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sytoran · 7 months

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⋆⭒˚｡★ ❝MILE HIGH CLUB❞ ★ n.romanoff !

pairing ★ sub!natasha romanoff x fem!avenger!reader

synopsis ★ on a plane ride to dubai for a romantic getaway, natasha takes matters into her own hands, and your cock into her own mouth. (oops?)

warnings ★ explicit content (minors dni), pwp, semi-public sex, jealous natasha is scarily hot, you are not the lord's strongest soldier, you have a cock, you almost get caught (kind of)

word count ★ 2.6k (IM BACKKK!!!! ...for now)

With Thor, Valkyrie and Carol back on Earth for about two weeks or so, you and Natasha were relieved of your Avenger duties. And what better way to spend the restful break than going on a romantic getaway to Dubai with the love of your life?

On the eighth of the eleven-hour flight, you were perfectly content to lounge in the luxuries of first-class, courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D. But it seems that for the Avenger who was constantly on her feet, Natasha didn't deal well with ennui.

“I’m bored, Y/N.”

Unbeknownst to your girlfriend’s hidden agenda, you paid little mind to Natasha’s statement, continuing to watch the subpar rom-com playing on the aeroplane screen in blissful ignorance.

“Sorry, baby, I know it’s a long flight. You wanna watch this movie with me?”

Natasha lets out an aggravated huff. Because of course you didn’t know the effect you had on her. As much as the whole Avenger getup was as bold as it was impressive, this laid-back version of you really showcased the underlying details that marked her attraction to you.

Thin-rimmed reading glasses sat atop your nose, stray hairs framing the delicacy of your sharp cheekbones and marble-cutting jawline. With a tight-fitting black turtleneck that strained under the bulkiness of your sinful biceps, cut from the finest vibranium, and loosely-hung grey sweatpants that finished off the whole look — Natasha was just about ready to start sucking you off.

That passing thought had just been one of amusement, rhetorical and hyperbolic, seemingly impossible but altogether funny. But then Natasha takes a few steps back, figuratively, and considers it again — and a smile likened to a scheming devil crawls upon her face.

Well, Widows always got what they wanted, didn’t they?

“Y/N,” Natasha purrs, intently pressing into your side.

“Mhm?” you hum, reaching out a hand to entwine it with hers. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You still bored?”

Your reaction was simply so innocent and angelic that Natasha almost felt bad for the devil-spawned arbitrary ploy she was about to enact.

Suddenly surging forward, Natasha lifts up the armrest that separates your seats, closing the distance between her and a trip down to hell, and lets a hand cup the mouth-watering bulge in your grey sweatpants.

“I said I’m bored, Daddy,” she whispers into your ear. “Mommy wants to play.”

The loud half-splutter, half-cough that resounds around the enclosed space around the two of you within the aeroplane is immaculate.

You choke on inhaled air, looking around at the other passengers with disbelief and anxiety, as if you had been scandalised.

And maybe you had been. Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you desperately try to look away from the tantalising cleavage shoved in front of your sinning eyes.

Natasha’s low-cut top had you fighting every calvary in your mental war, and you struggle to regain a semblance of composure.

“But, uhm, Daddy wants to remind Mommy that we’re surrounded by complete strangers,” You whisper urgently, a handsome flush overtaking your features. “And that we are very well-known Avengers across the globe, so if we were to get caught we would end up on every news headline for the next month. And if it reaches Fury, well, we’d be in shit ton of trouble.”

Your state of arousal is unhelpfully heightened further when you notice that Natasha is eyeing your growing erection like a hawk, front teeth sinking into her ruby-red lip, ready to take strike and devour its prey.

“Oh darling, you know I’m a whore for attention,” Natasha replies loftily, and the silky-smooth way that the word ‘whore’ rolls off her tongue triggers a jolt of arousal straight to the tent in your sweatpants.

When Natasha begins caressing the hefty bulge in between your legs, a low groan emits from the depths of your throat and it melts in Natasha’s lower belly in the form of molten arousal.

“Natasha, as much as I want to rail you senseless in this very second—”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t think that this is a good idea—”

“Stop thinking, then,” Natasha responds as if it’s the most simple answer in all of the galaxy, and before you can come up with another futile reason to deter her girlfriend’s libido, Natasha launches into action.

In a fraction of a second that could have rivalled Spiderman’s speed, Natasha unbuckles her seatbelt and sinks to her knees in front of your seat. Another upside of first-class was the spacious legroom which Natasha fully utilised. Ducking under your blanket, she drapes it over her hunched figure and tucks herself neatly between your legs.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, fumbling to unbuckle your own seatbelt and letting Natasha slide down your sweatpants. Social decency be damned, for when Natasha Romanoff presented herself to you, ripe for the taking, no one simply denied themself of that glorious heaven.

Deft fingers tug down black Calvin Klein boxers, and a huge, hardened cock springs out of its confinement. You exhale shakily as a hand wraps around the base, and a feather-light finger trails over its girthy length.

“I’m not surviving this, am I?” You mutter underneath your breath, leaning back into the seat. In response, Natasha gives kitten licks to the pre-cum emerging at your heady tip, so saintly and sinful all the same.

Guiding the head of your cock to a hot mouth, Natasha leisurely wraps her lips around the shaft. Your iron-hard grip on the armrest was almost completely useless in the face of regaining normalcy, not when the feeling of velvet lips set alight every nerve on her body.

“Fuck,” you curse breathlessly, your face contorting into one of pleasure. Darkened eyes fixate unto the blanket Natasha was hidden under, and your wandering mind fuels an image of your girlfriend’s hollowed cheeks and pliant mouth, to which you almost fall apart there and then.

Dirty, scandalous and filthy was being able to feel Natasha’s tongue swirl around your cock without seeing it happen. Your lack of sight heightened the sensitivity of your other senses by tenfold, and you had to physically restrain herself from bucking your hips forward.

Without warning, Natasha tilts her head up, ruffling the blankets, and then engulfs your cock in the threshold of her throat.

“Oh, Thanos' head on a fucking stick—”

“Excuse me ma’am, what can I get for you today?”

Your eyes fly open in a nanosecond, head jerking to the source of distraction. There in the aisle stood an air stewardess with a push-cart and a smile just a little too wide.

“Uh, uhm, just a water would be fine,” you choke out, attempting to exhale steadily as if you hadn’t been about to combust in your girlfriend's mouth just a few seconds ago.

“Right away, ma’am,” The stewardess answers. “You getting hot and bothered from the show?” She asks harmlessly, a smirk tugging up on her face.

You take a moment to understand the jest. Before you the shitty rom-com is still playing, except now there's a badly orchestrated sex scene playing, where the male actor is trying too hard to act as if he’s doing any good. It doesn’t do you any good that your face is flushed and evidently flustered, but for different yet similar reasons.

A false laugh escapes your lips, in hopes of driving the woman away. “What! No, no way. I’m all good here.”

You swear you can smell the jealousy radiating off from Natasha in leaps and bounds, and you decide it is best to end the conversation before Natasha fuses and convulses simultaneously.

God forbid Natasha decides to start deepthroating your cock at that exact moment.

You let out a ragged groan in front of the stewardess, as a hot mouth engulfs your cock in quick succession, sucking back and forth with an esteemed fervour.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” The lady asks, leaning closer, reaching out a hand to pat the side of your face.

You lean back, rapidly attempting to steady your breathing, and failing miserably. Natasha’s bobbing her head up and down with energised vigour, determined in her mission.

“Y-yeah, it’s really alright. Th-thanks, again.”

Just as you thought all was done and dusted, the air stewardess looks around cautiously. She leans closer to you with batted eyelashes and a supposedly seductive wink.

Then, in a low and sultry voice that seals your fate, the woman says, “Let me know if you need anything special, handsome.” You choke back a moan as Natasha twists her head, her talented tongue doing wonders to her cock.

The lady can’t get out of your sight any slower.

The moment the air stewardess disappears into the confines of the next cabin, footsteps fading away, Natasha's head whips out of the blanket, furrowed brows and an aggravated expression taking you by storm.

“‘Let me know if you need anything special, handsome!?’ Who does that whore think she is? Baby, do note that it’s taking me very large amounts of self-restraint not to get up right now and slap her silly. I can’t believe that an air stewardess would hit on anyone so openly like that, much less you! God, Y/N, I—”

Natasha’s stream of enjambments decrescendos into a meek silence at the look on your face.

Evanescent was the abrupt change in your demeanour, as if a switch had been flicked, as if the rest of the world had faded away, and it was just the two of them left.

Natasha’s cheeks flush so prettily, so quickly, because that look on your face only meant one thing.

A set jaw, glinting in the light — cut marble sculpted from the finest hands. Eyes that descend into such deep hues that Natasha feels like she’s drowning like the Titanic, downwards towards the depths of hell.

“Less talking, baby, more sucking.”

A rough hand finds Natasha’s head under the blanket and her hair is tugged on forcefully, jerking it forward to engulf the entirety of your cock. Natasha is more than happy to comply.

Natasha’s pretty gag is lost in the sound of the ongoing turbulence, and you grunt and drag those velvet walls down the length of your cock again. If Natasha decided to act like a brat, you could sure as hell treat her like one.

Up and down, up and down, and the way you manhandle Natasha to deepthroat a solid eight inches should be considered an Avengers-level threat. If you close your eyes, you can almost see the tears welling up in Natasha’s eyes, her pretty lips wrapped around your cock, strands of hair clinging to beads of sweat that adorn her face.

You're not too sure if the wet and squelching noises you hear are from Natasha's slick throat or a figment of your ever-rampant imagination. Either way, the contracting waves of Natasha’s throat around your cock is downright sinful, pretty and easy and oh so pliant.

From base to tip and tip to base, a preordained promise of paradise hangs in the atmosphere, and with each passing stroke, you barrel towards that high. You thrust hard into Natasha's throat, stretching it out, filling it up.

You lose yourself in the wet heat of Natasha’s mouth, your cock being stimulated in such heavenly eloquence of Natasha’s tongue. As an Avenger, you've fought a thousand battles, but none of them have ever quite left you as breathless as this one.

You're awfully close.

In the haze of being used like a mindless fucktoy, Natasha’s hand slips up the expanse of your clenched thigh muscle, and proceeds to toy with the heavy sack of balls. You groan, gripping Natasha’s hair tighter, tugging her downwards.

You're really, really close.

Your ears prick up as a sound emits from under the blanket, and your keen hearing picks up a whiny moan that sounds an awful lot like “Daddy, please”.

Oh, fuck.

Natasha’s helpless plea is what causes you to tumble over the edge of precipice, waves crashing and planets colliding as your vision becomes pure, unadulterated, white heat. “Fuck,” you grunt, a dragged-out groan from your chest, a ringing emblem of castle walls that crumble down.

Streaks and streaks of milky, white fluid are released into the depths of Natasha’s throat, coating her velvet walls, thick and creamy as it splatters against pink walls. Contented moans resound from Natasha, as she continues to suck on your extensive cock like it’s her last lifeline, like she might as well perish without it.

For a brief moment, you question your existence in the universe, and how remarkably infinitesimal you feel, hanging kilometres above the wide open sea and nothing else.

Be it land or sea or stars, though, you think you've found your muse, your reason for staying.

“Natasha,” you breathe out, like a sacred prayer, like a haunted blessing, as pleasure overrides your system.

You don’t recall quite how long you stay in that exact position, a hand cupping the back of Natasha’s head, rocking gently thorugh the aftershocks, Natasha’s palm resting on the side of your thigh.

Sentience gradually floats back into your capability, and you slowly blink as you arise from your out-of-body experience. “Well, shit,” you mumble, the aeroplane filtering into view, the snores from sleeping passengers around you becoming audible again.

Once the coast was deemed clear, you lift up the blanket covering your lap, but it turns out to be a dreadful decision as the sight of Natasha almost causes you to roll back into another orgasm.

Natasha’s previously neat hair was now a complete mess, sticking to her mouth and the sides of her face in the heat of sweat and slick. What used to be perfect, unblemished eyeshadow was now a runny mess due to Natasha’s tears, and a nude shade of bottle-red lipstick was smeared across her mouth and your semi-erect cock.

Lowered lashes shielded a smokey gaze, nearly all black, and you can feel herself hardening again, like you hadn’t just received a filthy blowjob that would make the heavens blush.

Immediately, that image of Natasha Romanoff was imprinted into her mind for an eternity to come, saved for future purposes.

By some saintly miracle, none of the passengers surrounding had awoken, and Natasha successfully crawls back into her seat with an all-too-smug smile.

“How was it?” She asks innocently, batting those lashes with a seductive head-tilt.

“I don’t know, maybe you should’ve moaned ‘Please, Daddy,’ just a little louder,” you retort quickly, no bite behind your words, delighting in the pink flush that adorns your girlfriend’s cheeks.

On about the ninth hour of the flight, approximately one hour after Natasha drew out an earth-shattering orgasm from your megalithic shaft, you effectively draws closer to Natasha, with crossed arms that unhelpfully accentuate the bulge of your biceps.

“Let me rail you in the toilet?”

“Y/N L/N, I am not sitting my bare ass on that filthy bathroom counter. I don't wish to end up with an STI."

“Who says I need to a counter to fuck you, hm?”

──── ☆ ⋅ ★ ⋅ ☆ ────

After three splendid orgasms, more abundant wails of ‘Daddy, please’ emitting from the toilet, and that same, very embarrassed flight stewardess politely requesting for them to get the fuck out, you and Natasha land in Dubai, officially kickstarting your romantic getaway with a bang.

Literally, quite a bang.

haven't written something new in forever, hopefully this is enough to satiate you gremlins' desires... (but forreal tho, thanks for sticking around) reblog or i'll hunt you down and NOT post for 12493482 years

main m.list

#natasha romanoff x reader smut #marvel smut #natasha romanoff #x reader #gxg smut #wlw smut #natasha romanoff smut #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader smut #butch4femme #hornynat is my favourite nat #top reader #dom reader #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

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The Detour 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor

Summary: You find yourself stranded in a small village.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You refuse to spend your vacation pent up, especially in this place. You put on your most walkable shoes, felt boots with a low heel, and clothes suitable for walking. Cigarette pants and a sleeveless turtleneck. You grab your purse and call down to the front desk to request a taxi.

As you come down to the lobby, you see the preparations for the ridiculous event in full tilt. Ugh. This place is backwards. How can a grown man plan a part akin to that of one half his age. If you were to guess, that cretin is like pushing forty, and that’s being generous.

You roll your eyes and strut down the steps. You tap your heel at the bottom as you wait, hip pushed out with one leg at an angle. Finally, a minivan rolls up and the driver reaches over to the crank down the window.

“You call for a cab?” The man asks.

“Yes, sir,” you hesitate, thinking he might have the decency to open the door for you. When he remains as he is, you do it yourself, sliding open the back and climbing inside.

“Where are we going, miss?” He prompts as you roll the door shut.

“Hm, I saw in the hotel itinerary there is a bakery in town. They have coffee?”

“Sure do, all those fancy foams and flavours,” he chirps as he shifts into gear, “didn’t know anyone was visiting town.”

“A brief detour,” you assure him and turn your gaze out the window.

“Ah, well, you can call me Paulie. I’m the only taxi in the village.”

You don’t offer your name in return. You aren’t paying for conversation. He’s a driver, not a therapist. You sit in the buzz of the radio, the outdated tunes static as the signal wanes and waxes.

“Just up here,” he announces as he comes to flat ground, steering between the only dense line of buildings, “one with the red sign.”

“Sir,” you pull out a bill and adequate tip for his trouble.

“You have a good one, ma’am. If ya need a ride back, you just call,” he calls after you.

You step out and shove the door closed, quickly marching onto the pavement. You peer up at the bakery, eyeing the facade. It isn’t as nice as your preferred cafe but there are no alternatives. How can people live like this? Is variety not the spice of life?

You’re aware of the looks you get from the village elders on the street. You ignore their sideways glances and enter the bakery. You approach the counter as you browse the menu, chin set. You are dying for a latte.

“Hello, I’d like an oat latte, half pump of vanilla, a quarter teaspoon of cinnamon, and a touch of honey,” you outline your typical order.

“Uh, okay, that was a latte–”

“Oat latte,” you correct, “latte with oat milk…” the girl behind the counter squints and keys in the order, “with cinnamon–”

“Half a teaspoon, don’t cake it on,” you demand.

“Um, alright,” she stops and rips off a piece of blank receipt paper, making a note on it.

“With honey,” you enunciate clearly.

“Honey,” she mumbles as she writes, “anything else, ma’am?”

You sniff and lean back on your heel, looking up and down the display case, “are any of these vegan?”

“Sorry, I don’t think so.”

“Gluten free?”

“No, I don’t–”

“I might do with the raspberry white chocolate scone,” you step back up to the counter.

“Sure,” she taps the buttons and reads out your total. You pay with your card and cross your arms as you strut to wait at the other end of the counter.

You look around dully. There’s a man sitting by the window. He has frosting on his fingertips as he picks at a cinnamon bun. He gives a goofy grin and wipes his hand on a napkin, several others sticking to him as he tries to tidy himself up. You shake your head and return your attention to the counter.

Your scone is served first on a small plate. It takes some time for the latte. You taste it and suck your teeth. You look at the employee as she watches you nervously. Even if you tell her she added too much cinnamon, you doubt she’ll get it right on a second try. Like everything around here, you’ll settle for it.

You take your order and sit in the corner. You slide out your phone. No bars. This wretched place threatens to bore you to tears.

A chair scrapes and a throat clears. You narrow your eyes in the messy man’s direction as he approaches you. He’s tall with sandy brownish blond hair and a trim of overgrown stubble along his jaw and cheeks. He wears plaid under a tan vest with too many pockets. Backwoods chic, how gauche.

“Uh, hey, you new in town?”

“Passing through,” you utter tersely.

“Really? You staying up at the B&B? Odinsons are good people.” He nervously plays with the zipper on his vest, “I’m Cole–”

“I don’t want to know your name. The moment I’m free of this place, I hope to forget everything about it,” you spit.

He blanches, “uh, sorry, miss–”

“You will be if you keep bothering me.”

“I was just being friendly,” he begins.

“Let me tell you something, I run circles around friendly men like you. In fact, men like you, beg me to step on them,” you sneer hotly. “And trust me, you can’t handle me, so go on and finish your snack, little boy.”

He stutters and looks around. He nods and backs off, a dumb look on his face. He turns and walks stiffly back to his table. He stares ahead and slowly drops his head into his hands. You scoff.

Does every man in this forsaken place store their brains below their belt? You pick at the scone as your eyes drift over to the barista. She watches the man with a worried look then glances at you and winces, quickly hiding behind the display case.

You turn and peer out the window. This must be purgatory. It is possible you crashed your car and now must wait out your eternity in this hellscape.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #character cameo #au #backwoods au #drabble #series #the detour #avengers #marvel #mcu

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olet-lucernam · 8 months

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A Hollow Promise [22] chapter v, part iii

main tags : loki x original character, post-avengers 2012, canon divergence - post-thor: the dark world, canon-typical violence, mentions of torture

summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, the Avengers need a few days to build a transport device for the Tesseract. With the Helicarrier damaged and surveillance offline, SHIELD sends an asset to guard Loki in the interim: a young woman who sees the truth in all things, and cannot lie.

Even long presumed dead, her memories lost to her, Loki would know her anywhere.

And this changes things.

Some things last beyond infinity. And the universe is in love with chaos.

(Loki was never looking for redemption. It came as an unexpected side-effect.)

chapter summary : despite his chains, loki begins gathering his pieces on the board. astrid works on escaping her own confines, and mitigating the damage of disasters to come.

recommended listening : venus in gemini, dezi

[PREVIOUS] | [MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]

“So. What do you think?”

The question rang slightly in the room, ricocheting against metal plates and graphite-grey walls.

Arms folded, facing out into the open floor, Fury allowed the slight turn of his head and expectant silence to serve as invitation.

After a moment, Alethia- sleekly attired for the autumn chill like a native Manhattanite, in black skinny jeans, mid-heeled ankle boots, and fine-knit turtleneck sweater of berry wool- pushed herself off the wall, stepping forward.

She and Romanoff had been on the roof before Fury called them into the VERITAS testing area, drinking coffee in the cold and soundscape of noise above the city. Alethia had stripped the long wool coat she had been wearing when she arrived inside, draping it over one of the chairs, but Romanoff was still wearing her camel leather jacket, curls soft and mouth faintly pursed, eyes fixed on Alethia’s back.

Glancing over the two of them, Fury could easily understand why Romanoff had identified with her. The resemblance between their circumstances was self-evident, but the subtler physical similarities were in the details; it was written small, in the simple facts of their heights, their builds, the way they moved- a confident ease with a slight tension underneath, like a dancer waiting to fall into the right steps.

They matched nicely against each other. Fury could envisage sending them out into the field together, on intelligence retrieval and social reconnaissance- Romanoff’s ability to assess and assimilate, and Alethia’s eye for truth and steel nerves, would make for an invaluable combination.

Fury’s eye flicked back to Romanoff where she remained in place, exuding a faint anxiety like the vapours from paint thinner.

He knew that Romanoff wasn’t unaware of her bias. But neither did that awareness make her immune to it.

Rather than letting it become a liability, Fury had warped it into an advantage; if Alethia saw the truth in all things, it was better to offer her a favourable truth, in the form of a handler who wanted her recruitment to be successful for reasons beyond fulfilment of mission parameters.

Alethia halted- coffee cup still in hand, its heat-sleeve stamped with SHIELD’s eagle insignia- before the centrepiece of the room, head tilted consideringly, the sheen of her curls shifting across her shoulders.

The wide chair was set on a high swivel, aggressively angular, constructed from darkly brushed titanium, strict right-angles, and heat-sensitive fabric. A biometric plate was affixed into the centre spine, metal cuffs locking at the armrests, leashed with black electrical cables; a unit reminiscent of a cranial halo capped the structure, winged forward to encase the temples of its occupant. Immediately behind where Alethia stood was a large, simple control centre, inset with a touchscreen display.

“The fruits of your labour.” Fury announced with a wry twist of aplomb. “Thought you might like to see it. Ninety-six variables in total, monitored and analysed by a unique algorithm, based on and verified in efficacy by your contributions. Say hello to the alpha version of VERITAS- the Verification Enhancement for Response Input Technological Analysis System.”

“Stars. If that acronym were any more tortured, the Geneva Conventions would have something to say about it,” Alethia quipped, almost more to herself than the room.

“It was the initial code name for the project,” Fury replied with the intonation of a shrug, unfolding his arms and stepping forwards, the leather drape of his overcoat shifting with the motion. “We’ve got a few like that. But, if you feel that strongly about it- give it a new name. The DNA of it is mostly yours.”

People tended to be more reluctant to destroy or abandon that which they felt personally invested in, Fury found.

Alethia gave a quiet hum from the back of her throat, and lifted a free hand to skim the closest cuff of the chair.

“You think so.”

“It wouldn’t have been possible without your input,” Fury admitted, “not on this time scale. Maybe not even in this generation-”

“It was your design, Nicholas. So- congratulations,” she lifted her voice to call out. “It is a highly sophisticated piece of scrap.”

She rapped a fingertip against the cuff, two neat taps.

“I hope that you’re satisfied.”

Fury took a long moment to study her.

In most cases, he would avoid rising to the bait. Not unlike another troublesome asset that came to mind, Alethia had an element of narcissism to her character- and worse, just cause for it; like Stark, she acted like she knew more than anyone else in the room because, most often than not, she did. Fury’s general policy was that they did not feed egos, particularly those attached to individuals that liked to provoke. Indulging it was a short-term solution that would result in long-term headaches.

Alethia was an exception. Unlike other consultants, they had little information to use as leverage, her available history alarmingly sparse- something that happened approximately never, given SHIELD’s not inconsiderable reach and resources. And as Alethia had deduced with irritating accuracy during their negotiations, the threat that had brokered her cooperation- to flag her with every agency that SHIELD had backchannels with, threatening her meticulously cultivated anonymity- was a card that could only be played once.

Romanoff’s evaluation had found that the most effective strategy was to play her game. Alethia would speak in circuitous riddles and rhetoric, but the more you paid attention to her words, the more you engaged, the more threads she would cast out to watch you follow, chasing towards the truth that she was hinting at.

It was a power play- but one that Fury could tolerate. The rules were consistent, for the most part, and Alethia played fair.

“That the most advanced lie detector system in the world,” he answered patiently.

“Nicholas, you couldn’t even use me properly.” Smoothly, she pivoted to face Fury, unimpressed and unusually direct. “This machine can’t talk back when you’re asking the wrong questions. If not scrap- it is a monument to irony.”

“With regards to what?”

Alethia pushed off the chair, shoulder set, a strange pressure gathering in the air.

“SHIELD is a monster. You might be the hand feeding it, but you are not the one holding the leash.”

She flicked her head back towards the gleaming chair.

“Call it Cassandra.”

With that parting shot, Alethia cut a path out of the door.

Romanoff shifted her weight, as though moving to follow her- but Fury halted her with an open palm and quelling look.

Six minutes later, Fury emerged onto the rooftop.

The Base- codenamed in recognition of its legacy as the original headquarters of SHIELD, after it was established on the foundations laid by the SSR- would have been an imposing building in any other city. Within the cloistered, oversaturated streets of Midtown, however, the broad tower block of dark stone and glass panes blended in amongst the billboard-plated skyscrapers and storefronts that lined the avenues, glossed over like any other corporate office building on the island. At over a dozen storeys tall, the roof was far enough above street level that the coordinated chaos melded together into a rush of tires on asphalt and idling engines and a miasma of passing chatter, punctuated by the distant blare of car horns, sirens, and rattle of construction work- a cocktail of sensory overload, diluted down to a half-ratio. The rubble of the Incident had been cleared, its smoking wounds cleaned and under repair, returning the great aortic chambers of the city to full capacity.

Alethia stood near the edge of the roof, gazing down at the traffic below, vanilla hair and underdressed torso caught in a cross-breeze. As the wind twisted around her, Fury thought he caught a snatch of a high-contrast melody- something that rang of Rodgers and Hammerstein, and the golden age of Broadway showtunes and classic jazz standards.

“For someone who was so determined to keep her mouth shut when you got here, you’ve sure got a lot to say,” Fury interrupted, projecting his voice above the rush of traffic and whip of the winds, strolling up behind her.

“For someone who demands answers at every opportunity, you’re not very willing to listen,” Alethia retorted swiftly, knocking back the dregs in her cup and setting it on the raised edge of the roof. From the drop of liquid left on the plastic rim, it seemed that Romanoff was continuing to keep her sweet with a supply of matcha lattes.

“I’m listening now.”

“Ah, right. Like you were with the Tesseract?”

Fury’s visible eye narrowed.

“What did you mean by that jab? About monsters and leashes.”

Alethia drew her bottom lip between her teeth, glowering, eyes burning like a golden-hour sun behind storm clouds.

Eventually, she filtered out a shallow sigh, her expression cooling.

“There is a principle,” she began slowly, dark lashes lowered as she watched the traffic below, “in regards to statecraft, that you cannot design a seat of power solely with regards to what will allow one individual to do good- but must also consider what will prevent another from accomplishing evil, if they were to acquire the same position.”

Alethia looked directly at him, sombre in a way that she only was once she had given up any attempt to fight or undermine.

“I would strongly urge you to consider what evil could accomplish in your position, Nicholas.”

“Implying that you don’t think I’m evil,” Fury observed, with some intrigue.

It was an unexpected, and interesting concession; Alethia had made no secret that she held SHIELD wholly in contempt, and Fury by extension as the one at its helm.

“I think that you’re a manipulative, opportunistic bastard with few scruples and broadly altruistic intentions, which makes you very good at your job,” Alethia answered, glancing away with a dismissive air. “I also think that you’re arrogant enough to think that you’re paranoid enough, and about the right things, rather than what fits your worldview and skillset.”

Fury absorbed on her appraisal. He had received less scathing evaluations, but he found himself oddly unoffended by it.

“So what should I be paranoid about?”

She looked to him with a slow blink, her expression hard, more resolute than angry. Her irises seemed deeper than the usual hazel, verging upon amber, despite the flat light of the overcast midday skies.

“I told you. You are not holding the leash.”

The meaning clicked.

Fury’s initial, instinctive reaction was outright scepticism.

SHIELD was strictly compartmentalised for a reason. Trust was a commodity both coveted and scorned in the industry, and any system worth its salt in resilience did not merely trust in the integrity of its participants, but enforced it. SHIELD was no different. Its structure split its various branches and operations in such a way that its design could trap and isolate the first hairline-fracture roots of subversion, before they could sink deep enough to alter the fabric of the organisation, or its directives.

The structure of the organisation was not of Fury’s making, but it was one that he had maintained and improved upon since he had been appointed as director, and it worked. A certain level of grime was to be tolerated- in an organisation like SHIELD, entrenched as its operations were within the global network espionage, geopolitics, and commerce, both legal and black market, there was no such thing as clean hands, and even less so of a clean house. It would be the height of naivety and idealism to believe otherwise. But Fury would have detected the swells of a schism forming, of acceptable margins for disagreement becoming an unacceptable division. The sharks may circle, and there would always be blood in the water, but they would never get close enough for a bite.

SHIELD’s identity, and its purpose, was as secure as they had been when Peggy Carter and Howard Stark had founded it.

Common sense dictated that he should verbalise none of this to Alethia.

“So what do you recommend? Tell me what I should be looking at.” Fury began consciously convincing himself into a counter position that he could justify- that there was more to gain than to lose in hearing her, that it was eminently for Alethia to have noticed a risk that they had failed to assess.

Truth was the only shield that held against Alethia. If he didn’t believe it, then neither would she.

The irked tightening of her eyebrow was not encouraging.

“I know you’re humouring me, Nicholas, but let’s ignore the subpar charade otherwise for now.” Alethia shifted into resigned slant, arms folding against the brisk air. “Alright. First. You need a stricter delineation between personnel files, and dossiers on civilians and associates. Especially in regards to storage and access permissions. The keys to unlock one door should not work on another. It’s a security risk, and more than a little alarming that I have to bring it up. Second- stop kidnapping people. Human rights and due process aside, it’s a good way to build up ill will with the very people you may need help from in the near future. Less vinegar, more honey.”

“They are people of interest-”

“Stop kidnapping them.”

“So you’re telling us to ignore the risks-”

“I am telling you that the secret is out,” Alethia interrupted sharply, “and that the bell can’t be unrung. So- exploit it. Instead of trying to wrench the curve backwards, stay ahead of it. Advise the appropriate legislative bodies. Drive the drafting of fair laws to cover the hypotheticals that have become realities- just like with every other advancement in history. Provide evidence for public trials. Give people due process if and when they violate the law, and stop kidnapping people on the basis that they might, possibly, at some point, become a threat. Offer them the resources to help them control their abilities, instead of the choice between constant intrusive surveillance, working for you, or getting disappeared to a facility that doesn’t legally exist.” She paused, with all the ominous inertness of an active hotplate. “And get some actual oversight.”

“This may be hard for you to believe, but we have oversight.” Fury replied, wondering exactly how inept she was under the impression SHIELD was.

“Your oversight is faceless, tried to nuke Manhattan, and has yet to face any questions in regards to it.” She said flatly, staring at Fury with a particularly blank contempt. “Get better oversight.”

Regrettably, she had a point.

Although, Fury was slightly more concerned with where and how, exactly, Alethia had acquired that information.

“I am well aware of their shortcomings,” Fury answered evenly, “and, frankly, I’m a little insulted by the implication to the contrary.”

“Nicholas,” Alethia sighed, part impatience and part resignation, seething, “I don’t like you. But that does not make me intellectually dishonest. There is a reason why I am talking, despite the fact that you are proving incapable of listening. I know that you know. And I am aware that you are not unreasonable. Or- entirely incompetent.”

Fury ignored the qualifier. It was impressive that she had held out this long without a thinly veiled insult.

“But you don’t trust me.”

Alethia smiled slightly, in a way that declared I would have to be an idiot.

She wasn’t entirely wrong.

“You and yours are not answerable to the public,” she said simply, combing her hair out of her eyes as the wind picked up and tossed it into disarray. “And the Avengers have to be, if the project is going to be sustainable. You had a good idea, but- SHIELD is not the right organisation to execute it. It is not what you’re good at, or suited for.”

“Protecting the world from threats that it’s not ready for?”

“By sealing truth in the well. Yours is a war of cloak and dagger- a necessary one,” Alethia added with a pointed glance in Fury’s direction, as though daring him to accuse her of being unfair, “and you’re good at it. But you cannot protect the public by keeping them ignorant ad infinitum. And treating people as though they’re helpless children won’t help them develop critical thinking skills. It will just keep them- reactive, and uninformed, when the situation forces their awareness. This is not a terrorist cell with a glowing cube that defies the established laws of thermodynamics. This is an entire world that has been emerging for decades, and is past being kept a secret.”

Fury felt his chest expand with a deep, slow breath, his gun holster tightening briefly, leashing in his thoughts.

“So. Stronger protections for our data, more outreach to enhanced individuals, focus on laws, improvement of oversight.” Fury concluded. “Those are your recommendations?”

“It’s not a panacea,” Alethia said, lifting one shoulder, “it’s a safety net.”

“It’s a pretty reasonable report.”

“I’ve learned to lower my expectations.” She lifted her face to the open air, soaking in a sudden break of sunshine from between the clouds, warming her colours and sharpening the contrast between her golden complexion and fair hair. “Nothing that I mentioned should offend your sensibilities overmuch. Although, I notice that you omitted the no kidnapping clause.”

Not for the first time, Fury resented that Alethia was so determined to distrust SHIELD. In some respects, she reminded him of Maria Hill, driven and intelligent and unapologetically argumentative, first to point to flaws that no one else would mention due to adherence to chain of command.

The crucial difference was that Hill was capable of doing what she was told.

“I never thanked you,” Fury decided to say, eventually. “For guarding Loki."

It seemed gracious to acknowledge it, as they neared the end of Project VERITAS.

“It’s unnecessary to,” Alethia stated tonelessly. “You would have forced the issue if I had refused, and I had my reasons to say yes.”

“Such as?”

Alethia lowered her gaze, to cast it out over the city, serenely blank.

“Some that you wouldn’t understand. Others that- you probably wouldn’t credit.”

“Well, I might surprise you,” Fury murmured, before shrugging. “That was a pretty good pitch, by the way.”

“Oh- thank you,” Alethia said, the lightness of her cadence surprisingly devoid of sarcasm. “I spent a considerable amount of time refining it. Including editing out a point about SHIELD’s double standards, hypocrisy, and lack of self-awareness over the concept of unbridled, unknown power in the hands of obscure organisations with dubious motives. I thought it might be- unproductive?”

“Smart call,” Fury replied dryly.

Alethia’s mouth flicked into a smirk, before fading into something more solemn.

“But this doesn’t guarantee that you will take my advice, does it?”

Damn right. A good argument makes you a good orator, not a good strategist.

“You knew it probably wouldn’t. So why make the case?”

This time, Alethia laughed outright, sudden and disorientating as a sun-shower.

“Sometimes,” she said through a luminous smile, “I really just want to walk away, and let all of you die.”

But she wouldn’t.

That much had been proven, by the warnings she issued about the Tesseract, by the fact that she had taken up watch over Loki despite the considerable personal risk, by the arrogance-clad counsel that she offered an organisation that she openly abhorred.

Fury let his mouth quirk.

This, he could be satisfied with. Even if SHIELD had not acquired Alethia’s loyalty, her cooperation was no longer a complete impossibility.

And Fury was reluctant to slam any door shut forever. So long as it was left ajar, he could allow the matter to rest as success enough.

[PREVIOUS] | [MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]

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athenianwit · 6 months

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jonathan bailey, homosexual + homoromantic, cis man + he/him, support «—◦—→ well met, atticus welby! the godling born child of athena. it’s been thirty-five years and now they have answered the song in their veins. can he change the course of history with their pragmatism, perception, + creativity? or will their shrewdness, callousness, + neuroticism hinder them? only time will tell before this godling’s name is sung into myth and legend!

🦉 : # BASICS

full name: atticus nathaniel welby. nickname(s): atty. age: thirty-five. date of birth: august 28, 1988. hometown: london, england. current location: mount olympus, greece. species: demi-god. ethnicity: white (english). nationality: british. gender: cis man. pronouns: he/him. occupation: trauma surgeon / emergency room surgeon. living arrangements: athena's cabin. language(s): english, french, spanish, latin, greek. accent: london

🦉 : # PHYSICS

face claim: jonathan bailey. hair color: brunette. eye color: brown. height: 5'11". weight: 160 lb. build: wiry. tattoos: none. usual expression: solemn, serious. prominent features: smile. warm brown eyes. dominant hand: right. clothing style: business casual. lots of trousers and long sleeve/button up shirts. crewnecks. polo shirts. lots and lots of sweaters and turtlenecks. loafers, oxfords, lace up boots. lots of neutrals/browns + darks/blues. minimal accessories, usually only a watch on his dominant hand. old money aesthetic.

🦉 : # PERSONALITY

astrological sign: virgo sun, aquarius moon, capricorn rising. positive traits: pragmatic, perceptive, creative, disciplined. negative traits: shrewd, callous, neurotic, critical. myers brigg: intj. element: air. enneagram: the reformer. temperament: melancholic. hogwarts house: ravenclaw. moral alignment: moral neutral. primary vice: pride. primary virtue: diligence. fears: failing to save another patient's life, spiders. habits: constantly swallows while talking when nervous, raising or furrowing his eyebrows, taking off and cleaning his glasses, readjusting or pushing up his glasses constantly, rubbing his temple when anxious or contemplating, pacing back and forth in a room, bouncing his legs up and down while in a chair, checking his watch repeatedly. quirks: counting his teeth with his tongue when distracted, looking down at his feet when walking, drumming his fingers along surfaces, putting the earpiece of his glasses in his mouth when contemplating, cracking his knuckles when idle, licking his lips when nervous, biting his bottom lip, biting his fingernails, clicking a ballpoint pen open and close, picking at his flesh, shredding paper when idle, constantly needing to organize his own space. pet peeves: people that ignore others, people that roll their eyes when others are talking, blasting music in public/quiet spaces, people who invade his personal space. hobbies: reading, knitting, crocheting, chess.

🦉 : # FAMILY.

parents: athena, nathaniel welby, harper welby (nee finch) (stepmother). siblings: violet welby, maude welby, louise welby (half sisters). other relatives: none of importance. pets: none

🦉 : # SEXUAL.

sexual orientation: homosexual + homoromantic. sexual position: versatile with a strong bottom lean. kinks: tbd. anti-kinks: tbd.

🦉 : # ADDITIONAL LORE.

class: support. innate abilities from athena: history, insight. other abilities: acrobatics, medicine, perception, survival, stealth. character inspirations: annette hargrove from cruel intentions. annie edison from community. caroline forbes from the vampire diaries. clarice starling from the silence of the lambs. dana scully from the x-files. diane nguyen from bojack horseman. haley james from one tree hill. jane foster from thor. jemma simmons from agents of shield. meredith grey from greys anatomy. rory gilmore from gilmore girls. spencer hastings from pretty little liars. velma dinkley from scooby-doo. what was atticus doing when he heard the song of their godling blood? he'd been working in the emergency room on a 24 hour shift and was in the middle of surgery with a patient who had been in a fatal accident

🦉 : # BIOGRAPHY.

tbd.

#godlingintros #— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐚 ( biography )

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official-wonho · 2 years

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No One Is Doing Kpop Fashion Better (or Sexier) Than Wonho

The crush-worthy idol talks about his new album "Bittersweet," his love of his fans, and his Halloween costume.

“Nightwing cosplay!” Wonho says, excitedly. “My fans recommended that for Halloween, I dress up as Nightwing from DC Comics, so I’m actually searching for a costume.” It’s that happily accommodating charisma — paired with an undeniable talent and unapologetic sexiness — that has earned kpop idol Wonho millions of worldwide devotees.

It’s easy to forget that Wonho (born Lee Ho-seok) is a global superstar when you’re talking to him. Sure, he has that same honey-dipped voice that you’ve heard blasted through stadium speakers and on a million fan-made YouTube compilations. And, yes, those are the broader-than-a-refrigerator shoulders you’ve swooned over on Instagram, but when you’re with Wonho one-on-one, he makes you feel like you’re with a good friend. His warmth and soft-spoken humility is palpable even through a pair of translators and the expanse of time zones between us (when we talk, his late night is my early morning).

Let me warn the newcomers: you are not ready for Wonho’s aesthetic. There aren’t a lot of men who could pull off jeans with thigh cutouts but, then again, not a lot of men are Wonho.

With his stage costumes, Wonho has taken dopamine dressing to a new level: Mesh, sequins, vinyl — all are fair game. “For my stages and my performances, I really think hard about trying to show sides of myself that I haven’t shown before,” he explains.

Thanks to that drive to constantly innovate, he’s managed to bring a new brand of unapologetically provocative sexiness to the kpop world. Wonho’s stagewear closet is filled with backless blazers, leather harnesses, peep-show jeans, fishnet shirts, and strategically unzipped turtlenecks, peeled back to reveal a set of abs that would make Thor do a double take. That risque wardrobe (and general aversion to wearing a shirt during concerts) means he can send the internet into a meltdown with just one performance.

“It is true. I started to work out for my physical health, but it has turned into somewhat of an aesthetic,” he tells me as the topic circles to his Instagram. Wonho’s grid is dotted with shirtless selfies and thirst traps worthy of a global idol between charmingly normal pics of him drinking coffee and sightseeing. “My physique,” he says, coyly, of the thirst traps. “I can show it to [my fans] every once in a while, because I like seeing their reactions.”

When I ask what it’s like to be known in the kpop community as a sartorial boundary-pusher, Wonho is happy to take on the title, but firmly unbothered. ”First, thank you for recognizing me as a fashion icon,” he says, with a shy smile. “I don’t really think of boundaries when I am thinking of my own fashion. If it’s a fit for the concept or the style [of the performance], I’ll just try it without any hesitation.” No boundaries, no hesitation, all confidence. That’s Wonho in a heartbeat.

Off-stage, Wonho’s preferences favor comfort. Sweats and Jordans. T-shirts and Vans. Easy styles that can take him from the studio to the gym to rehearsals to the airport. That casual, off-duty wardrobe is tweaked slightly when he’s continent-hopping. This past summer, Wonho launched his FACADE tour — his first solo sprint across Europe. The opportunity to perform for his fans there also gave him a chance to switch up his fashion

“When I’m in London, I tend to style my outfits more clean-cut and dandy. Whereas, in Korea, I style them more comfortably and stylish.” And, as any jet-setting idol will tell you, practicality will trump fashion when the weather turns. “And, more recently, in Japan, my schedule was just packed and it rained all throughout my stay there, so I wore very comfortable clothing and raincoats and stuff.”

Wonho’s fans can be cited as one of the sources of inspiration behind his whiplash-inducing fashion, but it’s clear that they’re also the motivation behind his music, as well. The rankings, the cynics, and all the other distractions that clog up your nerves and can kill an artist’s creativity — those are the obstacles that Wonho chooses, staunchly, to ignore. Instead, he only wants to make his fans proud.

“My goal [as an artist] isn’t really chart-oriented,” he tells me with the help of those translators picking up the more nuanced questions. “I don’t really focus on getting any sort of ranking on the chart but, rather, I want to make music for as many years as I can. I also want to go on a world tour to meet WENEEs who are in all parts of the world.”

The self-chosen moniker of his fans, WENEEs — the name equal parts silly and sweet — is short-hand for “WE are NEw Ending” or “WE NEEd.” Both phrases are representative of the symbiotic relationship between the artist and the fans who have been supporting him from the beginning, and will be there until the end. “[With this album,] I am making a promise to my fans to always be by my side, as they have always been.”

His latest project dropped earlier this month, a highly anticipated second single album named Bittersweet. It was a deeply personal effort for Wonho who doesn’t just sing his music but writes and produces as well, though he’s quick to share the credit with his team. “[I’m always] getting tons of support from all the staff and all the good people around me so I’m able to prepare and produce my albums very conveniently,” says the humble idol. “There are a lot of teams involved with the album production process so it comes out very smoothly.”

The new album’s tracks, “On & On” (a smooth, pulsing dance track featuring Korean rapper YUNHWAY) and “Don’t Regret” (a powerful, tender ballad), are about all-consuming emotions and the Wonho-penned lyrics are as vulnerable as a baby bunny. What helps him to write and perform music this honest and personal is, in part, his impressive multilingualism. “It’s easier to express those kinds of emotions because I can use two languages, Korean and English,” Wonho says of his skill set, which also includes Japanese. “I can use both languages to express my thoughts and emotions.” The tracks add to Wonho’s consistently introspective and sentimental music catalog, making Bittersweet another compelling treasure from the solo star.

And then there’s that beautiful Wonho duality again, right there in the title of his album: Bittersweet. “I wanted to express a mix of emotions that are bitter, yet sweet. Exciting, yet depressing,” explains Wonho. “I believe our lives are filled with different emotions and they shape how we are.”

That paradox of his album’s title and theme is an echo of his whole career and strengths as an idol. That duality is why the entire world has a crush on him. Wonho can do it all. He has a voice that is lovely and dreamy when paired with pulsing dance beats, but also soaring and gorgeous when singing full-chested ballads. He has an off-stage boyfriend aesthetic but is also an easy-to-worship glam god on-stage. Sexy and cute. A Disney face with a Marvel body, as fellow idol Jessi described him. But who needs superhero movies anyways when you have the adrenaline rush of Wonho’s duality?

Source: instyle.com

#wonho #221024 #t: interview #instyle #era: bittersweet

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1eos · 2 years

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oughhhhh leo in that white turtleneck is sauuuuuurrrrrrrr good i feel ILLLLLLL LIKE A MAN POSSESSED

when he looks so good your dick gains the powers of thor. i get it. i agree. im going thru it too

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benevolentgodloki · 2 years

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A cryptic message appears on Loki’s tempad:

[Sylvie] Meet at the New York Sanctum, year 2020, November 17th, at 17:05 pm.

[Sylvie] wear something fun.

@intheformofstars

What is she up to?

What does she mean fun?

Then again, she hasn't seen him in anything but an overworn suit and a turtleneck. He decides on a green and gold Midgardian-Asgardian hybrid long waistcoat over a black shirt and trousers. He's been a little spoiled in New Asgard since reuniting with Thor.

Loki isn't even quite sure what the New York Sanctum is, but the TemPad finds it easily enough. He punches in the coordinates, takes a deep breath, and prepares to meet again with the woman who broke his heart.

#aaand up to you if this is a tumblr thingy or whatever we're doing on disco XD #intheformofstars #v: the variant

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cozy-the-overlord · 2 years

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more thor 1 vibes

Is that a TURTLENECK?!

pterodactyl screech

#Ngl though turtleneck made me think immediately of vampire things #as antithetical as that may seem #you in a turtleneck would send the vamp off his rocker /pos #temptation is so much more potent when he’s outwardly denied it 😂#thanks for the ask :)#lokislittlesigyn #friends #sigyn attempts to destroy me before breakfast #loki marvel

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sciencestyled · 5 days

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When the Universe Decides to Paint: Bob Ross Meets the Big Bang on Canvas

Alright class, settle down—yes, you in the back with the galaxy leggings, we get it, you're cosmically quirky. Welcome to "Astronomical Landscapes: When Artists Play God and the Universe Just Sighs." Today, we're diving into how some clever humans have managed to take the most overwhelming, brain-melting visuals the cosmos has to offer and turned them into what we like to call "art." Spoiler alert: it's like giving a kindergartener a canvas and telling them to paint infinity. The results? Sometimes mind-blowing, sometimes... well, let's just say even the universe has its off days.

Now, don’t get me wrong—I love space art as much as the next wannabe Neil deGrasse Tyson. But the sheer hubris! Imagine staring at a swirling, impossibly vast nebula—basically the universe’s version of a lava lamp on psychedelics—and thinking, “You know, I could totally capture that on a 24x36 canvas, no problem.” It’s almost laughable, but hey, that’s the beauty of human arrogance.

Speaking of which, let’s start with the big thing artists love about space: its overwhelming, soul-crushing vastness. The endless stretches of blackness dotted with stars that look like someone went to town with a glitter gun on a black turtleneck. And yet, for centuries, artists have been like, “Yeah, I got this. Hand me my brush. Let me tackle the incomprehensible scale of the universe.”

The word we're going for here is "sublime," which is an artsy way of saying, “I feel small, insignificant, and slightly terrified, but in a cool, Instagrammable way.” Romantic artists back in the day loved that kind of stuff—think Caspar David Friedrich standing on a mountain, gazing into the fog like he’s just realized his WiFi signal’s gone out. Nowadays, though, artists aren’t just painting foggy cliffs; they're staring at the swirling gases of the Horsehead Nebula like it’s the last drop of pumpkin spice syrup at Starbucks. The universe is no longer just vast; it's emotionally unhinged.

But hold on to your overpriced coffee cups, because it gets better.

Let’s talk about how astronomical phenomena—like nebulae, black holes, and galaxies—are becoming the Kardashians of the art world. They're everywhere. I mean, have you seen a supernova? It’s like the universe decided to stage its own Fourth of July, but instead of fireworks, it used the death of a star to show off. And of course, some artist thought, “You know what this looks like? My feelings.”

Now, these cosmic explosions and stellar light shows aren’t just making their way into paintings. Oh no. They've infiltrated digital art, because apparently paintbrushes are just so last century. Nowadays, artists wield Photoshop like Thor’s hammer, crafting entire galaxies with the click of a mouse. Heck, some digital artists are creating entire space scenes so detailed you'd think NASA was hiring them on the side to render space travel promo posters. And if that’s not a gig I want in on, I don’t know what is.

Imagine an artist, sitting in front of their MacBook Pro, a soy latte to the left, a Pinterest mood board to the right. They click away, creating nebulae that’ll probably end up as some tech bro’s desktop wallpaper, all while mumbling, “This one really captures the essence of a collapsing star. Very deep.” Their digital art is so photorealistic, you'd swear you’re looking at the Hubble telescope’s highlight reel, only to realize it’s actually the cover of their indie sci-fi album on SoundCloud. Because yes, in the realm of astronomical landscapes, even space gets a soundtrack.

And if we’re talking realism, let’s not forget the classic debate that makes art critics' monocles fall into their champagne: realism versus abstraction. Realism in astronomical art is like trying to perfectly recreate the Milky Way galaxy down to the last twinkling star. You know, for all the nerds who love their science videos and need accuracy, because apparently if one star in a painting is in the wrong place, the entire painting becomes invalid. It's a little obsessive, but hey, who am I to question someone who’s memorized star charts like they're binge-watching Stranger Things?

Then there’s the abstract side of things. These artists look at a photo of a galaxy and think, “Sure, I could paint this exactly as it looks... but what if I just made everything blue and threw in some triangles for good measure?” It’s like Picasso dropped acid, stared at a telescope, and said, “You know what? Let’s make space weird.” And thus, abstract space art was born—because apparently the vastness of the universe isn’t already disorienting enough without throwing in geometric shapes and color schemes that look like someone’s Snapchat filter exploded.

But let’s pause for a second and talk about the underlying message here, kids. Yes, even the abstract weirdness has something to say. These artists aren’t just throwing paint (or pixels) at a canvas; they’re interpreting the universe as they see fit. You know, kind of like how The Mandalorian reimagined Star Wars into a spaghetti Western but with baby Yoda, except instead of baby Yoda, it’s supermassive black holes and rogue planets.

And don't even get me started on how these artists think they can "capture" the Big Bang. The sheer audacity. If the Big Bang were a person, it’d be the equivalent of Kanye West walking into a room and demanding everyone acknowledge its genius. Yet here come the artists, with their “interpretations” of what the universe looked like when it was nothing but a molten soup of chaos, throwing a little red here, a splash of white there, and calling it a masterpiece. Sure, Jan.

Now, let’s wrap this cosmic trip up with a peek into the future. What will astronomical landscapes look like in the coming years? Probably even more outlandish and pretentious. I mean, if we’ve learned anything from watching Black Mirror, it's that technology will likely reach a point where you can upload your consciousness into a virtual universe and paint your own galaxies in real time. Because why just observe the universe when you can manipulate it for your latest virtual art show on TikTok?

In the end, though, what all these artistic interpretations of space boil down to is this: the universe, in all its terrifying glory, makes for some really pretty pictures. Artists, whether digital or traditional, realistic or abstract, are essentially just trying to say what we're all thinking when we stare at the night sky—“Man, that’s cool. I wonder if I could make it trend on Instagram.”

And with that, class dismissed. Feel free to grab your lattes on the way out and remember—just because you can paint the universe doesn’t mean the universe cares. But hey, at least it’ll look good on your portfolio.

#astronomy #space #art #science #science education #education

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the-firebird69 · 1 year

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Watch "1963 Meyers Manx Beach Buggy. The ultimate summer ride!?" on YouTube

youtube

That song was pretending he was in the back seat just up as a rich boy sleeping he started talking and talking and talking about Dave a little in the dune bug is really nice it rides nice sounds great and then at the end he said I see this guy he's on the dunes it says show me a little imagery show us Elvis and it's my brother and he said oh boy and he said anything about that I said I used to call him Elvis pretzel I thought he died from ketchup and then the guy said oh and then our son said wait a minute mom you devil and he said oh. So they sort of got it and he is actually David Bowie and he said I need to break up the band in order for them to do anything because Tommy f is a monopoly and it's too much he won't let anybody do anything and he's not conpident. And the computer as well as demanding him up there so it's going on now people are starting to get this but it really is amazing how this occurs and it's for the love of life and the people in it and Hera her name is Ziggy and my name is stardust and Ziggy is one of probably came up with it it started laughing and she say yeah I kind of have the idea cuz he's sitting there doing nothing and we went over it and he remembers it now and no it's really nothing in there doesn't have to be she said laughing and laughing and the saying Ziggy played guitar so they're afraid and stuff everybody is. But we are on it meaning that this is going to happen this is a great machine and Dave designed it and made it work and he wants to make a REV track version doesn't want to do a full four wheel one for Sarasota anything she could keep the chassis like at least the size and the guy says it's not bad cuz it's safer and people getting closer they won't get hurt as much if at all and it's still small enough to zoom around in and feel safe and just feel real vulnerable here and these days and the VW work better but it's still kind of small he said it too and then you take it and you make the full size one and there's a whole bunch of vehicles that this works with that are four wheel drive and they're all wheel drive it's a like a fit the Chevy and they made it all wheel drive it's a real dog it doesn't do anything she turned them into dune buggies and there's a modern design and the modern colors but he wants the shiny metallic so when the Sun hits it it's glinting a bit it's the flake and people like it it's really weird but people like the look and they like it coming back we're going to go ahead and try and do this too and all over the place. And he wants to have like dirt tracks and stuff we have dune buddies out there but real ones in the H4 it's kind of fun we're going to go ahead with the stuff right now we have announcements the more lock are getting ready to attack it seems to themselves but there's a line of McDonald's out there and McDonald wants the H4 so you can send her salesperson. He doesn't have any place to go right now but he wants to think about it nearby so he's thinking fisherman's village maybe he doesn't know where the schedule is you might go out there today and he's thinking about it so it might happen the H4 will be made by the Hummer company Humvee company it's not going to be conversion or anything but he likes it it's going to be small smaller than a Jeep a little bit and that's what he's interested in lower profile and really it's going to look like those Baja vehicles and he likes it

Thor Freya

We used to range meetings so we're going to get with his agent and he'll talk to him about a schedule meeting

Frank Castle Hardcastle

I think I'm okay with that cuz he doesn't really do that good with it

Mac

Nope

Caa

He sucks at it but there is with a Volkswagen thing he's in the back seat and he had like this turtleneck and then some sort of casual cigar vest with an overcoat it's light overcoated and I was like what the hell are you doing this nothing and he goes back to sleep as a ghost or something I mean this kind of strange it makes sense though but this is what he said it it's probably the same thing that's going to happen space Odyssey

Bja Ziggystardust

#Youtube

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the-mjolnir-owner · 3 years

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No wonder the family issues. The Odinsons are literally lightning and chaos....*therapist writes this down*

"All the families face different issues, I'm certain. It's how we deal with them that keeps us together. Or apart."

#anonymous #sad turtleneck thor drinking wine #yeah

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thunderbringerarchived · 3 years

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Since we saw Loki wearing a blue turtleneck sweater, I want to see Thor in that same sweater just in red! Because God's wearing turtleneck sweaters must be a thing now!

i don't know that he'll go for it BUT i'd love to see it. thor wears a heck of a lot of layers for sure but something that form fitting without it actually being his armor? he's a weird speciman. nothing on his neck . he'll pass but you know what? we're gonna make him anyway cause can you imagine how it would accentuate his muscles?? good lordy. IT MUST BE A THING. which i kinda have a headcanon that he wears a lot of red when he's not in his armor and cape cause he misses it.

#he's grumbling at me so hard right now.#WHERE THE DAMN TURTLENECK THOR #he's ridiculous #WEAR***

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captainhotch · 4 years

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Full Masterlist

Here is a masterlist of all of my fics. If you’d like to look at a specific show, go here. *** = my personal favorites ! = new (posted within 60 days)

Marvel

Steve Rogers - Happy Father’s Day - Fluff

Steve Rogers - Won’t Let You Down ***- ANGST

Steve Rogers - Day Three of 12 Days of Christmas - Fluff

Steve Rogers - Afterglow - Angst w/ a happy ending

Sam Wilson - Hope and all its Friends ***- Fluff + Minor Angst

Sam Wilson - Day Two of 12 Days of Christmas - Fluff

Bucky Barnes - Old Betrayals - Angst but not fully?

Tony Stark - Have a Heart *** - ANGST

Wanda Maximoff - Cat and Mouse - Angst

Wanda Maximoff - You are the Sun - Fluff

Carol Danvers - Learning Something New - Fluff

Natasha Romanoff - The Look - Fluff

Natasha Romanoff - Goodbye to Family - Angst

Yelena Belova - Tidal Wave - Angst & Fluff***

Yelena Belova - That’s Not a Picnic Blanket - Fluff

Thor Odinson - Puppy Love - Fluff

Peter Parker - Weight of the World - ANGST

Vision - You Look Happy - Fluff

The Avengers - Starting Over - ANGST

Criminal Minds

Aaron Hotchner - Undercover *** - Fluff

Aaron Hotchner - I’m Sorry *** - Angst + Fluff

Aaron Hotchner - Introductions - Fluff

Derek Morgan - Scare them Away - Fluff

Derek Morgan - Turtleneck *** - Fluff

Derek Morgan - Causing Confusion - Fluff & Minor Angst

Derek Morgan - Close Call - Angst & Fluff

Derek Morgan - In Another Lifetime *** - Fluff

Spencer Reid - Drowning - Angst + Fluff

Spencer Reid - Work Wife - Fluff

Jennifer “JJ” Jareau - The One - Angst

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington - Providing Protection *** - Fluff

Steve Harrington - Lowest of Lows - Fluff + Minor Angst

Steve Harrington - Teenage Love Affair | Part Two - Fluff

Steve Harrington - Like the World is Ending - Fluff

Steve Harrington - Call Out my Name - Angst

Steve Harrington - What Happens at the Arcade - Fluff

Steve Harrington - A Little Crush - Fluff

Steve Harrington - End of the Road - Angst

Steve Harrington - No Reason to Stay - Fluff

Steve Harrington - Teen Wolf - Fluff

Steve Harrington - Excuses, Excuses - Angst + Fluff

Steve Harrington - What the Heart Wants - Fluff

Steve Harrington - Pure Gold - Angst

Steve Harrington - It’s Disgusting - Fluff

Billy Hargrove - Into You - Fluff

Billy Hargrove - Cliche Crap - Fluff

Jim Hopper - Make Something Happen - Fluff

Robin Buckley - Flirting by Proxy *** - Fluff

Star Wars

Poe Dameron - Days Away - Fluff

Poe Dameron - New Years - Fluff

Finn - Let’s Start Now - Fluff

Brooklyn 99

Jake Peralta - Not Friends with Benefits *** - Fluff

Jake Peralta - Not Even Thanksgiving - Fluff

Gilmore Girls

Jess Mariano - Dress *** - Fluff

Grey’s Anatomy

Mark Sloan - Dancing With Our Hands Tied - Fluff

Bridgerton

Anthony Bridgerton - Call it What You Want - Fluff

Anthony Bridgerton- Willow - Fluff

Ted Lasso

! Roy Kent - This Love - Light angst, fluff

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leviathanspain · 3 years

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i need you to tell me when i’m being naive

your head hit the headboard as loki pushed you harder up against it. you were visiting your home for the weekend but he couldn’t stand to be without you for a second. you were kissing him intensely, his strong hands running up your abdomen to cup your brea-

“y/n!” you heard your mother shout for you, you let your hands fall from loki’s hair, and you panted, looking at the door and back at him.

“get off!” you sounded panicked as he laughed softly, sitting back on his heels on the bed.

“maybe while you take your intermission, i’ll snoop into the brain of an adolescent y/n.” he teased you, opening your bedside drawer as to snoop.

“whatever.” you scoffed, stuffing on a long sleeved turtleneck.

loki hadn’t watched his teeth enough and teeth marks started to bruise on your arm and neck.

“don’t be so obvious, darling.” he told you, looking at the book in your nightstand. he held it up and made a face, “the fault in our stars? really?” he sounded so displeased and you rolled your eyes, snatching it and stuffing it back into the drawer.

“i was fourteen, alright!” you remarked. you heard footsteps coming up the stairs and you looked at loki who just closed his eyes, understanding the memo.

you fixed your turtleneck and stepped out to meet your mother in the hallway before the stairs. she had this look of surprised panic, and you could only begin to imagine what had happened.

she smiled, “about time- let’s go!” she grabbed your arm and both of you made your way down the stairs to greet the imposing guests in your house.

you hadn’t seen your father in months and now suddenly here he was, standing with thor, natasha, captain america and iron man. you couldn’t even begin to imagine what the world was in chaos for.

“honey! you’re home?” your father sounded so surprised and reached to hug you, and you embraced him, still awkward to the fact that you had a few too many extra pair of eyes glued onto you.

“who is this?” iron man, or tony, questioned, glancing in between you, your mother and your father.

your younger siblings had attached themselves to natasha and you just gave her a small wave before stepping back. you would have to talk with her in detail much later.

“y/n barton.” you reached a hand out to shake tony’s and he set his out, still mildly confused.

“is this your hot sister, barton?” tony remarked and you blushed, stepping back next to your mom.

your father rolled his eyes, “shes my kid, she might be twenty one but don’t start hitting on her.” he warned, you felt sheepish, knowing that your boyfriend was sitting in your old bedroom flipping through teen beat magazines, waiting for you so you guys can make out again.

“anyways.” you decided to change the subject when thor took over and began a rant, suddenly flying off into the air leaving only captain america, nat, your father and tony.

captain america reached to shake your hand, giving a smile before stepping away to chop wood with tony, who by the looks of it, wasn’t shutting up anytime soon.

you, your father and your mother all walked back into the house and sat down at the table.

your mother grabbed some tea while your father grabbed his first aid kit.

maybe he would let you stitch him up, just like old times.

“honey, if i knew you would be home, i definitely wouldn’t be gone for most of it! when do you leave?” he asked, a smile playing on his lips as he grabbed the alcohol patch, hissing when it touched his cut.

you grabbed the patch and rubbed around the cut gently, earning a small ‘thank you’ before you began talking.

“i leave tomorrow. i asked mom if you would be home and let’s just say, i wasn’t prepared for this.” you wanted to be angry with him, but you knew all of this wasn’t his choice.

he looked down and sighed, “i’m sorry.” he spoke quietly and you just shook your head, patting his shoulder, “it’s alright, pa.”

you sat back into your seat and the heat of the missouri summer was starting to hit you. absentmindedly, you pushed your sleeves up and as you began to relax into the chair, your father gasped loudly, just as your mother was approaching with the tea.

“y/n! what the heck!” he bit his tongue to cursing around you, even if you weren’t a kid anymore. he pointed down to the patchwork of bites and bruises on your forearms. your mother gasped too dramatically and you felt so small in that moment.

“okay-“ your mother composed herself and your father felt his heart shatter. “what is this? is someone hurting you?” he sounded panicked, looking over at his wife.

“clint- calm down, she’s okay!” your mother looked over at you, “right? you’re okay?”

you nodded, and suddenly felt hands on your neck. natasha smirked when she saw the hickies littering your neck.

she walked away and gave a small shrug when you called out after her.

“okay. this boyfriend, we need to meet him, have a chat and ask why in the hell he is basically attacking you with his mouth!” your mother spoke but your father remained speechless. you glanced at the stairs and back at your dad, who sighed.

he stood up suddenly, the chair squeaking on the hardwood as he did so. you felt your throat tighten as your father approached the bedroom.

loki didn’t use his powers to disappear so just as you were beginning to hope he had disappeared, you heard your father promptly cuss before hearing the soft shooting of an arrow before a sudden thud on the floor.

“oh my god!” your mother screamed and you ran up the stairs to see your father standing over your boyfriend, an arrow pointed at his face.

“dad!” you shouted, and clint grimaced, “laura, get the others!”

your mother shouted before running down the steps to collect the rest of the avengers.

“dad, get off him!” you jumped next to loki who was on the floor, entirely bewildered.

“why? he’s snooping on us! he wants to kill us!”

you shook your head, “this is who im seeing! this is my boyfriend!” you yelled back and saw clint snap out of his kill mode.

“huh?” his voice faltered, stepping up from loki and setting his arrows down.

you looked at your father, and sighed seeing his expression, “this. is. my. boyfriend.” you reached a hand out to loki who proceeded to grab it and grab your arm, looking at you worriedly. he wasn’t at all threatened by your father or the avengers, he was just worried for your mental health after this.

“oh.” clint echoed and stepped back as the rest of the avengers stepped into the room.

tony and steve looked at loki with deadly stares and you felt like the biggest idiot on the planet.

natasha walked in and her face was just full of disappointment.

all you could do was hold back tears as you saw your father hold in his own tears, stepping out of his little girl’s bedroom.

part 2

#marvel imagine #loki and reader #loki angst #loki x barton!reader #loki x reader #loki imagine #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #marvel angst #marvel smut #loki smut

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