#in return and now you can’t go back. no choice but mutually assured destruction with the only woman who ever saw how dangerous he was and

[atopvisenyashill]

not an f&b aegon ii fan, not a hotd aegon ii fan, but a secret third thing (a fan of the aegon ii that only exists in my mind)

#extreme mommy issues his father figure is his grandfather & a dude who literally cannot stop committing hate crimes deeply upset that he #could have been his older sister’s male wife but his mom said no and now he has to be king #wants to be a good husband to helaena but resents how gentle she is and dependent on his protection wears his hair short bc he resents his #father’s obsession with valyria when westeros is here now and needs him to do more than just acclaim rhaenyra decades ago and aegon #his true love is his dragon and he was never going to live long after sunfyre. the son that actually DID come with fire and blood to save #his mother but it wasn’t enough never enough because he’s the oldest son but he’s also only second born and what is a second born son than #girlson who is functionally useless as anything more than a pawn to his family. #dying miserable and alone without even his mother’s love bc he came for her too late but he CAME FOR HER!!! HE SAVED HER. too bad. #she doesn’t care anymore bc everyone she really loved is dead. dying a pawn and yet the powerful man in westeros. #letting the narrative consume him alive after sunfyre is injured and finds him on dragonstone. he knows he’s doomed when he goes up against #baela. he does it because what else do you do. you’ve gone too far. killed too many. you killed your sister’s children and she killed yours #in return and now you can’t go back. no choice but mutually assured destruction with the only woman who ever saw how dangerous he was and #how desperate for loce he was. once upon a time. he was a baby bouncing in his sister’s lap on the throne. and she was beautiful and tall #and soft and smart and she told him he was beautiful and loved and pointed out every name and held him the way a mother does. #it has to end there. if the narrative eats me and sunfyre alive it has to eat her too. he won’t go down without her. #getting on my soap box #aegon the usurper

[theawkwardterrier]

to fill with joy the warrior's heart

Steggy Week 2k20, day 7 Prompt: Free choice

Summary: Trust is earned, and sometimes must be re-earned. Nothing in life is as pure and simple as we might wish it to be.

AO3 link here. Thanks to @steggyfanevents​ for organizing!

Peggy wakes Saturday morning with light steady at the window and in the first second realizes that Steve is not beside her and in the second remembers why.

“Moving day,” she says aloud, voice shaking sleep from itself, and opens her eyes.

Later, he will explain how he knew she would be there, will tell her about a different, older self he met, one who spoke of returning to the Stork Club even after she had moved from New York, one night a year spent sipping a drink alone and allowing herself the full imagining of what might have been.

But when she comes across him sitting on the steps of the brownstone Howard has loaned to her for the weekend, she doesn’t know any of that. When he looks up as he hears her footsteps on the sidewalk, when the streetlight falls on the shape of his jaw and nose and brow and the familiarity blooms hot and instant within her, all she knows is her feet pulling her forward even as her mind can’t grasp it, even as she cuts off her own gasp and sob. All she knows is her arms around him, his around her, the frantic scramble for logic, the somewhere knowledge that if this is real she’ll hang logic and do it happily.

She takes him upstairs, conscious of the pistol in her garter holster even as she can’t bring herself to relinquish his hand. Nevertheless, she manages long enough to prepare and pour tea for the two of them, manages as she sits across from him and asks quiet questions to which he gives equally quiet answers. (As familiar as he is, there’s so much worn to him now.)

“You might as well interrogate me the way you really want to,” he finally says when he’s corrected yet another small mistaken detail she’s dropped into the recounting of some part of their history. There’s just a bit of cheek to his tone, and it is that, something so tiny and personal and inimitable and him, something she truly believed she would never hear again, which makes her trust that it is truly him back with her again.

They fall asleep on the settees opposite each other. She wakes with her arm dangling; it is vaguely numb, but still reaching toward where he lies sleeping, solid and restless and here.

She is meant to return to Washington in the afternoon and he joins her. The ride is comfortable. They take turns at the wheel (Steve apparently drives now, and fairly well, too), point out landmarks along the route, fall occasionally into deep discussion, sample from each other’s plates in roadside diners, sit in easy silence with the scenery rushing past. Somehow, there’s a feeling of routine to it. They didn’t precisely spend the war gallivanting in cars together, but she has never been able to forget those snatched moments of synchronicity between the two of them: talking late at night once the others had gone to sleep, or during a brief mutual leave in London, what was meant to be greetings between them in the hallway spooling out into a conversation that had them blocking the door at headquarters for a half hour. Sometimes she still goes to sleep to the rhythm of their matched footsteps on patrol during an assignment.

That could be her life from now on, she realizes, the thought rocking into her. That synchronicity, this man, for as long as they were able.

How long will that be? she wonders. How long, this time?

Her hands shake on the wheel and she forces them to stop, forces herself to breathe. But the idea won’t go away.

He had come back to her, he wasn’t leaving, he’d told her that, and Steve’s word is good, Steve is good, she knows that like the fact of her own life. And she also knows that the control, the choices we think or wish we had, that we want to have, can slip from us so easily.

As they enter the city, she asks, eyes forward, “Can I help you find someplace to stay?”

Even without looking, she can imagine the surprised furrow of his eyebrows, can hear the shift in his posture against the seat: so slight, and so clear to her. She doesn’t fault him for assuming that he would be staying with her, after having felt her grip on his arm, having fallen asleep to her voice and sat with her all this while as she returned to the place she is making her home.

She hopes he doesn’t fault her for not being able to let him.

He finds a place in a building several streets over from hers, easily walkable. They eat at the same halfway point diner in the morning. Sometimes they share sections of the Post, sitting and reading silently, pointing out articles of interest, debating politics and trends and culture. Sometimes they tease each other across the table: “Ah, look, they’re bringing the cow in the back, they must have known you wanted a bit of steak and eggs this morning” and “Better give that left curl a stern talking-to, it’s not looking as quite as perfect as the rest.” They don’t part with a kiss, but sometimes they stand so long chatting on the sidewalk outside that people detour around them with exaggerated annoyance.

Talk about work, about their lives, is usually saved for evenings or weekends spent together. They are neither of them particularly good at cooking, but are both perfectly satisfied with sandwiches or restaurant food. They can each muddle through a few simple dishes anyway, and, regardless of whether or not their muddling improves along the way, it’s certainly more enjoyable to prepare things together.

Her kitchen is larger (though no one would call it spacious) but he actually remembered to purchase things like a pot and extra forks, so they split time between the two. Over jacket potatoes served with butter and leftover bits from Peggy’s fridge, she lets out the frustrations that she hides during the day behind cool smiles and sharp retorts, lets out the anger at the men who don’t have any of her experience or skill and yet imagine themselves equal to her. She had forgotten how it felt to allow these words into the safekeeping of one who had never thought such things and never would. She had forgotten the ease, the openness between them that included him revealing his own fear and pain and longing. The night that they sit across from each other at the secondhand card table he’d found and he tells her with such detail about the friends she will not meet for decades if ever, she stretches a hand across to him, holding tightly to his fingers.

When they spend the night together, it’s almost always in her bedroom. Her clothes are there, her hairbrush and lipstick and powder, her soap, toothbrush, indulgently soft sheets; she doesn’t need to pack a bag so she can sleep comfortably and armor herself with perfection for work the next day. Regardless of disapproving stares from neighbors when she and Steve walk out together in the morning, she doesn’t need to worry that she has missed an important call in the night.

So she allows him inside her home and wonders if any of this is wise, whether she might have to buy new sheets, a new bedframe even, if his scent will haunt the place, the remembered sight of him sitting at the table, of the contents of his pockets - loose change and crumpled notes to himself, that same compass, come all this way - on her nightstand, whether she will really ever be at home here again if he persists in becoming so much here and then she is left alone once more.

She can’t help herself. They had been slow and polite and careful last time and she was still left with a heart broken at the thought of what might have been; she’ll take better advantage this time, as much as she can, as long as it lasts.

Six months, she tells herself. Six months, and it will feel safe to let him in completely, to begin discussing a future.

But six months comes and goes, and it doesn’t feel safe, it seems only more dangerous to let him further. Even the small amount she has allowed of time spent and secrets shared seems too much. During a dull meeting one day her mind wanders to the idea of going to City Hall with Steve beside her, of standing up with him in front of a church, and she holds herself distant from him that night and cannot tell him why. He is late one evening for reasons which are perfectly sensible when explained and she tries to avoid cataloging all the small details of him over the next days - holding these crystallized memories in her mind will only hurt later.

She is no coward, she does not need assurances on that score. She's been asked to face battlefields and killers and destruction, to put herself in the way of it all, to take charge, to defend and strike back, and she has done it - she has chosen to do it - without pause.

But even brave people, she tells herself, must be sensible. Even brave people do not simply allow themselves to jump from cliffs with no guarantee of being caught on the way down.

He does not push her, does not even mention time-frames or any expectations he might have had when he came back. The only time he brings it up is in the night, those times she shakes herself from sleep with a gasp or a doubled-over cry. His hand will rest on her back or shoulder, will stroke over her bare stomach, the pressure of those long fingers well-remembered despite herself, and his voice will come, solid in the dark: “I’m sorry I was so late. I’m here now.”

And all she can think is how easily “now” can become “for now.”

They have an argument.

It starts out as simple conversation. She tells him that she is planning for a busy next few days, her time taken up first with meetings and then with fieldwork. He reminds her once again that she has a whole agency that’s meant to take care of fieldwork for her these days. It’s a running joke between them by now; he doesn’t even look up from whatever intricate little sketch he is working on. But, somehow, today it does not feel comfortably amusing. Just now, having Steve sitting at her kitchen table, referencing some new thing shared between the two of them, using a pencil borrowed without thought or permission from one of her drawers, seems constricting, dangerous.

“If I thought someone else would be able to take care of things for me, I would be perfectly capable of telling them so,” she snaps, watching his head come up in surprise.

“Of course you would be,” he says, and then, as if he can’t resist pointing it out, “but it’s pretty rare for you to actually do it.”

“Ah, so the only trouble with having things done successfully is asking people.” She pushes up from the table, paces back to grip onto the kitchen counter. “Unbelievable that I hadn’t simply thought of it earlier. How kind of you to inform me.”

“I’m only saying—”

“Of course you are! After all, we both know how well you delegate, how often you’ve been willing to put others in danger in your place.”

His back is very straight now. “Whether or not that’s true for me, you barely trust any of the people you have over at SHIELD. You don’t trust them to do things right or to work with you or support you, so I don’t know why you hired them in the first place.” He crosses his arms, mouth tight. “When I chose to work with people, it was because I knew I could rely on them.”

The laugh she gives is a single, dagger-tipped note. “How wonderful that must be for you, to have such luxury. I’m meant to protect the world and everyone in it while surrounded by people whose integrity I can’t always count on, much less their respect.”

“So find people you can trust! Hell, I’ve told you I’d step in if you need it - you can’t keep doing everything yourself, Peggy.”

His jaw is clenched, jutting in that stubbornly recognizable way of his, but for once she has no desire to laugh with him over it, to tease him from his tension with kisses or sly remarks. Her jaw clenches in response instead, words coming out tight as her crossed arms.

“Consider, perhaps, that I don't have confidence in the idea of you stepping in. You were gone for years, Steve, and I accepted it. I cannot simply accept that you’re back to stay, that you won’t sacrifice yourself again if you thought it would serve the greater good. I can’t rely on things going right, I can’t rely on you not finding yourself in such a position, and it haunts me, the idea that I might spend my life waiting for the next thing that will take you away from me. So I wouldn’t be so eager to consider yourself someone I can trust. ”

The pencil lies blankly between his stricken fingers. “If you don’t trust me,” he says, “maybe I’d better go.”

He doesn’t slam the door behind him, but it feels as if he has.

Alone in her bed, she realizes that she was right to worry: even though she has so carefully guarded against having Steve with her every night, the bed feels unfamiliar without his weight beside her, his soft breathing or sleepy comments in the dark, the simple smell of his soap. It hurts not to feel his touch, easy against her even in sleep, to think that she might never feel it again.

She gets up at half past two and puts a jacket on over her pajamas. The streets outside her window are silent except for a slight breeze and the light patter of drizzle. She shuts and locks her door quietly, turns to start the walk to Steve’s, and finds him sitting in the hallway.

He is leaning against the wall, chin fallen onto his chest. Hearing the click of her lock, the scuff of her shoes, he looks up to where she stands cat-still in front of her door, keys still in her fist. She cannot see the golden glint of stubble on his cheeks, but she knows she would feel it against her palm if she touched him.

“I wasn’t okay when I came back,” he says quietly, eyes on hers. He swallows. “And even though you’d already told me some about the way things had been for you, I should never have assumed that I knew everything. I should have checked whether you were okay. I know better than to think that just because someone's strong they can't hurt.”

She steps across to him, slides down so that she is at his side, arm against arm.

“Have you been sitting here the entire time?” she asks.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Mr. and Mrs. Roberson didn’t look really impressed, but I don’t like being away from you. I’ve already learned that lesson pretty well.”

“And in the most difficult way.” When she leans against his shoulder, her head fits just perfectly. The blue cotton of his shirt smells faintly of laundry soap, but mostly like a long and difficult day.

"I do trust you," she says, close to the fabric, her words coming carefully. "I know that you are a good man, and that you were forced into a terrible situation, a terrible choice. I don't want you to think otherwise."

"But—"

She overrides his voice. "And still, the world we live in is full of terrible choices, terrible situations. We live them perhaps more than most. And the thought of—" She breathes, starts over again, makes her words simpler. "Losing you once already hurt so very much."

He doesn't try to shove back against her words or feelings or reasoning, does not offer placation or gentle lies. He puts his arm around her.

"I wouldn't regret coming back," he says against her hair, "if you didn't think you could live with the uncertainty. I had to try, and I—I would still be here, in your life, if you wanted me."

"Actually," she says, looking at the wall in front of them. She's noticed the unavoidable paisley wallpaper before, but not the way it curls up from the baseboard. "I think you should come live with me."

She can feel him startle, shift to look down at her. She takes her time meeting his eyes.

"I don't even have a spare key to your place yet," he points out, confused.

"I remember."

"And we just—You just said—"

"Yes, I remember that too," she says, amused despite herself at his polite flapping about. "I was there."

"Then why—?"

"Because I will always want you with me," she says simply. "We circled around each other the first time even though I knew I wanted you with me. You went away from me and I wanted you back. And then you returned, and no matter how I tried to avoid it, I wanted you with me anyway. I want you with me always. And although it cannot happen, regardless of how careful we might be or what luck we might have, I must know better by now than to think I can simply pretend that I can turn away from you. I should know better than to try."

Through long minutes, he doesn't say anything, his heat and even breaths nevertheless soothing beside her. Finally she asks, "Well?"

"Okay." He lets the word float there, then adds, "But if anyone asks, I'm telling them that you asked more romantically than that."

It's ten days until the first of the month. Steve doesn't need nearly that long to pack his things.

Peggy arrives promptly at eight. Steve’s already been over to Stein’s Grocery and gotten the delivery van. Between the two of them, they haul the boxes and a limited amount of furniture, first down from Steve's building, then up into Peggy's.

Everything is moved in by noon, the truck returned, and the sun splashes joy over the pile of boxes in the doorway, the light dwindling as things find their new homes: his small supply of records sliding in with hers, art books, science fiction, and novels amongst the mysteries and classics and occasional paperback romances on her bookcase, clothes in the places she has made in the bureau and wardrobe. She knows that his paints and drawing paper, his pastels, will eventually escape or will be put away messily, but for now they lie neatly stacked in their assigned place on the shelf. His sheets and pillowcases go into the linen cupboard, spares now for their shared bed.

They keep her radio, but trade her secondhand turntable for his - also secondhand, but slightly better quality (Steve still knows how to hunt down a bargain). The armchair that they can both fit into if they curl together just right finds its place in the lounge area; it doesn’t match her sofa in the slightest, but they don’t care.

There isn’t much wall space, but they’re able to find places for a piece of artwork or two. She hammers the nails, he makes sure the frames hang straight. A print of his parents' wedding photo, pictures of him and Bucky, of the Barnes family, join her limited collection of photographs. They both have the same one of them alongside Commandos; for some reason, they tuck his copy behind hers in the frame.

His silverware easily replaces her minimal set. There’s a bit of a bicker over which dishes to keep - he has more settings and complete ones too, she has the deeper bowls and larger plates - but they decide on both for now; they’ll shop around for something together. The single pot and frying pan he brought make the cut easily, as she still doesn’t have any of her own.

(“Considering all the time we just spent organizing the kitchen, one would think we might actually intend to use it.”

“It’s probably a good thing for everyone that we don’t. Do you want me to go pick up from Luigi’s or Good Earth?”

“Neither - Chin’s is better than Good Earth, and they'll deliver here. But whatever number of egg rolls you’re intending to order, double it. You always eat far more than your share.”)

Late and later, with the moon high out the window, they get ready for bed. She stares as he adds his clothes carefully to the laundry hamper, piling them atop hers. She wonders how long it will be before he begins tossing them in less attentively, allowing shirts to drape comfortably over the sides or even drop onto the floor.

There is his toothbrush and his soap beside hers, his razor. His clothes hang in the closet. Anyone who needs to reach him from now on will know to call here.

They climb into bed. Our bed, she thinks, startled by it, until he brings her close and whispers, “Your sheets really are better than mine.”

“It doesn’t do to doubt me,” she reminds him. He laughs. After a time, she adds, “It went well, I think, moving day.”

“It did.”

His familiar weight is beside her, the smell of work washed off and replaced with soap and clean skin. He will be there as long as he can be, and she knows he will try to make that a very long time.

“Let’s not move again for a good while yet,” she says. “I can’t bear the thought of having to do double the packing and then unpacking it all again somewhere new.”

One day, they’ll move somewhere larger, a house where they can host friends and have a back garden to relax in, where they might be able to raise a child or two. But for now...For now…

“Yeah,” he says, sleepy in a way that she usually doesn’t hear him. His arms are heavy and secure around her. He is no longer keeping himself at the ready; he no longer has to. “Right here. We’ll stay right here.”

#steggyweek20 #Steggy #Steggy fic #Peggy Carter #Steve Rogers #(I'm kinda obsessed with how fitting this title is ngl)

[milotry]

Louder Than Words

A Dragon Age fic

Ch 1/1 (Complete) ¦ 2,698 words ¦ AO3

Jowan & f!Amell backstory fluff with a sprinkling of angst

CW: Bullying, selective mutism

-

Aria spent most of her time in the circle’s library. She preferred the quiet solace of tucking herself away in a small alcove and studying to the alternative of exposing herself to the boisterousness of the other students, or to being under the prying eye of a templar. 

Outside of classes, where she would speak only when prompted, the library’s many tomes on herbalism, healing, and the fade could occupy her mind, distracting her from the fact that her brother had not written to her in months. Fausten used to write every other week, dedicatedly and without fail, each piece of parchment lighting up Aria’s heart with the assurance that the outside world had not blinked from existence in her absence, but the correspondence had ceased of late. Every attempt on her part to contact him only made the silence gnaw at her all the more.

Though she had been at the tower nigh on half a decade, Aria had not wanted to make friends. Making friends, she felt, would be admitting to herself that she was staying. It would be acknowledging that Fausten was not going to break down the great doors that sealed her prison, sweep her up and spirit her safely back to Kirkwall, back to her parents and her family. It didn’t help matters that she had lost the will to speak; ever since the day the templars took her, ignoring her cries and those of her mother, it was as if her mind and body had decided that her words were powerless. Aria frequently met direct questions with blank stares, something that had gotten her into trouble with the senior mages and templar stewards on more than several occasions, and it was certainly quite unhelpful when it came to fostering comradery with the other apprentices.

It was during one of her solitary library sessions that friendship - or something resembling it - was imposed upon her. The corners she chose to hide away in were selected very deliberately for their lack of visitors. Rarely did any of the tower’s inhabitants frequent the circle’s small collection of herbal remedies for digestive issues, or pay much attention to the dustier tomes that fell outside of the primary schools of magic. It was of particular surprise to Aria, then, when another apprentice appeared from behind one of the tall rows of bookcases. He glanced back the way he had come, looking quickly in all directions, then shrivelled against the shelves, breathing what seemed like a sigh of relief.

Aria recognised the boy as being a few years older than her, one of the apprentices who had already been in the circle when she had first arrived. He was a grubby, very unkempt individual at the best of times, but his hair looked more thrown out of place than she felt was normal, and a few patches of his robes were visibly singed. It was then she noticed that all the while she had been studying his appearance, he had been looking nervously back at her.

“Please don’t tell anyone.” He whimpered. It was a pleading, very pitiful statement, though Aria was not sure what he meant. She hadn’t spoken yet that day, but the longer his appeal hung in the air between them, the more she felt it would be best to reply. “...Tell them what?”

He paused, as if he didn’t particularly want to elaborate. “About me... them... about them chasing me. And this,” he gestured to his burnt clothing. “Please don’t tell the mages.”

“Why would I tell them?” Aria had experienced bullying between apprentices before, though luckily she had been so unresponsive that most would-be bullies quickly decided that she didn’t make for a very entertaining target. The boy looked down at his feet. “I don’t know. To get me into trouble, maybe.”

“I can’t see why I would want that.”

“Uhh, right. Ok.”

Uncomfortable silence.

“...Thanks.”

Aria stared at him for a few long seconds, then turned her gaze back to her tome, ‘Deep Mushrooms: An Extensive Study’. The boy remained. He crossed his legs beneath him and craned his neck to see the books behind him, shuffling a slim text out from one of the shelves and opening it at the halfway point, seemingly less interested in the contents than in simply having something to pass the time with.

The two of them sat in what felt like mutually appreciated quiet for the rest of the afternoon, until the circle tower’s meal bell rang out and made them both jump, snapping them out of the words on the worn parchment in front of them and back to reality. Aria gently closed her book and rose, returning it to its place, then watched as the boy did the same. She considered him for another moment, then left. He followed, and she heard his tummy audibly grumble for its supper.

Aria sensed that she may have inadvertently adopted a puppy.

Over the following weeks and months, Jowan - which was the boy’s name - attached himself to Aria like the moths that circled the tower’s sconces. If he strayed he was never gone long, and he joined her for lessons and meals whenever they coincided. If anyone else had latched onto her in such a way, Aria imagined she might have lost her mind, but Jowan appeared to have understood from the day they met that silence was her preferred method of communication, and he hadn’t said a single word to her since then. He greeted her with nods or a small wave of his hand, and seemed wholly content with it. As it was, Aria couldn’t bring herself to find him particularly annoying. Maybe she already had lost her mind, she pondered.

Ordinarily, Jowan, being a few years her senior, would have attended more advanced classes than Aria. It seemed that destruction spells were not his forté, however, and he had been frequenting the novice classes for the past several weeks - apprentices were only allowed to start throwing fireballs once they could be trusted not to set themselves alight. Jowan had apparently required new robes and swiftly-applied burn ointments more frequently than most.

“When summoning fire, a mage must be in complete control. Do not think this is an element one may use flippantly, or without focus; even the act of lighting a candle will require you to keep a strong will.” The senior mage eyed the class with mild derision. Teaching was not exactly every mage’s first choice of profession, but the circle offered few options. “Today we will be doing just that - lighting candles. You should each have your own. However,” she glanced pointedly at Jowan, “I do have a few spare.” He looked back at her, sheepishly.

The lesson continued smoothly. It took Aria several tries to will the wick of the candle to flicker to life, but eventually she held a warmly glowing flame in front of her. She didn’t have much interest in magic that couldn’t be used in healing or herbalism, but she supposed that one day she might need to cauterize a wound, or light a fire by which to heat a poultice, so it wasn’t completely without its uses. Jowan, unsurprisingly, was having much less luck with his candle.

He stared unshrinkingly at the wick, and Aria could see the determination in his expression, but his magic alluded him. A few voices on the other side of Jowan began to snicker and whisper. Most of the other students had managed to light their flames by now, and the senior enchanter was approaching those who had not in order to offer them guidance, beginning on the other side of the large library clearing they were occupying. Her back was turned. “Having a bit of trouble are we, bed-wetter?” Aria turned her head in the direction of the speaker, the apprentice nearest to Jowan. “Are you going to piss yourself again?” The tormentor had a friend at his side, egging him on, both smirking. Jowan was trying firmly to ignore them, continuing to stare at his candle in front of him. His fists were clenched around it, his knuckles turning a bony white.

“Do you know what they do to pathetic mages like you?” Jowan didn’t look up. “They make them tranquil. Wouldn’t that be nice? You’d finally have an excuse to be useless-”

The boy was cut off by the fire that had suddenly started at the hem of his robe.

“Shit---shit! Put it out!” He shrieked, his panicked friend trying to stomp out the fire but repeatedly kicking him in the process. The chaos lasted only a few seconds, as the enchanter had immediately swivelled on her heel at the noise and sent a torrent of icy water directly onto the wailing apprentice, drenching him from head to toe. He sobbed miserably.

“Who, precisely, is responsible for this?” She rounded on them, glowering.

“It was Jowan! I know it was!” The bully’s friend blurted, having edged a safe distance away from the other boy. Jowan’s eyes widened.

“What? No- this wasn’t- I didn’t-” He tried to sputter any kind of coherent defence, but choked once he saw the senior mage’s unconvinced frown.

“I believe this will be your first night in the dungeon, hm? Setting yourself on fire is one thing, but we cannot abide endangering your fellow apprentices.”

Jowan’s mouth hung open, speechless. The younger apprentices had all heard the horror stories about the tower dungeons, whispered between their bunks long after dark - the rats; the skeletons; the rumour that the veil there was weak, and that if you managed to fall asleep on the cold, damp ground, demons would infest your dreams and tempt you until your mind broke. Jowan tried to plea his innocence again, but no words escaped him.

“It was me.”

Everyone gawked in the direction of Aria’s voice.

“I did it.” She reiterated.

“You?” The senior enchanter raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

Jowan was staring at Aria in shock - or perhaps it was awe.

“In that case, you will follow me. The rest of you, class is dismissed.” She addressed the remaining apprentices, then gave Aria a look that seemed to be a combination of disappointment and scepticism. “You, with me.” Aria followed the enchanter out of the library without protest. Jowan wordlessly watched her go.

The dungeons weren’t quite as grotesque and horrifying as Aria had been led to believe. Sure, there was a stain of what appeared to be dried blood on the floor of her cell, and the moulding pile of hay that had possibly once passed for a bed was infested with rat droppings, but the bit about demons had been nonsense. Aria had felt the veil before, tickling along her skin and pressing against the air around her, and she could feel no such sensation here. She sat propped against one of the uneven stone walls, scratching at the dried flecks of blood on the ground with a stalk of sharp hay.

She had gotten into trouble for her mutism many, many times, but never for any other kind of misbehaviour or misdeed. She suspected that since the boy hadn’t been hurt her punishment wouldn’t progress passed this unpleasant stint in detention, but she didn’t really like the idea of being branded a troublemaker, or “kid who sets people on fire”-er. She let out a muffled sigh into her forearm as she hugged herself, and decided that wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to help anything.

A tapping sound at the cell bars made her flinch. “Aria?”

Jowan’s grubby face could be seen dimly in the low-light, peering through the bars at her. “I snuck you something at supper. I don’t think anyone saw me come down here.”

She imagined he had had to bribe an older, savvier mage for the dungeon keys. That was usually how any of them got anything. She shuffled over to the cell’s entrance, Jowan becoming more visible as she reached the grating. His expression was guilt-ridden. He stuck a skinny wrist through the bars, a loaf of bread in his hand. “It wasn’t you. I set his robe on fire. I didn’t mean to, but I did it."

Aria knew that. She wasn’t stupid. She had seen the anger flaring up in Jowan’s eyes as the boy had mocked him, and they had long been taught that magic and rage were a terrible combination.

“It’s ok.” she said.

She had spoken far more than was preferable today.

“But you got yourself into trouble for me. Why? You didn’t have to.”

“...I know.”

“So, why?”

A long pause stretched out between them.

“What they were saying. About the rite of tranquillity. I was scared. The templars already know you’re falling behind in class, what if they knew you had almost hurt someone?”

This was the most Aria had said to Jowan in the entire duration of their weird, unique friendship. He was looking at her thoughtfully, now.

“Thank you. But they don’t perform the rite on children - at least, I don’t think they do.”

“They might if they thought you were dangerous enough.”

He didn’t respond. Maybe she had frightened him with the idea.

Aria felt emboldened by her sudden lease of verbal capacity, and moved closer to the bars, looking into Jowan’s eyes. “Why did you start following me around in the first place? I can’t be very interesting. I don’t understand.”

He studied her face for a few moments and then broke from her gaze, looking at the floor. “It’s silly. You might laugh at me - or you might be offended, that’s also a strong possibility.”

“Tell me anyway.”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Since you never said anything...I knew you wouldn’t tease me, or tell me I’m annoying, or ask me to leave you alone. It was selfish. And then you went and did this,” he gestured at the dungeon cell, “for me, and now I feel horrible.”

Aria could see why he thought he might offend her. Someone telling you they like you solely due to your unusual mental issues would probably be offensive to most people. But she couldn’t help that the last few months had been the least miserable of all the time she had spent in the Circle of Magi, and the least lonely. Jowan was clearly anxious, gnawing at his bottom lip, waiting for her response. She thought a moment longer, then said, “I didn’t want you to leave me alone. You’re...the closest thing I’ve had to a friend in five years.”

He relaxed slightly, but seemed to be waiting for her to continue. He should really have known better than to expect a speech from her. “I took the blame earlier because I wanted to protect you, so you have nothing to feel bad about. You didn’t make me do it.”

Jowan seemed embarrassed now, blushing at the earnesty of their exchange. “Thank you. Again.”

Aria found herself smiling.

“Thank you. For not leaving me alone.”

He stayed a few minutes longer, the two of them chatting quietly as Aria nibbled at the bread he had spirited away for her. Then they heard what sounded like the clattering of armour coming in their direction, and Jowan scrambled to his feet and toward the exit, glancing back briefly, then vanishing up the stairs.

She wolfed down what remained of the loaf, making sure there were no crumbs visible on her person, and moved further back into the cell again. A templar arrived shortly after, peering in at her from beneath the slits in their helmet for longer than felt comfortable. They moved on without saying a word, which was probably for the best; Aria did not respond to templars.

Her night spent on the dank dungeon floor was not as awful as she had expected it would be. The conversation with Jowan echoed in her mind, and Aria made a mental note to write to Fausten the next day. She had given up hope that he would ever continue writing back, but how could she not inform her brother that she had finally, at long last, made a friend?

#dragon age #dragon age fic #dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age jowan #female amell #dragon age oc #fanfiction

[wellwellvillanelle]

Well, I’ve transitioned into a more thoughtful phase about the finale and the parallels are ridiculous so I’m just going to ramble. The minute they entered the ruins, the theme from Jaws might as well have been playing because that’s how intense it felt with a kind of impending doom. And that was the doom of me getting what I originally predicted and wanted. Because at the end of the day I enjoy the shit out of angst. It’s easy to get caught up in hand sex & the romance of Rome lol, but really these characters remained true the to exact trajectory they’ve been on since episode one. It’s all very poetic and I’m absolutely thrilled for season 3.

I have a lot of theories, but one has to do with Villanelle’s expression of love. I think Eve felt liberated in a way, when she initially chose Villanelle over Carolyn/MI6. Because she still believed at that time she was in control, her relationship with Villanelle was perhaps the one thing she actually felt she still had some control over/in and then she sees the gun. She learns she’s been manipulated into killing Raymond (but not really; although that’s a whole separate rabbit hole) and suddenly her choices aren’t her own. It’s like when Eve deliberately breaks things, but then immediately after is surprised that she did and goes into denial. Villanelle’s gun allows her to retreat into old familiar patterns and place blame for her mirage of guilt, when like Carolyn said, everything that’s happened is what she ultimately has wanted.

It’s also hilarious to me that Eve just walked away after telling Villanelle she was like her, and not afraid. She obviously wanted to get shot! The scene felt like a direct parallel to the “You can’t- I can” line exchange from the finale of season 1. Honestly what else did she expect the bitch to do!? Eve was wildin’. I’m excited to see what the actual fear of death will do to Eve’s psyche. She’s been scared many times, but never truly in mortal danger. What’s that inner monologue sound like? For someone who regularly hurt themselves in an attempt to feel, what does this event do? Same with the murder. Her first reaction was that it was wet.. lol. I expect her to completely fixate on this for at least a third of the next season. Additionally, it’s absurd for Eve to think she has any life (or friends) to return to in London, but this bullet wound is that immediate telegram of BITCH YOU THOUGHT! Lol!! Villanelle said she wanted everything and you said yes, there are no backsies on that. 

But back to Villanelle’s expression of love and that motherfucking gunshot wound. Not only is the placement iconic, this literally puts them on equal footing. Beginning season 3 neither of these women will have anything really, and presumably will be at the complete mercy of whatever organization gets to them first. I wasn’t initially in favor of a Niko cameo, but now I am because I want him to eviscerate Eve. With any luck he was in the locker for at least 4 days being traumatized and did a lot of thinking. Outside of Carolyn (or Kenny) there’s really no one who would visit her in the hospital except for her next of kin (which side note: Villanelle still has family out there??) which is Niko. And if I’m lucky, we’ll get a revisiting of Eve’s “you don’t know what love is” but said by Niko to her. 

Cause she really doesn’t and if she’s honest with herself, the closest expression she’s had to that is with Villanelle. The only person she’s actually risked anything and everything for. Villanelle is used to manipulating what she wants into existence, and she’s confident in her skills, much like how she got those two girls into bed. And with Eve ultimately she was trying to do the same thing, but when the gag was revealed, Eve wasn’t having it. Which in actuality shouldn’t surprise Villanelle, because as she said, Eve is like her. Eve thought she was the only one doing the manipulating, when she was being manipulated squared. 

This season in many ways has been about the evolution of Villanelle and how she sees and interprets the world. She thinks she understands love, but she doesn’t fully and it shows in the final scene. She’s absolutely experiencing the visceral and physical effects of love and attraction, but love isn’t just about possession or obsession, it’s also about choice. And I don’t think Eve could ever be in a place to truly chose Villanelle or that life, unless it is an active, conscious, deliberate thing. I lost count of how many times Eve said “I don’t know” this season, and like the stab did for Villanelle, I think this gunshot will clear all that shit up. I also think it’s poignant that Eve doesn’t outright reject Villanelle by saying she doesn’t love her in return, because I believe she does. But Villanelle’s words of “You’re mine” frame it in such a way that Eve felt like she had to reject it. Villanelle likes to own things, she’s said as much, but that’s not love. However she needs Eve to feel, just as Eve needs her to feel, and even though Villanelle is impatient as fuck, if there’s any hope of some kind of future for them, that has to be a mutual understanding they both realize and accept. The already recognize the kinship, but perhaps not the depths to which they are now forever intertwined and why. I’m positive it will lead to mutually assured destruction BUT I’m excited af to see it go down.    

#killing eve spoilers #killing eve #my rambles until I'm able to record #so many thoughts and feelings #villaneve

[heatherofthenight]

Reaction to Reap

I have not read anyone else’s reactions to ‘Reap’ so these are just my observations/impressions/word vomit from the ep.  Please keep in mind I tag these shallow reviews for a reason.

 Deran and Jack

How does Deran say so much without saying it?  It’s a gift. Jack, dear, if Deran tells you how to run your business you’ll know about it.  Right?  Right. And yet I think the message was absolutely clear…do not fuck with Adrian.  I love how Deran wraps up their little chat by inviting Jack to The Drop for a beer.

So, who goes down first—Colby or Jack?  Or does Deran fix it so that they take each other out?  I love a good game of mutually assured destruction.

Deran and Craig Watching Adrian Win

I adore how invested Craig is in Adrian’s, excuse me, the Oceanside Kid’s, career.  He was just as excited as Deran.  At that end of the scene you could see Deran’s worry creeping in; he’s proud of his man but damn, he can’t wait to address what he’s learned.

 I also loved seeing Adrian’s personality shine through as he did his little salute/Nestea Plunge off the board after winning.

 Adrian’s Triumphant Return

The hug.  That’s worth rewatching.  That’s quite a bit of character growth we’re witnessing as a year ago Deran wouldn’t be seen in public with his arms around a guy and now he gives zero fucks as he embraces his man.  The looks (okay, glares) between Deran and Jack.  Just wow.  Deran can’t even stay in the same room as Jack and how ballsy is that of Jack to give Adrian a congratulatory hug in front of him.  I guess Jack really took Deran at his word when he invited him to The Drop for a beer.  

 When Adrian smiles his cheekbones take over his face.  It’s a good look on him.  Too bad I don’t think we’ll see much in the way of smiles going forward, at least for a while.

 The Confrontation

I expected more fireworks from Deran but I appreciated how he kept his cool and was supportive.  He knows he’d be the biggest hypocrite ever if he tore into Adrian for not disclosing how he’s making his money or who he’s associating with but I think he quickly figured out Adrian’s struggling with his choices and was able to shift gears into supportive partner. I already love Deran but this solidified for me why—he’s got heart and he’s trying so hard to make this relationship work.  

 Pope congratulated Adrian on his win with what looked like a genuine smile.  Unfortunately he keyed in on the fact that there was trouble in paradise though as the boys exited stage left and I’m not super pleased he overhead Adrian raising his voice if not the whole convo between D&A.  I’m choosing to believe that Pope wants Deran’s happiness more than being Smurf’s good little soldier and that will play a role in keeping Adrian in the land of the living.

 ‘I can be your alibi but I can’t do something on my own?’  *staggers back*.  Being financially independent is a huge deal for equalizing relationships although being a drug mule never really occurred to me as an option.  I was hoping there was another element to this (Jess needed money?) but I bought what Adrian was selling in terms of his reasons.

 Now for some shallow. The suntan.  The whiter than white teeth.  The super blue eyes.  The body that won’t quit.  I know why Deran is attracted to his surfer boy.  I will also say Mr. Cody was looking mighty fine.  The hair tucked behind the ears.  The laser like stare.  And since when are they the same height?  But I digress.  That’s actually a theme as I became distracted pre-hug because the inner canthus of Adrian’s left eye seemed super red to me which made me wonder how many takes there were for the scene.  I was so distracted I had to rewind so I could enjoy the tears.  The double-handed face touch.  The kiss. The hug (we got two!).  I thought I heard a collective whimper from D&A fandom throughout this part of scene.

 Adrian’s ‘I’m so fucked’ look during the hug; I’d like to think he would’ve gone on to disclose the rest of his news about the DEA but he had to be aware Pope was lurking close by.

 Adrian and Pearce

I though Pearce was with Oceanside PD but the DEA Douchebag said he’s with the state police.  I mistakenly thought we might not see Pearce as I know the actor is on another show but I should have consulted our fandom oracle, @meghangrove83, and then I wouldn’t have been blind-sided by the character’s appearance.  I thought Adrian was supposed to be book smart but he didn’t get any of this deal with the DEA in writing?  Methinks he needs a keeper and I’m nominating Deran. 

I’m perhaps in the minority but I like what Pearce brings to the show.  He is Smurf’s nemesis and now we’re going to see how he goes about putting her away.  We know he’ll have at least one scene with Adrian from promo and I’m guessing Deran.  As long as he doesn’t get one of them dead, I’m willing to see where this goes.

 Parting thought:  ‘If I never do something else in my life, I did that.’  Alarm bells began to ring loudly when I heard that—I thought maybe heavy-handed foreshadowing ahoy—but I talked myself down.  Maybe what Adrian ultimately does is unite the Cody Brothers (Remember my hopes for Pope supporting these two crazy kids?  We already know Craig supports Deran’s choices.  J is another wildcard but he seems pretty committed to his take out Smurf campaign) as they turn on Smurf and take her down.  That seems like a bigger accomplishment to me.

 Shallow parting thought: What male cries prettier than Adrian? I feel the need to point out when I cry I’m a snot nosed red mess yet Adrian actually looks more appealing with tears if that’s possible.  I think Deran agreed because he could not keep his hands off of him.  

 Honorable Mention:  I love Renn with Craig.  She knows how to give Craig shit and she knows him well and they are hot together.  I love the thought of them having a bambino together (if that’s true).  Her response to Craig’s invitation to Smurf’s for lunch was hilarious.  I need more Renn and Craig scenes!

#deran x adrian #Adrian Dolan #deran cody #renn #craig cody #(shallow) review

[ophelia-thinks]

do whichever ones you want obvs: top 5 farscape moments, top 5 w359 episodes, top 5 times black sails invented gay rights, top 5 colors, top 5 poems as of right now-ish

lkajsdf you KNOW ME these are literally all so good

i’m just gonna do the first two rn because this is already. very long.

top 5 farscape moments:

welcome to my cold war! peak john crichton/john crichton manifesto. i know i’ve already made approximately 200 posts about this specific scene & there’s not much more i can say about it without sounding like a broken record but oh i adore it so much. all those shots of him from below, the camera distorting his height, obscuring his face, letting him have the power back, if only for a moment. even when the national anthem plays it isn’t mocking him.

in the first part of “into the lion’s den” when braca’s giving crais shit about being a defector (kinda. i think the peacekeepers’ cruelty to him in ITLD is less about Betrayal and more about Failure but that’s another post.) and crais just goes “you are a consummate peacekeeper.” i think you can draw a straight line from the look on braca’s face when he says that to his decision to remain loyal to scorpius, even long after there’s ceased to be anything in it for him. like you don’t expect him to get it at all, but he does, he takes it exactly how crais meant it, and then like half a season later scorpius is the one who’s fallen from power and braca’s staging a coup against pk leadership. “you are a consummate peacekeeper” is braca’s “you can be more” and if that’s not the saddest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever heard. god.

…and maybe it was a kind of catalyst for crais, too. i’m obsessed with the scene right before he suicide-bombs the base, when he tells john what he’s going to do. “i do. i will. i hope you can believe that.” i love it when john’s torturers fall in love with him. (honorable mention is the crais/aeryn scene in “the choice.” the way he looks at her and the way he looks at john… the way he closes his eyes when she touches him, every time. i want to claw my eyes out.)

“everything old is new again.” i have this thing about how the ending of “la bomba” should’ve been the last scene of the entire series. not that there isn’t shit that i love in pkw, but there’s something really perfect about john confessing his sins to aeryn like he’s asking for her forgiveness—except he isn’t, they’re on totally equal footing, there’s not even such a thing as the moral high ground in their world anymore. this is just… who he is now. what he is. and she loves him; that’s his happy ending. that’s all you get, and it is still the last thing in the universe left sacred.

every single time chiana and john stand close to each other i feel like i am staring into the face of god.

top 5 w359 episodes:

VARIATIONS ON A THEME. lovelace back in that same old haunted house with a brand-new haunted body. she’s basically just raised a middle finger to the universe and yelled ISABEL LOVELACE WAS HERE! and resurrection is a curse, a fuck you right back. lovelace is crichton at the end of the line, she’s ripley in Aliens, she’s everyone’s final girl—bluebeard’s eighth wife, the one who figured out where all the ghosts were hidden and even now still hears them beating against the walls. the only part of her story that survived was the monster; everything else is just… static.

HAPPY ENDINGS. guys, this episode fucks. it has everything. lovelace pumping iron at 2 in the morning. hilbert being like “i found the bomb you’re secretly building on the space station we’re all trapped on. do you want some fertilizer?” when she calls him a cockroach and he calls her Isabel. more Farscape 359 #cinematic parallels: hilbert “begging” for her forgiveness a la scorpius in pkw; cutter’s fake personality chip unveiling the w359-verse version of the Aurora chair. “this is a dark room. if you put a gun to my head i might even say… a very dark room.” exactly the kind of brutal tragicomic character-driven “holy shit, what’s that noise?” episode w359 excels at.

DIRTY WORK. easily the worst thing about jacobi is that in a lot of ways maxwell was the best thing that ever happened to him, and this is the episode where they just completely pull back the curtain and force you to deal with that, and not even in like a cutesy “banter between bad guys played for laughs” way, but in a much deeper, sadder, “he loved her so much he can’t even justify to her killer what his grief for her makes him do” way. it’s actually also one of my favorite minkowski-and-lovelace episodes, even tho their relationship isn’t the focus: “oh, i knew we forgot about something!”

MUTUALLY ASSURED DESTRUCTION. the return of captain isabel lovelace. she didn’t ask to be this horror story’s beating heart, but the simple act of her survival blows the narrative wide open. nothing was ever the same again. the fact that it’s a very deliberate homage to the aforementioned “welcome to my cold war” scene from Farscape is something i’ve been working into every conversation i’ve ever had since the november of 2015.

THINGS THAT BREAK OTHER THINGS. approximately once a month i remember “who wouldst thou serve?” / “you.” and i just go absolutely apeshit. kepler thinking he’s fuckin 007 bribing the bartender to get jacobi’s attention. jacobi: “sir, you left your card here! with your name and number on it!” [minkowski in Constructive Criticism voice] “hey, jacobi, how did you end up in the terrorism division of the world’s most evil megacorporation?” jacobi [vivid flashback to kepler hitting on him at a bar and jacobi drunkenly trying to impress him by telling him about how good he is at mass murder] “…i’m not at liberty to say.”

#toomanyfeelings5 #welcome to my cold war #mankind's greatest contribution to the absurd #thank you!!!!

[dorevenge]

where ignorance is bliss - chapter 8: try to remember

SUMMARY: Anton Vanko has lunch with Howard, Maria, and Obadiah to discuss the Unity Project. [AO3 LINK]

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 [8] 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 ☆

STARK INDUSTRIES CONTINUES TO GROW

Yesterday, news broke that Mr. Obadiah Stane, fresh off the heels of cutting ties with Roxxon and bankrupting his own company Stane International, has shaken hands with Mr. Howard Stark. Mr. Stane will be joining Stark Industries as a technology consultant and inventor, pairing two of the greatest minds of our generation and making what will most likely be the best business deal of the new year. We expect great things from the two of them, and we can only imagine what kind of earth-changing products will come from their offices.

Obadiah had returned the signed business deal the next day. “The irony isn’t lost on me,” he had said. “After that first day of the Stark Expo last year, when I swore up and down that the only time I’d do business with a Stark is when I was buying his company, not the other way ‘round. Look where I am now.”

“You have a choice; you still have a choice. The memo is generous,” I said, taking the papers from him, and he shook his head at me.

“I know, I know. This is the best choice. I’ll be able to do what I love. Who knows, maybe I’ll be the CEO of Stark Industries one day,” he chuckled to himself, handing off the papers. “Happy holidays, Mrs. Stark.”

March 2, 1963 – Manhattan, New York City, Stark Manor

“How was work, dear?”

Howard kisses me before he takes his coat off. “Amazing. Obadiah has the best ideas. We’re way farther than we’d be without him.”

“And you remembered to invite him to lunch, correct? Anton Vanko is coming, and Edwin is prepared for four people.”

He pauses as he recalls his memory. “Yes. I did. Yes. He’s coming,” he says distractedly before running off to his office. He runs back in, kisses the top of my head, then leaves again.

“Remember, Mrs. Stark, we need to put the pork loin in the oven an hour before they’re due to arrive, at 350 degrees Fahrenheit so it’ll be perfectly cooked and ready to serve.”

“Yes, Edwin. I remember: 11am. And ten minutes to twelve, we’ll get the drinks ready,” I say, used to his excitement and anxiety before an important meeting by now. His affection for Howard always shines through in the form of perfectionism. “And, Edwin, please call me Maria. I insist on it.”

“I cannot do that, Mrs. Stark. My butler DNA forbids it.” I roll my eyes at his response; he’s said the same thing a dozen times now, or at least a variation of it. Edwin fiddles with his suit jacket, then the tablecloth on the lunch dishes spread before us, adjusting every other salad fork, then refolding the napkins.

Ana, his wife, arrives from the hallway. “Husband, dear, stop fretting.” She takes his hands into hers and places them on her face. “You’ve hosted a hundred parties, why should this one be any different?”

“Mr. Stark has an important guest, and this could be a monumental meeting for Stark Industries. I must do my best so Mr. Stark can do his best,” Edwin says, a wrinkle growing between his eyebrows, responding to his wife in a very matter-of-fact manner. His serious disposition clashes with her casual one

“All these guests are important, and they all go off without a hitch,” Ana replies.

“Not all of them. There was that dinner with Ms. Underwood-”

“Okay, not literally all of them, but all of them in your control. I think Mrs. Stark can handle it from here.” Ana smiles at him, and Edwin seems to relax. Only slightly; I’ve never seen Edwin completely relaxed. Ana has a unique effect on them, and she is always a ray of light in our household.

“Jarvis,” Howard peeks his head into the room, “Let’s have the meeting outside.”

Used to Howard changing his mind at the last second, Edwin moves to set the table outside without a complaint.

“Your English is getting better, Anton.”

“Perhaps,” Anton replies, “Whether or not this Unity Project of yours will bear fruit or not is another matter entirely, considering the posturing of our nations’ governments.”

Howard rolls his eyes, “Forget about them. My military contracts are merely the shortest distance between two points. Think about the children we’ll have someday, the legacies we’ll leave them with, the world they’ll be born into – that’s our priority.” Edwin brings the next round of drinks, and Howard thanks him. “The point is, if I want you on my team, you’re on my team. No questions asked. I’ve earned that.”

“Very well, Howard. As always, I’m humbled by your trust.” Anton pauses to think. “And yet, I must express my concerns. This arc reactor technology… The implications of such a device even existing. Have you not thought about these things?”

“I’ve thought about everything. That’s all I do is think. They said the same thing about the Manhattan Project, didn’t they Maria?” He turns to me. “Where ignorance is bliss…”

“… ‘Tis folly to be wise,” I finish the phrase, raising my drink to meet his.

Anton shakes his head softly. “So says the great Howard Stark. Your cavalier attitude may work for the press, but science is a different beast. You cannot approach it in the same manner.”

Obadiah chimes in, “Respectfully, Anton, that’s how science works in this country. Think about it. The ancillary applications alone justify the experiment. It’ll pay for itself tenfold.”

“But perhaps the expenses…” Anton starts.

“Since when you are an accountant? Listen, we’re about to embark on developing the technology that’s going to change the world, and you’re counting dollars and cents. You don’t need to worry about that with me over here on Team Stark.”

“We’re inventors. We dream big, and then we do whatever it takes to make those dreams a reality,” Obadiah says. “Now, you’ve seen the schematics. You know it can work.”

Howard continues, “The question is if you want to be a part of making it work. Don’t worry about the politics involved. This is much bigger than that. We’re serving a global community that doesn’t even recognize its own existence. I’ve played this game for years, Anton. So have you. It’s time to change the game. We don’t have to walk the path that leads toward mutually assured destruction. There’s another future waiting for us.”

“My main hesitation is making sure we are paving the way safely,” Anton says. “Recklessness is not something I’m fond of.”

“Me neither, Anton. Since joining Stark industries, I’ve discovered a new hobby: covering Howard’s ass. He might be excitable, but he’s not reckless. I have to run interference every once in a while, but his intentions are in the right place with the Unity Project,” Obadiah replies, vouching for the project. I stare down at the empty plate in front of me, unable to contribute anything.

“I know the SSR and S.H.I.E.L.D. have been taking care of you, but what does a soldier do once the war is over? You can’t keep fighting forever; it’s time to start building. And there’s no better place to do it than in the U. S. of A. A man’s gut is the best weapon he has, and I don’t want you to go against your gut if it’s feeling skittish, but I do want you in my corner. As far as I’m concerned, if anyone comes after you, they’re coming after me, and they’re not going to make it very far.”

Anton admires the glass in his hand, rotating it so the sunlight above reflects onto the tablecloth. The patio is silent for a moment, a rare thing our household. “You believe this deeply in the Unity Project, Mr. Stark?”

“I do,” says Howard.

“So do I,” Obadiah says, “That’s why I joined him three years ago, and that’s why we contacted you. We need you to make this work.”

“And you, Mrs. Stark,” Anton turns to me, jolting me awake out of my half-asleep trance. “You believe in your husband, these men, and their inventions?”

I put on my very best smile, the one I reserve for wooing businessmen and investors, the strongest weapon in both of our arsenals. “With my whole heart.”

Anton drains his glass and sets it down, holding his hand out to Howard, then Obadiah. “Have the papers sent to my office. I’ll sign them Monday morning. But for now, let’s eat and drink, no more talk of business. Let’s enjoy the good weather and good company.” Howard and Obadiah enthusiastically return Anton’s handshake.

Later that night, as we get ready for bed, Howard is still buzzing from this afternoon’s success. He helps me take off my necklace and unzips my dress.

“This is huge, doll, I can’t believe we got him. He’s gonna help us change the world. The arc reactor is closer than ever than becoming real. We’re gonna change everything.”

He takes me into his arms, strong and rope-like for years of hauling heavy machinery around his garage, and kisses me, first with an impeccably soft touch, then desperately. He holds onto my waist like a lifeline, still as fervent for me than when we married. I hook my fingers into the belt loops of his pants to get closer to him, taking the wheel and taking control. He chuckles into the kiss at my touch, and I buck my hips into him, just enough to throw him off balance and make him fall onto the bed behind him.

I climb onto his lap, hiking up my skirts, and place my knees on either side of him.

“How about we end the day on an even better note, then?”

NOTE: Some of the dialogue of Howard and Anton’s meeting taken from Iron Man 2: Public Identity, a comic book set before the events of Iron Man 2. Summaries can be read here - https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Iron_Man_2:_Public_Identity . I added Obadiah to the meeting.

#where ignorance is bliss #wiib reading #iron man #marvel #what if #fanfiction #canary writes a fanfiction

[auburnfamilynews]

The SEC’s weirdest rivalry may be what we need.

As we look forward to this afternoon’s Halloween matchup between Auburn and LSU, let’s go back several months and look at a possibility.

March 13th, 2020. Friday, March 13th, 2020.

That was kind of the day when this all hit the fan. Aside from being designated “World Sleep Day”, the news on that particular Friday was vast.

We’d just canceled basketball. Like, it was done. We wouldn’t get to see Auburn defend a conference tournament title and make a return to the NCAA Tournament. No more NBA, either.

Here’s a snippet of the headlines then:

It’s pretty much all bad news, and it’s continued that way for several months. No lie, 2020, and October in particular, have been long and tough.

So, how do we give this thing a hard reset? Can we power cycle it? Does that work?

When you finally get to this point, what can you do but be a little aggressive?

View post on imgur.com

And how does it get more aggressive than trying to combat the miasma of 2020 than by taking a visit to the old backwoods voodoo shop that Auburn and LSU co-own and operate.

Here we are, trying to find solutions for this pandemic and trying year, and the answer was here all along. Just let Auburn and LSU play. We should’ve done this months ago. Spring scrimmage. Best of seven. Apply the magic liberally.

We would’ve wiped this thing out by mid-April.

When you consider the facts, there’s no other way to approach this. Auburn and LSU have played the most unimaginable series in conference history, and the rivalry doesn’t even really date as far back as some other matchups.

Of particular note:

1988 - Stupid idiot Earthquake Game. LSU scores in the closing seconds and the bourbon-induced guttural moans triggered a flimsy seismograph across campus to register. Auburn’s only loss in the regular season. With a win, they would’ve played Notre Dame for a national title.

1994 - Ha! Stupid idiot Curley Hallman!

LSU quarterback Jamie Howard throws three pick sixes among his five interceptions in the fourth quarter, and Auburn erases a 23-9 deficit to win 30-26 and keep the winning streak alive.

1995 - Stupid idiot Phantom Whistle game. Patrick Nix got sacked for a safety when he heard a whistle from the stands and stopped during the play. Auburn loses 12-6.

1996 - Stupid idiot Barn Burning game. Literally a barn, not like “BARN CHEATIN”. Smoke billowed up from behind the student section but play continued. Auburn got screwed out of a touchdown when a Robert Baker catch was called incomplete. We lose 19-15.

1999 - Cigar Game. Auburn wins in Baton Rouge for the most recent time. Oh why does this number have to start with a 1?? Gross. Tommy Tuberville brings his guys back out onto the field to smoke cigars and curses the Auburn fortunes in Death Valley for decades to come.

2001 - 9/11 Game. Auburn/LSU is set for September 15th, but pushed back because of 9/11. LSU gets stronger as the season goes along, and thwacks us in Baton Rouge. Damon Duval fights a band member.

2004 - Hurricane Game. In the afterglow of Hurricane Ivan, Auburn upends the defending national champions with Jason Campbell’s last minute touchdown to Courtney Taylor. Nick Saban, Will Muschamp, and Jimbo Fisher are all on the LSU sideline.

2005 - Poor John Vaughn. Vaughn misses five field goals, including a doink in overtime to tie it, and Kenny Irons’ 200-yard day is wasted as Auburn loses again in Death Valley.

2006 - The Totally Not Pass Interference Officials Finally Made a Good Call Game. LSU gets unlucky with a controversial no-call on a play late in Auburn territory when Zach Gilbert and Eric Brock get entangled with an LSU receiver. Auburn stops LSU short of the goal line on the final play of the game to win 7-3. Oh, and an LSU fan doused our eagle with a drink and got arrested.

2007 - Les Miles Rabbit’s Foot Game. Instead of going for the easy field goal and certain win, Les Miles elects to throw to the end zone in the closing seconds. The pass is completed, when a bobble may have killed the clock. LSU loses twice during the regular season and still backdoors into the national championship.

2010 - Cam Newton Heisman Game. If the Iron Bowl cemented the Heisman that year for our large adult son, this was the game that vaulted him to the top of the polls. He runs for 217 yards and two scores, with one the scintillating affair where he dodges nearly every member of the LSU defense. Auburn goes to #1 in the country after this win and takes the national title a couple months later.

2016 - The You’re Fired Game. Loser of this game was pretty much guaranteed to fire the coach. Auburn gets six Daniel Carlson field goals and LSU appears to score the game-winning touchdown on the final play of regulation, but a review shows that the offense wasn’t set and the clock had run out before the snap. Les Miles gets fired the next morning.

2017 - Gus Hotseat Part 1,000. Auburn builds a 20-0 lead in Baton Rouge but tightens up and lets it slip away in the second half, falling 27-23. Auburn wins out in the regular season and wins the SEC West. This game, however, falls into one of the 3-4 most inexcusable losses under Gus Malzahn along with 2014 Texas A&M, 2016 Georgia, and 2018 Tennessee (and now 2020 South Carolina).

2018 - Pass Interference Revenge for LSU. Auburn blows another double digit lead and Joe Burrow leads a game-winning drive that culminates in a walk-off field goal for LSU and a 22-21 final score.

2019 - Nobody comes close to LSU in the regular season except for Auburn in Baton Rouge. In the end, a penalty on LSU allows LSU to run out the clock and preserve the win on the way to a perfect season.

See, if we’d just had a few of these happen in March, the Butterfly Effect of mojo would be more than capable of wiping out COVID, bringing back Kobe, dousing the wildfires, and doling out another round of stimulus checks to the country.

Or, we could be in for something truly epic tomorrow. Let’s consider the facts again.

Gone are the ultra-talented offensive cogs from last season for LSU. Heisman winner Joe Burrow, along with his trusty skill position players, most of his offensive line, and his wunderkind passing game coordinator are all in new spots (the NFL). Steve Ensminger is in charge of the show once again. Dave Aranda is leading Baylor, while people are laughing at Bo Pelini’s Baton Rouge buyout considering how poor the LSU defense has been this year.

They lost to Mike Leach, who hasn’t won another game yet. Think about that. MIKE LEACH MADE LSU WALK THE PLANK AND THEN DID SO HIMSELF. Mutually assured destruction from the Pirate. They also lost to Missouri and first year coach Eli Drinkwitz. LSU looked great against South Carolina, but that was at home, at night, where you can never pick against the Bayou Bengals unless you’re Troy.

Meanwhile... you know how this season has gone for Auburn.

Earlier this year, our own James Jones wrote a nice little ditty examining the history of BARN CHEATIN’. That only reviewed our controversial wins against the Tide after we were accused of nothing more than playing “gotchya and grabass” by the full diaper havers across the state.

Interesting only if you’re a mouthbreathing nitwit. Equitable if you’re the ones on the field trying to play actual football instead of gotchya and grabass. https://t.co/sum1sEFeXM

— Roll ‘Bama Roll (@rollbamaroll) April 22, 2020

Now, however, they may not be alone. Arkansas has joined Club Barn Cheatin’ —

I’m gonna be bitter for so long. In WHAT WORLD is that not a fumble!? WE WON THAT GAME pic.twitter.com/eGxwcFYlD9

— WoOoO Pig SpoOoOoky (@ArkansasFight) October 11, 2020

Then Ole Miss joined the group with these shirts and the sympathy of Alabama beat writers. It’s an alliance!

You can now grab yours today! : https://t.co/r4qq8zrpQR pic.twitter.com/W2cOnbQHWj

— Randy Jewel Morgan (@RebelNutt18) October 27, 2020

C’mon, you know we only cheat by funneling cash to star players through their family’s church and then strong-arming the NCAA into keeping them eligible by having a large yella man who likes to hit stuff with his own brand of 2x4s. Can’t you tell that’s how we run this game by all of the blue chip recruits we’ve gotten lately? Huh? Oh.

Anyway, Auburn has had some major buildup coming in the form of karma against LSU. The double digit leads blown over the past two years, with all the pass interference calls going against Auburn in 2018 are sure to somehow Yeerk their way into the back judge’s ear and force him to throw a flag on the purple Tigers. It’s going to happen. We’re going to get an all-SEC West alliance of Barn Cheatin’ going on in 2020.

Now, I’d love that, because it means we can win all of our division games, pissing off EVERYBODY and getting some victories while we’re at it in the year that doesn’t matter.

Let’s boil down the wild games in this series to a few choice words.

Photo finish. Last second. Controversial. Turnovers. Missed kicks. Poor clock management. Crowd involvement. Heisman winners. Natural disasters. Nicotine.

Now, to create the perfect outcome for tomorrow’s game, adding in Halloween and a full moon and a pandemic and the election.

Auburn and LSU will play a perfectly fun first half. There will be a bunch of points scored because neither defense is really all that good. LSU hits two or three big pass plays, and Auburn gets a breakaway run from Tank Bigsby and a long touchdown through the air. There will be a gadget play that works and one that blows up spectacularly. I have no designation on which team those happen to.

After halftime, it’s a close game, but LSU builds their lead in the third quarter with some defensive adjustments and another long pass play for a score. As the fourth quarter starts, Auburn trails by two scores. Then the turnovers happen. Whoever’s playing quarterback tomorrow will throw a pick, leading to a score for Auburn, and then in the final five minutes, Bo Nix and Tank Bigsby lead a methodical drive down the field and Auburn goes up by a point.

LSU will have a couple minutes left to salvage a win, needing only a field goal. They quickly move into range for the kick, but in their greed they go for the end zone from the Auburn 25. Offensive pass interference is called on a play where both the receiver and defender are hand-fighting, and the 15-yard penalty moves LSU back to where only a 57-yard field goal would win the game. With just five seconds left, Ed Orgeron trots out the kicking team, but the kick misses. Auburn roughs the kicker but doesn’t get called for it. Tigers (blue ones) win.

In the aftermath, Donald Trump criticizes Ed Orgeron for bad coaching on Twitter, and says that Big Ten football is way better (they love him in Iowa!). The southern states revolt and go blue. LSU joins Barn Cheatin’, Inc. and as a full moon sets on Halloween on the Plains, 2020 is put back in order.

from College and Magnolia - All Posts https://www.collegeandmagnolia.com/2020/10/30/21542277/auburn-lsu-and-the-case-for-resetting-2020

#IFTTT #Blogger #auburn #auburn fast #wareagle #AuburnFamilyNews #war eagle #sec #football news #aubu

[shinneth]

Gem Ascension Tropes (Steven-specific: C - H)

Primary General Post ★ Full Article ★  Primary Peri Post ★ Primary Steven Post

Cannot Tell a Lie: Subverted; he manages to pull off a lie on a single occasion in Chapter 8 of Act II when he convinces Greg to let him into the ship (that he intends to steal to take off immediately to Homeworld) because wants to appreciate the interior that Peridot designed. Played straight otherwise.

Character Development: In the GA continuity, Steven’s habit of clinging to his pacifistic ways, stubbornly believing he can redeem anybody and prevent anyone from dying really impairs his ability to look at situations realistically. While ultimately, the Crystal Gems came out of the main series only directly killing one foe (White Pearl courtesy of Bismuth; a necessary evil in order to escape certain death while being trapped by White Diamond in a precarious pincer formation), the fact remains that Peridot’s words to Steven in Chapter 6 of Act I rang true in the end: Steven couldn’t save everybody. Despite Steven successfully getting Blue Diamond to see the light, she and the rest of the Diamonds ultimately perish by the end of Act III – each of them die due to circumstances beyond Steven’s control. Objectively, going out of his way to save Yellow or Blue would have only resulted in Crystal Gem casualties. Despite his efforts, White Diamond proved to be completely unreachable – Steven’s final peace offering to her backfired so hard, it easily would have killed everyone (himself included) if Peridot hadn’t neutralized the back-attack just in time. While the vast majority of Homeworld’s gems have been saved prior to their planet’s destruction, many are in limbo as a result of White’s pallification and are functionally dead until a cure is found. The gems that were forcibly fused together to create White Diamond proxies absolutely could not be saved no matter what, as even poofing them resulted in instant death. By Act III, it’s shown that Steven has at least accepted that there are times when sacrifices must be made in order to survive: in Chapter 7, he is helping Garnet and Moonstone dispatch the proxies. There is no other way to take them out without shattering them, but Steven doesn’t throw a fit over this; he knows they’re all on borrowed time as long as they’re still on Homeworld, and the fact that the proxies weren’t sent to Earth alongside the non-fused infected gem tells him they truly are beyond saving, and the best he really can do for these poor gems is to let his friends give them a mercy killing. Steven still doesn’t like it on principle, but over time he’s become more tolerant when a situation calls for drastic measures of this magnitude. Steven has also become more self-aware of the risks being a consummate pacifist carries, such as the high likelihood of his mercy (or hesitation) being “rewarded” by having one or more of his own friends killed. While he still goes out of his way to only forego his philosophy when it’s made clear that death or extreme violence is the only option to resolve a conflict (or if his pacifism truly would get one or more of his friends killed), Steven has gradually learned to be more realistic in his approach and expectations. He is by no means jaded from his many pacifism backfires, but incidents like being forced to abandon Peridot at the end of Act I – and especially Celadon Diamond nearly killing his father (while successfully killing Pumpkin) late in Act III to teach Steven that his actions have consequences – have really opened his eyes on how much harm his relentless desire for peace and befriending every enemy can inadvertently bring. 

Peridot’s speech to Steven in Chapter 6 of Act I also leaves a lasting mark on him and how he perceives the world when these harsh lessons are verbally bashed into his head:

Shit happens. Sometimes you can prevent it, but more often than not, you just can’t.

Bad things happen to good people for no reason. It’s a leading cause in how good people can eventually turn bad. There’s no fate or destiny to situations like this, and they certainly can’t be directly controlled or prevented.

You can’t always have things your way all the time. Even when you selflessly want nothing but the best for everyone, there’s no guarantee it will ever happen the way you want it to.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and it’s important to know when to stop when said good intentions end up bringing more harm than good. Your solution will not always be the right solution.

Is it worth your friends’ lives to maintain your pacifistic approach to everything? Your moments of mercy could easily be exploited by a still-hostile enemy to kill a friend or yourself while your guard is down. What is more important: redeeming a villain and keeping your hands clean, or keeping your friend(s) alive? Sometimes, these are mutually exclusive results.

One day you will be forced to make a very hard choice that will upset at least one teammate. But you have to stand firmly by your decision, even if you are personally uncomfortable with it.

No matter what you do, you can’t save everybody every time. Believing you can is nothing short of delusional, and there are countless ways a relentless pursuit of this goal can backfire and end more lives than you’re ultimately saving.

Chekhov’s Skill: Late in Act II, Steven passively emits pink energy when he finally wakes up from his Angst Coma in Chapter 7. When Steven watches Peridot’s Video Will in the following chapter, he begins to notice details that aren’t apparent to the naked eye and can read a person’s true feelings by looking at them and listening to their words, even through a prerecording. Steven’s enhanced perceptivity makes the Crystal Gems realize there’s something odd about Peridot (which eventually leads to the discovery of her being an Unwitting Test Subject – knowledge they all benefit from having ahead of time before Act III). Towards the end of Act II, Steven has been honing his evolving powers with Garnet’s aid over the span of six days; Act III reveals Steven can now detect people from great distances with his aura abilities. This particular ability makes Steven aware that Chartreuse Diamond and Peridot are one and the same, allows him to heal Peridot’s fractured mental state, kickstarts his awakened form (Pink Diamond 2.0), helps Peridot evacuate all of Homeworld’s remaining gems before the planet’s destruction, and locate White Diamond’s proxies so that she can no longer hide and be directly confronted. And it can be safely assumed this skill played a role in Steven’s (as Pink 2.0) Epiphany Therapy with Peridot that not only fulfilled an ancient prophecy in Iridescent Diamond, but finally made Peridot able to fuse, as well as save all of the Crystal Gems from falling with the rapidly-decaying Homeworld.

The Conscience: Is this for the majority of the cast, most heavily emphasized with Peridot.

Damsel out of Distress: He and Connie were already in the process of escaping their prison thanks to Blue Diamond’s help by the time Lapis came across them to unite the team.

Death Glare: Gives Amethyst one after she complains about still having to wait for Peridot when he comes on board the ship at the end of Act I. She has no idea they’re about to leave Peridot behind at the time, but Steven’s too upset to give her any more of an explanation than this.

Deuteragonist: He is what largely drives the plot before properly appearing in the story in Chapter 5 of Act I, being Peridot’s primary motivation. After being rescued, Peridot’s Heroic Sacrifice is meant to save him from White Diamond, although that ends up making her a Hostage MacGuffin meant to lure Steven back to Homeworld. That, in turn, just makes Steven’s role from that point onward all the more significant – now in a more direct way. He basically co-stars with Peridot in every post-GA story to date, as well.

Didn’t Think This Through: While Steven’s snap decision to return to Homeworld by himself in Chapter 8 of Act II was overall an idiotic thing to do and impulsive as hell, the biggest aspect of his overall stupidity with this trope is Steven completely forgetting that he doesn’t know how to operate a spaceship.

Discontinuity Nod: In the final chapter of Act III, Steven tells White Diamond he can imagine a scenario where everyone came to a peaceful agreement, Yellow and Blue Diamond never had to die, and all of the Diamonds could visit Beach City to experience what Pink Diamond had with Earth. This is in reference to the events of Change Your Mind, where this literally happens.

Do You Trust Me?: Asks Chartreuse Diamond this near verbatim as she despairs over the mistakes she’s made. Much to Steven’s relief, she assures him she does so more than anyone else – that much hadn’t changed since her early redemption arc as Peridot.

The Empath: Per canon, and his powers continue to evolve as of Act II.

Empathetic Healer: Somewhat. While learning how to heal a mentally-fractured Peridot, he reads her memories and becomes traumatized and Blinded by Rage from the Gory Discretion Shot he witnesses – said scene happens to be the cause of Peridot’s condition.

Emotional Maturity is Physical Maturity: Per canon, and plays into his Plot-Relevant Age-Up that happens in Chapter 4 of Act III. Inner turmoil stemming from being Forced to Watch his Love Interest getting a gruesome Slashed Throat in an endless loop induces so much Sanity Slippage that Steven himself is mentally fractured (ironically, right after healing Peridot from a very similar condition). It triggers a Battle in the Center of the Mind, which is what ultimately matures Steven emotionally to such a level that it permanently changes his form. 

Energy Donation: Grants this at the request of a defeated White Diamond towards the end of Act III.

First Kiss: Has his with Peridot in Chapter 5 of Act I.

Forced to Watch: The gruesome (albeit fake, which he was informed of ahead of time) scene of Peridot’s neck getting lacerated by a giant energy blade, leaving A Bloody Mess (albeit with fake Alien Blood) and a dead-eyed Love Interest – while short in length – is so traumatizing for Steven to watch, it begins to loop endlessly in his head; not even closing his eyes will shield his vision from the horrific scene. After enduring this for quite some time, this leads to Sanity Slippage.

Funbag Airbag: In Act III, he has a bit of a habit of burying his face into Peridot’s chest. This is a gag that carries on through the post-GA stories.

Functional Genre-Savvy: Proves to be this in This is Who I Am Chapter 5 after the “Dark” Peridot (aka 5XG) explains how their full selves have been split into light and dark halves and are pitted against each other.

Steven: “5XG, the whole… splitting a person to make a dark half and a light half thing… it’s been done so many times. That’s basically what’s going on here, according to you. But the way this is supposed to go is that the dark and light halves fight, and whoever wins gets to dominate the whole person’s body. So… why are we paired off like this? I don’t get it. You should be facing off Peri, right?”

Humble Hero: Per canon. Somewhat subverted, as he says he’s never comfortable with anyone giving him overt praise as Steven feels every time he’s being given more than he deserves… except when Peridot praises him. Knowing how she always speaks from the heart, Steven will accept her praise without complaint.

Half-Human Hybrid

Healing Hands: Per canon, Steven’s Super Spit has healing properties and his tears can revive the dead (provided they aren’t Deader than Dead).

The Heart: Per canon. Best represented in Act II when all of the Crystal Gems, who spend most of a day apart doing their own thing, all come together by the end of it and overcome their own reservations about watching their designated Video Wills by Peridot so they can collaborate on a project to snap Steven out of his funk induced from the events near the end of Act I.

Honor Before Reason: Per canon, Steven is all about doing the right thing. Even if it’s a detriment or even a threat to his loved ones. And yes, several of his teammates take issue with his embodiment of this trope, including Peridot.

Hormone-Addled Teenager: More prevalent in the post-GA stories, but this is an ongoing struggle Steven has to endure after his Plot-Relevant Age-Up in Act III. Still very downplayed even after GA, and Peridot’s honestly no better than Steven in this regard (and she can’t even use this trope to justify her behavior).

#gem ascension #gem ascension tropes #gem re:ascension #tv tropes #steven universe #steven quartz universe #su fanfic #su fanfiction #stevidot #peridot #su peridot #lapis lazuli #su lapis #bismuth #su bismuth #garnet #su garnet #amethyst #su amethyst #pearl #su pearl #su lion #su pumpkin #greg universe #connie maheswaran #white diamond #pink diamond #yellow diamond #blue diamond #pink diamond 2.0