scarlettransian-blog

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Sebastain Stan

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headcanon #001 

Vander still hadn’t really mastered his abilities in Sokovia. His telepathy was volatile, at best, and unbeknownst to him, his telekinesis wasn’t really telekinesis at all. It manifested as telekinesis, because that was how Strucker and his researchers trained him. They gave him blocks and told him to move them, so he did. They put him in a room where the walls closed in around him, and he pushed them back. But it wasn’t telekinesis. 

Vander’s actual abilities are reality manipulation. He is able to alter probabilities and cause eventualities that would likely never have happened otherwise. Things move when they should’ve stayed still; guns jam when they should have fired. Taken to its fullest extension, Vander’s Chaos Magic can alter the very fibers of reality, spawning and nullifying universes and possibly destroying them altogether.

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pietroxtime:

 I can hear them coming. He knows better than to ask who.  They’re part in this particular venture had indeed ended, and Pietro had spent far to long looking for his twin, when Vander had failed to show up at the extraction point.

Now they were far from where they needed to be and Vander’s tone is enough to reaffirm the need to leave. The need to get away, and quickly. And Pietro tries swallow his worry. It will do neither of them any good, right now.

No sooner is the request uttered, than strong sure arms are slipping around  Vander. Pulling him, as gently as Pietro can manage, to his feet. Placing his brother’s arm around his shoulders, and holding it there; while his other arm wrapped about Vander’s back and waist to give him support.

“Which way are zh’ey coming, frate?     Which way should I take us?”

 Standing is an unwelcome challenge, even with Pietro’s help, but they don’t have a choice.  They need to get out, before they’re found,  so he grits his teeth and breathes through the  pain as his brother helps him to his feet. 

“East. It is fastest.”

The soldiers were converging from the west corridor and closing in. He could feel them, sense their malice, like rabid hounds on a  scent. It was hard to think through the blood  red haze. Hard to think at all. 

He wanted them to stop. Stop thinking, stop chasing, stop being. And it terrified him,  because some part of him, some dark and desperate part his pain and panic had unleashed, whispered sweetly that he could make them. 

   “Please, go.”

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callitcoulson:

“Do you want to go for a few days? Get a break from all the people here?” He’d arrange it for them in a heartbeat if Vander wanted to go. 

“I think ... I think this sounds very  nice. It will be okay?” He didn’t   want to get Clint in trouble with   anyone; he wasn’t exactly free  to do as he wanted, not yet. 

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pietroxtime:

       “Vander!?”

The name slips from his mouth far more panic ridden than he wishes. But to late to take it back now. Hesitant, careful hands, find purchase on his brother’s arms.  Trying to find where an injury might lay. He’s been looking for him for what feels like hours.

     “What do I do, Vander…                   tell me…how do I help?”

It is too much. Pain makes his defenses weak, his shields thin. Every levy he has built against  the minds of others crumbles in the wake of it,  and he is struggling to keep his thready grasp on  consciousness, on reality. 

“I hear them. I hear them coming.”

They need to run. Their part in this mission is over, and the longer Vander stays here, the harder  it will be to keep the fabric of reality   his perception of  it, he tells himself, not the real thing; only sometimes, they feel like one in the same   from unraveling.  

“Help         help me stand.” 

Continued from +

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Send "Is that my shirt?" for your muse finding mine in your muse's shirt

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"Your body is 65% water and I'm thirsty."

“You are vampire, now? Or you  need drink? I am confused.

And a little bit concerned. 

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"You're not going anywhere."

Send “You’re not going anywhere” for my muse’s reaction to yours grabbing their wrist. not accepting

“We need food, and I think you are  little under-dressed.”

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You're not going anywhere! (Vala-daughter-of-Odin)

Send “You’re not going anywhere” for my muse’s reaction to yours grabbing their wrist.not accepting

“You think you will stop me?”

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Send “You’re not going anywhere” for my muse’s reaction to yours grabbing their wrist.

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don’t jokeship with me because 2 hours later i’ll have feels for the pairing.

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vivumxargentum:

and yet his brother is still heavy. but thankfully pietro finds the weight comforting not that the agitation has bled out. he can hear the music still, their valiant attempt to drown out the screaming next door.

“Tch— Not lazy. You’re lazy.”

they could be at this for hours, back and forth. no you. no you. pietro looks over his brother’s head, satisfied with the way hair sticks up at odd angles. it’s less like horns and more like a mess but it’ll do the job.

curling a leg about vander’s body there’s a long winded sigh as he lays there trapped by warmth and lanky arms. he knows you’re trying to nap, vander, but he’s not tired. not yet. so he fidgets and squirms as best he can before finally—

yes that would be his spit-slick finger wriggling into your ear.

he’ll apologize later.

his eyes are heavy, if nothing else. he wants to nap; is that really too much to ask? maybe. probably.  pietro isn’t very good at sitting still, and he knows he’s tempting fate. it’s worth it, though. 

“No, you.” 

true to form, he has to retort, even if it is groggy and half-hearted. it’s a comfortable sort of fatigue, aided by the warmth of his brother beneath him. he only wishes he wouldn’t move so much.

something wet is in his ear, and pietro gets what’s   coming to him when vander’s bony elbow finds his  side in his scramble to get away from him. 

no, that is not a nice word he just said to you. 

no, he will not apologize.

he sits up, still atop his brother with a challenge on  his face. if pietro wants a war, he will have a war. 

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vivumxargentum - continued from (x)

but he’s not heavy; he’s your brother. he really shouldn’t be allowed to listen to the radio in the  twilight hours; the dj’s get nostalgic. 

"I am tired. You are lazy. There is difference.” 

he might snuggle into his brother’s warmth, just   a little bit. their neighbors were loud the night  before, and not in the fun way. he wonders who will call the lawyer first. maybe they can take bets.

he settles for squirming away from prodding,  teasing fingers. not now, pietro, he’s trying to take a nap on you. you’re very good for naps. 

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armageddonisaplace

"I think it is not so good weather to be out, friend.” 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised to see someone else out in it. Most people scurried home at the rumble of thunder, so by the time the real downpour starts, the streets are very nearly empty. 

“You are going somewhere close?” 

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please handle me with care i’m a very sleepy and soft creature