#mythos egos

[mythos-egos]

Beautiful commission I got from the awesome @smiledog15578 !! I couldnt be happier with this, look how scary my guy is

[taikeero-lecoredier]

YESSSSS I LOVE HIM SO MUCH ive gushed about it tons already but just LOOK AT HIM HES SO GORGEOUS

Commission for @taikeero-lecoredier

What a fancy distinguished man

[taikeero-lecoredier]

Here is the silly thing I said yesterday I was going to post , thats pretty much what you should expect to see from me if you follow me and my AU blog lol

If you enjoy this, dont hesitate to leave feedback ! I love to hear people's thoughts !

[sillywebz]

been watching princess tutu w charlotte oug this show is so good

[meteorstricken]

[seanicornspoice]

Daily life of local Disney princess, Swan

[lewis-lafontaine]

Letters of C. G. Jung: Volume 2, 1951-1961 Dear Miss Oakes, Since you want to hear my opinion about your essay on the stone, I should say that I find it a bit to intellectual, as it considers the thought-images only, but…

[bi4bisamjess]

Travis Martinez: Masculinity and Control in Yellowjackets

sorry for the pretentious title. i need to talk about travis for a second. i have a consistent mythos in my head about who he is as a character that i forget people don't have. yes i am embarrassed. incredibly long meta under the cut.

First and foremost, I think it is so important to remember that this guy is a LOSER. He's never been to a school dance. He got made fun of and given a cruel nickname in the 7th grade that has stuck with him all throughout high school. He hates his dad, or at least has complex feelings about him. He's never had sex. He is so insecure that it is laughable.

We can only assume that Travis's dad shaped some of his perceptions of what it means to be a man. In the pilot, we have Coach Martinez honestly, if not cruelly, tell Jackie her worth is in her influence and that she is not particularly skilled at soccer. Coach Martinez's office has several pictures of his family, yet seems distant from his wife and Travis when they leave for nationals. We can see Travis's complex relationship with masculinity (misogyny with Nat's perceived sexual history, stoicism, and aggression to mask emotional distress), and can only assume that a stoic, critical, and distant father is one of the reasons for this. But we could also discuss 90s masculinity and cultural influence as well.

Travis was not (obviously written to be) athletically skilled as a kid, and is not mentioned to be on a sports team. He had a spinal fusion at 13, presumably due to some chronic health issue like scoliosis. His father invests time into the Yellowjackets team, and we see Ben describe them in flashbacks as monsters, so clearly there is some sort of reverence Coach Martinez has for ruthlessness and success. In the original script of episode 4 (I think), we see Travis described as a "sensitive kid trying hard not to be" (or something along those lines), and I can certainly see resentment building between Travis and the Yellowjackets as they represent everything his dad wanted him to be-- athletically skilled, successful, and cut throat. He is resistant to receiving help, outright lashes out in order to maintain this fragile identity as masculine and independent.

He has an interesting sibling relationship with Javi where he is simultaneously trying to force his own thoughts of their father onto him ("Dad was a dick") and protect him from the reality/brutality of their situation (does not tell Javi he dug up the body for the ring). Coach Martinez gives Javi gum for the flight, a gesture of care, and seemingly does not extend the same to Travis. We see Javi as innocent, naive, and artistic. He is presumably unaware of the marital problems in their family, while Travis is. Where Travis resents the Yellowjackets for the attention they receive from his father, he resents Javi because he is supported emotionally and allowed to be soft.

He values honesty, and the audience can see this in seasons one and two– Nat obscuring her relationship with Bobby Farleigh is the initial reason why they break up in 1x7, Nat planting Javi’s shorts is similarly a big point of contention. He is quick to project his own insecurities onto other people, namely Nat-- any skill or sexual experience she has is an attack on his worth as a man. He consistently sabotages his relationship with her by lashing out, not because Nat is doing anything wrong, but because he is afraid of being perceived as not good enough.

Travis’s arc throughout the show is interesting, especially because the audience sees Travis in season one obsessed with control of his own image, honesty, and power. By season two, he is willing to give in to spirituality-- in winter, he opens up to Lottie's "Wiccan bullshit", seeing ritual and belief as rejecting his own ego in a productive way. I have seen a good amount of people talk about how Travis's passivity in the second and third season is his way of protecting himself from the rest of the team, especially following his assault and almost murder in 1x9, but I think there is a little more nuance than just this. There is still an element of Travis seeking control within the routine of Lottie's spirituality. He cannot find Javi following the events of doomcoming, cannot find food in the winter months, cannot protect Shauna from the risk of childbirth, so he submits himself to drinking the tea Lottie prepares, praying, and ritual self harm.

Following Javi's death, we see Travis completely submit. He consumes his brother’s body not only to survive, but also to spiritually keep Javi with him. He eats Javi’s heart as a display of devotion, reverence, and attachment. His acceptance of Nat’s leadership comes from similar motivations, and this marks his almost complete relinquishment of autonomy within the group.

By season three, he is no longer hunting. He is completely detached from the team, past Lottie, Akilah, and the wilderness itself. He spends his time tripping on shrooms to “listen” when Lottie no longer can. It makes a lot of sense why fan opinion has gotten more positive– Travis this season is so passive that he becomes pathetic, both to the audience and the characters. Van, Tai, and Lottie each try to protect him, Akilah provides him with comfort. The rest of the group does not punish Travis for his lack of contribution as they did Jackie– they largely ignore him. And once his two main acts of autonomy (escaping with Kodiak, killing Lottie) fail, there is nothing left. He does not participate in the final hunt of Mari, and the group allows him to get drunk or high with no consequence. It is only when Travis is in Shauna's way that she cares about his lack of participation. The writers have officially connected the proud, aggressive season one Travis to what we know of him in the adult timeline– an isolated addict. He dies doing exactly what he did in the woods: trying to submit himself to meaning, to something bigger than himself, and dying for it.

[alacants]

The "a thread of order" blog recently referenced something Carlos said after the 2024 RG final: “In the fifth set of the final is the time to give it all, fight until you can’t fight anymore. That’s what makes you a warrior, and I consider myself a warrior.” That quote, together with his constant references to the movie "300", his on-court histrionics and the supernatural big-final-moment level of tennis he can produce, made me spiral into an idiotic sincaraz fan-theory (OBVIOUSLY inaccurate and fictional.) So here it is:

I personally suspect that Carlos perceives matches (especially important ones) as if they were movies/plays and he's the one playing the hero & warrior archetype. It's partly why he needs the crowds: they're all part of the scene, and also big reactions feel more epic. And it's also why he can sometimes reach an unbelievable level at the acme of big matches, something that would require inhuman amounts of confidence and self-belief: that's because in that moment he's not just Carlos the excellent tennis player-normal guy, he's not just himself (that would cause some amount of insecurity) but he's actually embodying The Heroic Warrior archetype! And he knows that there's a divine narrative script in place for heroes in stories (matches) which will make him prevail at the end. It's basically a narrative archetype/role he tries to live up to and embody in matches, because he needs to see the matches and himself as "something more" in order to then get more from himself on court. And when the opponent is weak or the match isn't exciting the illusion of being the Hero-Warrior is obviously harder to maintain obviously.

On the other side we have Jannik, who tries to block out the crowd and be composed, and only communicates with his team and his opponent. Where Carlos tries to see the whole stadium as part one big scene that's enacting something more than a tennis match, Jannik tries to shrink his world to the strict permiter of the singles court plus his own box. For him it's a competitive pro game, it's his career and his public role, it's exciting and fun and terrible but it's not a big metaphor or an archetypal flight of fancy. He's competing against his opponent and trying to play the best tennis possible. He's "just" himself on court, the player-version of himself.

[I wonder if this maybe would have something to do with Jannik not focusing on tennis until he was 13 (and having a more gradual and setback-prone rise) while Carlos has been immersed in tennis from birth basically (and has obviously had a more sudden and easier rise in the scene.) I don't think that can be the reason though, it's too superficial.]

op this essay is awesome. i was just answering an unrelated ask and coming to the same conclusion that carlos thrives on the narrative import of big moments. he is Aware of them in a way that not every athlete can let themselves be aware, he is Aware of what it means to rise to the occasion. classic advice is "pretend it's just another match" but carlos demonstrably performs better in Big Moments than in just another match.

also think this contributed to the post-olympics crashout. not just defeat, not just a match he could have won, but failure at the ultimate climax of the ultimate stage of the biggest theater in sport, the global superevent literally created to propagate the idea that Sports Is More Than Sports. all that, and here's where he finds out that sometimes sheer protagonism just isn't enough. narrative of choice trumped by other, bigger narrative. i'm sure that was wildly destabilizing to experience for the first time, lol, good (????) thing he's got the protagonism back on track now.

this all just boils down, again, to the question of ego and self-made mythos and can you achieve greatness without storytelling. (© user radelulu.) it is sooooooooo fun to see absolute black-and-white photonegative-inverses in a direct clash for our entertainment. tho bc the clash is taking place in the theater of sports the table is rigged and the house, aka storytelling, always wins—the only way to beat it is to remove yourself from the table.

[e3rt]

WOOD’S BROTHER HEAD CANONS!!!!!

(Art is mineeeee)

Art is how I picture Jeff after everything vs if it never happened to begin with.

- Eastern European but raised in the South(America)

- both have southern accents with some Eastern European inflections

- Jeff was always the creepy/weird kid but was generally considered attractive and could get his hands on anything so he was able to form some “friendships” off a transactional type of dynamic.

-Liu is the older brother because I prefer it that way

- Sully is like an alter Ego that took over Liu’s life and was originally made to fill the void of his family dying

- They’re Irish twins, so the brothers grew up incredibly close

-Liu was the favourite kid, he didn’t feel it though

- it wasn’t Jeff who cut the Chelsea smile, that’s just the town mythos that surrounded the case

- raised on a farm, both have farmer muscles

- the “bullies” were actually a group of boys from town that pretended to be friends with Liu, but would subtly bully him. It slowly progressed to physical altercations and blackmail. Jeff tried to help him but because of both their bad reputations, it was ignored by the school. Jeff had to step in himself which escalated everything.

-Liu can lie his way out of everything and anything, he was a lot more unassuming but only looked good compared to Jeff’s behaviour and personality

- Jeff is 24 Liu 25

- Jeffs ear was already partially deformed from fighting, the fire caused him to lose hearing in one ear and gave him nerve damage in his face and legs.

- his hands were one of the few places mostly unharmed in the fire

- the town boys had attempted to kill the whole family by burning their house down but Jeff was the only one home at the time

- after the fire Liu was the primary caretaker of Jeff while he healed(his “duty” as the eldest). He grew somewhat resentful during the time but then harboured a debilitating guilt after seeing how Jeff was disfigured

- Jeff whenever he is within Slendermans territory can communicate with spirits, he thought Ben and Sally were hallucinations brought on by his killings at first

- Jeff was a TBI kid, fell off a fence when he was a 10 and the adults in his life described him as “going dark” from that point on.

- both Liu and Jeff did petty crime and would instigate conflict with their peers often.

-the Wood’s home life was NOOOOT good at all

- Jeff didn’t try to kill his brother but indirectly led him to being nearly killed

-Jeff is basically a zombie, he made a deal with SOMETHING while in the slender forest and has been unable to die since.

- Liu has chronic pain from being nearly killed, while Jeff remains mostly unbothered by his injuries

- bisexual Jeff the killer 💯

- internalised homophobia Jeff the killer 💯

- academically gifted but never had the opportunity to develop it homacidle Liu 💯

- Jeff is pretty fond of Nina but not in a romantic or sexual way, he also managed to get close to Toby despite the guys allusive nature

- both heavy Nu Metal, industrial and midwest emo fans

Yeah these are all the ones I can think of rn but if YOU have any ones you think of or ones you want me to expand on I’d love to hear it forrealsies. Stay disgusting! 😸

[theconstantsidekick]

Avengers : Age Of Ultron ft. Static (3) | s.r

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings)

Genre: Idk what this is called. Ego stroking and Fluff?

Summary: The question of the hour is, who is Y/n Stark's favorite Avenger? Is it Tony Stark, The Iron Man, her brother? Or Steve Rogers, Captain America, her boyfriend? Everyone's dying to find out.

(These scenes incorporate y/n, yet to be codenamed—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Drinking, Cursing, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Past Trauma, Mentions of Bullying

a/n: there is a chunk in there about tony that i absolutely loved writing the shit out of. so tell me what you think, please. comment!

Avengers : Age of Ultron ft. Static (2) | Avengers : Age of Ultron ft. Static (4) | Series Masterlist | The Avengers (ft. Static) | Captain America: The Winter Soldier (ft. Static) | Static Verse Masterlist

When Y/n and Steve walk in, most of the guests have dwindled away. Leaving only the Avengers in the room. 

Bruce is sitting on the couch, leaning over to talk to Natash on the armchair to his left. On Bruce’s other side sits Sam, on the backrest of the couch and below him is Clint, on the floor,  fiddling with drum sticks—which she has absolutely no clue about the origins of. Maria’s right there next to him, on the floor, heels abandoned to the side. Tony’s standing by the bar, pouring a couple drinks, she’s presuming for himself and her. Rhodey’s taken the seat on Maria’s right, meanwhile Thor’s half lying on the couch opposite Clint and Maria.

However, the best addition to all this is Helen Cho, sleeping peacefully in one corner of the room, while the rest of them chat away.

“Hey, hotshot!” Sam yells the moment he spots her. “Who’s your favorite Avenger?”

“I heard you put your money on Tony,” she throws back very easily as she walks over to meet Tony at the bar. Steve, on the other hand, seats himself between Rhodey and Thor. “Worried you’ll lose?”

Before Sam can respond, however, Natasha speaks up, “Oh, he’s definitely losing.”

Y/n and Tony share a smile as he offers her the drink, then together, they head back to the centre of the room and join these crazy kids at the table. 

“Why, Romanoff, you seem mighty confident for a girl who calls me a puzzle she can’t solve,” Y/n remarks, taking a seat on the armchair next to Thor while Tony sits down next to Rhodey. “Who’d you pick?” She knows the answer, she just wants to hear it. Stirring shit up is afterall, a Stark’s favorite family bonding activity.

Natasha makes a face like it should be fucking obvious. “Steve,” she says.

“Ah,” Y/n nods. “You think those baby blues work on me in the bedroom, so they must work on the field too?” 

“No,” she counters with a smile. “I’ve seen the look in your eyes when you talk about him, not just Steve Rogers, the boyfriend but Steve Rogers, The Captain America. You admire him.” She adjusts herself to look right at Y/n as she adds, “You might be a puzzle I can’t solve, but I know this much, the baby blues work wonders on you. He’s it for you.”

The statement made is utterly true, and it makes Y/n want to look over at Steve for his reaction. But she’s frankly very afraid of what that might be, so chooses not to. Instead she barely sets her glass down to respond before Clint points a drumstick at her like it’s a gavel of absolute judgment. 

“Baby blues can take a damn hike. It’s definitely Tony,” he declares, spinning the stick between his fingers. “It’s the law. Blood over boyfriends.”

“First of all,” Rhodey cuts in, with a cunning smirk, “we don’t even know if she picked anyone.”

“Please,” Sam scoffs. “That smile? That’s the smile of someone who’s already made a choice and is just waiting for us to catch up.”

She does smile. Because he’s right.

“Exactly,” Thor agrees, raising his drink like he’s toasting her superior intellect. “And the answer is clear! The bond of siblings is forged in the stars. Little Stark would never betray her brother.”

“Okay, first of all—” Tony interjects, pointing dramatically, “thank you, Point Break. Second, she would betray me, but only if it were funny.”

She raises her glass to him in silent agreement.

“That’s adorable,” Bruce says dryly, “but the answer is Steve.”

Hill hums. “Yeah, no. I’m gonna have to side with the Norse God on this one.”

“Exactly!” Clint inflates, seeing the tides turn his way again. “You can’t just disregard decades of Stark sibling history for some—” he gestures vaguely at Steve, “—muscles and morality situation.”

Steve, who’s been quietly sipping his drink, raises a brow. “Some muscles and morality situation?”

“I mean… accurate,” Y/n muses.

It makes Steve turn to her and pass a look.

‘Really?’ he asks her wordlessly. ‘Really.’ she replies with a smile.

The exchange goes unnoticed by the rest, who are still dead set on their debate.

“See?” Natasha smirks. “It’s Steve.”

Sam shakes his head. “No, no, no. Y’all are forgetting the key factor—who puts up with Y/n’s bullshit more?”

“Tony,” Clint says immediately.

“Steve,” Natasha counters, just as fast.

Bruce lifts a hand. “Steve literally chose this. Tony was born into it.”

“Oh, so it’s voluntary suffering that makes someone her favorite?” Maria deadpans. “That’s the logic we’re going with?”

“You’re acting like loving Y/n is some great hardship,” Tony says, putting a hand to his chest like a martyr. “It’s not, okay? It’s a privilege. A spectacular pain in the ass, but a privilege.”

Steve snorts into his drink. She just winks at him.

Bruce sits up then, “If we’re going purely by scientific method—”

“No one asked for science, Doc,” Sam cuts in.

Bruce is undeterred. “—she gravitates toward Cap in high-stress situations. It’s a subconscious preference.”

She tilts her head, intrigued. “That a fact, Doc?”

“It’s an observable pattern,” Bruce nods.

Tony scoffs. “Or, and hear me out, it’s just that Steve’s built like a brick wall and happens to be standing in the way most of the time.”

Steve sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m right here.”

Rhodey, having had enough, finally leans forward, aiming to end the debate. “You’re all wrong, by the way.”

That gets the room’s attention.

“Oh, this should be good,” Tony says. “Go on, War Machine. Who do you think it is?”

Rhodey smirks. “Neither of you two, that’s for sure,” he states with finality.

“How’d you figure that?” Steve asks, curious.

“‘Cause whenever you tell her to pick favorites, she answers with the most out of pocket shit—for instance, you ask her what her favorite Star Wars is, and you’d think she’ll say Empire or Return of the Jedi, right?” Everyone nods. Rhodey just shakes his head and looks at her, encouraging her to answer.

“A New Hope,” she obliges.

Groans sound out across the room, with complaints to boot. 

But Rhodey smiles triumphant. “See?” He takes a sip of his drink, “It’s neither of you, trust me.”

“This proves nothing,” Clint counters. “Other than the fact that she has questionable taste—which seems to be the pattern,” he says looking at Steve.

Steve sighs, put upon. “You didn’t even know we were dating until an hour ago.”

“Which is absolutely wild to me,” Y/n chimes in. “You thought the kiss I gave him after the mission was purely platonic? Or did you think I kiss all the Avengers like that?”

“I knew you guys had a  thing! I just missed the part where you made it official,” Clint defends.

“We’re getting sidetracked,” Sam butts in. 

“Despite being hopelessly blind, Barton’s logic is sound,” Thor says then. “Choice made in Midgardian movies holds no bearing whatsoever on her choice of favorite Avenger.”

“You know what? We could go back and forth on this till the cows come home,” Tony states. “Let’s get right to the source instead.” He turns to her with a smirk and anticipation clear in his eyes. “Ready for it, Stark? Question of the hour…” the anticipation builds. “Who is your favorite Avenger?”

She lets the question hang in the air for a second, taking the time to leisurely sip her drink. 

But then she looks up at him between her lashes and says, “Sorry, handsome.”

Steve, as expected, is gracious in his defeat. His head falls, as if he’d seen this coming a mile away, but he doesn’t quit smiling. She apologises to him silently with her eyes, and he forgives her all the same. 

Tony, however, is anything but gracious in his presumed victory. 

“Before you start celebrating—it’s not you either, dickhead,” she speaks up, putting a damper on Tony’s celebration howl. 

He turns to face her instantly, “Then who the fuck is it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Y/n asks, only to be met with silence. So, she answers her own question, “It’s Widow.”

“Out of pocket shit,” Rhodey reiterates, with a winning grin.

“Bullshit!” Tony slumps. “That’s a diplomatic answer you just made up, to avoid picking between the two of us,” he says, pointing from himself to Steve.

Y/n makes a face, “You wish.” Her tone is standoffish enough to get Tony off her back immediately. She takes another sip of her drink, having accomplished that goal. “She’s the only woman on the team and she’s one who keeps all you miscreants in check… which while not an easy feat, is not why she’s my favorite Avenger.”

“Alright,” Sam chimes in. “I’ll bite,” he announces, as if he’s volunteering to be the sacrificial lamb. “Why is she your favorite Avenger?”

She smiles. “You boys…” she begins. “You had greatness thrust upon you…” she looks around the room, just for good measure. “She stole it.” She takes another swig—takes her time with it too. “Please understand,” she begins, meaning every word, “I’m not trying to negate the fact that you guys had to go through some real fucking horrible shit to get to where you are today. I’m not just proud, but grateful to be associated with each and every single person in this room.” She needs to make sure that they mean it, so she pauses to let them soak in the words. And then adds, “But she’s different.” 

She clicks her tongue, “I mean, she’s done her fair share of bad things. I’ve read her files and man, it’s really not good—some of it is bordering on grotesque. Frankly, I am surprised they didn’t redact more shit then they already had—”

She’s cut off by the voice of someone clearing their throat.

Her eyes fly to meet the offending party only to come up with a smile.

Natasha’s looking at her intently, face completely and utterly unreadable.

“But,” Y/n says then. “But…” She licks her lips, and straightens, and addresses Natasha directly when she begins anew, “To be able to face your past… to look back at your history, so marred and maimed by your misdeeds… and then to say ‘To hell with it. I am going to be good, now’, that—that takes the kind of courage that only someone with balls of steel could accomplish.” Her smile slips out, she can’t help it.

When she looks around, the rest of the team is smiling too. 

She composes herself. “The way I see it… being good—is not inherent…” Her eyes meet Steve’s as she adds with a smirk, “Unless you’re Steve fucking Rogers…” Steve smiles back at her. “It’s a choice you make,” she states, tone far more grim, a stark contrast to the one she’s used thus far. “Every single day, with every single decision.” She swallows thickly with the weight of her words. After a beat, she scoffs—a little self-deprecatingly, “So, I’m not gonna sit here and say being good is easy—it really fucking isn’t, especially when it counts.” She knows that just as well, if not better than most of the people in this room. “But it is easier when you’ve been taught the difference between right and wrong,” she tells all of them. “She wasn’t. She chose to learn it, all by her lonesome… and then she stuck to it… And that is why, she is my favorite Avenger.”

There is a stunned yet warm silence in the room.

She can tell that everyone’s taking in her words, running it in their heads again, just to grasp it better. So, she lets it hang.

Tony, obviously, is the one who breaks it, “My God, that was a great answer. I—I mean, fuck! That was eloquent and emotional and very well thought out, and now I just feel like an asshole.”

“Don’t have to feel like an asshole, Stark,” she says leaning back into her chair. “You already are one.”

Tony just rolls her eyes at that. “Eat a dick, Halle Berry.”

She chuckles at that.

“I don’t mean this as an insult but,” Bruce pipes up, “I’ve never seen you like this before. I didn’t think you could…” He cuts himself off, clearly at a loss for the right word.

“Emote?” She supplies.

“Yes,” Bruce agrees immediately.

She snorts. “Yeah, well. I can…”

“Just takes a few drinks for her to get there,” Tony adds on with a cheeky smile as he comes to sit opposite to her on the couch next to Steve.

Clint’s instantly on alert. He pretends to cover his mouth and whisper-yells at Sam, “Get the woman a refill!” Sam, always happy to have a big emotional moment, obliges eagerly. It makes her roll her eyes with a smile. “Hey, Y/n?”

“Yes, Clint?”

“What do you think of me?”

The question shocks her a bit, she won’t lie. Clint and her interactions have been few and far between. She’s not holding that against the dude as such, seeing as the only time they ‘hang out’ is during a mission. It is a fucking fact. She can’t run away from it either.

“You really wanna know, Barton?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?” Clint throws back at her while Sam offers him a fresh glass, a repeat of her drink.

With a wordless thanks bid to Sam she turns back to look at Clint.

And she can tell, he’s expecting something standoffish. A joke, maybe? But yeah, she can tell he thinks it’ll be a throwaway compliment at best and a complete dismantling of his worst habits at worst. 

Well, isn’t it great then that she absolutely loves proving people wrong.

She sits up again, ���No one asked you to do this.” The statement kicks the smug look off of his face instantly. Fucker, she thinks to herself, a little triumphantly. “You spent a long time in Black Ops, so taking up the S.H.I.E.L.D. gig would have been an easy choice, but no one ever asked you to go fight aliens.” She almost jumps in her seat, her words emphatic, “Especially, when their leader had mindfucked you seven ways to Sunday! No one would have held it against you if you decided to just take a day.” She clicks her tongue, “But you didn’t. You got back up and you fought fucking aliens.” She looks him straight in the eyes, “You’re just a man, Barton, and you fight with Gods… to most people that makes you a hero, but to me that makes you a terrifying role model.” Y/n can clearly see the moment that the words hit Clint with their full force. She thinks she can even see his chest cave with the weight of them. “You keep this team grounded. You keep ‘em human. You keep ‘em together.”

Silence.

For a second.

Then another.

And then, “Fuck!” Clint exclaims. “I mean… No, yeah. I mean, fuck. Cause, fuck!” Y/n laughs. “I thought you didn’t even like me.”

Her face falls instantly. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I like you?”

“I don’t know?” Clint defends, poorly. “You don’t talk to me.”

Her nose scrunches up. “No, you don’t talk to me.”

“I talk to you plenty!”

“You really don’t,” Natasha chimes in, looking at Clint over the top of her beer bottle.

“I don’t?” Clint looks around the room for an answer. And everyone replies promptly by either looking away awkwardly or a stern shake of their heads. “Fuck! I’m sorry. I just thought that you didn’t like me. But… That was—what you said…” Oh shit, the fucker’s about to get serious. His brow is scrunching up. “What you said means a lot to me. Thank you… And I’m sorry. I’m gonna—I’m gonna talk to you more now.”

She tries her best not to laugh as she replies, “Can’t wait.”

“Do Banner next,” Clint says, pointing to Bruce.

“No, no, no, no, no. Don’t drag me into this. This is Barton’s—” Bruce is cut off.

“Too late, Bruce.”

Bruce looks at her and then exhales. “No chance of me getting out of this?”

“None whatsoever,” she tells him solemnly.

“So I have to do this?”

“Unfortunately.”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head slightly and finally lets a small smile slip out. “Fine…” He stares her down, “Hit me.”

He’s expecting the worst.

So why not hit him with it?

“You are a monster.”

At that, Bruce physically deflates, he collapses in on himself. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to do this.”

He’s not gonna get off that easy. 

“You went to try and recreate a serum that made Captain America and instead you got turned into a raging, big green guy who has no understanding of ‘tasteful nudity’. Fuck, man. My heart bleeds for your wardrobe alone…” She can hear quiet chuckles from around the room. But then she tilts her head, looking him over. Sensing the shift in her demeanor, Bruce meets her gaze. “Anyone else would have taken it as the hit that it was and gotten… angry.” Bruce smiles at the pun. “Gotten angry at the world, angry at life, angry at everything… And I mean, who the fuck would have blamed you? You had every right to be angry. Because how the fuck is fair to be dealt a hand as shit as that, when they are someone as kind as you?” She thinks her words over, fidgeting with the glass in her hand. “I won’t comment on your struggles with the Hulk, I wasn’t there so it’s not my place. From what little I do know, I can imagine it wasn’t an easy time for you. I can—I can sympathise with that… But you took the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone and moulded it as such that now you use it to help people, to protect them. To be a hero.”

“I’m not—”

She cuts him off again, “I know you don’t see that in yourself, but I do, okay? I look at you and I see a hero. So does everyone else in this room.” She gives Bruce a moment—to look around at his team, who look back at him with the same faith that she’s speaking of. He seems a little too fucking surprised to see it. “And I don’t just mean that as the Hulk. Because you’re not just the green guy.” She levels him with a stern look. “I’m also talking about Banner, the guy with seven fucking PhDs.”

Bruce blushes. 

He stares at his hands as he replies, “Well, Y/n… I really do appreciate the fact that you didn’t forget my seven PhDs.”

She can’t help it, she laughs. So do the rest.

“I know you don’t believe me but—”

Now it’s Bruce who cuts her off. “It’s probably the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to me, Y/n. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” She takes a large sip from her drink.

“I volunteer to be next,” Thor speaks up, glass in hand. 

And who is she to say no to that? “As you wish, your highness.” 

“Come on, Little Stark, let’s see what you’ve got.”

She smiles. “This isn’t your fucking planet, dude.” The big man is left confused. It makes her smile widen. “This isn’t your fucking planet, we are not your people, this is not your kingdom. You are neither obligated to fight for us, nor were you asked to… You could have just looked the other way. Ignored your brother’s annoying cry for attention and let this planet fend for itself, but you didn’t. Fuck, more than that, you kept coming—you keep coming back, helping in any way you can to help us fix things, even when it’s not your job to…”

Her eyes turn to his hammer, “That hammer of yours—you say it can only be picked up when you’re worthy, and sure, Odin’s seal of approval on you is great and all but—” her gaze fly up to meet his, “I don’t know him. So—and I mean no offense here—but him saying you’re worthy, means fuckall to me. All I know is that to me, you’re a God because you never turn away from someone asking for help. No matter where you are, no matter who it is—if they ask for a helping hand, they can always, always count on yours. That is what makes you worthy, and what will surely make you a great King.”

Thor sniffles.

He fucking sniffles. 

Her eyes widen in surprise, so much so that she forgets to quip.

“A great King, you say? Well, if that ever happens, remind me to put you in charge of all my public speeches,” he says, eyes a little misty.

“Sure, yeah,” she answers, unsure of herself. “Whatever you want, big guy.” She never thought she was going to make the God of Thunder cry.

“You made the God of Thunder cry!” Sam states, a little astonished.

“I am not crying!”

She ignores Thor completely, “And it’s your turn next, Birdman.”

“What? No! I’m not even an Avenger!” He comes to his seat atop the backrest next to Bruce.

Bullshit.

“How the fuck does that matter when you’re the one I look up the most?” 

Sam clearly wasn’t expecting her to say that. “Me?”

“Yeah, you!” Obviously. She plays with her drink a little, before taking a sip. “You have this infectious optimism about you—that a realist like me—”

“A pessimist like you,” Tony corrects her.

She flips him off, but agrees. “That a pessimist like me should technically hate… But I don’t. I kinda like it, a lot. It’s so fucking contagious that I think might just want to steal it.”

Sam smiles at her then, “I could just teach you, hotshot.”

Sipping her drink, she shakes her head. “If you’re going to teach me anything, teach me about loyalty, cause man! We came knocking on your window, with the entire might of the United States of America’s premiere Intelligence Organisation up our ass,” she points from herself to Steve to Natasha. “And you fucking let us in!” She sits up, folding up one leg under the other. “You didn’t just give us a place to lay low—no! You chose to join the fucking fight! Your first time around as an Avenger and you took down the plan Hydra had been crafting for fifty fucking years!” Sam laughs, partly at her enthusiasm, partly because she can tell he gets what she’s getting at. “That’s some top tier Avenger shit if I’ve ever seen any. Goddamn it, Birdman! Mark my words,” she holds up her glass to him. “You’re gonna take the world by storm… and when you do, I’m gonna go around gloating to anyone who’ll listen that Sam Wilson’s first mission as an Avenger was with me.” She winks at him and takes a swig. “You’ll see.”

Sam chuckles, with his head down and a hint of shyness blooming across his face. “I’ll hand it to ya, hotshot—you’ve got a way with words.” He looks over at the rest of the room, “And y’all had me believe she can’t express herself for shit!”

“That’s cause none of them have ever gotten drunk with her,” Rhodey chimes in.

“But you have, haven’t you, Rhodey?” She asks, on the cusp of slurring. The drink in her hand, the one Sam made, is doing exactly what Clint had hoped it would. “We grew up together, you and I…” Rhodey reacts exactly the way she thought he would, he looks at her with a quiet determination. “Which means you know that I love you, because I’ve told you a million times over. B—but I think I never really told you I respect you. And I do, Rhodes. I respect you more than anyone else in my fucking life. You know that, don’t you?” He nods slowly, with a smile. “I know I fought you tooth and nail when you joined the Air Force but—but you gotta know, it wasn’t because I thought you wouldn’t be brilliant at it. Of course, you would be. I knew that better than anyone. I just…” she licks her lips, afraid of the confession that’s about to come.

“I was being selfish. You weren’t just Tony’s best friend, you’re mine too. And I was fucking terrified of losing my friend, you know?” When she looks at him, he’s already staring back at her with an understanding smile. “It was an asshole move, but now that it’s been a long enough time, I’m gonna pretend that I’m old enough to admit—I have never been more proud to call you my friend, Rhodes. You have always been a hero to me… I’m sorry if I gave the impression otherwise.”

Rhodey doesn’t say anything at first. He just gets up from his seat and walks over to her. And then he kisses the top of her head while pulling her in “Not a damn thing for you to say sorry for, Chef.”

“Thanks, Chef,” she mumbles into the hug he pulls her in. 

“Right back atchya, kid.” He kisses her head again. He’s just about to let go, when Tony rushes over to them and jumps in, hugging them both harder. 

“This is by far the most emotional team building exercise I have ever seen,” Hill speaks up.

Oh, you sweet summer child. “That you’ve ever been a part of,” Y/n corrects her, fighting her way out of the bear hug the two men had engulfed her in. 

“Oh no no no no no.”

“You really thought I’d forget about you, Hill?”

“I am not a part of this,” Hill retorts. “I’m categorically not an Avenger.”

“What the hell is up with you guys and rejecting the Avenger title?” She looks around the room. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it’s cursed or something.” She takes a sip of her drink, “Look, Hill, you don’t know very much about me—”

“Apart from the suspicious fact that you’re a lawyer who can kick some serious ass,” Hill provides.

“Apart from that, yes,” she agrees. “So, I’m gonna tell you something—I know everything there is to know about everyone I meet. See, before Howie took me in, life wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows for me.”

“But it is now, that I’m part of it?” Tony pipes in, without any preamble as he and Rhodey take their previous seats again.

She ignores him, rolling her eyes. “Which kinda gave way to a laundry list of character flaws, one of which was a crippling and annoying amount of trust issues—it led me to develop a habit of digging into the past of anyone I had more than a one minute conversation with… I haven’t just read Nat’s files—I have made one on every single person in this room—including you. Now, the files might not tell me who you are, but as I’ve already stated, I happen to believe that a person is defined by their actions. And holy shit, Hill—you’ve got absolutely no right calling yourself anything less than an Avenger.”

She shifts to the edge of her seat. She can’t get close to Hill, who’s sitting on the floor, on the other side of the table, so this is the best she’s got right about now. “You’re painfully smart and confoundingly determined. You don’t take shit from anyone—not from Fury, not from the billionaire genius and not from the Super Soldier.” She smiles at her then, “And that makes you a fucking badass. And the rest of it? Like the op in Transnistria?” Maria’s eyes widen at the mention of it. Told ya. “In my eyes, shit like that makes you a fucking hero.”

And there it is again.

Silence.

Some more of it.

Hill, herself, is the one who breaks it this time. “Anyone ever tell you, you know too fucking much for a lawyer?”

Chuckling, she slides back into her seat, finishing up her drink. “Only the people who couldn’t afford me.”

She looks over the people in front of her, and she has to end it off on a good note, doesn’t she? “With all that said and done, I need you crazy kids to know that I meant it with every fiber of my being when I said that I’m grateful to be associated with every single one of you… but I will charge you all my entire hourly rate for every single litigation you get me and yourself trapped in. And I am very expensive.”

Everyone breaks into a laugh.

Well, everyone except Tony.

“Hold on, aren’t you forgetting someone?” Tony asks. When all he gets in response is a cocked brow from her, he points from himself to Steve. “What? Me and the Capsicle don’t get a heart to heart from Miss Summa Cum Laude Y/n Stark? How’s that fair?”

“You really want me to sit here and wax poetic about the two of you?” 

“Why not?” Steve asks, with a cheeky grin.

“Really? That’s what you want?”

“As the old man said, why not?” Tony doubles down, kicking back with his feet.

“Cause you’re the two men I lov—care about most in the whole world,” she states. Fuck. Almost fucked that up, colossally. “You want a public proclamation of it now?”

Steve smiles at her, “Maybe we do, doll.” 

Meanwhile, Tony takes this moment to stare at her and mouth the word ‘care’ like a fucking insult. The motherfucker is mocking her, giggling and snickering like a third grader and Y/n can’t even do anything about it. Cause Steve’s already looking at her, and if she gives in now, there’d be hell for her to pay. 

She’ll get back at her brother some other fucking time. 

“Fine,” she says, just to get Tony to stop. “Let’s start with you, shall we, Cap?”

Steve gets comfortable in his seat. “Let’s hear it, doll.”

And fine. If he’s gonna be cocky about it, it’s only fair for her to make him eat his shit-eating grin. 

Ignoring Tony’s knowing gaze, she lets herself relax in her chair.

“Steven Grant Rogers, the man out of time,” she begins. “You know, I have been hearin’ tall tales about you since I was a fucking teenager. All these stories of the great Captain America, the soldier, the righteous man… the hero. I heard all about your adventures and your bravery, your crazy, damn near impossible mission, in the face of great, undefeatable odds… And you know what I thought?” Steve quirks his brow. “I thought, what a steaming hot load of bullshit!” Everyone laughs, but Tony’s sounds out the loudest, obviously. “They’d talk about you like you were this great, ineffable being—not even human. To them, you were larger than life. And I’d think what motherfucking horseshit!” She plays with the empty glass in her hand.

“I’m not saying they were lying but—” She shrugs. “Howie was always an unreliable narrator, and the rest of them were probably just caught up in the Captain America of it all…” But then… “But then I met you and suddenly,” she tongues her cheek, “it all made sense…” Steve’s smile falls away and gives way to a sort of startling realization. “It made sense that Howard Stark—a man who had very little faith in humanity—didn’t just talk about you like a friend, or like a hero, but like someone he aspired to be. It made sense then, that Peggy Carter…” His eyes shine and ears perk up at the mention of her name, “Fell in love with you.” She can feel the weight of Tony's gaze on her, telling her silently to not give away too much, to not reveal more than she had, to not dwell on this one particular topic. She gives in to her brother’s silent plea. “Even before the serum, you always fought for a choice, and made the right one when you got it, no matter how hard it was.” She exhales heavily.

“You fight for what is right, damn the consequences. You fight true and you fight hard.” She smiles a little then, “Now, I won’t go as far as to say that you’re some ineffable being, because you’re not. You’re a man, and you make mistakes. But—but from what I understand, the true character of a man is how he acts when faced with those mistakes. How he works to rectify them.” She’s a little shy about it when she says, “And I think I can say this now—I know you. The Steve Rogers behind the Captain America of it all… So, please understand that I mean it when I say—You’re a good man in a storm.”

She pauses so the words can hit as hard as she wants them to. And they do. Steve, her Steve does the thing he does when he feels overwhelmed, he sits up straighter and broadens his shoulder—like he’s being awarded a medal. “And while, it a fucking honor getting to share a battlefield with you, I will maintain to my dying day,” her smile slips out, “that getting to call you mine is a far bigger accomplishment.”

For a second, she thinks Steve’s malfunctioned.

“I think you broke him,” Natasha comments, and fuck she has to agree.

“Is he breathing?” Clint asks, sounding genuinely worried.

“I—” Tony turns to look at Steve whose eyes are set on her. “I don’t think so.” He begins clicking his finger in front of Steve’s face. “Hey? Hey, Steve? Anyone in there?” Steve doesn’t even fucking blink.

“Stop that!” Hill reprimands him by throwing a stray popcorn kernel at Tony. Who does stop but looks at her, offended.

“Rogers? Are you with us?” Thor questions from his seat.

“I think we should check his pulse,” Bruce states, leaning forward with creased brows.

“I don’t know, doesn’t it feel like if you touch him, he’ll—spontaneously combust into flames?” Rhodey wonders aloud.

“I’m with Rhodey on this one, give him a second. He’s just rebooting,” Sam suggests.

“Or maybe the years just caught up to him,” Tony retorts. “I think the old man’s a goner.” He turns to Y/n and says, “I think you killed your dear boyfriend, Stark—”

Before Tony can finish, Steve’s on his knees, in front of her in the blink of an eye.

“Steve—”

She’s cut off mid-sentence, swallowed by the delightfully crushing weight of a 6-foot-something Super Soldier as Steve Rogers closes the space between them in a kiss that feels like reverence made tangible.

He’s on his knees before her—not in surrender, but in devotion. His hands, strong, battle-worn, are impossibly gentle as they frame her face, thumbs brushing reverently along her cheekbones like he’s committing her to memory. Like she’s something holy.

The kiss itself is deliberate, deep, but never demanding. His lips press against hers with an almost aching care, a silent whisper of gratitude, of thanks that he cannot express with words, something dangerously close to worship. It’s not about hunger. It’s about feeling. About letting her know that he heard her, and he was rendered speechless with the weight of her words.

Her hands sink into his hair, nails dragging lightly against his scalp, and he shudders. Shudders.

A man who has stood unshaken in the face of war, of gods, of the end of the world—and yet here he is, kneeling, unraveling, offering himself up at the altar of her.

The world around them still moves—distant voices, the soft creak of leather beneath her, their friends wolf whistles and crass comments at the overt display—but it doesn’t touch them. Steve kisses her like she’s the only thing that has ever truly mattered. Like she’s the one thing he ever got without having to fight with his entire might for.

When he finally pulls back, just barely, his forehead resting against hers, his breath is warm, uneven, filled with something raw. His fingers trail down her arms, tracing paths that feel like promises.

“Had to do that,” he murmurs, voice rough, a prayer in itself. “Hope you don’t mind.”

She exhales, a slow, wrecked thing, and tightens her grip in his hair. Like she’d ever let him go. “Don’t mind at all, handsome.” She kisses him once again. Quick and short.

“Thank you,” he says then, kissing her cheek. “You don’t know how much—thank you.”

And that makes her roll her eyes, because what the fuck does he have to thank her for? 

“Go back to your seat, handsome. Before this becomes something less appropriate for public consumption.” She pushes him off. “Come on. Get away from me!”

Laughing, Steve obliges.

“Well, that got real steamy, real quick,” Tony comments, a little too cheeky for her liking.

Their eyes meet and she hums softly. Looking at the last vestiges of liquor in the glass in her hand, she says slowly, “I guess this brings me to you—” she looks up at him, “Anthony Edward Stark… the boy who saved me.”

No one else in the room understands the connotation of the words, the weight behind them, except the two of them. It makes the cunning smile from Tony’s face fall away. He didn’t see this shift in her tone coming. He didn’t think she’d reveal herself like this, not even this tiny bit. He sobers immediately.

And fuck, we can’t have that.

She turns to the crowd then, “When Tony was younger…” She shakes her hand in casual estimation, “12, I think?” She nods to herself, satisfied with her guess. “Howie shipped him off to boarding school after he broke some rule or another. Doesn’t matter.” She dismisses out of hand, because it truly doesn’t. “Now, what you gotta know about Tony, is that he was a late bloomer.” Snickers sound out from around the room. 

“Thanks, Stark,” Tony admonishes her with no real heat.

She smiles, and corrects herself, “Not like that, I meant he was small for his age.” She pulls up her hand to her head to indicate his height. “He also cried a lot.” She shakes her head with fondness of the little Tony Stark in her memory. “I mean, I could make him cry by just calling him an asshole—he cried a lot.” She chuckles, Tony does too. “And… there is no nice way to say this… um, all that made him pretty fucking easy to pick on.”

Her smile fades as she continues, “So, when he would call me every night from the boarding school to tell me about his day… I knew he’d been crying.” She grits her teeth. “He wouldn’t say anything, of course. He would—he’d quip and crack jokes, and bitch about the classes and the teachers. He would act like everything was dandy—like everything was fine for a genius, scared little boy, at a school full of dickhead rich kids, who were taught by their parents to make everyone who was different feel lesser than…” She bites the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from breaking. “I’d ask him, again and again, ‘What’s wrong, Tones? Tell me what’s wrong, and we’ll fix it, together.’” She shakes her head, “He wouldn’t fess up. He’d say, ‘Everything’s fine, Y/n. Quit bein’ a worry wart.’ He’d act like everything was okay… But I could tell. ‘Course I could…”

She runs a hand through her hair, and exhales slowly, mustering up a smile. “So, imagine my surprise when I get a call one day and this fucker is just vibrating with pure excitement.” Her smile grows, as she puts a hand to her ear, imitating a phone. “‘What is it, Tones? What happened?’” She laughs a little. “‘I made a friend’ he said. ‘I made a friend, his name is Wallace! He just got transferred here from Hudson. You wanna talk to him?’ Of course I did!” Everyone else in the room matches her smile with their own brilliant ones. “So I’m talking to Wallace and fuck, a great kid! Apparently he was like a mini Thor?” She points at the God of thunder who looks like he’s a minute away from swooning. “Pretty big for his age?” She nods to herself. “Not the smartest kid you’ll ever meet, but he was kind. You know?” Everyone nods in unison, making her smile wider.

“So, I’m excited, Tony is clearly very excited, and now fucking Wallace is excited. We’re fucking brimming with it.” She slows down then, brings her hand to her lips and fidgets with them. “But then… the next night, I’m waiting by the phone for three hours, I don’t get a call.” Suddenly the tone in the room shifts. “It’s ass o’clock at night, I barge into Howie’s study and I pester the shit outta him for like two hours straight till he calls the School to check in on Tony. When he finally does, they tell us it’s all peachy. They tell us Tony’s asleep, safe and sound in his bed.” She sits up, “Of course, I don’t buy that, but he is safe. So, who knows? Maybe he had a rough day. Maybe he needed a night—some space to gather himself and he’ll tell me all about it tomorrow.” She hits the back of her hand into her palm. “But tomorrow night comes, and again—I don’t get a call.” She leans forward, just to bask in the curiosity that everyone’s wearing on their faces right now.

“Now that’s fucking suspicious.” She sits up straight then, “But I gotta play my cards right. I can’t wake up Howard again and light a fire under his ass. If anything had happened to Tony the school would have been obligated to call—Can’t afford to upset the guy who’s funding their new science wing. So, I gotta play it smart, I can’t be the boy who cried wolf.” She shrugs, “I gotta wait it out. Wait for him to call me tomorrow.” She pauses for a second, letting the suspense build. “Cut to—next night. No call.” She throws up her hands, and eases back into her seat.

“Means, it’s DEFCON 1. I am now screaming at the top of my lungs, telling Howard to call the School and check in on Tony. He’s yelling right back at me—telling me I’m overreacting. And fuck that. ‘I know Tony! I know my brother, Howard! And I am telling you, something is really fucking wrong! Just call the school, goddamn it!’” Her hands are flying everywhere as she enacts the entire scene out. “In the middle of all this, Maria walks in—and then shit hits the fucking fan. Now it’s Howie against me and Maria,” she enunciates with her hand. “The entire Stark Household is a fucking battlefield. Bullets are flying everywhere—curses the likes of which you have never heard. I have the telephone in my hand,” she begins acting out her words once again, “and I’m about to hurl that shit at Howard’s head so fucking hard, if he doesn’t make the goddamn call—” her voice quiets suddenly, “that we almost miss it when it rings.” Everyone’s suddenly on alert.

Her voice remains soft as she continues, with only a hint of a smile, “Now, we’ve made such a big, fat fuss about the whole thing, that even Howie’s on edge. He picks up the phone before it even has a chance to ring a second time.” She brings her hand to her face, taking a second before she breaks the suspense. “It’s the school,” she tells them. “Tony Stark has been expelled from their fine establishment for using household appliances to electrocute the shit out of the Mayor’s son.” She smiles proud and wide.

She shrugs, “Now, he’s not a violent kid, so why would he go and do that?” She gives them all a pause to guess, but it’s a rhetorical question and everyone treats it as such. “‘Cause of the bullying? Come on. He’d been living with that shit for a year—he didn’t break. So why now?” She hopes her face reflects the pride she feels inside when she says, “It’s ‘cause the douchebag had gone after Wallace.”

When she looks around at the room, everyone’s eyes have gotten a new kind of reverence as they look at her brother.

So she looks at him too. “When you came back from your God awful vacation in the desert and told me you wanted to be a hero, you might have thought of it as a career pivot—but to me… It was a prophecy coming true.” She can tell he’s trying really fucking hard not to cry. “Natasha Romanoff is my favorite Avenger, but you are my favorite fucking superhero, Tony Stark. Always have been, always will be.”

Just as Y/n makes her grand proclamation, Tony abruptly gets to his feet and turns away from the group. His hands rise to his face, fingers pressing against his eyes. She knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Tony?” Natasha calls out, her voice deceptively sweet. “Are you—Tony.”

“Is he crying?” Clint asks, slowly.

“He’s crying,” Rhodey confirms, deadpan.

“Absolutely not!” Tony snaps, but the slight waver in his voice betrays him.

Y/n grins and pushes up from her chair. “Told you it was easy to make him cry,” she announces, strolling over to him.

Tony turns away further, as if sheer willpower will keep his dignity intact. It won’t. Y/n doesn’t care. She wraps her arms around him from the side, her grip firm. “Old habits die hard, don’t they, Stark?” she teases, her voice warm. To make sure he knows she means no harm, she tightens her hold and presses a loud, obnoxious kiss to the side of his head.

“Shut up! It’s your fault!” Tony grumbles, but the sniffling ruins any heat behind it.

She chuckles, rubbing his arms in slow, comforting circles. “You’re the one who wanted me to wax poetic about you.”

“Not this poetic,” he gripes.

“Well, tough luck, genius,” she scolds, lighthearted. “You’re stuck with this—with me, I’m afraid. I’m right behind you, always.”

Tony turns so fast she barely has time to register it before she’s got an armful of Iron Man, holding onto her like she’s his last tether.

“Woah, woah—” she stumbles, unprepared for the sudden weight, but then there’s a steadying hand at the small of her back.

Steve.

With his support, she regains her footing and tightens her grip around Tony, holding onto her brother just as fiercely as he’s holding onto her.

“You’re my favorite too,” Tony whispers in her ear, just for her to hear and no one else. “I need you to know that. You’re my fucking favorite superhero too.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she just kisses his head again and again and again. “Now, get off me you, damn, koala bear!” She pushes him off, not unkindly. “Okay,” she turns to the crowd, "I've hit my yearly quota for feelings in one night. If we don't change the topic soon, I might just self-destruct out of sheer principle.” Clasping the hand Steve has on the small of her back with her own, she looks over the room.

Steve takes the chance and pulls her onto his lap. She yelps in surprise, but he just wraps his hands around her, kissing her neck.

She’s just about to smooch the living shit out of her boyfriend when Clint, sensing the perfect moment to ruin everything, loudly announces, “Well, that was horrifying. I need something aggressively stupid to cleanse my brain.”

“Something not feelings-related,” Tony adds, pointing a warning finger at Y/n like she hasn’t already hit her emotional quota for the year.

Natasha smirks. “Like what? Another round of Guess What’s Gonna Kill Tony First?”

“First of all—rude,” Tony says. “Second, we all know it’s either gonna be my own brilliance or Steve’s disappointment.”

“I never said I was disappointed in you,” Steve says.

“You didn’t have to.”

Rhodey claps Tony on the shoulder. “I’m still putting money on ‘blows himself up doing something unnecessarily dramatic.’”

“Please,” Sam waves him off. “We’ve all got money on that.”

Bruce sighs. “At this point, it’s basic statistics.”

Tony hands shoot up to his chest, and onto his heart, he feigns injury and dramatically gasps like he’s been shot. “Et tu, Bruce?” To that Bruce just laughs in response, shaking his head.

“The only way Tony gets to die is peacefully in his sleep, at the ripe old age of 99!” Y/n announces to the room, ending all scope for argument. It’s a sore subject for her and no one but Tony knows the extent of that. “We’re not playing that morbid fucking game ever again!”

Natasha throws her hands up in surrender. “My bad.” Everyone else too has the decency to look admonished, except Tony who looks at her with fairly well hidden mild concern.

“So, what’s our options here?” Hill chimes in, dissipating the slight tension. “Bar fight? Competitive arson?”

“Something legal,” Bruce interjects quickly, because he knows this group too well.

Sam gestures at Y/n. “Can we get a ruling on what constitutes ‘legal’ in this room?”

She smirks, tilting her glass toward him. “Technically, nothing we do holds up in court.”

“Cleared by the legal department!” Tony declares.

Steve mutters, “I should be more concerned about that than I am,” dropping another kiss on her shoulder.

She throws her head back, chuckling, and kisses his temple in return.

Clint leans forward, rubbing his hands together. “You wanna talk about legal precedent? Let’s talk about divine precedent.” He jerks his chin toward the center of the room, where Mjolnir sits, unassuming and waiting.

Y/n raises an eyebrow. “You’re not seriously about to bring Thor’s hammer into this.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious.” Clint gestures at Thor, eyes narrowing. “Let’s discuss the so-called worthiness clause. By whose standards? Who enforces it? And most importantly—” He leans in. “Who’s to say you’re not just screwing with us?”

Thor pulls out the flask of that good fucking Asgardiaun stuff from his pocket and pours some into his drink. “Ah, Barton, your skepticism wounds me,” but the laugh that follows, renders the sentiment in the words irrelevant.

Clint gestures dramatically at the hammer, spinning the drumstick in his hand, looking around the room like he’s about to expose the world’s greatest con. “But, it’s a trick!”

“Oh no. It’s much more than that,” Thor counters easily, while passing the flask to Steve who takes a swig.

Oh, this is going to be so fucking good.

“Ah, ‘whosoever be he worthy, shall haveth the power!’ Whatever, man! It’s a trick.”

Read the next part here. Find the Static Verse Masterlist here. Read The Avengers (ft. Static) here.

[papoochu]

Next up on the council, is Gabriel's replacement: Keza Kaberuka! I love drawing her!

Background:

Keza = Rwandan name meaning “beautiful one”

Kaberuka = Common Tutsi surname; evokes heritage, resilience, and ambition

Born 1988 in Kigali, Rwanda to an educated Tutsi family with deep cultural roots and political aspirations

Father was a professor of history; mother was a nurse

1994 – Rwandan Genocide (Age 6):

Family targeted during the genocide

Father is abducted and executed by local militia. Keza and her mother seek sanctuary in a church

Militia overruns it. Her mother is killed defending her. Keza survives by hiding beneath corpses.

Rescued by a Belgian photojournalist and smuggled out under UN protection, Taken to a Johannesburg refugee center

The council is here ready to intervene and start grooming her into their weapon

In the refugee camps, she learns something vital: Beauty can open doors. Vulnerability can be a weapon.

Trauma fuses with clarity: The world respects nothing but power and presentation.

Johannesburg Upbringing:

Raised in the household of a South African diplomat’s widow, who uses Keza as a status symbol while grooming her for high society

Attends elite private schools on sponsorship - an outsider among the privileged Learns to mimic affluence, control perception, and move unnoticed through influence circles

Fluent in French, English, Swahili, Afrikaans

Begins studying conflict minerals and post-colonial economies as a quiet obsession; Understands diamonds are not just ornaments - they are geopolitical weapons

2006 – First Industry Contact (Age 18):

Attends a diamond investment gala as an escort to a wealthy patron

Meets a Belgian mining tycoon - seduces him subtly, plays on his guilt, fascination, and ego

Becomes his protégé - travels to Geneva, Luanda, Dubai etc.

Learns how diamonds move across war zones and into luxury boutiques

Understands the power of intimate diplomacy: charm disarms faster than threats

Blood Diamond Trade Expansion:

Establishes a shell company in Mauritius and begins dealing directly with rebel commanders in the Democratic Republic of Congo and Angola

Context: Rwanda was helping rebel groups at the time for political reasons; Angola was facing post-civil-war instability and is one of the world's largest diamond producers

Offers them access to satellite data, encrypted communications, and luxury goods in exchange for exclusive rights to diamond-rich zones

Smuggles stones through private jets, diplomatic pouches, and via fake humanitarian convoys

Creates a mythos: a woman who never carries a weapon, but always exits with everything she came for

Uses her connections to get stones past the Kimberley Process via falsified documentation and complicit middlemen

Kimberley Process: an international initiative aimed at preventing the trade of conflict diamonds, ensuring that diamond purchases do not finance violence or human rights abuses

2012 - “Court Kaberuka” Era:

Launches Court Kaberuka, a luxury consultancy for “heritage stone placement” - a front for laundering blood diamonds

Double entendre - "court" for royalty and "court" for seducing

Advises politicians, oligarchs, and royalty on how to convert illicit stones into family jewels, auction pieces, and “clean” assets

Begins maintaining a private vault; The Silent Portfolio: a collection of the most politically damning diamonds in circulation

Each gem in the vault is tied to a secret: assassinations, coup funding, war crimes etc.

Uses the collection as leverage, not profit

Infiltration of Global Diplomacy:

Cultivates discreet romantic and political ties with various politicians and people of importance:

A foreign trade minister

A UN sanctions coordinator

An Emirati royal involved in arms logistics

etc.

Offers influence, protection, and secrets - all cloaked in charm and intimacy

Establishes a diplomatic status under a Central African nation’s special envoy credentials

Moves across borders without scrutiny

2016 – Recruited by the Council (Present-Day):

Former council operative "Diamond" is eliminated

Keza, already known to council members as a power broker too effective to ignore, is approached,

Terms are simple: absolute discretion, full operational autonomy, and the codename Diamond

She accepts with a single condition - she chooses which wars not to stop

Seductive but never promiscuous - her intimacy is transactional, weaponized, and unforgettable

Uses her power not for chaos, but for leverage - every gem a favor owed, every buyer a pawn

In the diamond world, beauty is value - and Keza Kaberuka is priceless

Design Notes/Character Study

Tutsi culture

Long-horned Inyambo - hairpin; can be used as a weapon too

Choker:

Based on pics of Intore dancers and Tutsi warriors

Outfit inspirations

Anok Yai

Elsa

Mel Medarda

Scar on thigh

Shows to seduce officials

If she shows you, that's not an invite - that's a threat

Friendly with children

Picture of child - show hand reaching for diamonds but watching apple

Apple - reference to Adam and Eve

Wants to make a new world through the new generation

Queen of Hearts reference

Diamonds woven into her hair

Remember: seductive but never promiscuous

Make her the center of attention

Glides with grace - like a dancer

Silver jewelry matches her cool-toned skin

Dimples - must be charming, friendly, and welcoming

[lewis-lafontaine]

Carl Jung Depth Psychology Facebook Group This is how madness begins, this is madness ... You cannot get conscious of these unconscious facts without giving yourself to them. If you can overcome your fear of the unconscious and can let yourself go down, then these facts take on a life of their own. ~Carl Jung,…

[artbyblastweave]

I've never made any connections between Worm and the Captain America mythos before. Spill some ink?

Okay, so from a purely aesthetic perspective, the gimme is Miss Militia. She's the most obvious "Captain Patriotic" in the roster, she has the power of GUN, she's the only one who actively buys into the mythology of America specifically. She's a Kurdish woman occupying an aesthetic niche generally held by a rugged squinty white guy. She's an output of the melting pot narrative. She's sort of a rendering of what a grounded superhero who somehow became very aesthetically into America might look like. Not in the craven marketing-driven way of Homelander or Comedian, not in the jingoistic maniac way of USAgent or Peacemaker. She buys it in the broadly left-liberal (USamerican connotation of that term) safe, friendly, reclamative way. Why, what a great rehabilitation of the archetype!

She's also deeply, deeply afraid of rocking the boat. She's got a deepseated childhood trauma related to the bad things that happen when she puts herself in a leadership role. She goes along to get along. When she's proactive, it's usually to point a gun at Tattletale to stop her from upsetting the status quo. She sits through a lot of situations where Steve Rogers, as commonly modeled, would probably plant himself like a tree by the river of truth and go, "Hey, this is fucked up." She more or less capitulates to Undersider domination of the city, in a way that predisposes us to think of her as a voice of reason after all these total nuts that Skitter's been up against- but would Taylor "to relinquish control is a form of ego death" Hebert really be willing to leave someone in charge of the local Protectorate branch who she thought couldn't be corralled? She looks like a beacon, but doesn't- indeed, probably can't- ever truly behave like one. I mean, you can debate the on-the-spot morality of any given one of her judgement calls, that's actually one of the less exhausting Worm Morality Debates to have- but in aggregate, a person in American flag garb who actually meaningfully criticizes the paramilitary organization they're part of is not gonna survive long in that role!

So again, she's the gimme from an aesthetic standpoint. But what I don't really see a lot of discussion of is how Cauldron plays into the riff.

Captain America is institutional, but in a comically morally uncomplicated way. The serum was originally mana from heaven, granted to a living saint, conveniently divorced from any nitty-gritty sausage-making process and even-more conveniently divorced from the horrible consequences of giving the, uh, the U.S government a replicable super soldier process. And in fairness to Captain America, this is 100 percent something the overall mythos eventually patched to my satisfaction; the sausage-making process eventually revealed as prototypical government fuckery driven by human experimentation on black servicemen, the overall Marvel Setting littered with failed attempts by the U.S. Government to recreate that golden goose so they can have their fun new jackboots. (In Ultimate Marvel, this is how almost all contemporary superhumans were created, and this is a state of affairs with a body count in the millions or billions.)

Cauldron draws you in with the same noble rhetoric about greater goods, the same one-off proprietary irreplicable formula- but you don't get the luxury afterwards of representing nothing but the dream. You aren't partnering up with a plucky crank scientist with a heart of gold. You're selling your soul to an organization with an agenda. The narrative makes no bones about the fact that everything you do is fundamentally tainted by the fact you opted into an end product created through torture, kidnapping and human experimentation. You don't get to pull a Kamen Rider by going rogue or opting out or making good use of the fruit of the poisoned tree; you are owned, and everything you do has this Damocles sword hanging over your head- when are the people who bankrolled this going to come to collect?

So that's the question of "who would willingly dress like that" covered, and the question of who creates a serum like that. What about the question of who takes a serum like that? I'd argue that Eidolon is the examination of that. Pre-Cauldron David reads to me like pre-serum Steve Rogers viewed through a significantly bleaker lens. They're both sickly kids desperate to serve, rocketed to the pinnacle of human capability by an experimental procedure. But for Steve Rogers, the crisis was that he had a specific vision of the world and was frustrated by his inability to carry it out. Before the serum he picked fights over what was right and wrong and got his ass handed to him; afterwards he picked those same fights and just started winning instead. The serum neatly solved a problem he had, and to the extent that his mindset is influenced by his pre-serum experiences, it's generally constructive; a desire to protect the weak, help the helpless, an appreciation for people who stand up for what's right even when they're clearly gonna get pancaked for their trouble. So ultimately there's no dark side, downside, or underlying neurosis ascribed to his initial impulse to take that serum.

But with David, it's not a tragic case of the spirit being willing but the flesh being weak. He isn't a preternaturally-noble soul, out to represent the best elements of the American ideal- he kind of represents the inverse, a guy who's been failed at every level while utterly convinced that he's the problem. He's actively suicidal because he's a wheelchair-bound epileptic in an economically-depressed socially-backwards rural town in the 1980s, and he's spent his 18 years of life internalizing the idea that he's worse than useless unless he can somehow find a way provide value to something larger than himself. Doctor Mother finds him in the aftermath of a suicide attempt spurred by his rejection from the army- and he didn't even want to join the army specifically, necessarily, he just needed his situation to be literally anything else, and he took what he thought he could get. And then he finds himself in a position to become a superhero, so he does that, molds himself into that, subordinates himself to that, builds his entire sense of self and values around the value he can provide in that role. No grand design or sacred principles carried over through the metamorphosis. Just relief at finally, finally having something that looks like an answer to the question of what he's supposed to do.

And you know, you know that if Steve Rogers was facing down the barrel of being depowered, he'd smile and nod, he'd Cincinnatus that shit. It's happened before. But for David, the emotional trauma and self-worth issues that caused him to roll the dice on a Steve-Rogers treatment never really went away. When would it? He's been Providing Value as a ten-ton Hammer Against Evil for thirty years. No family, no social life. Certainly, no incentive on his handler's part to lance his Atlas complex. So he barrels towards atrocity in the name of remaining useful. Admittedly, this is where the comparison breaks down in a significant way; Captain America is much more of a symbol than he is an irreplicable powerhouse, so it's not catastrophic if he's taken off the board. Eidolon is so unbelievably powerful that his myopia and self-centeredness actually do align with a real problem everyone else is gonna have if he loses his powers. But in terms of the starting points- I think that Steve Rogers embodies the myth about why you'd want to join the army that badly. Eidolon is, I think, much more closely modelling why you'd actually want to join the army that badly.

[redux-iterum]

Does Cloudpaw not believe in Starclan like he did in the canon books? Also how many cats don't believe in Starclan and the Three, or at least have doubts about it? As we know, Firestar openly disagrees with not speaking about a deceased cat that was evil/ had done bad things, so were there any others in history that vocalised their disbeliefs?

Of course Cloudpaw believes in StarClan. He was born and raised in that culture; he's got no reason to doubt it.

I can't answer if there are any doubters amongst the Clans, mostly for spoiler reasons, but suffice to say that most who don't believe keep their mouths shut about it. Especially if they live in ShadowClan, my god. The Clans believe too much in their pantheon and spirits to be okay with someone saying they're not real. It's not like they'll be executed or anything, but they're going to be held in lower regard.

The thing is that this mythos not only provides comfort and entertainment, it builds up the Clans as superior above the rest of their slightly-less-superior species. The Clans need to feel like they're the most important, bestest, specialist collection of cats in all the world, otherwise their bitchy attitudes towards outsiders and other animals won't have any justification. It feeds their egos and their spirits. Double win!

[mythos-egos]

A fancy bastsard done by @itstoriirdz ! Look at him ! I really really love the fluff to bits lmao hes so pretty