Thor Ragnarok (2017)
@giftober 2024 + @mcuchallenge | Day 8/31: Home
Oh this is a random discussion but thane loves games like civilization. Building a nation? Governing things? Less of the stress because it’s digital. Yeah when he’s off work good luck prying him from civ.
threats are the dullest of blades to martin. each syllable, each note, no more unique than the last. some were clever——some were foolish but he sees more than such things. in the grand symphony of countless universes, he sees them as a single note. what could once dazzle &. amaze does nothing for him. the faintest hint of hunger taunts his sense of interest, but it doesn't rise. only the dull ... empty feeling lingers in its stead. what's a monster to a beast? what's living another day to dying tomorrow? striking her down now ... that's the best pity he'll be able to provide.
he peers at her with features slack in contemplation. dispatching her before returning to fillory——to his rightful kingdom——that's the right choice. it's logical. it's reasonable. turning this pitiful rock to a sea of molten ash and dust would've been no small part compassion. boring on the surface, yet monsters lurk, yet monsters hide. rather strange ... so much more different than other worlds. at first, it intrigues him. beast that don the skin of mere man but they're far too human. far too full of love, compassion, and hate to even be compared to a real monster ... a real beast. he sees it. he smells it. vulnerability clad it biting words. wit in place of sincerity.
hands fold themselves behind his back after straightening fitted suit. he steps closer——his gait light yet empty. it's a dance. a two step meant for one that brings him closer, closer to her. steps carry him towards the tangles of contradiction she holds, to the life she clings to yet resents. does she feel pain with every breath? does she feel pain from being alive? how cruel, the world can be. how wicked his smile must seem, polite yet cruel. through his gaze, he sees a terrarium. a world of glass, broken and shattered. the gods have long since abandoned it to rot and fade away. to vanish with a stifled scream.
"does it ... ever get tiring to pretend to be so strong?" a pause for a laugh, detached like a heavy note. "don't get me wrong, you've got it down pat, dear girl. fooling yourself, well, that's the real magic, isn't it?"
[ .⠀.⠀. ] ❛ I did warn you not to trust me. ❜ , @amcssing (martin chatwin) said.
His words stung, more than she liked to admit — each syllable was a spiked jab, directly aimed at the wall of solidarity and calculated distance she'd built around her very being, the very wall he had somehow, impossibly, already managed to breach.
Sayuri wasn't one to trust easily. Life had taught her that vulnerability was a liability, a weakness to be exploited, and her every interaction was usually marked with the safe distance she maintained. Martin, however, had managed to instill the slightest sliver of hope within her for a powerful alliance that defied the odds — a hope that was now being declared foolish, stupid, an utter embarrassment.
A wave of heat flared up within the ghoula, a mixture of shame, raw fury, and the creeping realization that slowly settled into her consciousness, heavy and consuming. For once, she had allowed herself a hint of belief, and he had taken that vulnerability and twisted it into a weapon. The intensity of her emotions was enough to make her clench her fists at her sides, her knuckles bone-white beneath taut skin — her expressions, however, masked her irritation with feigned amusement. A smirk, sharp and brittle, crept onto her lips that didn't quite reach her eyes, her pride forcing her to maintain composure, to not grant him the satisfaction of seeing the boiling turmoil his words had caused within. Fine. If this was how he wanted to play it, she would play along.
❛ Noted, ❜ she brought out, the sound somewhat strained as it passed through her gritted teeth. ❛ Now, ❜ she continued, her smirk hardening into a predatory curve, a dangerous glint finally flickering in her eyes, ❛ let’s see how much you enjoy having me as your enemy. ❜
random dialogue prompts , accepting !
me being strangled by someone who rightfully wants me dead: lmaooo i can't believe how bad u wanna fuck me
❛ you can spend all the time in the world in here, but if you don't spend enough time out there... you know? ❜ / harley to cass / don't think this is from a prompt?? can't find it, doesn't matter.
bone crunches against bone, flesh bruising and raw, a single blow enough to stagger foe. wind rushing from their lungs, light stolen from their eyes instantly, body crumples as if cut from strings. one blow, a single strike refined again &. again, it's all cass needs. countless hours training, countless time in the dark, violence comes as naturally as drawing breath. ( oh, daughter of shiva, bloodshed shall be your voice. ) / a shadow taunts. metal whistles through stale air, bat pinging off raised forearm, bones rattle—— a throbbing ache spreads—— thug's features going from proud to worry. a blow like that could've done more, ripped a scream from even toughest brutes, yet [...] nothing comes other than a sharp blow 'pon windpipe then the stars. without words, without voice, maybe cassandra forgot how to scream.
she listens to harley even if she does not speak. listening / watching, it's their curse and talent. to watch, to read, to choke on words jumbling inside own throat. she is silence. the swiftest of blows. the sharpest of blades. her strikes hollow, her movements fluid, empty of all except poise and intent. the battlefield speaks to her with blood and gore. it's words an unending story, a tale she read since she was born—— the only honesty afforded her. it intertwines itself with her; it makes her part of that same story, a character scrawled into its margins—— never once the focus, a mere player, a mere second to events before her. [...] she accepts it, for better or worse, that her mother sired a weapon. a tool to point &. aim—— but she chooses for herself now. her family steered her between right and wrong, far kinder, far more helpful, far greater than that woman had been. it's why she knows to help—— and help with every inch of flesh no matter how marred. she is batgirl; protector.
focus shifts to harley, to frantic swings of painted bat, to laughter from lipstick stained lips. she is chaos—— wild and free. she is loud, she speaks with a voice that rings through the night, she fights and fights hard. if battles with cass were full of silence, then harls would be full of fanfare. a violent collage of splatter and laughter. blows come with brutal efficiency. movements fluid if not spontaneous. filled with a subdued sense of glee, an effort to give performance. if cass's story fills itself with gore then surely harley's fills itself with fireworks, violent and hot. ( a storm clad in red and black with painted face ! no less a storm, even wilder than one, perhaps ! ) this woman is no bit player, no character fit for the sidelines—— she owns her story, tragedy and all. she chooses to be more, becomes more and help. she is harley quinn; hero.
both are broken glass, one shattered then reformed while the other continues to crack. jagged deep cracks, spread and spread, only racing towards inevitable—— to shattering. [...] sharp strike from the elbow brings the final goon to knee knees, swift pivot and sharp kick leaves them slumping in place. sirens echo in the distance, the sounds of gcpd racing through gloomy streets, red and blue, cut the darkness like an arrow of light. they'll come, soon. still, cass takes time to turn over harley's words. to consider what she meant, what she means—— to the smile sitting on her lips, to the kindness sitting in her gaze [...] a look that reminds her of those close to her, of when they care. shoulders lower, loosening tension.
❛ i'll ... remember that, quinn. ❜
tires screech as the first car arrives at the end of the alley; it's a split second—— maybe less, but it's enough for attention to waver. when blue hues turn to find cass again, there's no one in sight. she's close, though, watching from the rooftop as harley hurries to put some distance between herself and law enforcement. a smart move, considering. lips curl beneath mask, a bit more at ease, first crack ... beginning to mend.
@metanoen
@noatherics
big sister and little brother.
random lil hcs for wally.
wally is a good cook, really good. between a healthy appetite and a strong need for calories ( super speed go brr ) he's gotten good at cooking for himself. on the opposite side, at a point i doubt he's even picky with food. you'll eat his food and it taste five class and he's just like?? what. it's roughly all the same to him.
slaps on a red nose every year at Christmas time. wallace rudolph west lives forever.
prone to hyper speed talking. he's a bit more restrained than his peers but get him going and you'll never hear a single word just a long ass buzz and him looking for understanding. wally: you got that?
thane’s hair is grey but it wasn’t always that color; it’d started to change once he’d received his curse. it used to simply be black, messy and rather unkempt before they’d started to mellow out. it’s never really bothered him, not that it would have, he thinks it makes him look a wiser beyond his years which isn’t something that would hurt his reputation. a few dark strands of his original hair still linger but most are tangled within the presence of grey.
during his reign, he only married once but had many different consorts with the intentions of producing an heir to the throne. his interest in performing the act wasn’t high but they’d do so out of duty. thane treated them well, as equals, with the privileges a queen would have. granting them luxuries as if they’d been crowned themselves despite not being married to them. some of his lovers had greater chemistry with him than others which meant his favorites might’ve been apparent from time to time. thane’s interest in his children's lives was bare minimum until they were old enough to involve themselves in politics or things pertaining to the kingdom.
his gift curse numbs away pain and hostility, those lacking food would not suffer nor those that happened to succumb from a disease. in a sense, as a king, he was with everyone when they suffered hardships whether they were aware of the fact or otherwise. however, the feelings his people could experience ended up being rather limited because of him leaving them in rather dull states when not experience happiness or excitement. aware of this fact, they’d make sure to interact with them in the form of parties or gatherings which would happen more often than not during the week. something to make sure everyone was fed or taken care of in some regard.
the whole reason he was given the ability to numb and withhold the pain of others was to change him from being a savage. fighting, in all forms, had seemed to be his only interest from birth with rather lethal results. under the burden of those around him, feeling the same pain he’d sought to inflict on someone in some form changed him from a fighter to a pacifist since killing someone would be akin to killing himself. thane prefers to talk things out and avoid conflicts.
inodal is a kingdom that is bordered by a vast sea, finding its trade in fishing and other seas based opportunities. he loves the ocean and tends to visit places that are bordered by water. it reminds him of home, allowing him a chance to feel connected to it. oddly enough though, thane can’t swim to save his life and almost drowned when lost at sea during a brief skirmish.
i need to start moving thane's lore over here for sure he's one of my most developed ocs to me tbh. greek epic coded fun times.