wall of valor

  • Willow: Blanche, you will lead Team Mystic and show the value of wisdom.
  • Willow: Candela, as leader of Team Valor, your aim is to show the true strength of your Pokémon.
  • Spark, approaching from behind: [claps Willow on the back] What've you got for me, chief?
  • Willow: Spark! Uh...
  • Willow: You're the comic relief.
  • Spark, grinning: Can do, sugartits! [to Candela] Heh, I'm hilarious!
  • Candela: I was thinking more like flat-out stealing from him.
  • Blanche: What? No way!
  • Candela: Why not? We already stole a boyfriend.
  • Spark: Hey, guys.
  • Blanche: No, we didn't. Spark's a consenting adult. He can do whatever he wants.
  • Spark: I want to steal.

anonymous asked:

I'm still bitter about Maces death. Do you think we'll see more of him this season even if it is just a flashback?

Hi Anon!

I’m not sure.  His end is up there with the send off that Bobbi and Hunter got and I would rather let him go on that note than to come back again later down the line…unless its in a Flashback.  The one thing I would really like to see to really give his arc a nice closing note is that in the finale his name is added to the Wall of Valor.  

Jason was at Wondercon and my kiddo remarked then that “Wow mom Mace is scruffy….he’s going to die in the Framework.”  and they had just started filming 22 then…so my gut and hope is that he’s done.  I don’t want AIDA to turn him into something like the she did with the Superior.  

Hiatus of SHIELD: Day 5

Skye loved animals.

She always has, and always will. So when she discovered the three tiny mice in FitzSimmons’ lab, she had to make sure they weren’t in danger.

“Wait, you guys keep actual lab mice?” Skye asked, slightly appalled.

“No!” Fitz nearly screamed. “No way! We’d never test on them, unless it was really urgent.”

Simmons continued with, “No way, they’ve been our pets since the Academy.”

“Do they have names?” Skye asked, picking up the nearest mouse.

“Yes! Oh, the one you’re holding is Pinky, this little guy,” Fitz explained, holding up the mouse nearest to him,“ Is Pokey, and the other guy is the Brain.”

“The Brain?” Skye laughed.

“He has the highest IQ test score,” Simmons answers.

Skye couldn’t even begin to imagine how they had tested that on the mice, but she didn’t question it.

From that day on, Fitz, Skye, and Simmons took care of the three mice together. They raced them, took care of them, and even gave them little pool parties in the sink.

Then came the alien disease. When the two scientists and the hacktivist realized that the mice were the only test subjects they had, the dark day got even worse. Sure, the mice were technically bred at the academy for testing, but to those three, Pinky, Pokey, and the Brain were three creatures they had bonded over.

As soon as they were sure Jemma was safe and sound, a mini-rat funeral was held for Pokey and the Brain, who died to save Simmons. Fitz even attempted to get them on the Wall of Valor, but apparently that was seen as ‘disrespectful to the fallen agents’.

So when Skye, held against her will on the Bus with Grant Ward, was sure she was alone, she scooped Pinky out of her habitat and into her pocket.

To Skye, that little mouse was more important to her than keeping Ward off of the hard drive.

That little mouse represented the good days, before Ward was evil, back when the team was really a team.

But maybe, in hindsight, it never was.

-

Sorry it’s late and kinda weird but woops I wrote a fic about that one post agents-of-frickle-frackle made ages ago.

2

MCU Ladies Week | Day 2: Unsung Hero | Raina

Who doesn’t like flowers?

Fight me.  At the end of the day, the tiny girl in the flower dress was in fact a hero.  She did some pretty non-heroic things along the way but in my humble and very biased opinion she was never a villain, only an antagonist, and while her being a gorgeous, slightly mystifying woman of color means that fandom at large has never rushed to romanticize her, it makes her just that more compelling.  Raina was self-interested by necessity (nobody else was going to take care of her if she didn’t take care of herself) and chaotic neutral to a fault, but she also wanted to be more, to be special.  Even though a rebuilt SHIELD Wall of Valor probably won’t sport her name and there might not be anyone to plant flowers at the grave she doesn’t have, she went out nobly to help our Daisy grow, and I can’t imagine a more appropriate resolution (if there indeed had to be one, which there did because Ruth got another job, but if that doesn’t pan out I would love a surprise twist not-really-dead!-line) or more beautiful redemption than that.

cannibithobbal-deactivated20170  asked:

Imagine Peggy was the one who ensured Bucky's name was added to the Wall of Valor.

It takes her far too long to notice its absence.

She’s ashamed when she does.

Enough Captain America memorabilia and monuments exist to make it difficult for Peggy to adjust to a life without a flesh-and-blood Steve.  Looking at them is painful.  She sees the proud jaw line and the fierce eyes of America’s patriot and wonders if these men know anything about the man behind the shield.  How his fingers would itch for a stub of pencil to settle his mind.  The way he would pause, a small crease in his brow, considering how to create lasting beauty. 

The artists haven’t gotten that part in stone, or the way his eyes would crinkle whenever he’d been feeling particularly impertinent.  No. 

It takes her ten years to face the statue in the Hall.  There had been quite the ruckus, whether it was right to put the face of one man so near to the wall that represented so many.  The critics had been appeased at the inscription carved in stone below:

To those whose sacrifices may never be known.

She thinks it appropriate.  Steve would have liked the thought, even if he wouldn’t have liked being the face of it.

It occurs to her only now, what is wrong.

Captain America stands, carved in white marble, fierce, proud, and alone.

Steve Rogers had never been alone.

Something takes ahold of her, some inexplicable madness.  She circles the statue, rereading the inscription, then walks the Hall twice, to be sure.

He’s not there.  It’s 1965, and beyond an empty grave in Brooklyn, he’s been forgotten.  Left to the frozen winter like a lost glove.

And that is a fate that does not suit Bucky Barnes.

She speaks at the ceremony.  His younger sisters are there.  A pain long deadened resurfaces at the realization that she hadn’t known he’d had even one.  Rebecca.  Winnifred.  Imogene.  Younger, all three.  It’s difficult to think she has anything worth saying after Becky’s speech about family and dancing around the kitchen to Benny Goodman records.

Peggy lifts her chin, fighting the tightness in her throat.  Even a decade later, the war still bubbles under the surface. 

“As a man who so often is only remembered as Steve Rogers’ closest, childhood friend, I think we often forget to acknowledge that Sergeant James Barnes was a great man in his own right.”  She swallows.

“And yet, it remains a mark of a character that the man I knew wouldn’t have minded being known as such.”

Everything is heightened during war.  Sharper, somehow.  Awareness of life, of death.  Of friendship.

It’s difficult to encapsulate the complexity of the human condition in any language.  His loyalty, his drive, his strength of character are all deserving of proper remembrance.  As are his cocky, crooked grin, his smooth steps on the dance floor.  The way he had once told her, just the two of them, staring into the German darkness as the Commandos got a few hours rest in the leaf mold: You know, I never wanted to go to war.

Not until the Hall empties out of even the Barnes sisters does Peggy step forward.   Gently, she places her fingers to the cold stone.

“Hello, again, Sarge.”  Somehow, she finds she is smiling.  A warm, salty, wet smile.  “About time, I should think.”

The carved star is identical to the others that wind down the hallway.  From a distance, the blocked letters “Sergeant James B. Barnes” blur into the line of names.  The monument is cool to the touch.  It doesn’t do justice to a man as vibrant, as alive, as he had been.

But it’s something, she feels.  She’s not quite sure what, but something.

“How are you, James?”