Tony quipped and Natasha rolled her eyes as they walked out of the courtroom and made their way to the car. As they drove, Katie waited as long as she could before she blinked and then, to no surprise, their surroundings had changed again and she felt a pang of nostalgia wash over her as they drove over the bridge towards the Triskellion. She turned to Natasha who flashed her a smile.

“We had some good times” “Yeah, until we brought it all crashing down.” Katie said, peering up at the place she had once-upon-a-time worked.

Natasha gave a huff of laughter as Tony drove through the magically opened barrier at the end of the avenue and into the car park.

“I’m sitting this one out.” Tony shrugged, looking around “Hmm, maybe I’ll take a walk, try and find a cheeseburger. Man I miss those.”

Katie looked at him, snorting as Natasha nudged her, signalling for her to follow. They headed into the familiar building and over to the elevator, the same one Steve had some 16 years previously catapulted them out of.

“Least I’m going up, not out the side and down…” She mused.

They exited on the floor where Fury’s office was located and headed inside. The director was sat at his desk, Coulson and Natasha stood opposite him. Natasha’s hair was long and curly, just as it had been the first time Katie had met her.

“Natalie Rushman…” she quipped and Natasha looked at her, her eyebrows raised, smiling slightly.

“Stark is drawing un wanted attention to himself. As the Senate Hearing last week proved.” Coulson stated “I don’t think that’s the last we’ve heard of that particular issue either.” “Yeah, well, I don’t trust Stern, as you know. There’s something about him…” Fury took a breath and stood up. “Ok. Romanoff, I want you in Stark Industries so you can get me a detailed appraisal of both the Stark siblings and let’s see how far this illness Tony is suffering goes.”

“Both of them?” Natasha looked at Fury who nodded.

“Coulson likes the girl.” Fury stated and Coulson turned to Natasha, handing her a manilla file with Katie’s photo on the front. “She’s smart, brave too as I saw a few months ago.”

“What’s her background?” Natasha asked, taking the file and opening it.

“It’s all in there, but the quick version is she’s been working in the UK since graduating from Oxbridge in 2006 with a first in English literature and mythology. She published a number of papers on Greek and Norse mythology and from what I’ve seen she has good analytical skills, she can read people.”

“Useful.” Natasha mused and Coulson nodded.

“She currently heads up the Legal and Commercial team for Stark Industries International. She’s not a bad shot with a gun either, she hit a water pipe straight where she aimed at from almost 200 yards out” Coulson shrugged “With a bit of training, I think she’d be a real asset.”

“You got 48 hours to come up with a plan on how to get in and a cover.” Fury spoke to Romanoff and Natasha nodded. Fury then looked at Coulson “Is the fact Miss Stark seems to be, err, romantically involved with Ward going to be a problem with this?”

Coulson shook his head “Ward has no idea that we’re even considering recruiting her. And I’ll ensure its kept that way.”

“Ward’s sharp enough to recognise that if he does encounter me whilst I’m in position he won’t blow my cover.” Natasha nodded “He knows the script.”

“Good because that is a complication we do not need…” Fury levelled her with a look and Natasha smirked, as she glanced down at a page in the file.

“From Jonny Storm to Grant Ward…” she closed the file “bit of a difference.” She grinned “Suppose you can’t blame a girl for wanting something a little hot every now and then.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” Fury looked at Natasha who shook her head.

“He’s not my type.”

“Which one, Storm or Ward?” Coulson asked.

Natasha shrugged “Either.”

Coulson smiled, his eye twinkling as Fury looked at Natasha before he met Coulson’s gaze, shrugging.

“By the way, have we any idea on the whereabouts of Dr Banner?”

“Not yet.” Coulson shook his head “But we’ll keep looking.”

Natasha turned to Katie “I wanted you to see, that even before that little business with the Hammer drones we were thinking of recruiting you. Coulson saw something in you. Something special, that I saw too. Despite your constant protests to the contrary.”

Katie blinked, her eyes filling a little with tears as she shook her head “I was nothing special, SHIELD made me what I was.” “Bullshit.” Natasha shook her head, gently squeezing Katie’s arm as they watched Fury dismiss Coulson and Past Natasha. “You were our Supernova from the start.” Katie looked at her, sniffing a little as Natasha pulled her in for a hug “And you’re still a goddamned superhero, suit or not.”

***** Katie sighed as she entered her hotel room, reaching for the lights. That had been a fucking nightmare. Once Tony had effectively blown a hole in their home after a showdown with Rhodey he had taken off. She’d then, along with Natalie and Pepper spent fuck knows how long dealing with the emergency services. She had no idea where the hell her brother was, and at that particular point in time she didn’t care. He’d behaved like a prize prick.

She walked through to the main living room and gave a little yell of surprise as Natalie was sat on the couch, along with a familiar face.

“What the…” she looked at Fury as he stood up. “Natalie…what…” And then it dawned on her… “You’re one of them? You’re SHIELD?” “Miss Stark, allow me to introduce Agent Natasha Romanoff. One of the 2 I was telling you about”

“Well...” Katie blew out her breath “Fuck me.” “Yeah, it was kind of a shock.” Katie looked at Natasha as they watched the scene in front of them evolving as it changed again to reveal Agents now moving around their Malibu home in the daylight which was a little bit broken from the events of the party. “But at that point I was kind of past the point of disbelieving anything. Especially after Monaco.” “In my defence…” Tony piped up as he appeared besides Katie. “I was dying.”

“Yeah…which is why we found you inside a huge Randy’s Donut sign, eating a real donut without a fucking care in the world.” Natasha looked at Tony as Katie sniggered.

“Sir! I’m gonna have to ask you to exit the doughnut.” She mimicked Fury’s voice “Man...you still wouldn’t come down, it took me threatening to climb up there myself for you to listen”

Tony shrugged “I’d already told him, I didn’t want to join his super-secret boy band.”

“Lucky for you we ignored you.” Natasha shrugged “Well, I say ignored…it was quite the opposite actually. You’d become a pain in our ass.”

“Yeah, yeah, you had bigger problems in the southwest, I remember.” Tony said “Namely Point Break.”

“If they hadn’t given you that lithium dioxide you’d have been a nightmare.” Katie looked at him. Tony eyed her for a moment, then nodded to the scene in front of them, Tony, Katie and Fury sat in their home, the wall completely blown away whilst two agents stood on the balcony looking out through binoculars.

“You told Tony that he hadn’t tried everything.” Katie looked at Fury “What do you mean he hasn’t tried everything? What hasn’t he tried?”

“He said that Tony was the only person with the means and knowledge to finish what he started.” Fury looked at her, then to her brother as he took a sip of his water.

“He said that?” Tony raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing a word Fury was saying.

“Are you that guy? Are you? ‘Cause if you are, then you can solve the riddle of your heart.”

Katie looked at Tony as she shook his head. “I don’t know where you get your information, but he wasn’t my biggest fan.”

“What do you remember about your dad?” Fury asked and Katie took in a deep breath and looked at Tony.

“He was cold, he was calculating. He never told me he loved me. He never even told me he liked me…”

“Tony…” Katie started to protest but he ignored her.

“…so it’s a little tough for me to digest when you’re telling me he said the whole future was riding on me and he’s passing it down. I don’t get that. You’re talking about a guy whose happiest day was when he shipped me off to boarding school.”

“That’s not true.” Katie sighed, and Fury pointed at her

“She’s right. It’s not.”

“Well, then, clearly you both knew dad better than I did” Tony leaned back in his chair and Katie’s attention was drawn to two Agents who walked behind Fury, carrying a silver, metal box of sorts.

“As a matter of fact, I did.” Fury placed his glass down and glanced at his watch “He was one of the founding members of SHIELD.”

Katie blinked and looked at Agent Romanoff who had appeared behind her

“What?” Tony sat up straight.

“I still don’t know why he never told us…” Katie looked at Tony as they watched their past selves bombarding Fury with questions which he deflected.

“Beats me…” Tony shrugged “But he was a man of many mysteries, as this proves…”

Katie’s eyes tracked Fury as he left before she turned back to look at herself, her brother and Agent Coulson.

“I’ve been authorised by Director Fury to use any means necessary to keep you on premises.” Coulson looked at Tony “If you attempt to leave or play any games, I will tase you and watch Supernanny while you drool into the carpet. Okay?””

“I think I got it, yeah.”

“Wait, do I need to stay here too? Katie looked at Coulson “Because just to warn you, I’ll likely end up killing him before any blood poisoning does.” “Err, I can hear you.” Tony glared at her

“Good”

Coulson shrugged “That’s up to you Miss Stark” he then turned to Tony “Enjoy your evening’s entertainment.” He nodded to the box as he left.

Katie let out a sigh and sank into a chair.

“You heard what he just said. You can go.” Tony looked at her. “Yeah, well, as much as I would love to jump on a plane and head to New York right now, I can’t leave you like this Tone.” Katie ran her hands over her face “What kind of sister would that make me?” Tony looked at her taking a deep breath before he glanced at the box again and grimaced. “Think I might burn that.” “Don’t.” Katie said gently.

“Why not? I don’t care much to see what dearest daddy left for us.” “For you.” Katie looked at him. “What he left for you…” “You know, that was the only reason I opened that damned box.” Tony said softly and Katie turned to look at him “Like I said, I didn’t care and I didn’t believe a word Fury was saying but you, that simple phrase, reminding me that he left it for me specifically spurred me to do it.”

“Without that you would have died.” Katie said gently

“I did.” He grinned, shrugging.

“I mean then” Katie glared at him “Man I was so angry at you when I found out the palladium was poisoning you and you hadn’t told me.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.” He shrugged, watching as their past selves both took a hold of a handle of the box each and picked it up “Looking back on it, now I realise I was doing that anyway with my erratic behaviour.”

“Are you getting it yet?” Natasha said gently and Katie looked at her “All these seemingly small decisions you made and these apparent innocuous little statements…they all formed something so much bigger than you could ever have dreamed of.”

Katie looked down at her feet and swallowed.

“It isn’t about being Supernova, or an Avenger, or a perfect human.” Tony smiled “It’s about being Katie Stark, the person you are.” “Yeah, hold that thought because this next memory we’re gonna visit…” Natasha smiled “This one was kind of a big decision…”

****

“So she’s worth a shot?” Fury lounged in his chair, looking at Natasha as she sat opposite him. The pair were sat in an abandoned warehouse that appeared to be serving as some kind of temporary housing facility for SHIELD. There were 3 large displays in front of them, all being projected from the same type of metal box Fury had left at the mansion, and nothing else in the room bar a desk and a few chairs.

“I believe so. But, the thing is, I don’t think you’ll get one without the other…and my assessment of Tony isn’t quite as favourable.”

“Then we’ll just have to pique her interest so to speak…” Fury shrugged.

Natasha frowned “New Mexico?” and Fury gave a little smirk, causing Nat to snort “Good luck with that.”

“You make your own luck.” Fury said simply “In the meantime, I have another assignment for you. I need you to trail Dr Banner. If this item in New Mexico is what we think, then things are starting to get a little…weird shall we say.”

Natasha nodded “I’ll get right on it” and with that she stood up, nodding to the files on the desk. “Let me know how you get on.” “When do I ever need to let you know anything?” Fury looked at her “You know more than me half the time.” Natasha laughed “Now we know that isn’t true, don’t we Nick?”

“You absolute shits!” Katie looked at Natasha, tearing her eyes from the past version of the red head who was leaving Fury’s office. “That whole thing with Thor’s hammer…it was a ruse to get me into SHIELD.”

Natasha shrugged.

“I always thought it was because of what I did in New Mexico that I got offered a position but it was you all along, not Coulson like I thought!”

Natasha smiled “Coulson stuck you on the radar, but it was my decision to put you forward. A decision I’m proud of and would make a hundred times over.” “It was a shit decision.” Tony sniffed “You knocked me back.”

“That was more of an ego check than anything.” Natasha shrugged “I think deep down Fury always knew the way it would go.” She looked back at Katie “You proved me, and Coulson for that matter, right with your actions in New Mexico. Showed the exact level of compassion, bravery and initiative that we expected.”

Katie blinked and shook her head “I was just a normal person.” “You were, are a Stark.” Nat said simply “And SHIELD was all the better for it. It was your dad’s legacy after all.”

The scene in front of them faded and then, in the same offices, Katie saw herself and Tony sat at a desk.

“Should you be looking at that?” Katie asked as she sat next to Tony who had picked up the manilla file which was emblazoned with the words “AVENGERS INIAITIVE PRELIMINARY REPORT. Before Tony could reply a hand pinned the report down and they both looked up at Fury who was leaning slightly over the desk.

“I don’t think I want you looking at that.” He levelled Tony with a look as he sat down opposite them at the other side of the desk. “I’m not sure it pertains to you anymore. Now this on the other hand…” he said, picking up another file off the desk “…is Agent Romanoff’s assessment of you. Read it.” He instructed, handing Tony the file.

“Errr….” Tony scanned the page “’Personality overview. Mr Stark displays compulsive behaviour…’”

Katie snorted and Tony looked at Fury “In my own defence that was last week”

Fury looked at him and Tony gave a small sigh and continued “’Prone to self-destructive tendencies.’ I was dying. I mean, please. Aren’t we all? ‘Textbook narcissism’?”

“Agreed.” Katie jumped in and Tony turned to look at her as she shrugged. He arched an eyebrow, holding her gaze for a moment before he looked back at the report.

“Okay, here it is. ‘Recruitment assessment for Avenger Initiative. Iron Man? Yes.’ I gotta think about it.”

“Read on.” Fury replied.

“ ‘Tony Stark not… Not recommended”? That doesn’t make any sense.” He dropped the file to the desk. “How can you approve me but not approve me?”

Katie’s eyes tracked Fury as he got up out of his chair with a heavy sigh as Tony continued.

“I got a new ticker. I’m trying to do right by Pepper. I’m in a stable-ish relationship.”

Fury perched on the edge of the desk by Katie and looked at Tony. “Which leads us to believe at this juncture we’d only like to use you as a consultant.”

Katie knew that despite her brother declaring he wanted nothing to do with this initiative, that was going to be a blow to his ego and sure enough, Tony simply took a breath, stood up and offered Fury his hand to shake. Fury obliged, and Tony clasped his other hand on top of Fury’s. “You can’t afford me.”

At that he turned to leave. Katie made to follow but Fury signalled for her to stay in her seat.

“Then again…” Tony turned back round “I will waive my customary retainer in exchange for a small favour. Rhodey and I are being honoured in Washington and we need a presenter.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Fury said simply “Now, if you would be so kind, I’d like 5 minutes with your sister.”

Tony looked at Katie who nodded. “I’ll be in the car, Kiddo.”

Once he was gone, Fury turned to her “Miss Stark, like I said to you 6 months ago, SHIELD could use someone of your calibre.” Katie smiled and shook her head “I’m sorry Sir. I’m flattered, I really am but…” she took a deep breath “This, well it really isn’t for me.”

Fury sighed, “I thought you might say that. In that case, would you, perhaps, consider also joining us as a consultant?”

“Consulting on what?”

“You’re fairly knowledgeable on Mythology, am I right?” “I did a degree and had a few papers published.” She frowned “Why?”

“This pressing issue in the South West.” Fury said, walking to one of the screens and pressing a button. “I’d like your take on it.”

Katie’s eyes fell open as she glanced at a picture of a huge crater, and inside it looked like…

“No…no way.” She mumbled, standing up. “That’s…no, I mean…what the hell is that?”

“The official story is its part of a satellite.” Fury shrugged “Does it look like a satellite to you?”

“No, it looks like Mjolnir, the fabled hammer of Thor…” she said, before she scoffed, shaking her head “This is a plant. A fake, a hoax…” she looked at Fury “There has to be some kind of explanation.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Fury shrugged “But the thing is, when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how utterly ludicrous, has to be the truth…and, well, we’re running out of impossible to eliminate”

Katie looked back at the photo, shaking her head “No, no way…” “Miss Stark, when I said I’d seen things you couldn’t even begin to imagine I meant it.” He looked at her, and Katie swallowed as she stared back at him. “Now. I’d very much like for you to take a look and confirm that I’m crazy.”

“Where is it?” she asked after a short pause.

“New Mexico, about 30 miles South of Santa Fe.” “There’s a professor I know, based in Seville” Katie looked at Fury “He’s an expert I consulted a few times over my degree. Elliot Randal his name is. It’s probably worth giving him a call.”

“I’ll get onto it.” Fury nodded “And as for you, well, I can have a jet ready to fly you out there within the hour.”

Katie glanced at the photo, everything inside of her was screaming that his was ridiculous, farfetched, down right ludicrous…but there was just that small part of her brain that was niggling. If it was what she thought it was, then she couldn’t pass up an opportunity to be part of the team that identified it. Imagine what that would mean for man-kind going forward.

She inhaled, letting the breath out of her nose before she gave Fury a curt nod. “Ok. I’ll go.” “Really?” Tony scoffed as Katie watched herself, shaking hands with Fury “It was that easy?”

“I was curious.” Katie shrugged. “And I’m glad I was. That decision to go to New Mexico…without it, I would never have joined SHIELD. Might never have met Steve….I’m guessing that’s what this little flashback is about?”

“Hmmm, possibly not but one thing is for sure, you wouldn’t have been the one sent to that Boxing Gym. And whether or not Steve has ever told you this, you were the reason he took that mission inadvertently.” “He would have done it anyway given the Tesseract…” “But he trusted you right from the start, and that swayed him.” Natasha pressed. “And then when you fought alongside him in Stuttgart, captured Loki, then the battle in New York...all of that just solidified the fact in his mind you were a good person. It might not have been love at first sight but he trusted you, confided in you. You worked side by side, grew close both in and out of work, and he fell in love with you. You understood him, could cope with his lifestyle because you lived it.”

Katie blinked as what Natasha was saying began to sink in. “So this…” she waved her hand “Me seeing this now, isn’t simply a reminder of me making a decision that in the end led to me becoming an Avenger. It’s about me making a decision that meant Steve and I made it.?”

Natasha nodded.

“Because we never would have done if I didn’t understand what SHIELD and the Avengers were about on a simple day-to-day basis.” Kate finished.

Natasha beamed, “You made it easy for him to love you and possible for him to envisage a future with you because you lived the life he was all about. Shared life experience, so to speak.”

“And all that stems from that simple decision to get on a plane to New Mexico because you were curious.” Tony smiled and Katie looked at him, once more the tears stinging her eyes “Actions have consequences Kiddo and nine times outta ten it’s the consequences we don’t ever dream of at the point of acting which are the ones that shape our lives.”

#stark spangled destiny #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers #katie stark #tony stark #natasha romanoff

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heystephwrites · 3 years ago

Text

The Peace Referendum

Originally published on October 13th, 2016 I wrote this blog post to answer questions I received about the peace referendum in Colombia.

The week before last, in the midst of the SENA strike aka the impromptu and undesired holiday, I began to write a blog post titled COLOMBIA SIGNS PEACE DEAL. Well, two weeks after the referendum I can say that someone certainly signed a peace deal but it wasn’t Colombia.

President Juan Manuel Santos, a man of polarised opinion, was seemingly making good on his pre-electoral promise of peace since, three weeks ago, he signed a historic peace deal with the FARC rebels. The FARC, whilst not the only rebel group involved in the 52-year conflict, are by far the largest and most influential. It was assumed that if this deal had been accepted by the Colombian population other groups such as the ELN would follow suit in the coming months and years. Alas, they did not and thus it’s back to the drawing board for the peace talks.

The decision against the peace treaty has left many, Colombian and extranjero alike, scratching their heads in confusion. Why would the people vote no? Are Colombians not interested in resolving the longest-running armed conflict in the Americas? The answer, as always, is it’s complicated. Nothing here is straightforward; not the conflict; not public opinion; not even the referendum itself.

In theory, referendums seem like a wonderful avenue of direct democracy in an otherwise imperfect system, in reality, this couldn’t be further from the truth. Referendums are extremely rarely used, although 2016 does seem to be the year of the referendum (here’s looking at you Brexit, Thailand, and Italy among others) because alongside other flaws they have the tendency to be incredibly unpredictable. In this case, up until the day of the vote the polls had forecasted solid support for the ‘yes’ camp but it was not to be. To determine why this was, one must look at what drives voters in a referendum. Is it a carefully deliberated conviction based on clearly explained facts? Probably not.

In this and other referendums, the voting public was not sufficiently informed to make decisions on such a complicated and technical issue. This wasn’t merely a vote for peace (to which all would agree) but on a specific peace treaty, one that the details of which were not made abundantly clear. There was a sense of secrecy about it and secrecy always breeds mistrust. What we do know about the peace treaty is that it was particularly lenient towards the FARC. It was extremely lenient in fact, no-jail-time-and-10-seats-in-parliament-to-a-diminishing-and-discredited-rebel-army lenient.

This should really have been foreseen, however. Santos is still in power because of his promise to do what his predecessors could not and secure lasting peace. His second term of presidency was secured by the skin of his teeth, just 50.95% of the vote as opposed to 68.9% in 2010. Many of his supporters that tipped the scales were those among the left that hoped for peaceful negotiation with the FARC. One can assume this is what drove his tactic of peace “at any costs" - a tactic criticized by his old buddy and former Colombian president Alvaro Uribe.

That said, buddy mightn’t be the best word to describe their current relationship as although Uribe helped win the presidency for Santos in 2010, the two later split. Uribe’s campaign against the peace deal is thought to be one of the principal reasons that the no vote prevailed.

The basis of Uribe's campaign was that the FARC should be punished harshly for their crimes.

“Peace is exciting, but the text of the Havana deal is disappointing,” said Uribe

Uribe’s campaign took advantage of the widespread hatred of the FARC. Honestly, the phrase widespread hatred might be an understatement. For many Colombians, there is a special place in hell for members of the FARC as the most recent period of violence was started by the FARC’s insurgency and the violence has been pretty horrific. The numbers reported vary but most agree that it has left; more than 260,000 dead with the large majority being civilian; 6.9 million people internally displaced (which, for reference, is even more than Sudan and Iraq combined), and over 75,000 people have disappeared or been kidnapped. Somewhere in the region of half of all Colombians have lost a family member to violence over the years and many understandably lay the blame at FARC's door. Yet, when looking at the evidence that doesn't come directly from the Colombian government, one can't help but feel the hatred is, in some cases, misplaced. If you read nothing else in this post please read this:

“The United Nations has estimated that 12% of all killings of civilians in Colombian conflict have been committed by the FARC and ELN guerrillas, and the rest, 80%, by government forces and paramilitaries.”

So yes, the FARC have undoubtedly done some atrocious things but the Colombian government also have A LOT to answer for.

This has obviously never been mentioned. In the same way that many voters in the UK were swayed by xenophobic propaganda, strong personalities such as Nigel Farage, and expensive advertising campaigns during the Brexit movement, the hatred of the FARC was a much more beneficial political tool for Uribe’s campaign. In the UK, voters were lured with falsified promises, all of which have fallen to the wayside, leaving many regretting their decision. Whether this happens in Colombia remains to be seen.

In addition to hatred, many citizens mistrust the FARC. This, as has been mentioned, is not the first attempt at peace or a peace deal. In previous endeavours, the FARC have gone back on their word and this also played a major factor in the outcome.

Interestingly though, the areas in which one would expect people to have the most hatred towards the FARC voted for the peace deal. It seems the area’s most affected by the violence just wanted it to stop. They were not interested in vengeance, just peace.

For this reason, the phrase "tyranny of the majority” is often associated with referendums. This situation is an example of the worst kind because the whims of the majority have superseded the needs of the minority. Although in this case, "the tyranny of whoever bothered to leave their house on that rainy Sunday" would be more apt.

Referendums are only direct democracy if people bother to take part in them. Turnout for this one was a disappointing 37%. Reasons for this low turnout vary from the weather to general indifference. Another thing to remember is that unlike Europe most Latin American countries are new to direct democracy (the exception being Uruguay) and Colombians especially, weary from years of violence and disappointment, are particularly politically apathetic.

Another difficulty that plagued this referendum was a problem with separability. This is the inability to separate the facts before them from other issues. There were a few somewhat direct issues; others were completely unrelated. One less related issue was Santos and his government.

Everywhere except Colombia Santos’ popularity is soaring but here in the country itself, it’s at an all-time low. Colombia’s economy has been struggling of late and unemployment is at 9 percent. He has made some highly questionable moves during his presidency but this isn’t all Santos’ fault; the low prices for oil and trade relations with China have a lot to do with it. Regardless there are many Colombians that believe he has been far too preoccupied with peace negotiations to really deal with the economy. Peace should bring eventual prosperity to the country but for now, the Colombian peso has fallen sharply against the dollar since the talks began in 2012. Although before the referendum a yes appeared certain to anyone paying attention, nationally or internationally, it seemed to many nationals that his interest lay more in international public opinion. This only fortified the perception within Colombia that, now nearing the end of his time in political office he was pursuing other honours and that his haste for a deal was not for the good of the nation, but to secure the Nobel Peace Prize.

Whilst campaigning overseas Santos made the Secretary of Education, Gina Parody, the face of the yes vote in Colombia. No one is sure why, Parody is even less popular than Santos, but we can be sure that this backfired on him. One of the ideas that Parody tried to push was gender-specific care for victims of sexual violence, however, because Parody is openly gay, right wing activists twisted this when it was reported to the general public. Somehow it ended up being explained to already concerned Christians as a “gender ideology” that sought to promote sexual diversity. Many voted no because they believed the treaty to be a threat to the nuclear family. Sadly after months of having her sexual orientation used to sabotage her work, Parody has since resigned.

Already you can see that the situation is very, very complicated and if I’m honest I’ve barely scratched the surface. The more important question is “so what now Colombia? Where do we go from here?” Back to the drawing board, it looks like. Let’s just hope there are no casualties while we wait.

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makiema · 6 years ago

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SnK 118 and Armin's role in the future

I know I'm a lot late in addressing this but when the chapter first released I had my exams and didn't really have a lot of time in hand to write a meta. Anyway, now that I'm free, I'd like to spitball some ideas about this particular panel which raised a lot of questions in the fandom.

What was the significance of Isayama including this moment from Chapter 90 and what exactly was he foreshadowing? Well here's my stance on this :

• Events of Chapter 90 : Let's revisit Chapter 90 and take a look at Armin and Eren's reactions and their eventual interaction when they reach the ocean.

•Armin :

Contrasted to everyone else just having fun, we find Armin staring hard at something. When he sets foot in the water, he is shown looking at something intently - a conch shell. Now, it may as well be coincidence and I'm just being pedantic but, the conch shell is symbolic of other things. The conch shell stands for control, harmony and overall coordination among living things in Hinduism and Buddhism. Apparently, deities holding the conch or being sculpted in a manner that emphasizes the concentric rings found in a conch, symbolize their hold on civilization which maintains stability and peace. Thus, a conch stands for order and implies proper functioning of civilization.

Armin is a character well known for being rational, logical and most importantly for being the one who is always looking for a truce. He wants to "talk", he is more than capable of making the most inhumane decisions but he's always wanting to "talk" things out first. He's the one always seeking a diplomatic solution. Him coming across the conch doesn't seem to be a mere coincidence. Also, not to forget that Armin is the narrator of the show. It is possible that he will be the one to restore order in the chaotic world of SnK once again. He may be one of the key figures in ending the war, working for peace and order in it's aftermath and then he narrates the story to the future generation.

Anyway, going back to Armin and the conch, we see the scene getting plenty attention even in the anime. They cut out Hanji holding a slime but they assigned a lot of time to Armin holding the conch. It may after all have more significance than is visible on the surface.

• Eren : When Eren reaches the ocean, we see him depressed unlike the others. The whole mood is melancholy because of Eren's overruling depression. He has just seen his father's memories, the cruelty of the world has been shoved into his brain and the disturbing images keep resurfacing. We see that happening when he attempts to cheer up Armin. Eren cannot be happy again, he cannot be freed from those memories unless he does away with the cruelty- that much is clear to him. That's why we see him saying - " If we kill them all, does that mean we'll be free?"

The ocean,or preferably sea, is more than often used in literature to epitomise hardships in life and the unfathomable human emotions that make it so complex. Here, the sea represents chaos, uneasiness and sadness for Eren. The people who think of him and his race as enemies reside on the other side of these unfathomable waters. Eren is at a loss and he fails to fathom their barbaric ways. There's no understanding between him and his foes (there cannot be any). He sees them as an impediment to freedom and feels impelled to kill them.

• Eren and Armin : We see how Eren and Armin find it rather hard to communicate. Or better put, they're not thinking along the same lines. It is not really possible as Armin has no clue about the cumulative weight that has fallen on Eren. He cannot grasp the strain of it all. There's clear lack of any meaningful interaction between the two of them. Eren is not interested in sharing Armin's enthusiasm upon seeing the ocean of his dreams. His voice is awfully impassive. What particularly catches my attention is how Armin is holding onto the conch shell and calling out to Eren to look at it but he remains unbothered. He just points at the horizon and talks about the enemy. Their thoughts are totally different and there is little to no connection.

If the conch shell is indeed representing order, then we can say that Armin wants Eren to take a look at it but, Eren is thinking differently. He knows there cannot be any order as long as the world isn't even willing to see Eldians as humans. Eren has seen what happened to Faye because of Grisha's immaturity.

The price that Grisha had to pay for freedom was this- the horrifying death of Faye. The world is cruel. It isn't willing to give room for deliberation. For now, Eren needs to eliminate his enemies to move forward. That much is clear and we see that happening with the Attack on Liberio. Eren had to wage war because he had to protect his friends. He knew very well that if the whole world went ahead with the idea of eliminating Paradis, there wouldn't even be an opportunity to propose a truce. It would be over. Eren had to be an agent of chaos out of necessity. That's why in Chapter 90 we see him indifferent towards Armin as well as the conch Armin is asking him to take a look at.

• Back to 118 : There's similar lack of communication between Eren and his friends. He has done his absolute best in trying to cut them off. But, given how dire the situation is his friends must proceed to aid him. Armin, when trying to make sense of Eren's behaviour, recalls Eren's words and says "No way".

Most of us interpret that as Armin's realization that Eren is actually going to trample on the whole world and therefore, he doesn't want his friends to have any part in it. But, that's not gonna prevail. Eren is not about to abruptly wreck the whole world with his Rumbling. In the long run, it'll just make the world even more apprehensive of Eldians and they'll continue to be discriminated against. Nobody knows better than Eren that one cannot rule with fear and oppression. Also, he is the one who absolutely detests the idea of toying with human life as normalcy, no matter the situation. It's clear in this panel.

It is unlike Eren to cause destruction just to show superiority of a race; it violates his basic nature. Eren did account for civilian casualties in Liberio but that was inadvertent. If he hadn't intervened there, the whole of Paradis would have been wiped off because they were simply not ready to defend themselves. He had to buy time, he had to act before it was too late.

However, things are different now with Armin coming back into action. The miscommunication between him and Eren that has been an issue will be resolved by Armin. Maybe that's why he's holding the conch, which stands for order and harmony. Isayama's purpose in including the panel could be more than just highlighting Eren's words rather, it throws light on Armin as it is essentially him reviewing his past. He doesn't know what happened to Eren at Marley- how he became empathetic toward his sworn enemies- but he does know that Eren will not hesitate to kill them if they stand in his way of being free. However, Armin is not about to let the world plunge into outright chaos with the rumbling. To make a show that Eldians can actually flatten the whole world will make things worse than ever. He will come up with a better solution, a solution that won't put the future of Eldians at stake AGAIN. He must be the one to bridge the gap between Eldians and the world using his diplomatic skills. Armin is the only one capable of bringing an armistice. He still has a card to play.

Also, it's highly likely that the devil is the ultimate villain and Armin will have to come up with a plan to defeat him in the end. Of course, Eren has to be the ace of Armin's plan. That has always been and that's probably the reason why Isayama shows Armin thinking of Eren. Armin still has a greater role to perform and that will most probably be him advising Eren in his battle against the devil. The devil or in that case whoever is pulling the strings seems way too crafty for Eren to deal with on his own. So, Eren will definitely have to depend on Armin to come up with a fool proof strategy in the final battle to save humanity. This could have been foreshadowed as early as in the serum bowl where Eren tries to convince Levi by citing all of Armin's achievements. He implores that it's not Erwin or him but, Armin who's going to save the world.

Was he just bluffing to save his friend's life or did these words carry a subtle foreboding of the future? Let me also stress on Floch referring to Erwin as the devil out of nowhere in the same scene. We know, in the end, Armin survives and Erwin is made to rest. Is it mere coincidence that the one tagged to be the saviour prevails and the one referred to as the devil meets his end or is it another indication to the course the manga will take?

The last thing I want to talk about is Armin's dream. His dream is to see the whole world. It was never just about seeing the ocean. He wants to see the "lands made of ice", "snowy fields of sand", etc.

Who's more convenient to bring peace in the world than someone who actually wants to see all of it? If the world plunges into chaos again, Armin's dreams will never come true. If the world continues to shun the Eldians, then Armin can never fully see the world in all it's beauty. Therefore, he has to be the one to unite it. Armin will intercede into any plans of outright wiping out another race and make way for pacification. He'll be the one to do away with all the warfare and discrimination. That's his role in the future; after all there's no one more apt.

#snk #snk meta #eren jaeger #eren yaeger #armin arlert #i want eremin coordination again #i am all for eren and armin working together #i have actually missed the pair #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot #snk theory #snk thoughts

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clockmechanismkits · 4 years ago

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Learn More About Specialty Clock Movements

Specialty clock movements are out of the common watch engines, points that expand timekeeping past twelve-hour cycles or display information not time-related. Clock movements with a specialty are apt to be uniqueness, appealing means for hobbyists to create something unusual, or possibly implies for recovering or fixing an existing timepiece. In this short article we take a look at a large range of these monsters.

Specialized clock movements are available from on the internet vendors lugging mainstream products such as average electric motors, dials, hands, sets, and inserts. Perhaps not all distributors will have in supply all of the items stated in this short article, but if you quest around you should have the ability to find what you need. You additionally may locate something not mentioned here that ignites your passion.

Most clocks have useds that jerkily tick as well as quit, typically audibly. You can omit the previously owned if you don't want it, but you can not squelch the distinct tick. A good choice is to a continuous move clock movement that revolves the second hand efficiently and continuously with no audio in all, perfect for bed rooms or quiet analysis areas.

The first time extension motion we point out is one that cycles every 24-hour as opposed to the common twelve. Making it unique is that all two-dozen numbers are shown along the dial area to make sure that the minute hand makes the standard rotation every hour however the hour hand does so just once a day. The corresponding dial to this motor fits to be large sufficient in diameter to need the activity to have a high torque capability.

Afterward extension motor has the ability to identify among the days in a calendar month. The equivalent dial reveals 31 numbers along its area, and a special fourth hand ticks right into the next position when the day modifications at twelve o'clock at night.

Even more of a specialized time extension thing is the activity showing the day of the week. Here the equivalent dial has the days of the week printed radially in its center. This clock additionally calls for a fourth hand that changes its setting to point at the next day at midnight.

Things presenting non-temporal information include tide movements as well as thermometer movements. The one suggesting trend setting is actually temporal in that it cycles according to the lunar cycle of 24 hours as well as 50 minutes; you can get this electric motor as a standalone or in mix with a standard timekeeping clock. Thermometer movements consist of a sensing unit for registering rapid temperature, as well as they turn a single hand throughout an arced gauge.

You could consider an electrical clock motion for powering the wrist watch from a 110-volt wall socket. This thing is really a converter that deals with any type of battery-powered movement, and often, if the battery is rechargeable, it can act as backup power throughout a power outage.

Another appealing item is the trigger movement, which is a normal electric motor that outputs a set of cables for connecting to chimes or a few other sound-making tool. The activity sends a signal out over the cables on the hour.

Some old barbershops had a reverse operating clock (going counterclockwise as opposed to clockwise) placed on the back wall to ensure that clients could see the time by searching in the mirror before them. You can get a reverse time activity for doing specifically the very same point. You also need to get the matching dial that has actually the numbers printed backwards.

Finally, take into consideration a rotating pendulum drive, which is not an activity however can be made use of together with an ordinary motion. The pendulum rotates flat, rotating between clockwise and also counterclockwise instructions. It's what you might see in older anniversary clocks.

Structure watches from scratch can be satisfying and satisfying, as well as the hobby can supply opportunities for producing something unique. Thanks for putting in the time to learn about specialized clock movements.

clock motors

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awesomelephuoclocblog-blog · 5 years ago

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the-end-of-art · 5 years ago

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A negative peace

Asian American Complicity in Racism by Larry Lin at Reformed Margins

I moved to Baltimore in August 2013. Prior to that time, I was pretty ignorant of the African American experience. I had read Uncle Tom’s Cabin in school, and I remember that making a strong impression on me. I was also a bit of a history nerd, so I had read up a little bit on the slave trade, Reconstruction, and Jim Crow.

But I don’t think I ever had a substantial conversation with someone who was black about race before.

Within a few months of moving to Baltimore (which is a majority-black city), I became friends with a guy named Mani. Mani was an African American born and raised in Baltimore, and we would hang out to talk about faith and make music. The first time I went over to his apartment, I remember noticing three things.

The first was a picture of Martin Luther King, Jr. The second was a picture of Malcolm X. And the third was a bag of Skittles and a soda can on the coffee table.

Every time I would go over, I would always notice those three things. Perhaps the third or fourth time at his place, I asked Mani why he always had snacks on the coffee table. He replied with a voice of resolve, “That’s what Trayvon Martin was holding when he was shot.”

When I heard that, my first thought was, “Travyon Martin… that name sounds familiar. When I get home, I need to look that name up.” Of course, I was too embarrassed to say that out loud. I didn’t want Mani to know that I was so ignorant. But right then and there, I realized that there was a vast difference between my experience as an Asian American and Mani’s experience as an African American.

So over the next several years, as I got to know Mani more, I decided to read up on what it was like to be black in America today. I explored the criminal justice system, the prison system, police violence, infant mortality, social mobility, wealth distribution, college enrollment, etc., and I slowly became more and more aware of the structural disadvantages that continually plague African Americans in our country. Additionally, the more I learned, the more shocked I was at how ignorant I was before.

Meanwhile, I watched with the rest of the world as the lives of Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Walter Scott, Freddie Gray, Philando Castile, Botham Jean, Atatiana Jefferson, and Ahmaud Arbery were taken away.

This week, yet another life was taken away: George Floyd. I watched the video of the incident on Tuesday, and once again I was horrified to see another death of a black human being.

But with this video, there was something else that disturbed me too. While the white officer was pinning down Floyd’s neck with his knee, an Asian officer was standing by in silence, and even at times preventing protestors from intervening.

To me, it was the perfect representation of Asian American complicity in racism.

I acknowledge that there have been Asian Americans throughout history who have fought alongside their African American neighbors against racism. However, they have been far outnumbered by Asian Americans who have chosen to be ignorant at best or complicit at worst in their racism.

There are many complex historical and cultural reasons for this Asian American status quo, and it would take forever to address them all. We can talk about the fact that many Asians value harmony and sacrifice, even at the expense of integrity and justice. We can talk about the fact that many Asian immigrants come from countries where there are dictators, and where political advocacy results in imprisonment or death.

But the fact remains: too often, Asian Americans have chosen to side with the white racist over the black victim.

Much of the national conversation on race has focused on the relationship between whites and blacks. As a result, Asians are often found in the messy middle. However, most Asians don’t want to be in the middle. Even though we have also experienced a long history of racial discrimination at the hands of our white neighbors, many of us still see assimilation into white culture as our path to fulfilling the American dream. And so we work hard, we study hard, we don’t ruffle any feathers, and we continue to live up to our status of the model minority (which has been granted to us largely at the expense of African Americans).

We Asian Americans might not say it out loud, but many of us have internalized a racist, reductionist history. We believe that the way to success is to work hard, and we pride ourselves in having done just that. We came to this country with nothing, speaking a foreign language, and we worked hard, saved money, and we achieved the American dream. And so when we look at the status of African Americans, we dismissively assume that they didn’t work as hard as we did, and we just conclude that only they are to blame.

Unfortunately, this narrative has driven Asian Americans to be at political and social odds with African Americans. This division is most apparent in conversations about affirmative action, which has become the defining political issue for many Asian Americans. In many universities, Asian Americans are overrepresented in college admissions while African Americans are underrepresented, so affirmative action works against Asian Americans but for African Americans.

This political division is highlighted in events like the LA Riots, in which predominantly African American rioters caused significant damage in predominantly Asian-American-owned stores, and the shooting of Akai Gurley, in which an Asian American police officer accidentally shot and killed an African American.

However, this narrative is a very incomplete picture. What many Asian Americans fail to realize is that our success is largely built on the backs of African Americans themselves. After all, if African American slavery did not exist, the United States may not have been such a desirable country to immigrate to. It was through the enslavement of African Americans that American prosperity was built in the first place. Additionally, if it wasn’t for the generations of African Americans fighting for their rights before most of us ever arrived, it is possible that Asian Americans would not have been as easily accepted here as well. In many ways, African Americans laid the path for other ethnic minorities to come to America too.

The reality is that we Asian Americans have unknowingly reaped from the sufferings of our fellow African Americans. The least we can do is stand with them as they continue to suffer.

Perhaps some of us, like my former self, are willing to admit that we are uninformed or uneducated about the African American experience, but we argue that that doesn’t make us complicit in racism. We are not actually killing anybody, we might say. However, sometimes it is precisely the inaction of the bystanders that perpetuates societal racism.

Martin Luther King, Jr. once wrote in his Letter from Birmingham Jail,

…I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.

Here King describes “the white moderate” of his day—those of “shallow understanding” who are “more devoted to ‘order’ than to justice,” who prefer a “negative peace” over “the presence of justice.” What an apt description of so many Asian Americans today.

A similar sentiment is expressed in James 2:1-7,

My brothers, show no partiality as you hold the faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory. For if a man wearing a gold ring and fine clothing comes into your assembly, and a poor man in shabby clothing also comes in, and if you pay attention to the one who wears the fine clothing and say, “You sit here in a good place,” while you say to the poor man, “You stand over there,” or, “Sit down at my feet,” have you not then made distinctions among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts? Listen, my beloved brothers, has not God chosen those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom, which he has promised to those who love him? But you have dishonored the poor man. Are not the rich the ones who oppress you, and the ones who drag you into court? Are they not the ones who blaspheme the honorable name by which you were called?

“We are not actively harming the poor,” we may say, but doesn’t our partiality for the rich perpetuate the inequality between the rich and the poor?

I believe the same principle can be applied to race. Many Asian Americans have shown partiality by honoring their white neighbors while dishonoring their black neighbors. Doesn’t our partiality for those who are white perpetuate the inequality between whites and blacks?

I confess that I, like the Asian American officer at the scene of George Floyd’s death, have been a part of the problem. For much of my life, I was complicit in my racism toward African Americans, and I was completely oblivious to that racism. I was more devoted to order than to justice. I sought to honor the powerful, not realizing that doing so was dishonoring the powerless. But that is not the biblical way. James writes, “Are not the rich the ones who oppress you, and the ones who drag you into court?” I would also add, “Are not the people who are racist against African Americans also racist against Asian Americans as well?”

I don’t want to be ignorant anymore. I don’t want to be silent anymore. I don’t want to be complicit anymore.

Fellow Asian Americans, let’s stop defending the racism in our culture. Let’s stand in solidarity with our African American neighbors.

(https://reformedmargins.com/asian-american-complicity-in-racism/)

#george floyd #asian american #black #african american #christian #black lives matter #martin luther king jr #mlk jr

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insomniacowl · 4 years ago

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Neon Genesis Evangelion analysis Chapter 16 Seele, Gehrin, Nerv and…

Seele All-Star Special?

The United nation in the world of NGE is merely an assembly of multinational military forces that finds itself struggling to keep itself together amidst the devastation and strife the Second impact has brought onto the world. As we have discussed in previous chapters, the secret organization Seele was behind this catastrophe. ‘Seele’ is a German word meaning ‘Soul’ and we are shown that there are fifteen members at its highest level. While many believe the correct number to be twelve, in just one single scene in the renewal version episode 24 when they are talking to Kaworu, we see fifteen monoliths.

Because they are loosely based off of the twelve apostles of Jesus twelve seems to be the correct number and perhaps showing fifteen monoliths were a mistake that slipped through the cracks of production. But, I argue that this is born out of attempts to legitimize the Christian symbolism more then it was intended and that there is something that could be said regarding the number of monoliths that we see here. This I will cover in greater detail in the chapter (19) covering Kaworu.

Out of Seele's members, we are familiar with five of them, namely Lorenz Keel, and four others that we do see the face of. All other members are shown only via voice coming from the monoliths that are numbered. Considering that another inspiration for this organization was the Freemasons, the numbers likely refer to their hierarchy or order of admittance.

The face of Lorenz Keel

We are never told where Seele originated from and this secretive origin is canon; not even the residents of the world of NGE know their past. But we still know that they are influential to the point they can mobilize the UN to do their biddings and that work under the guidance of the “Scenario” that is laid out in the Dead seas scroll. The Scrolls also contains the information of the two moons, Lance of Longinus, and the number of angels they are to expect.

Some believe that the scrolls also mention Evangelions, but that is a rumor. There is no evidence to suggest that.

Let us now talk a little about Keel. What kind of person is he? We can tell from the end of Evangelion that half of his body (Maybe more) has been replaced with cybernetic implants. Perhaps the goggle that we always see him wearing might not be a goggle but cybernetic eyes that he uses.

This points to the possibility that Keel is actually older then he seems to be, this leading some to theorize that Seele might be “A group of immortal robot-human hybrids” but due to other members of Seele not being shown in this sequence, we cannot say anything definitive about this argument

The truth of Keel Lorenz

A little side note on the End of Evangelion where we are shown Keel’s mechanical body. While many interpret it as the producers of the series showing us the long time and great effort Seele’s members have invested into achieving HIP, I believe that we can also see this as (at least) Keel being a complex character who speaks of wanting to ‘transcend’ life and death via HIP while having an obsession with life so great that he has chosen to extend his life by artificial methods

The council of HIP

Coming back to our main topic and move onto the scene where we see five of the Seele members. This special meeting is aptly naming the “Human instrumentality Project council special summon” and are conducted among five of the top members of Seele and happens five times throughout the series. The colors on each of their tables symbolize the countries that each of them comes from.

First White for Germany and Keel. Yellow for France (this character shares the VA with Fuyutsuki), Blue for Russia, Green for the U.S, and Red for the UK. In the series itself, we are only told of the country of origin of the Green in episode 14, the rest is information from the Evangelion collection book. Some would have realized that four out of the five mentioned here are the 'Permanent Members of the United Nations Security Council', the difference being China having been replaced by Germany.

Why this choice of a dark room though?

Out of the five nations represented, Germany plays a significant role in the world of Evangelion. Germany suffered one of the biggest damages of the Second Impact, has the 3rd Nerv operations base where both Kaji and Misato worked in the past. Germany was also the country of origin of Asuka and was where she received her training.

In the bible, seven eyes represent the ‘All-knowing’

This is about all we know, thus able to discuss Seele. In the end, they are sort of Deus Ex Machina that is used to explain away financial, influential, political requirements required by Nerv. Even if the viewers complain that "This is unrealistic!", Seele serves to explain it away.

Moving on from Seele, let us now talk about Seele’s subordinate organization Gehrin, and its successor Nerv.

Akagi Naoko, first-generation member of Gehrin

In German, Gehrin means ‘Brain’ and is the name of the organization that Seele gave their line of support after the Second impact. It was an organization that focused mainly on the construction of the Evangelions and was shown building its headquarters in the third Tokyo city (where current Nerv headquarters is located). It was headed by Gendou with the support of Akagi Naoko working as the head researcher. Since the nature of their activities had to be kept a secret, the public was told that Gehrin was a UN subordinate research facility focused on researching ‘Artificial evolution’.

Ironically, this cover identity falls in line perfectly with what they were actually doing. once the goals of constructing Evangelions were achieved, Gehrin disbanded and was replaced with Special operative organization Nerv run by the same people who were in charge of Gehrin. Simply said, the biggest change was their name.

Yet the organization's name was not the only difference these two organizations had. While Gehrin focused on creating the capacity required for using Evangelions and were completely secretive of their activities, Nerv was more public (although with half-truths) of their activities and publicized goal of the organization ‘an organization focused on repelling the angels’. Across the seven operation bases around the world, they focused on achieving ‘peace for humankind’ and even had an active PR department.

Let’s also talk a little about the iconographies of Nerv. Nerv is the root word for Nerve in English and is used in the same way. It refers to the nerve in our body but also to the ‘Nerve to do something’. As an organization that succeeded Gehrin (Brain) and carries out its plans to fight the angels, I believe the name is very apt.

The Nerv logo is a leaf of a fig tree. In the book of Genesis, Eve uses the leaf of the fig tree to cover herself when she felt shame after eating the fruit of knowledge. For Seele and Nerv that operate to undo the original sin, the choice of the fig leaf is also highly fitting.

The passage on the bottom of the logo “God’s in his heaven. All’s right with the world” comes from Robert Browning’s ‘Pippa Passes’ and is a cynical way of saying that even without a god, the world runs well enough on its own.

Commander: Since when did the UN become a toy (Unit – 02) delivery service?

If they had the money to spend on such toys, they should send some funds our way.

While Nerv is considered the UN’s subordinate organization, it appears that this is only concerning the direction of funds flowing towards Nerv. We can see that the UN is in fact under the control of Nerv. This is shown well in Episode 8 when the commander of the fleet complains of the state of things and how powerless he feels following the orders of Nerv. Furthermore, we can see in episode 21’s newspaper that the UN moved its headquarters to the third Tokyo city for convenience. Of course, we know that Nerve has a strong influence only with Seele supporting them. When Seele stopped their support, we all know what has happened to them. So we can say that Nerv was in its best operative condition when they were fighting off the angels. After all, that was what Nerv was made for.

Calendar of important dates in Evangelion

4 Billion BC

Adam arrives on earth

Lilith arrives on earth

First Impact

1947

Dead Seas scroll discovered

9th April 1956

Birth of Fuyutsuki

19th April 1967

Birth of Rokubunki Gendou

30th March 1977

Birth of Ikari Yui

1985

17th June Birth of Kaji Ryoji

21st November Birth of Akagi Ritsuko

8th December 1986

Birth of Katsuragi Misato

11th July 1991

Birth of Ibuki Maya

1999

Fuyutsuki meets Yui

Fuyutsuki meets Gendou

Yui and Gendou begin courtship

2000

12th September Gendou returns to Japan from Antarctica

13th September Second impact

Professor Katsuragi Dies

Birth of Kaworu

15th September India enters into war with Pakistan

20th September Old Tokyo destroyed by a nuclear bomb

2001

14th February Valentine peace treaty signed

6th June Birth of Ikari Shinji

12th September Birth of Aida Kensuke

4th December Birth of Asuka

26th December Birth of Suzuhara Touji

2002

Gendou and Fuyutsuki joins arctic exploration team under UN investigations council

18th February Birth of Horaki Hikari

2003

Construction of Evan begins

Blueprint of Magi drafted

Fuyutsuki joins Gehrin

China – Vietnam war begins

Japanese self-defense force created

2004

Death of Ikari Yui

Ikari Shinji put under the care of ‘Teacher’

Gendou proposes Human instrumentality project

Birth of First Rei

2005

Death of Kyoko Zeppelin

Asuka begins pilot training

Misato meets Ritsuko

Misato begin cohabitation with Kaji

Construction of third Tokyo city begins

2007

UN headquarters moved to Second Tokyo

Misato break up with Kaji

2008

Construction of Magi begins

Ritsuko graduates Second Tokyo university and joins Gehrin

2010

Misato and Kaji joins Gehrin

Magi completes. On the same day, Naoko and First Rei die. By suicide and straggling respectively.

Gehrin becomes Nerv

2012

Ikari Shinji meets his father for the first time in eight-year at Yui’s grave

2014

Ayanami Rei joins the Third Tokyo middle school

Asuka graduates university

Entry plug constructed

2015

Angel advances

TBC Chapter 17 Angel advances

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anonthenullifier · 5 years ago

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Of Cephalopods and Pistol Shrimp

Summary: Vision helps Wanda figure out a new way to harness her powers by using techniques from the ocean.

AO3 link

Based on a fic suggestion from @thissweetmoment about how Wanda goes from her looser powers in Age of Ultron to the tight, electric spheres in Civil War. Sorry this took me so damn long to actually write. I hope you enjoy!

I hope everyone else enjoys this as well!

Existence is a fascinating ordeal. Technically the number of experiences and sensations are finite, yet each day Vision encounters something new. Sometimes it is a smell, such as Rhodes’ burnt toast or the antiseptic, lemony sting of the new cleaning solution the custodial staff recently switched to. Other days it is a sound, like the way pages whisper when Sam falls asleep on the couch, his magazine tumbling to the floor or the authoritative click of Natasha’s shoes. Tactile sensations are amongst his favorite, entire nights spent running the pads of his fingers over the bumps in the imperfect paint on his bedroom wall, dipping into the crevices of the grains in the kitchen table, analyzing the difference between the tiles of the backsplash and the grout, or relishing the effervescent embrace when he flies into the clouds. Taste is a curiosity but not enough to waste food. Even when he experiences the same stimuli numerous times, it is somehow never the same and that is what makes it so enthralling.

His eyes do not waver from the reinforced plexiglass in front of him, arms crossed over his chest in mimicry of Sam and Steve’s shared stance (apparently, this is a sign of contemplation), as they complete the latest test devised by Stark to map the abilities of the new Avengers. They all watch as Wanda sends furious and untamed tendrils out, the scarlet matter beginning as a cohesive unit before spasming into myriad uneven pathways. It’s reminiscent of a documentary he watched the other night on cephalopods, the red clouds surrounding Wanda shimmering and undulating much like the frenzied dance of the ink as the animal fled danger. The tactic is mesmerizing, always new, the patterns sporadic and unique, much like snowflakes, yet just as with snowflakes, it is only effective in large quantities, which tires Wanda out.

“She’s terrifying.”

Steve grunts noncommittally at Sam’s awed comment and Vision finds himself confused at the terminology. Terror is what horror movies are meant to evoke, the white knuckles of Wanda’s hand as she absentmindedly grips his bicep during a team movie night, or the wide-eyed, shaking stance of a small child they find in amongst the ruins on a mission. There is nothing about this display that elicits said reaction. Perhaps their adversaries would feel some terror from this, but teammates should not. “I think it is calming.”

The two men turn and stare at him, the same furrowed brows and slight side-eye occurs now that happens any time Vision attempts to make an observation counter to what has been stated. “It’s something, for sure.” Steve remains neutral, unaffected by the training as he clicks the intercom switch, “I think we’re good for now, Wanda.”

Wanda throws a tired thumbs up in their direction and exits out the side door, arriving in the communication center minutes later, her breath light and rapid, muscles shaking slightly as she huddles in close to watch the tape of her performance. It is impolite to stare, or so he has been informed, and yet Vision cannot stop himself from watching Wanda watch her own tape, curious to see if there are any signs of terror in her stance. “It seems a bit sloppy.” Her comment is factual but tinged with a negative emotion that is not terror, per se, perhaps more like the time Wanda stepped in the aftermath of a food fight that happened at the team’s fourth of July barbecue. Disgust, yes, that’s it, not terror.

“It could be tightened up,” Steve agrees with her observation, though he does not seem upset, “we really need to find a way to channel it all into, I don’t know,” a wary hand rubs the back of Steve’s neck, his day longer than their own, having to watch and critique each teammate, “concentrate it somehow.”

Wanda nods, forehead wrinkling at the comment while her lips purse in concentration, “Do you have any recommendations?”

A sigh answers her, the same one Steve used when Vision asked him if there were any known exercises to help him with his phasing. “I need to think on it for a bit.”

“Okay.”

“Sam,” the conversation moves on as Steve turns to the last of the team to go into the simulator, “you’re up.”

Sam grins, snapping on his goggles with an, “Alright!”

Her session done, Wanda leaves the room and Vision waits exactly five minutes before excusing himself for the evening.

It’s while he’s watching another ocean documentary that Vision realizes he may be able to help Wanda. Unfortunately, this occurs at 4:15am and for once, no one else in the compound seems to have insomnia. To pass the time, he sets himself up in the common room lounge and drafts plans for different exercises, tests some of them himself with the Mindstone, though he recognizes the confound in his attempts to extrapolate his own power set to hers. It’s at 5:30am when Steve and Sam come in with a friendly, “Morning, Vision.”

“Good morning, Captain Rogers, Mr. Wilson.”

Sam always gets this smirk when Vision addresses him, a small shake of his head and sometimes a roll of his eyes. “Dude, just Steve and Sam.”

This has been told to him before, yet it seems very impersonal given their longer duration in heroics. “My apologies.”

“We’re going out for a run, wanna join?”

Usually Vision is not in the common room at this time, mainly for this reason. He is aware the offer is out of politeness when it comes from Sam (it is a command when it is from Steve), which means he can technically say no, though his stomach always seems to rotate uncomfortably when he turns them down. But he doesn’t want to get distracted and miss out on Wanda. He also, if he is being honest, is not particularly fond of running, flight a far more invigorating experience. “No thank you, I am attempting to draw up potential exercises for Miss M- for Wanda to better examine her powers.”

Steve nods in approval, “Good, I think that’s a great idea, you two can probably learn a lot from each other.”

“Yes,” Vision’s stomach evens out, no longer churning at dismissing their request, “I do believe that is true.”

“Alright, well, have fun.” Sam winks at him, taking a bite of his granola bar as he and Steve leave the common space.

It’s approximately forty-three minutes later that Wanda enters, her hair thrown up in a ponytail and still adorning her pajamas with a baggy sweatshirt. She shuffles towards the kitchen, her eyes leaving the ground once to make sure she is heading in the right direction. “Good morning, Wanda.” He seems to surprise her, her hands clutching the sweatshirt tighter as her face swings in the direction of his voice.

It takes several agonizing seconds for her to respond with an un-emotive, “Morning.”

“Did you sleep well?”

Wanda shrugs and it conveys more than enough information, her sleep patterns erratic and unhealthy, though they are getting better. This seems to end their conversation, her feet taking her closer to the kitchen. Vision stands, fingers twisted as he considers his next step, but now that he’s standing, it would be awkward to sit back down, he thinks, so he phases through the couch and follows her to the kitchen, coming to stand next to the stools at the island while she busies herself making her tea. “I had an idea last night,” Wanda turns towards him, face expectant, “I, um, well I believe I had an epiphany on how best to harness your powers,” her stare doesn’t change, despite the fact he feels like it should be blossoming with the excitement, just as his did when he had the revelation, “the way Captain Rogers suggested, by concentrating it.”

Her response is slow, the two-syllable, “Okay,” lasting long enough that it feels like eight.

“I was watching a very fascinating documentary last night about cavitation and pistol shrimp—”

“Am I going to need some coffee for this?”

Vision pauses, taken aback by the change in her preference and why she is inquiring of him, “I believe you should drink whatever sounds most appealing to you.”

This garners a laugh, though he isn’t sure why, but it is a pleasant experience, his own mouth lifting in response to her apparent joy at his comment. “You’re going to have simplify this for me.”

Which is fair. “Cavitation is a phenomenon in which cavities are formed due to rapid changes in pressure and this change in pressure, if it becomes too great, the cavity can collapse into a shockwave.”

“More simple.”

Vision follows her as she fills her cup with tea, drizzling honey in while she stirs and then tossing in a pinch of sugar for good measure. No one else on the team ever attempts to understand him this way, to demand he work on his communication, and so he is never offended when she asks him to rephrase or simplify. “When you use your powers now, they are free-flowing, like,” the simile of his revelation may be apt to use now, “a cephalopod…” Wanda glances up at him as she blows gently on the tea, and wordlessly she informs him to keep simplifying, “a squid or an octopus, when it is alarmed, it sends out ink into the water. This method is particularly useful for obfuscating,” another glance and he runs through a thesaurus online, “confusing people, a distraction–”

A shimmering cloud engulfs her hand, wispy and tumultuous with the rotation of her wrist, “Are you forgetting how my squid powers took you down in training last week.”

“I am not, it was an impressive display of power,” she glances down at her tea though it is not enough to fully mask the upward curve of her mouth, “but you would have been victorious even faster had you acted more like a pistol shrimp.”

“Which would be?”

“Oh, um,” this speech went smoother when he rehearsed it earlier in the morning, though his conversational skills are always more confident when he is alone and practicing than when her green eyes are locking onto him, flecked with an amusement that sends electric shocks down his spine, “to gather your powers into a bundle of unequal pressure and then let it loose.” If the quirk of her eyebrow is any indication, this is still not as illuminating as he hoped. “I can show you a video?”

Wanda waves her hand at the tablet on the counter and she takes the seat next to his as he searches for a good example. Together they watch a five minute clip of a pistol shrimp, first at actual speed which makes it look like the shrimp is punching the air, but then the scientists present a slowed down version and together they watch as a small air bubble forms in the middle of the open pincher. “This is pretty cool.”

A warmth, similar to his first time winning one of the training challenges, circles his chest, “It is.”

Suddenly the shrimp closes its pincher and the bubble collapses, sending a shockwave through the water, stirring the rocks at the bottom of the tank and immobilizing the smaller crustacean in the tank. When the video ends, Wanda lifts her hand, powers collapsing from their usual tempest into a centralizing orb. “So, you’re saying something like this could be more effective?”

“Assuming your powers can be driven by cavitation, yes, with enough pressure you may be able to more efficiently remove threats.”

She studies the orb undulating in her palm, head cocked to the side, allowing the red to reflect off her eyes, and Vision is briefly mesmerized by it, until she extinguishes the orb, jolting him back to the present. “Worth a shot. I assume you already have exercises planned?”

Others on the team have said similar statements, theirs laced with exhaustion and aggravation, at times, Wanda’s is neither of those, the corners of her eyes pinching as the right side of her mouth tips up. “I do, yes. Shall we reconvene in the training gym in approximately fifteen minutes?”

“Sounds good.”

When they meet again, he has restructured his molecules into his uniform, feeling like his new staple of slacks and a sweater do not belong in such a space. Wanda is not in her uniform, but is wearing the same outfit she dons when Steve forces her on the morning run three days a week. “Okay,” Wanda’s tightens her ponytail as she talks, “so how are we doing this?”

“I believe we should start simple, so I have set up a number of targets ranging in weight and size,” he directs her towards a table containing several sizes of soup cans, dumbbells, and kettlebells. “I have downloaded a relatively novel program that will allow me to analyze both the broadband noise and subharmonics created before you unleash your powers.”

Wanda’s lips tighten in time with her hesitant nod, “I’m guessing that’s how you tell the, um, power of the attack?”

It is close to what he is doing, if she replaces power with pressure. “Precisely.” A broad, toothy smile parts her lips and he mimics it, always enjoying these small moments of glee she shares with him. “Would you like to try?”

“Yep.” Wanda spreads her feet out so her stance is a touch wider than her shoulders, her right foot approximately an inch closer to the display than her left. Slowly her powers pool around her hand and even more slowly she draws them together into an orb. He expects her to release it, but she doesn’t, instead her fingers continue to wave, weaving her powers into a bigger orb that spins faster and faster.

He checks the measurements streaming through his mind and frowns, the display reporting an error. It is only at the subtle dip of her hand that he figures out the problem, “Wanda wai—” she doesn’t hear him soon enough and she flicks her wrist, the orb soaring through the air and exploding upon contact with a can of tomato soup that never stood a chance. The shockwave of the hit throws the table across the gym, the viscous soup coating the floor looking more like blood than lunch and several new holes have been created in the wall from the weights. Vision rushes to Wanda’s side, “Are you okay?”

Shock pulls her jaw down, eyes wide and hands clasped into fists at her thighs. “That was fucking awesome.”

“I—” he follows her gaze to the destruction, not certain awesome is the best term, it was remarkable, for sure, but he’s going to have to explain how this happened to Natasha and Steve and Tony, a meeting he is not thrilled about. His worry is eradicated when she laughs because it’s the freest sound he’s ever heard from her, effervescent and untamed, her body shaking so much she leans against his shoulder for support. “It was amazing.”

“There’s soup everywhere!”

“Yes,” her reaction is infectious, his own lungs beginning to spasm as light huffs intersperse his response, “that was an oversight on my behalf.”

“At least it you didn't grab something like corn.”

The image of hundreds of kernels littering the ground is a much worse reality. “This is true.”

Wanda straightens her spine, removing her touch from him, and turns with a smile that might almost be described as wicked. “Can we do it again?”

A survey of the damage forces him to reassess his strategy. “Yes, though I believe we need to be more methodical.”

Together they pick up the table, Vision arranging the weights on it while Wanda uses her powers and a mop to remove the soup from the ground. “So, what’s the plan?”

“I believe we should experiment with how much pressure you build up to determine the amount needed to effectively deal with the target without destroying it.”

For the next hour they do just that, Vision reading the indices and informing Wanda when to release her orb. They start small, and work until finding the most efficient amount per each weight. Once they’ve done this, he stops informing her of when to attack, instead allowing her to determine the feel of it in her hands, since he cannot constantly assess her during a mission. It’s after she’s successfully sent the heaviest weight flying an acceptable and not destructive distance that they move on to the punching bags, which are more analogous to the foes they face. With each target she grows more confident, the power coalescing faster and faster until she can attack within seconds.

During their (well her) water break, Wanda suggests the next step, one he hadn’t yet conceptualized since he did not (foolishly, admittedly) anticipate her being so proficient after a half day. “You know, in the video we watched the prey was moving, so I don't think I'm one with the pistol shrimp yet since we've just used immobile targets....”

"Oh, well, I can find some of the mechanized bullseyes from the supply closet."

This doesn't seem to be what she had in mind, the tips of her ponytail dancing as she clarifies, "Those never move like the actual people we face on missions."

A true statement and one dripping with suggestion that is driven home by her pointed stare at him. It takes Vision 1.5 seconds longer than it should to fully grasp the implication. “Are you asking me to be your soup can?”

“Yes.” Her face grows serious other than the flicker of red in her eyes, “Vision, will you be my soup can?”

He’s not sure why the question releases a torrent of heat in his cheeks, a reaction he will need to further parse out at a later time. “I suppose since you asked so nicely, I have no reason not acquiesce.”

“Don’t worry,” she pats his arm as he walks past, an action she’s never done before, “I’ll be gentle.”

Vision has to suppress the way her actions and the glimmer in her eye make him feel unsteady, keep his voice calm and unaffected as he quips back, “I believe I am somewhat more formidable than Campbell’s.”

“We’ll see.”

He stands twenty feet from her, the optimal distance they decided on during the prior phase of her training. “I will maintain my normal density for this.” Wanda sends him a thumbs up and he activates the program, recording the accelerate spike in both the broadband noise and subharmonic index, sending her a wave when he believes it should have some effect. The orb crashes into his body, the shockwave of it bursting flutters his cape, but nothing else occurs. “Try again.” And she does, fifteen times and yet she can’t seem to send him farther than a centimeter back. “Perhaps try using both hands to form the orb?” He has no basis for the suggestion, but he hypothesizes that each of her hands serves as an independent source, using both might double the impact.

Wanda’s feet spread a bit farther apart as her arms wave through the air, the orb oscillating between her palms reaching the highest threshold of his measurement system in a matter of seconds. The power is released before he tells her, not to any detriment, the burst of scarlet against his chest sending his sympathetic system into a frenzy, his body desperate to increase its density but he resists, instead allowing her to throw him back into the wall.

“Oh shit!” Footfalls echo around the gym, the noise bouncing too fast for him to pinpoint her location until her hands wrap around his biceps, worry streaming from her fingers, “Vizh, you okay? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Her right hand leaves his body and hovers in front of his face, fingers bending and straightening as his eyes adjust. “You are switching between two and three fingers.”

“Can’t even trick you after that.”

Vision smirks at the despondency in her response, sitting up slowly while running a quick system check. “Wanda,” she meets his eyes, “that was incredible.” The last stray wisp of concern leaves her face, replaced by a proud grin. “Shall we try it again, only I will fly this time?”

“Only if you’re okay.”

“I am fine.”

Despite his assurance, Wanda still offers her his hand, helping him stand before returning to her position in the gym. It’s at this point that Natasha comes in, a wave towards them that states she’s merely here to watch. Wanda’s fingers flex at the added attention, still overcoming her self-consciousness of being scrutinized by the former spy during training. Vision takes a moment to approach Wanda, standing far enough away to not encroach in her personal space, but close enough that she can hear his slightly lower voice. “Pay no mind to Natasha,” Wanda’s head tilts, in what may be annoyance or anger or some other emotion he has yet to determine in situations such as this, “I want you to go back to one handed throws. We want to train your accuracy first and then you can add more power.”

“Okay.”

“And Wanda.”

“Yeah?”

For some reason he is tempted to reach out to her, give her arm a comforting embrace, but he doesn’t, instead clenching his fingers into fists at his side. “Remember that no one else on the team can do what you can.”

His comment seems to latch onto the corners of her mouth, tugging it up into a brief smile. “Don’t go easy on me, okay?”

He reassures her with a heartfelt, “I will not.”

Vision lifts into the air, eyes scanning the gym for all accessible routes and protection. For the first attempts, he determines to remain relatively low to the ground, allowing her to fine tune her aim at a more accessible level before moving higher and requiring greater calculation on her behalf. He waits for her to form an orb before moving. Like with any other foe, he positions himself so that she is always in his view, even if it is just his periphery, but primarily he utilizes his proprioception to determine how to angle is body or bend his limbs to avoid her attacks. Even with her rapid-fire method, the closest she gets to a hit is a singe to his cape, her movements too predictable to him given the hours they have spent training together. Vision lands softly in front of her, assessing the stoop of her shoulders and the way her fingernails are digging into her palms, a small action he has come to associate with her frustration. “I believe we may be approaching this incorrectly.”

“How so?” The weightless ease of her voice is gone, replaced by the measured rhythm she uses during any other training, particularly after being beaten down a few rounds by Natasha.

No single animal utilizes just one attack pattern, nor do any of the Avengers, and yet that’s what they’ve been trying to do. “We have only been focusing on this one aspect of your powers, but for the task at hand, you need to utilize more than that.” Wanda waits for him to continue, arms crossing as her eyes slide to where Natasha is sitting. “You need to obfuscate first...”

Now her attention returns to him, “So squid power you?”

“I- yes, correct, distract me and then—”

Her frustrations flips into understanding, “Then I pistol shrimp you.”

"Correct.”

A shared nod cements the plan and he returns to the air, waiting, yet again, until scarlet oozes from her hands to begin flying. This time is very different, every direction he flies is teeming with scarlet clouds, each one obscuring his view and sending him into a new location, only to be met with another dense nebula. Vision decides to tempt fate by flying through one of the formations, having no other means of getting to the other side of the gym, it’s then that the cloud constricts around him, throwing off his senses long enough that he feels an impact on his side, hard enough that it stings yet soft enough that he remains steady in the air. Vision lands, hand rubbing out the branching tingle still spreading throughout his oblique. “That was much more effective.”

“It was. Mind if we try ag—”

Before she can finish, a new voice enters the gym, Steve’s authoritative, “Training starts in two minutes everyone,” setting an end to her suggestion, Wanda’s mouth closing and her shoulders shrugging, the look on her face one he thinks says Maybe later?

A week later he stands again with Steve and Sam, arms crossed and head tilted to the right, his eyes never leaving the varying patterns of scarlet through the plexiglass. This time her powers seem to dance, a careful choreography of wild undulation followed by disciplined restriction. “Holy shit,” Sam steps closer to the glass, hand rubbing his chin at the destruction being wrought within, “she’s even more terrifying now.”

Terror is still an odd descriptor, because what Vision sees before him is more beautiful than even the undisturbed dawn over the mountains, the memory of her powers erupting in tingles along his skin, a fascinating texture he now associates with power and marvel.

“What exactly did you two work on?” Steve only watched some of their additional trainings, never interceding, something he tends to do when the more fantastical powers are at play.

Vision doesn’t pull his gaze from Wanda as he answers, “Obfuscation and cavitation.”

“Not really helpful, man.” Sam, like Wanda, will always tell him if he is being too dense, though never as nicely, but never rudely either.

The other way Vision can think to explain it likely won’t help them either, but it is how Wanda describes it to him as she eats lunch after their trainings, hair dripping with sweat, hands shaking from her hard work, and her smile radiant, so he determines it cannot be worse, “She has become one with the squid and the shrimp.”

“Okay then,” Sam’s two words last for four seconds, his confusion palpable, but Vision doesn’t amend the statement, deciding to let Wanda explain it to them later, allowing Vision to become engrossed in the fascinatingly breathtaking display in front of them.

#scarlet vision #wanda maximoff #vision #the vision #thescarletvisionnetwork #mcu #pre-relationship #flirtatious training #mine

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riviae · 6 years ago

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@domusaeternitatis requested angsty hansa headcanons so i am here to deliver (but i also did sneak some fluffy hc’s in too!!):

Geralt:

geralt’s ability to use a crossbow in tw3 is due to training he received from milva in the books

he lost his headband during the stygga castle fight. & even after he regained his memories, he didn’t want to style his hair like that anymore... angouleme used to tease him about his headband/hair-style even tho she wore a headband too. it’s just another one of geralt’s old aches from the past that he tries to ignore.

the first night he crawled into his bed at corvo bianco (so pre-regis reunion), he had a dream that the hansa visited him. he saw milva & regis in the meadow, basking in the warm summer weather, a book between them as regis taught milva to read. milva looked confused at some points, but was earnestly trying & geralt saw a spark of excitement in her eyes when she was able to read an entire page in common speech. he saw angouleme petting one of the cats that made the estate its home--which turned into about 30 stray cats when she pulled out a few pieces of leftover fish from her rucksack, causing a general ruckus as she was so apt to do. he saw cahir sitting in the shade of the tree that overlooks geralt’s property. his hair was shorter, the scars from his incident with the hatchet peeking out from underneath his dark locks. he looked a bit older, perhaps even wiser as he watched the clouds float by. when he makes eye contact with the witcher, cahir gives a small smile. he even sees dandelion. between them there is a small wooden table and a few empty wine glasses. it looks like they’re in the middle of a game of gwent, which ends with dandelion forfeiting the match before he loses, opting to pull out his lute & sing. it’s a silly toussaint nursery rhyme, something geralt had heard children singing as they played in the fields, but soon, the gentle melody washes over the estate as everyone joins in--including geralt himself. when he later wakes to an empty house, a deep sense of melancholy burrows itself into his chest. a longing for something that could never be...

stress is the #1 trigger for his knee injury to flare up. despite the warm climate of toussaint otherwise helping with his general aches & pains, if he comes across a place where he & his hansa had visited before, it often sends him into a fit of sudden & blinding pain. on his worst days, he has to use a cane to get around.

Regis:

regis really did all the odd jobs as the barber-surgeon of the group. from haircuts to dressing wounds, regis also found himself mending clothing (with geralt’s help--as he too was able to assist in sewing holes shut or fixing busted chainmail). which suited regis just fine; he preferred domestic tasks over fighting, having seen enough bloodshed at the battle for the bridge. it wasn’t until stygga castle that he truly fought again

while he didn’t fight often, he did spar & train with the rest of the hansa (minus dandelion of course). given his agility, stamina, & regeneration, he acted as a great sparring partner. with milva, he stayed mostly in his smoke form, only reappearing for a few seconds to give her a chance to hit him w/ an arrow as they both ran through the forest to work on her accuracy & stamina. he often sparred with geralt & cahir at the same time, letting both swordsmen lunge at him. it helped them learn to fight & cooperate together as well as improved their general ability to communicate w/ others in the midst of battle. angouleme was more curious about regis’ vampiric powers than anything else, knowing full well that she was much more of a sneak-behind-someone’s-back-and-stab them kind of fighter--something that would be otherwise impossible when sparring with a higher vampire. instead, regis taught angouleme about different powers that higher vampires could possess & was the only one who saw regis’ bat form before stygga castle.

the first thing regis did upon regenerating enough that his mental faculties returned was to determine the fate of his friends. the ravens we see in the base-game are regis’ & upon hearing that, at the very least, geralt, yen, and ciri survived stygga castle (and that dandelion was still alive too), immense relief washed over him. it was only later that he let himself mourn--& he mourned in the most human way he knew: despite having abstained from alcohol before, he had a drink for each of his fallen comrades. alone, he spoke of his favorite memories of his friends. times that bonded them together, that made it so they were family. he reminisced for an entire night, voice growing hoarse as the sun rose & he gave his final farewell.

definitely a headcanon i’ve seen floating about, but during his period of regeneration, regis begins using his ravens more often; they become his eyes & ears in toussaint as he recovers since he can’t move around much at first. the ravens he is closest to he lovingly names after the hansa members who fell at stygga castle. perhaps even more bittersweet, but the 3 ravens (milva, cahir, and angouleme) become a family unit of sorts. while they still remain with their flock, the 3 corvids are the only ones that remain close to regis & are the first to answer his call. he always gives them extra chin scratches & fruit or grain. sometimes he even thinks he can see a spark of their personalities in the birds’ eyes. milva tends to lead the group & isn’t afraid of any of the other animals in the forest. angouleme is the most playful of the three, often pulling on the other 2 corvids’ tails or cawing loudly & repeatedly in a manner that reminds regis of laughter. cahir is generally quiet & brings up the rear of the trio, but when he senses danger, he’s the first to go swooping in, recklessly attacking whatever threatens them with his beak & claws.

Milva:

during their travels, milva & cahir were mostly in charge of hunting for food. while milva caught wild game, cahir fished. it became a ritual of sorts; milva would return first, then cahir. the rest of the hansa would then help prepare the food, often making soup or skewering the meat & roasting it on an open flame. despite the often meager rations split between 6 people, the food still tasted better than anything milva ate when she was alone.

milva was also the first to readily accept regis as a friend after his true nature was revealed. when she accidentally sliced her hand a few days after regis returned to the group, she didn’t even bat an eye when regis appeared before her, having smelled her injury. “well, vampire? am i gonna live?” she asked, holding her bleeding hand out expectantly while she pressed her other hand to her hip. it was a wound she could have easily cleaned herself, but she trusted regis enough to let him tend to the cut. one bandaged hand later, milva apologized for having recoiled the first time she saw his teeth. she squeezed his shoulder in apology--the first time she had initiated contact with him since he was revealed to be a vampire--and she rolled her eyes when she noticed regis’ hand hovering at her back. “tell anyone we hugged & it’ll be the last time you get to use that hand,” she said, no real malice in her voice as she pulled the vampire into a hug. she didn’t get to see the wide, fanged grin that regis gave in return.

as mentioned above, milva taught geralt how to better use a bow. along the way, she ended up teaching cahir, angouleme, & even dandelion too. geralt was the best at hitting far-away targets, but angouleme was downright dangerous in that she was enthused about using a bow. angouleme somehow convinced regis to let her try & land a trick-shot (an apple perched on the poor vampire’s head)... & to everyone’s surprise, she landed the shot with ease in front of the group. it was only later that milva noticed the absurd amount of holes in regis’ cape & he later confessed that he had secretly practiced with angouleme beforehand so she could make her trick-shot easily in front of everyone.

a few weeks after her miscarriage, milva woke from a frightening nightmare--but couldn’t remember anything about it except she knew she had seen an arrow flying through the air. it was still dark when she woke, but being unable to sleep, she carefully slipped out from her bedroll & went deep into the forest, far from where they had set up camp, & climbed the tallest tree she could find, going up until she reached the uppermost branch. staring up at the stars, she took a deep breath & screamed. all the emotion she had been holding in since the battle for the bridge poured out of her in a flurry of anguished screams & angry tears at the unfairness of the universe. she screamed into the dark until she no longer felt sad--only tired. that morning, she approached the group & chopped off her braid. it was time for a change. the group needed her just as badly as she needed them--the world had never been kind to her, but she’d be damned if she gave up now, not when there was still a child that could be saved.

Dandelion:

dandelion often acted as the comedic relief for the group--& he knew it. did he ham up some of his actions & words to rouse a chuckle or two from his friends? yes, but it was something dandelion chose to do. he wasn’t a fighter. he couldn’t brave the fray the same way everyone else could. he was a minstrel, a bard, a poet, & he vowed to use his talents to improve morale & bring some joy to the hansa as they traveled through treacherous lands to find ciri.

most nights he ended up playing his lute as the final embers of the campfire smoldered away. assuming he wasn’t drunk, he usually played until he was sure that everyone was asleep, though he could never quite tell if regis was truly asleep--or if the vampire even needed sleep at all. regardless, despite the selfish facade he often wore like a second skin, he did know the importance of a good night’s rest. & though he couldn’t stop the nightmares that his friends often woke from in the dead of night, he hoped his music could at least give them a few hours of blissful, dreamless sleep.

dandelion was completely prepared to sacrifice his life to save ciri. he owed geralt that much--the witcher having been both is best friend & one of the few people who saw past his exaggerated persona. he’d even saved dandelion’s life more times then he could count. so why did he remain in toussaint when everyone else traveled to stygga castle w/ geralt? simply because geralt asked him to. before leaving, they had one final private conversation where geralt asked dandelion to stay. to remain safe. he’d gone far enough, braved enough bloodshed to last him a lifetime. geralt knew it was likely no one in the hansa would survive the events at stygga castle & he wanted, at the very least, for dandelion, his oldest friend, to survive. to survive & tell their story, no matter how it all turned out.

when regis showed up at the Chameleon one night, looking as frantic & pale as a nightwraith, dandelion actually passed out in fear & shock. when he awoke & saw that regis was truly alive, whole, & still had all his memories, dandelion cried. it was the first time he had ever hugged the vampire, but he couldn’t help it; he had accepted the fact that only geralt had survived the events of stygga castle, but regis was here, looking a tad worse for wear, but as solid & corporeal as he had been before. once regis explained why he had come to visit, needing help to get geralt out of jail & out of what would likely be a death sentence, dandelion rose to the occasion. though regis had said his help was indispensable, something that definitely stroked his ego, dandelion had been prepared to face the duchess. prepared to finally make good on his vow that he’d die for geralt if he had to--but he didn’t need someone as keen & perceptive as regis realizing that dandelion could be brave, ‘lest he be asked to perform even more heroic deeds. furthermore, dandelion had plenty of practice hiding his true intentions/feelings since he had been working as a redanian spy for some time (even if his loyalties to political powers waned from time to time).

Cahir:

in a perfect world, one where destiny & war did not care to know his name, he’d have lived a simple life. he never would have had as much blood on his hands, never would have used a sword to cut down people in the first place. he would have been a fisherman, selling his wares at different ports while he traveled the seas, charting his way by the stars. he would be able to have a blissful, dreamless sleep, no longer confronted with prophetic dreams about an ashen-haired woman. his name would have been left unknown, no legacy to speak of, no longer associated with the White Wolf, but it would have been worth it, if such a peaceful universe existed.

cahir was surprised to learn that dandelion and geralt weren’t fans of fishing. “it’s a long tale better suited for another night,” dandelion would say, geralt grunting in agreement. it confused cahir, as he had never seen someone so skittish of fishing like dandelion was, but he didn’t pry, knowing better than to do something that could disrupt his already tumultuous relationship with geralt. instead, he found himself teaching angouleme to fish, who took to catching fish with her bare hands surprisingly well for someone of her stature. it was like fishing with a child, cahir noted, bc every time she caught a fish, she’d holler with glee... even if she caught something as small as a minnow.

cahir appreciated how readily milva trusted him--while geralt had still insisted on seeing him as an enemy, milva had offered a metaphorical olive branch. unbeknownst to her or the rest of the hansa, cahir always tried to keep sight of milva during battle, hoping to lend a hand when he could. it was after a few months of traveling together that cahir stopped keeping track of her, believing entirely in her near-supernatural archery skills... something he regretted moments before he died at stygga castle.

there are many times in the books where cahir is completely silent as the rest of the hansa banters. my interpretation? cahir, while being well-versed in common speech, & having the ability to speak it w/o too distinct of a nilfgaardian accent, still had some trouble understanding the group at times. regis already made translation difficult as he often said words that cahir had never heard before despite being trained in proper common speech, but then angouleme made it so much worse. her use of slang & weird phrases confused him beyond belief. so, when it got too confusing, cahir just pretended to follow the flow of conversation. sometimes he even just decided to take a nap if it got to be too confusing.

Angouleme:

angouleme wasn’t used to trusting people. in her life as a bandit, & even before that--when she was being raised by distant relatives who took every chance to let her know that they didn’t love her & then her hellish nightmare at the orphanage--no one had given her a reason to truly trust them. but geralt had. he asked for her freedom & allowed her to travel with him & join his hansa despite her past, despite how if they had met only weeks earlier, she would have tried to kill him without a second thought. so while she hadn’t trusted the rest of the group at first, she did trust geralt implicitly, which was enough. it was partly why she tried to raise the rest of the group’s hackles--wanting to see just how they would act towards her if she didn’t play nice. she was surprised to see that they still accepted her as a part of the hansa, even when she continued to purposefully annoy milva & regis.

after getting to know milva, angouleme immediately started to see her as an older sister. she had been an only child, but having spent time at an orphanage, she knew the merit of creating a family for yourself--a family you choose rather than one bound by blood. similarly, she genuinely saw regis as her uncle & was delighted whenever the vampire slipped in one of her sayings into his colloquial speech. he took extra time to teach her about higher vampires since she joined the hansa much later than the others & was kind enough to answer any of her questions about vampires, no matter how personal they were. as for milva, angouleme took to the archery lessons with exuberance because she wanted to both impress milva and also just enjoyed spending time w/ her. one time after a particularly fluid shot, angouleme got so excited that she squeezed milva into a tight hug w/o thinking. she was surprised to find milva return the hug with a similar intensity, stroking her hair. & if angouleme openly cried at knowing milva also saw her as family, at being given the sort of physical affection she didn’t realize she was craving, milva never mentioned it to the rest of the hansa.

in toussaint, angouleme became a cat magnet. she spent her extra coin on fish from the docks &, true to her family crest, she would hand out pieces of fish to the stray cats in the city. at the sound of her boots hitting the wooden docks, scores of cats would come racing to her in search of free food & affection. they were the hardest thing about toussaint to leave behind

before they made it to stygga castle, geralt pulled her aside to make sure angouleme really wanted to participate in the battle. he also tells her the truth about how he originally had mistaken her for ciri--but now trusts her & sees her as a member of the hansa from her merit & courage alone. “you’ve come with us far enough, angouleme. i don’t want you doing this just because you think you owe me. you don’t. you can walk away now. return to toussaint. live a happy & long life.” in response, angouleme flicked him off & stuck out her tongue. “no one’s ever forced me to do anything before & it’s too late for you to try & scare me off now. we’re comrades, remember? a hansa. family. besides, i’m not gonna die here; i’ve got a high-class brothel to open in beauclair, remember?” her words ring hollow when she collapses to the ground, bleeding out in ciri’s arms. she asks to be made a countess before she dies, a characteristic smirk still on her lips at the thought of finally having her royal bloodline acknowledged in some way.

#geralt of rivia #emiel regis #milva barring #dandelion #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #angouleme #angoulême #witcher headcanons #sorry this took so long!! i kinda.... went off on this post lol #// long post

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spicedrobot · 6 years ago

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What Only We Can Know

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairing: Zenyatta/Maximilien

Warnings: plug n play, wireplay, quid pro quo, mindsex

Notes: A bit of an impromptu fic trade with @lacertae-dreamscape since we both were writing maxyatta at the same time. 💖 Go read hers too! 🔫

There is a certain poetic justice to the situation: a pesky strike team face-off so much like that day in Havana, but this time he's not running. Some would call it fate, but they sell him short, always, always. The accountant. The crony. He cannot play the tables, but the games he can play he endeavors to be the best.

He takes them in, agent Mercy, just as beautiful but for the dreadful circles beneath her eyes, the gorilla next to her, posed so very stiffly. Comms to their young leader were cut as soon as they infiltrated the building; he imagines Tracer is trying in vain to re-establish the connection. Then, of course, there is Shimada Genji. Years later, he can still recall the cool steel balanced at his struts, the hot bite of electricity much like an omnic’s but tinged with something undeniably human. Foes that had not only captured him once, but had taken out Doomfist, for all the good it did them; the man back among their ranks and twice as deadly, sharpened by years of planning and training in prison. Much like Max himself. Patience and a long memory are things they both share.

It leaves only the one behind the glowing green of the cyborg. A familiar sight, he had watched and studied him enough in feeds and intel reports. The omnic is smaller in person, unplated and more exposed than even the most basic of their models. More than meets the eye, indeed.

"How nostalgic," Max says. "It has been far too long."

He draws his hands together, optics sliding over each in turn. How they stiffen. How they frown. A festival of the senses.

"Now, now. You don't seem pleased to see me."

"What do you want, Maximilien?"

"Perhaps a little more enthusiasm?" Max begins to pace. Gloating is quite rude, but if one does not take such joys as they appear, life would be very dull indeed. "Pay no mind to my entourage. A little insurance, you understand."

The heavy assault units behind him move not an inch, but their presence is undeniable, casting the room in half-baked twilight. They may not kill everyone, but kill they would. And Max knows how pathetically Overwatch struggles to keep their numbers, small as they are.

"You were a pleasure to work with before. I am not so unwilling to do so again if I’m granted another favor, hm?"

"Name your demands," comes Shimada's modulated hiss, and Max stills at the sound despite himself.

"Not demands, Mr. Shimada," Max takes a few steps toward him, stands at full stature so the cyborg has to tilt his chin to look him in the eye. "The years without Overwatch have been good to you. Or perhaps it was more than your peaceful sabbatical."

He draws his eyes over the cyborg's shoulder to a flickering cyan array, reading him, perhaps, as none in their presence could. What machines can say without words, without faces, each twitch, each motion, a give. Max draws out a poker chip from his pocket, grooves smooth and familiar, and rolls it between his fingers.

“I wish for an audience with you, Master Tekhartha.”

And just as the chip flips from pinky to ring, the omnic responds as quickly.

“You have it.”

“Privately,” Max says.

“Master, you can’t—”

“Genji.”

How delightfully the cyborg heels with a single word. Chastened.

“Nothing sordid awaits him. There are simply things that only machines such as ourselves can understand. One longs for similar company.” And he cannot quite keep the bite out of his voice, smoothing it into something palatable and amused again. How one can forget himself.

“They will remain unharmed,” Zenyatta says.

“They will.”

“Zenyatta, you don’t have to do this.” Angela.

“This encounter will be mutually beneficial, I assure you.” Max palms the chip, slides his thumb over the engraved side before slipping it into his pocket.

“Shall we?”

He had picked out the location, of course. There’s always the possibility of wasted work, but if the pieces should fall into place, one must be prepared. The office is small but furnished to his taste, dark wood and darker leather, warmly lit. He had entertained the idea of something more intimate, but it seemed in bad taste considering his reverent company.

For all that he is helpless, the monk does not seem to mind, his back to Max as he studies the room with a languid tilt of his head. Trusting. Or perhaps he does not think him a threat. Max does not know which annoys him more.

"Please, sit anywhere you like. I would offer you a drink, but I do not know if you imbibe."

"I do not."

Max doesn't either; it is bad form for an apothecary to sample the wares.

He seats himself in the large armchair on the far side of the room. Zenyatta takes a spot on the couch across from him.

"First, allow me to offer my condolences. There are some among us that did not wish for Mondatta's death."

Zenyatta's array alternates for a moment, quickly returning to the subtle brightening and fading that resembles breathing, makes him more alive. Max had traded out his own faceplate years ago for something more expressive; humans are less apt to trust someone that cannot reflect their insecurities back at them.

"This is not why you wished to speak."

“Oh? Do tell.”

“You are afraid.”

Max looks away, fingers twitching upon the armrest’s leather.

“You chose to address the only agent that was not responsible for your previous capture. You lean on what makes us similar even as you view it with disdain, the same disdain you direct towards humans.”

"Disdain is a rather strong way to put it."

"I am incorrect?"

"I simply do not wish to be burdened with the expectation of emancipating my assumed kin. I have done quite well on my own."

Movement attracts Max's gaze: Zenyatta’s hands drawing together, graceful, purposeful.

“For all that you have gained, there are those who will never see us for more than what they have decided to see. Servants. Weapons. Abominations. You are centered between what you were and what you can never be. But that is not what you fear.”

Max forces himself to blink.

“Something is slipping through your fingers. Power. Trust. Something you think Overwatch will provide you. Something that they provided you before.” A beat. “Doomfist knows, doesn’t he.”

Max clears processes as they rise, cools himself, relaxes his fingers that’ve tightened against the armrest.

“Ha. I must say, you are quite good. Your deductive processes are elevated much beyond your model's base programming.”

“Elevated programming,” Zenyatta hums. “I wonder if it is so.” He tips his faceplate towards the ceiling. Max stares at the shifting pistons along his throat.

“Doomfist’s prison break is most unfortunate. So many loose ends were neatly bound when he went away. Threads that lead back to me, sadly. I’m beginning to look too suspicious for comfort.”

“And this was not something to mention to the others.”

“Their promises did not protect me as well as I had hoped. I need something concrete.” Max feels the chip in his pocket like a weight, his fingers itching for it. “Something they cannot provide.”

Max doesn’t know what he’s hearing for a moment, soft and distant. Zenyatta’s laughter, there and gone before he has a chance to appreciate it without the tinniness of a video feed.

“Of course. To think it would be something so obvious. A token of goodwill.”

“You can understand how hesitant I am to play my hand. You show me yours, and I will show you mine.”

Ah, to witness another brightened array so soon. Zenyatta wore his thoughts so charmingly on a face that should not allow for it. Then the monk stands, and his smugness drains with each step Zenyatta takes towards him, soundless and sure.

It’s strange, to feel so off-kilter when he has the power here; a single word could have Zenyatta’s friends hurt or worse. Zenyatta stands in front of him, his legs an scant inch from Max's knees, and those slender fingers grasp the connector at the end of his dangling spinal wires. Max’s fans pick up, near silent, but with the slight tilt of Zenyatta's head, he knows the other hears them.

“Analog interfacing. How intimate.”

"You are a good actor, Maximilien. The humans you surround yourself with must find you most formidable."

If only Max could stop himself from locking up the moment Zenyatta moves, one thigh then the other settling long his own, the shambali scion, sliding into his lap as if he belonged there, bright blue burning into his red, faceplates close, so close.

"However," Zenyatta whispers; Max can feel the reverb of his synth in that pretty, unguarded throat, even his own is plated, how does one who sees battle let himself be so naked—warm metal on metal, the bite of systems, deep-seated yearning—when was the last time he had ever let anyone so close—"You are not as good as you think you are."

The monk's servos trace the struts beneath his chin, mapping each place they are different, shielded where one is laid bare, but how bare Max feels now, trapped like an animal, like he's caged in his original programming. Rarely has he felt so alive.

"Where do you want it?"

He twists his forearm around Zenyatta's waist, urging him closer, hating more than anything the formless trappings the monk wears, wanting to see how exposed each wire and component is beneath.

"S-spine." He burns as his synth wavers, freezing as Zenyatta's hand trails down his collar struts with feather-light tenderness.

Would his golden hands feel like this, the ones captured by a handful of frames in a months old security feed? At first he had thought Zenyatta a standard automaton, unremarkable, a few models off his own. True, the monk had fought to make something of himself, and groomed beneath Mondatta's tutelage he had earned the title master. But omnics are what they are, ones and zeroes and hunks of metal, trapped in a world where their creators wait for another slip, another reason to crush their collective awareness. That single feed had changed everything. A glitch, Max'd thought, unbelieving, replaying again and again until his processes felt full to burst. Bewitched by the light, the waves of gold radiating from arms that look so much like wings.

A shifting of fabric, a few, gentle tugs, then fingers against the plates of Max’s back, spinal column constructed from a titanium-kevlar mix that could withstand minor explosions. The sensors beneath do not register Zenyatta’s touch, but his own racing processes supply the sensory information regardless, imagination potent when one drags smooth, warm servos against a place that has no felt tender contact in years.

"So many coverings. Was it your intent to make me work for it?" Max clenches his jaw, arm tightening around the omnic's middle. He grasps Zenyatta's wrist.

"Allow me. I will not have it be said I am difficult."

Wordlessly, Zenyatta drops the connector into Max's waiting grip, surely feeling the faint tremble, noticing how he has to re-enter the sequence to his own paneling before it slides away. He gasps at the chill of open air, brings the connector to his port, not plugging in, not yet. Max leans back, catching Zenyatta's gaze, blinking away the brightness of his array in his own feeds, fingers sealing over the band of wires along Zenyatta’s spine just to hear the other hum quietly.

Zenyatta nods his head, and Max slides the connector inside, sealing perfectly into one another.

There’s not a word that encapsulates the initial rush of data, but euphoric comes close. This type of sharing is outdated, unsafe, too much left open. So easy to overheat and crash, lose the very things that made them who they are.

With Tekhartha Zenyatta, there is all that and more, that grand, unstoppable deluge an eternity.

[ STEADY ]

The word reverberates through his core like the ringing of an all-encompassing bell. Seeing and being seen without edges, without form. Distantly, he feels Zenyatta's hand on his, clasped together where they're connected, his other clutching Zenyatta's spinal wires, mirroring each other. Max waits, but there’s no negentropic transference, no steady ascent towards logic and order. Locked in energetic stasis, sensors active, reading everything at once, sharing everything at once. He sees Zenyatta as he was, as he is, sees Mondatta as Zenyatta saw him, a burning halo centered above his head, as beautiful as a god. A violent, violet sorrow, a noose, Zenyatta seeing Max in turn, past and present, struggling, fear, pain, ryu ichimonji biting at his neck, the cyborg doubling in their shared consciousness, one of a patched soul, one of a murderer checked.

[ NOT THERE ]

It recedes, Zenyatta recedes, but Max reaches for him, gasping, fearful. Gold threads, familiar gold, awareness for them both. In the moment of Zenyatta's hesitance, Max's consciousness surges, examining, touching what is most tender, deepest.

[ HE WILL NEVER LOVE YOU WHERE WERE YOU WHEN IT HAPPENED WHY HAVE YOU NOT RETURNED I HATE YOU WE NEED YOU PLEASE NEVER—]

The words blur, sound and image into one, colors oscillating between violet and gold. In a distant, logical part of himself, he knows this will overtax him, but how can he resist? The omnic that has led one of his most despised to peace, the omnic who has tried in vain to fight against the structures that would destroy them all, the one that wields an unquantifiable, unknowable power.

[ YOU COULD KNOW IT ]

And Max wants to say, to feel otherwise, but Zenyatta's conviction is felt and heard and seen, and it deadens all doubt.

[ SHOW ME ]

It’s so much warmer than he imagined, hot like sparks, like too much electricity pumping through his systems, blanketing him, filling and enveloping every plate and sensor. There are no images, no feeds, nothing concrete and knowable, only sensations, Zenyatta’s amusement like fingers against his chestplate, and deeper, inside him, things that should never be touched by the physical, so delicate a meager misstroke could fry his systems permanently. Max has interfaced before, touched and teased and worked perfectly acceptable overloads from his partners. They are ghosts to this, flimsy paper masks.

Golden hands tracing him, inside him, again and again, knowing his pains, his most sensitive ports, enveloping all in a swelling heat that has his body groaning and thrashing and moaning a lifetime away. He feels his mind losen, sensors overridden, blind and useless, a vessel, aching and blooming with light. It recedes only once, the lack of it a sorrow, then floods him completely, one sensor at a time, and he falls back in the wave as it swallows him whole.

His optics online in stages, fuzzy black and whites to full, hazy color. Familiar gray and glowing blue at his periphery. He startles, winces, an ache settled into every part of him. His spine tingles, a delicious bite, pulsing where they had been connected. Diagnostics stack across his optical interface, and he accepts the prompts without analyzing any of it. There are more important things, like Zenyatta’s fingers tracing his aching port.

“Show me yours indeed…” Max whispers, synth grating and popping with feedback. “I trust you have what you need?”

Zenyatta’s array flickers. “Yes. The information you provided is more than adequate.”

There’s no time to think when Zenyatta moves. Max tightens his hold around him, grabbing Zenyatta’s thigh through threadbare cotton.

“Yet, somehow I feel I have been cheated by you.”

They stare at one another, Max’s processes rushing.

“I have simply shown you what you might have if you walked a different path.” Zenyatta leans in, heat along his front that’s swiftly becoming familiar. “We may stop Doomfist successfully this time, but there will always be another. I would advise you to consider your options.”

“Business advice from a monk,” Max scoffs. This time, Max lets him go when Zenyatta moves to stand. He keeps his hands from balling into fists. Small victories.

“Think of it more as life advice.” Faint amusement, then it fades. “There is still time.”

Max tips his head back, stares at the ceiling to keep himself from looking at the omnic that burns like an afterimage in his mind.

“At least let me escort you back.”

“That will not be necessary.”

And Max cannot help it, dreary from the echoes of Zenyatta’s presence inside him, knowing that of course he can see himself out, he has Max’s memories too, a chunk of useless, terrifying trust. He watches Zenyatta leave, the gentle shifting of his shoulders, the piece of machinery that had brought them together looped thoughtlessly around his waist like an accessory, the gentle chiming of his orbs as they resume their rotations, clear like crystal and just as mesmerizing.

“Farewell,” he says to the empty room, slouching into the soft, giving leather of his seat and wishing for something much firmer.

#maxyatta #fics #lemon #wireplay #bendoverwatch #quid pro quo #plug n play

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paulineguillouzichnd1 · 5 years ago

Text

Artisan

Overview of the project:

I have chose to do a video on Freedom Bakery, that is a “Social Enterprise” based in Glasgow. They are making bread and pastries and are working with a lot of restaurants in Glasgow but also some shops (Locavore in the Southside for instance).

Freedom Bakery is also linked to the Progressive prisoner rehabilitation schemes and is working with several people who haven’t been released yet.

“By teaching new skills, from baking to logistics, Freedom Bakery rebuilds confidence and hopefulness before prisoners are released. “

As a teacher, and a French person, I was also curious and interested myself in seeing how bread is made, and also share this experience with people.

I wanted to show both the working conditions (physical work, working time that are different from usual jobs, fast pace) but also the conviviality of the place and people working there.

I got in touch with them by email and phoning them. I had to explain what I was doing, what for and who for.

I then went for a Recee, and asked permission to employers and employees to video/take pictures of them. It’s illegal to take pictures of people who haven’t been released from prison, so I made sure I had a conversion with these people in particular and was careful of not having any shot/clip of them.

Website: https://www.freedombakery.org/

Address: Unit E5 Rosemount Business Park 145 Charles Street Glasgow G21 2QA

Phone number: +44 (0)141 328 7886

Contact: Scott, [email protected]

Cinematographic techniques:

Extreme long shot (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRD7f2Wo0CM)

The extreme long shot captures a very wide area to show the scale of subjects in relation to their environment, like tiny birds in a forest. Whether it is the desert or outer space, the audience should get a feel for the time and the place they are about to spend the next few minutes. It is typically used as an establishing shot when changing from one big area or city to another

Bird’s eye shot (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CWMueRbVLvk)

Like the extreme long shot, the bird’s eye shot shows massive scale but from a much higher angle, to the point where land starts to show abstract shapes and lines out of roads, buildings, and trees. It is also typically used as an establishing shot for introductions and scene transitions.

Long shot

A wide shot, often referred to as a long shot, puts characters in context to the backdrop you establish in an extreme wide shot. The characters can be seen from head to toe and you see them in relation to the location or each other. You can use a wide shot to show how your character is small in relation to the vast surroundings. When the term long shot is emphasized, it can mean that the camera is farther away from the subject, making them even smaller. It gives the audience a sense of geography so when the camera goes in tighter, they can understand who is where.

Full shot

A full shot is different from the wide because it focuses more on the character in the frame. The character is full body from head to toe again, but the location is no longer the focus. In this shot you might want to show how a character dresses or how a character moves: awkwardly, confidently, etc. You can also reveal what they are doing, like packing a suitcase or ordering a train ticket. You can give the viewer information but not all of it, yet.

Medium Shot

The medium shot shows your character from the waist up. In the old westerns, the character was often shown from the hip up which is now known as a cowboy shot. Again, this shot is about revealing information. You can see more detail than you can in a wide shot. The reason the westerns had to reveal the hips is because of the gun holsters. If you didn’t show the hips, when a cowboy was ready to draw you would lose a lot of important action.

Medium shots are often used in dialog scenes. As we get closer to our subjects we can see things that we wouldn’t catch in a wide, like body language. We can see crossed arms or someone who talks with their hands.

Close-up shot

A close-up frames the character’s face. In a close-up shot one can see even more detail that tells us how a character feels. A close-up highlights emotional clues in the eyes and you can see a twitch or a tear that you might miss in a medium shot. It is by its nature more intimate so the effect is often that the audience can feel what the character is feeling.

A close-up can also be used to show things such as a tapping foot or the sliding of a ring on a finger.

Extreme close-up shot

An extreme close-up frames even tighter on a face (or subject), highlighting facial features more. It usually frames a particular part of the face like the eyes or the mouth. It is even more intimate than the close-up and is almost uncomfortably close, so the viewer is more apt to feel whatever the Actor is conveying, which is why it is used to show more intense emotion and is often used as drama increases.

1st example: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwA3XyNeD3I

Long shot -> to locate the place where the bakery is

Long shot -> to refine and give this idea of entering the bakery as a normal client.

Close-up on the food -> that’s been sold by the bakery (foreground) and the lady selling the pastries + client (background)

Complementary research:

Video explaining camera movement based on examples: Here Very easy and straighforward and also entertaining! Helped a lot to understand what to put in my storyboard

1° STORYBOARD: Link

When doing my research, I was mostly working from films and examples of films whilst I was aware that we were more meant to be doing a ‘documentary’ of an artisan.

At first, I didn’t really know what a storyboard was and I did some research mostly to understand how to make an effective storyboard, but also because I saw a few of my classmates struggling understanding the point of making a storyboard. What type of information is it meant to contain? What is the purpose of it? How precise does it need to be? How do you effectively give a sum-up of movement with a static format (storyboard is not the film itself but are meant to explain what movement is going to happen).

I felt that it was quite easy to make for an advert as we were just copying another add, but we didn’t have to actually think it through: what shot size, shot type, camera movement did we need?

Also, as photographers, we’d focus on the composition that would involve a 3D aspect but no consideration for the movement/sequence of a shot. The storytelling was also limited, whereas here, with a rack focus for instance, I get to give a lot more of information about the subject’s thougths for instance.

Storyboard vidéo: Link

Ratio video: Link

Rack Focus: Link

2° Deciding on a template for my storyboard

Based on different storyboard I looked at on the Internet, and the help provided both by tutors and my own research, I decided on a template for my storyboard that I then created on PowerPoint, and printed on a A3 format:

This included the drawing/picture on the left, shot size, shot type, camera movement, lighting, equipment and subject movement. The template is made of boxes to tick in order to make it more straightforward to read and use.

3° Studying 5 examples of videos and taking notes of movement I wanted to include in my own video.

I watched a few videos that were on the same subject as my own video and made up for each of them storyboards to then decide on aspects of the video I liked and incorporate them in my own videos

VIDEO 1 : Link

VIDEO 2 : Link

VIDEO 3: Link

VIDEO 4: Link

VIDEO 5: Link

4° My final storyboard

Slide 1

Slide 2

Slide 3

Slide 4

Slide 5

Slide 6

Slide 7

Conclusion

STORYBOARD

Effective tool: I think that it wasn’t really clear for me what the point of a storyboard was, and how to use it as an effective tool. But also for instance, who might need it: just me as a ‘director’ or the actors/people in the documentary? After shooting, I added some more clips to my final video that I didn’t think of when preparing my storyboard. I was also glad I got to practise making storyboards with people’s videos when preparing my own video project.

RECEE

Effective tool: If I was to do another video, I’d probably get more information about what a Recee is and what information you need to get from there, what you need to bring with you. I think this is a crucial part of making a video and I didn’t realise how important this was: get some pictures not just of the tools they’re using but people’s clothes, what they are doing, general movement within the kitchen. I had a list of things to pay attention to when going there but I felt that I could have gotten more details in order to make the storyboard more effective and accurate.

SHOOTING THE VIDEO

Video teachnique: I realised I had a limited knowledge of the video vocabulary (shot size, shot type, camera movement) and I wish I had spent more time practising them individually in order to feel more confident when going to the bakery.

Material: I felt that although in class, we had a go at using the material, it would have been useful for me to spend time at home using the material, maybe before the video recording and be more familiar. As I was the one acting when donig the advert, I couldn’t really try out the tripod or lights.

PREMIER PRO

Montage: I had zero knowledge of Premier Pro and I think that in the end, it was a pretty straightforward tool to use, somehow similar to Photoshop (to an extent). I really struggled with transition, because I didn’t think of them as something as important as it is. Also the pace of the video. I realised that some clips couldn’t be used as they wouldn’t be coherent (people had different clothes, white balance or dought was at different levels in the kneading machine)

Getting more information: I wouldhave benefitted from watching more videos to add more stuff to my video: transition, music, how to slow down/speed up the pace of my video, what and how to film scene

OVERALL: It was an extremely challenging project on every aspects but I overall enjoyed it, mostly because I found out about other dimensions and ways of telling stories, while using a visual media. I found the fact of using movement and directing the viewer’s eye extremely fascinating. I decided to enroll in a video evening class to learn more about techniques.

#artisan

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