You are more than anything you've ever known.

[shonenjump]

NOT JUST A WEAPON You don't have delusions of grandeur. You've never been more than a pawn, a tool to be used by others. A hammer to wield, worth only the power to destroy and not much else. That was the reality you knew, at least, until this person looked at you and you alone. Not your usefulness, only you. They were the first to treat you like you weren't below everyone, like you belong - maybe by their side? Maybe that's a place where it's worth fighting to stay. This meme was mostly made with shipping in mind, but you can do gen if you want idk it's your life. Just be clear with what you want. Comment. Prefs. You know the deal. Thread.

Comments

Capable | Mad Max Fury Road | ota

[preciouscargo]

Finn | Star Wars: TFA | OTA

[firstordered]

yukimura chizuru | hakuouki | ota

[floweringout]

[clearly not the weapon. open to cross-canon.]

Marie Kreutz l The Bourne Series l OTA

[reluctantaccessory]

(Canonly? Not the weapon.)

Sonnet Barje | Blue Sonnet | OTA

[esper_cyborg]

((Either role works for her, actually.))

Bruce Banner | MCU | OTA

[punybanner]

(ooc: Can play either role! Canonmates preferred, please ♥ )

[bozhemoi]

(any preferences when it comes to these two and AoU?)

[punybanner]

(Honestly, I really disliked how forced the interactions between them seemed to be in AoU D: I do like the idea that Nat's coming on to Bruce was more for her own gain/in order to use Bruce & his abilities, rather than out of her own "love" for him (though I definitely think that love is possible, just not in the way it came across in the movie). I think it would be interesting to play with the idea of Nat using Bruce in this way and Bruce becoming aware of it/being bitter and upset about it and the two of them trying to find a way back from that sense of betrayal that Bruce would have. So we could play this pre- or post-AoU. But this is all just me rambling! Really, as long as their interactions are more true to their characters, I'll be happy. Sorry for the tl;dr!)

rey ( star wars )

[reykt]

Sherlock Holmes | BBC Sherlock | m/m

[desecrated]

CHARA | Undertale | OTA

[abouttime]

[Obviously someone's very effective weapon. Platonic.]

Rey || Star Wars: The Force Awakens ||

[talentedscavenger]

[alcuin_delaunay]

[Could go either way. Probably not the weapon, but in his canon he as trained to be a sexual and intellectual tool in a spy game of international diplomacy, so. He is a kind of weapon, and he hates that.]

Mamoru Amami | The King of Braves GaoGaiGar | ota

[adoptedalien]

[Well, he is constantly referred to as a destruction machine, even though that's not the truth, so he's definitely the weapon.]

Dia Starfall | SW:TOR OC | F/M

[pathfromdarknesstogrey]

(A former assassin who wants to be more than a weapon? Hello perfect meme)

Slash | TMNT IDW

[specimenvi]

[A snapping turtle mutated by Stockgen to be a supersoldier, made for this meme. Gen preferred.]

Wes | Pokemon Colosseum AU | OTA

[withoutcontrolofmyself]

[A big damned weapon. Crossovers are go!]

Demyx | Kingdom Hearts | OTA

[melodiouspacifist]

[A pawn, a really awful pawn.]

Bellamy Blake | The 100 | m/f

[whoweneedtobe]

Natasha Romanoff | MCU

[matreshka]

[ F/M for shipping, OTA for gen things. Banners and Clints for gen only, other MCU peeps are go. ]

[ninetyfivenotdead]

The shower doesn't do much to calm his demeanor, and he still feels adrift, lost, completely out of his element, as he wraps it up and steps back into the bathroom. Everything feels wrong somehow, and he realizes he hasn't felt this out of place since, well since he woke up nearly seventy years in the future. Little bottles and trinkets line the bathroom shelf and he feels very much like he's trespassing on someone else's life - because he is. A life he didn't even know his teammate had. He doesn't begrudge Clint the need for secrecy - hell he's sure if this whole family thing was even a remote possibility for him he'd keep them as far off the radar as he could too. It still stung though, the knowing he wasn't trusted to know, that his teammates kept things from him.

He dries off quickly and dresses in the jeans and shirt that he'd thankfully stashed in the Quinjet. He rakes a hand through his hair and lets his hands grip the edge of the counter as the memory of the vision rips through him again. The war is over, Steve, we can go home. He pushes it from his mind and braces himself to go back out there and deal with the fallout. They'd been ripped apart, quite literally almost, defeated by their own demons and if they had any shot of turning this around they needed to regroup. Badly.

He stops as he sees Natasha sitting on the edge of the bed. She looks worn, frayed, pulled apart in a way he hasn't seen since that afternoon in Sam's apartment. He sinks to the bed beside her. He knows the image of her - completely shaken, withdrawn - as they escaped South Africa is not one he's likely to forget anytime soon. "Hey," he says quietly, breaking the silence of the room. "You want to talk about it?"

[matreshka]

Thor's gone... somewhere... and the rest of them have all scattered to the four corners of the farm to put their heads back together, shake off the memories of the things they saw. Natasha knows the farm better than anyone aside from the people who live there, has her pick of places — and for the first time since that day in Sam's guest bedroom, she doesn't want to be alone.

There are only two people she trusts with that kind of weakness.

Natasha's curled on one corner of the bed in a robe she borrowed from Laura when the shower stops running and Steve emerges from the bathroom several minutes later in a fresh change of clothes. She's lost in her own head, every wall down and staring at nothing, carefully constructed web of defenses in tatters. I have no place in this world.

(Exactly.)

The edge of the bed dips under Steve's weight and Natasha turns as his voice breaks the silence. "Getting to be a habit for us, huh, meeting like this," she quips softly, but doesn't quite manage the humor; there's nothing funny about finding themselves in someone else's bedroom again, both rattled to the core and having barely escaped with their lives. But he'd grounded her then too, glued her fractured pieces back together with the perspective she hadn't been able to find on her own. (Somehow he always does.)

Natasha's quiet for a long moment, looking at her hands. "I saw—" She swallows. "The past. When I was—" A pause. "Before." It's all she has to say, the look on her face tells him the rest.

[ninetyfivenotdead]

The edges of his mouth curl up a little at the quip - but it's a habit more than anything. It doesn't even come close to reaching his eyes, or anything near the reaction he usually has to her jokes. He can hear the kids running around and yelling outside, but the room itself is quiet.

The past is a tricky thing and Steve knows that better than most. It has a way of kicking you, especially when you're already down. Reminding you of the things you lost, or let go, the things that made you up - whether those were good things or not. He doesn't know everything about what happened to Natasha, but he knows enough. Enough to make his blood run cold if he stops and thinks about it too long. Enough for a dull ache to settle in him as he looks at her as she talks. He knows on paper they couldn't be more different, but he's come to realize they really aren't. They were both made. They were both taken, shaped, and formed into something new and it was really only by luck Steve had started to realize as time went on that his version of the story had at least an okay ending. It haunts him sometimes to know how easily it could have gone the other way - how it could have ended the way it had for her, for Bucky.

His eyes follow her gaze to her hands and he debates with himself for a moment. It seems like such an easy thing, just reach over and lay his hand on hers - but there's lines between them and he's never quite certain what they can and can't cross without changing things entirely. But then he's never entirely certain what those lines even are from day to day. He reaches across the space between them and rests a hand on hers and then glances up at her. "I'm sorry, Natasha." He knows the last thing they wanted to deal with when they'd left for Wakanda was what they'd all been handed.

It would be easy to say the past didn't define you - but in the end it did. Steve had learned long ago it was how you let it define you that mattered. He slips his fingers between hers and gives her hand a gentle squeeze. "You're not - " he pauses and restarts. "You're more than what they did to you, Natasha." It's quiet because the moment itself is quiet, but not without weight and conviction behind the words. He's not placating her - he says it because he means it.

[matreshka]

There's enough information out there about her now to give anyone a basic picture of what the Widow is, the people that Natasha has been. She gave up the secrets she could stand to part with, but even SHIELD didn't know everything. (Mystery is what makes a legend and a legend never reveals it all.) Steve doesn't volunteer what he's read and she doesn't ask; Natasha figures she's better off not knowing, and he will always see — she will always trust him with — more parts of her than almost anyone else.

Steve's hand finds hers and she doesn't flinch at the contact, taking the anchor he's offering as he links their fingers and squeezes with a murmured reassurance. You're more than what they did to you. Natasha looks at him, uncertain, and doesn't take her hand back. "Am I?"

He says it because he means it (he's always honest) and she wants to believe it, wants more than anything to wipe out the red and be anything more than the monster they chiseled out of the marble they found in Natalia Romanova, chipping away at everything that made her who she was until she was empty of all of it. Or almost all of it.

She's found pieces, scattered and buried these last few years with Clint and Nick and the team and him, has clawed and scraped for every one of them she's jammed back into herself. It's not painless, these pieces that don't fit the way they're supposed to anymore — but they're hers. Still there are empty spaces between them, fissures where the seams don't meet and the red's pooled to dry, stained there.

"How do you know?" One weapon always knows another and they are weapons; they were both made. But not for the same things. "How do you know when I've never been anything else."

[ninetyfivenotdead]

He remembers the way the rumors circled around Natasha in those first days he had been in SHIELD. How there had always been some certain perk of a brow when he was asked about being partnered with her - as though it was so unbelievable that they would work together. All these things that had never quite fit with the woman he'd met and fought with. Sure, she had a way about her - but this was also the woman who had fought tooth and nail for Clint, who without a second thought hitched a ride on an alien aircraft. He knows the way others see her, and he knows the way she sees herself sometimes. The latter of which more than evident on her features right then. He just wishes sometimes she could see herself the way he saw her.

"Because I do," he says. He knows it sounds like a cop out, but he's not sure how to put all the ways he knows into words. His thumb runs idly over the space between her own and her finger, and he glances down at their hands for a moment before he speaks again. He tries not to let himself dwell on how her hand just seems to fit in his, how she just seems to fit.

"Because somewhere along the line you made a choice," he starts and looks up at her. "You chose to be something more and I watch you choose to be something more every day, Natasha." He pauses and shifts in closer to her. "So you have been something else, you've been you." He glances down and shakes his head a little. "And I know maybe you don't put as much stock in that as you should, that maybe you can't see how incredible of a person you actually are, but believe me Natasha that you are so much more than what they did, what they made you into."

He pauses and the weight of his words crashes down on him. Was it too much, was it on the other side of those oh so delicate lines. He shrugs and gives a smirk that's not quite there, but it's an attempt. "And hey, you put up with me which practically makes you a saint by most standards," he tacks on and it probably comes out as awkward as it feels. A lame joke to try to deflect the war his mind raged over his earlier words.

[matreshka]

There have been rumors around Natasha since before she ever joined SHIELD; the men, her victims. And they didn't stop when Clint returned with a defector instead of a body, didn't stop when she became Fury's best agent — even if no one dared to repeat any of it within earshot. (SHIELD had its share of assholes, but they were assholes who wanted to live.) Didn't stop when Fury started pairing his best agent with the world's best soldier, either. There were whispers, bets on how long Captain America would be able to hold onto his virtue with a partner like her. Everyone thought the anonymous, two hundred dollar bet on Steve resisting was Stark's idea of a joke.

(They're wrong.)

"You say that, but..." She shrugs. "I don't even know who I am anymore." The admission is quiet and still sounds too loud in the silence of the room. Natasha turns her eyes from where their hands are slotted together like they were made to fit that way and looks at him, searching his face and his eyes like if she stares at them long enough she might learn to believe the words. "I just—"

She pauses, a flood of warmth in her chest when he shifts closer, and if her heart skips in time with it, she pretends not to notice. "Clint saw someone worth saving, you saw someone worth saving," she says, the memory of an abandoned bunker in New Jersey still fresh, even a year later. "And I— don't know how to find her."

I want to find her.

There's laughter from outside. Lila. It underscores Natasha's struggle, the Widow's story — innocence lost. She feels raw and exposed, even if she trusts him with her vulnerabilities, and seizes on the opportunity for deflection his attempt at humor gives her. "Excuse me, have you met Tony Stark? You're not that bad."

[ninetyfivenotdead]

"Yeah but Tony doesn't give you near daily heart attacks by being an, and I quote here, reckless idiot," he points out with a soft smile. Alright, maybe the jumping out of planes without a parachute was a little bit on the reckless idiot side.

The peal of laughter from Lila makes him think of the greeting Natasha got when they'd first shown up. Auntie Nat. It suits her somehow, though he has a feeling she might not think the same. He thinks about how often she must be here to have earned that moniker, all these things he didn't know, things he wanted to know.

Steve pulls his hand back gently. He hesitates before he moves again, he's still terrible with women but he knows enough to know he's about to cross a pretty big line. He cups her face In his hands and searches her eyes for a moment before he speaks. “I'll help you find her,” he starts. “As long as it takes, because she's pretty amazing - “ there's another small pause and he smiles softly. “And she's the best thing that's happened to me in a long while.” It's more honest than he's ever been in regard to his feelings for her, and for the life of him he can't decide if he just did the right thing or not.

[matreshka]

"No, he saves those for Pepper," she answers dryly. Pepper who's his— Uh, right. Probably not the best comparison to draw, here. She huffs softly, amused, to cover for where her thoughts are taking her. "But now that you mention it, I take it back. Maybe you are that bad." Teasing, obviously.

A smile follows Lila's laughter, soft and bittersweet. It started the year she first joined SHIELD, her visits here. Clint had told her he was threatened with sleeping on the couch if he let her spend Thanksgiving alone and Natasha's still not entirely sure he was lying; Laura Barton is as stubborn as her husband. The next month there'd been Christmas and then New Year's, until it turned into regular visits and Auntie Nat and these kids she loves more than her own life. But it was Clint's secret, not hers, and she kept it — payment on the debt she owes. (The one she'll never be able to clear.)

Natasha's acutely aware of the loss as Steve lets go of her hand, and the world slows down as she realizes why. She stills for a moment, eyes finding his as his hands frame her face. I'll help you find her. Her fingers come up to curl lightly over his wrists, head tilting tentatively into the contact like she's both half starved for it and isn't sure it's real. Not for someone like her — someone who is what she is and has been.

But he's always honest, and so she chooses to believe this too, and the words that follow. Even if it's more than she was ever meant for or deserves. Her answer is quiet, not much more than a murmur. "Maybe you're the best thing that's happened to her."

Venom | Guilty Gear | OTA for gen, m/m for ships

[poolhall_killer]

[Forever the right hand/hunting dog/etc.]

Potemkin | Guilty Gear

[burlyheart]

[Either a voluntary weapon or as a slave, whichever works for you.]

Kiriko Shijima - Kamen Rider Drive - Open to Anyone

[drivesshotgun]

((Not the weapon. Good with both gen and shipping))

Bucky Barnes | MCU | OTA

[reconstitution]