#yeah i made the acronym whatever who cares

[zerogutzz]

The Color Of Your Eyes.

I doodled these a WHILLEEEEE ago when I first joined the fandom.... @darthsuki was reading me his fic drafts and I was like ohmy god. oh my god. oh my god.

An AU in which the reader is an animatronic, but does not know up until they're rudely exposed to the inner workings of their mechanical body. Hooray!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for breaking up with someone over fishkeeping and cat food? I know how the title sounds but hear me out. This happened a couple years ago and I'm still friends with the people this happened with but it still weighs on me. So I have always been kind of militant about husbandry when it comes to the animals I keep(autistic, it' a special interest) and I don't really like to deal with people who don't take caring for living creatures they willingly bring into their home seriously. I sold a fish tank to my, then, partner J who wanted to get into fish keeping. J and D, our other partner, lived together. After taking the tank home and cleaning it up we were throwing around ideas for what to put in it. It wasn't too big but also not small, but he kept throwing out species that would far outgrow the tank or species that would fight and kill each other. Every time I shot these species down J took it well, realizing the space was either too small or they would die and didn't want the fish in improper conditions but D kept telling me not to "squash his creativity" and he could "do whatever as long as it made him happy". At this I obviously hopped on my soapbox about how it's our duty as animal owners to give the animals we keep proper conditions and D went absolutely off on me and mentioned how I care "too much" about how other people keep their animals and had always made her feel bad about how she feeds her cats and now I was doing this. For context my cat eats a raw diet. I did a lot of research and talked to my vet and he's doing wonderfully while one of her cats is extremely overweight to the point he waddles instead of walking and the other two are getting there as well, both of which I've brought up concerns about but I have NEVER shamed the way she fed her animals. She had been interested in the interest I had taken and had ASKED for better quality food recommendations, so I gave them, but NEVER told her she had to feed them a certain way. A majority of our conversations were just me info-dumping and her being happy to listen and ask questions occasionally. Anyway J kind of backed out of the conversation at this and D and I went back and forth a bit before D finally said "I don't think this relationship is going to work out if you won't let this go"(This being I have pointed out one of her cats is grossly overweight a couple times and it's extremely unhealthy, especially since he's aging now) so I said "Yeah I think so too. This is something I clearly care a lot about and I'm not going to be with someone who puts their own or their partner's feelings over the well-being of the animals they are responsible for"(referencing when she said a few times when talking about the fish that it was okay if the fish killed each other or died from improper conditions as long as J was happy with how the tank looked and "it's not like we're putting kittens in with sharks, they're Just Fish") and we broke up there and then. Since then we've still stayed close friends after a short break from each other(I'm actually her Man of Honor in her upcoming wedding to J!) and she's actually made moves to better the quality of the food she buys her cats and is working on getting her obese cat's weight down and J's fish tank hobby is going very well(with proper keeping standards!!). But the situation at the time still weighs on me and even though we're genuinely too busy with work and life to make a relationship work anymore anyway and that was also a factor of the breakup.... AITA for beginning a breakup over animal husbandry?

What are these acronyms?

[strifesolution]

okay i know im going to sound insane here but like. hear me out.

my thing with RPF shipping is just. i do not understand RPF when it is “what if these two streamers...kissed?” because my response is just... yeah, and?

when it comes to RPF, the acronym stands for Real Person Fiction and like. to me it represents “hey, look at this persona, made by a content creator who is performing for the camera. let’s see what we can do with that character.” as opposed to just. making them as accurate to real life as possible??? i guess???? Which is what people do sometimes?

like you Have this base character (who, yes, is taken from the performance someone puts on— I’m not here to debate if doing that in the first place is “okay” or not) and you’re just gonna... leave them like that, and have them hypothetically kiss this other persona?? you have the World at your fingertips to take the real life they are based on and put them in whatever universe you want. you could make them magical creatures or put them in the future or make them cowboys and you’re just... nah let’s just work with what we have and not add anything to it. .....why????? isn’t it more fun to give yourself creative control?

to be clear, this is a.) not about anyone specific and b.) just my personal thoughts. i don’t care if someone ships RPF stuff like this, you do you, i just had to say somewhere that i just... don’t get it????

[geulahgal710]

SHTF Preparedness

Welp, those who have been, in some way shape or form, preparing for various SHTF situations... SHTF has, at least to some degree, already arrived. I think the idea of it being one massive, sudden cataclysmic event was a little mistaken. However, I think there's still time to reduce the impact.

I'm sure anyone who hasn't been living under a rock for the past 15-20 years knows, SHTF is an acronym for Sh*t Hit The Fan situation, such as an EMP (Electro-Magnetic Pulse), a major natural disaster, economic collapse, a pandemic, etc. Most people taking note of recent events might agree SHTF has basically happened and is still happening. Ok.

But what can be done now? In my mind, it's very simple. STOP. SH*TTING. ON. THE D*MN. FAN! What the heck am I talking about? Well, the proverbial sh*t won't hit the proverbial fan, if nobody is proverbially sh*tting on it, will it?

Why, jewsoulinexile, whatever could you mean?

I mean the d*mn sh*tty way humans have been treating one another for thousands of years. Brutal, inhumane slavery in earlier history, racial discrimination, religious discrimination, greed, lack of compassion. Much of this began in families. Jealousy and anger, even murder. Parental neglect and abuse of children for generations, including not just physical and sexual, but verbal, mental, emotional.

I mean the d*mn sh*tty, disrespectful, sometimes hateful way people talk to and about one another. Spreading vicious rumors, making harsh judgements, and ridiculing people mercilessly that they don't know and don't understand anything about their story, their life, and what they have to deal with.

I mean the d*mn sh*tty thoughts that are allowed to sit, rot, fester and grow gangrene in the mind and the soul. Thoughts of envy, hatred, twisted, sinister perversion...

And one of those people has been me. I never said I was an angel. I'm talking to me. I can't describe the level of toxic I reached in my life. And honestly, while some of it was trauma induced, some times, I made conscious choices. I knew it would be wrong. I didn't care.

Isn't it time to care? Seriously. There are whole sections of our world are going to h*ll in a handbag! And there's laissez faire, complacent, detachment in the air, like...

Oh, how sad that is happening. Isn't that awful? Mm mm mm. I'm SO glad I'M ok. Thank G-D, MY family is ok. Welp, nothing I can do about it. Hey! Anybody going to the club this weekend? They're supposed to have a really good band.

All I mean is, yeah, there's a lot of sh*t out there. Where is it coming from? Where should it be going? Not hitting the proverbial d*mn fan to splatter everywhere, contaminating everything and everyone.

I don't know about anyone else, but I'm tired of living a d*mn sh*tty life, in a d*mn sh*tty world. And whose fault is it? Mine. My parents, my grandparents, their parents... Regardless, it's needs to stop. I can't control the rest of the world. I can't change the past. But I can control me. Now. That's where it starts.

[potatoes83]

Random Observation:

So there's a channel on YouTube, but you're really better off following on Rumble, called Odins Men. The guy does some really good and insightful... vlogs, I guess they'd be? Listen, I'm not a social media person. But anyway, those. And one of his recurring points, and something that I had opined about well before, is that the reason everyone's up in arms about all this transgender business is that it's all gone far too far... Yes, there was a time when gay people were criminalized, subjugated as second-class citizens, et al. OK, whether you agree with the lifestyle or not, I think we can all agree that's no good. Two consenting adults want to do whatever with each other, that's their business. And note that I used the term "gay", because there was a time when you didn't need to sling the contents of an entire Scrabble box across the table to hit the latest acronym.

And that's part of the problem. It's all far too difficult. See, I'm a "normal" person. Pretty basic in every sense of the word; it's not exclusionary, it's a quick shortcut to basically identify that I am in the majority race, religion, sexuality, all that stuff. Like, you think of an "American", and you're probably thinking of a guy like me. 40 year old Catholic white guy with a wife in the suburbs, too many pounds 'round the waist, all that jazz. For purposes of this discussion, I'm "everyone else". There was a time in my lifetime that gay people wanted to be treated like "everyone else". Just let us live, do our thing, love and live with who we want, and be happy... Again, putting personal opinions aside, I would think that we can all agree that's cool. You do you, I'll do me; that is the way that "everyone else" does it.

Everyone else doesn't get a special month, parades, flags, etc. Everyone else doesn't get called "heroic" or " brave" because of who they sleep with. Let's save those terms for, oh, I don't know, those folks who are disarming IEDs over in Fallujah and getting their legs and arms blown off? Everyone else doesn't get literal laws passed protecting them from "bullying", or calling them the wrong thing. See, you can call me whatever you want. I'm not a person with enemies, but I am one of strong opinions, and back in school, I was the band geek bookworm in K-Mart clothes, so chances are, I've already heard it. There's nothing I can do about that. Suck it up and move on. You call me a girl for example, since I'm not "identifying" as anything besides a normal human being, I don't get special protections against misgendering. And I'm OK with that. It's part of the deal, it's part of life; some people are assholes, and you're going to run into them. That's what "everyone else" has to deal with.

Listen, I firmly believe, and observing the vast majority of the gay people I know supports this hypothesis, that most everyone just wants to be treated like everybody else, and to go about their business. I do believe that's a thing. But there's an extremely vocal screeching minority who want more, and the problem with that is that they are NEVER SATISFIED. Always pushing the line, always up up up the ziggurat. I'm a man, and I want to be allowed to wear a dress when I go out in public... OK, whatever. And when I take my drivers license photo... OK, whatever. And when I'm at the office, that needs to be OK too... Fine, whatever, you want to wear a dress, we don't care. But it needs to be a really slutty inappropriate one... Umm, hang on, that's not gonna fly in the office. And I want to do it in front of kids, really show off the goods... Yeah, we got a problem here.

So, I mean, getting right to the point, yes, there is a resentment building here, because it's all just too much, and people are sick of it. Treat me equal doesn't mean treat me special, and it certainly doesn't mean treat me better than. Use the term "gay", we're cool with that, OK fine. Now it's a never ending addition of the dozens of made-up genders, which have become synonymous with selective sexualities? How long, and I'm serious here, until we add an F for furries, because grown-ass men (and women) who like to dress as giant anthropomorphic cartoon animals when they get it on is very much a thing, and it's getting distressingly mainstream for something that should be none of anyone's business. To me, that's more of a kink/fetish, I.E., your bedroom business, your PRIVATE business, which nobody would know or care about except that you're shoving it in their face! I can't even address you as gay anymore, you're now part of the... and I'm not going to get this right but I'm not looking it up, two-spirit lesbian gay bisexual transsexual queer questioning intersex asexual and then some more community. I actually think I might have nailed that, but it doesn't at all matter, because there's going to be something else thrown on there by the end of the year. What even is all this word salad???

But it's part of the "you HAVE to call me this, or else" thing. Number one, no I don't; this is fucking America, if you don't like words, plug your ears. Number two, it's hardly "accepting" to criminalize someone for not having the ability to always and flawlessly manage to override in their brain what their eyes and ears are taking in. Sam Brinton... is a man. Besides the fact that he has a penis and a y chromosome, I mean, I don't care if you're wearing a dress and lipstick, you have masculine features, a masculine body structure, a masculine voice, and even if I cared to attempt to sling pronouns, I'm going to invariably get it wrong at some point, because he's looking at me with a fuckin' mustache and Adam's apple! And when I do, and he gets his knickers in a knot, I can get slapped with a hate crime in certain legislatures. For... I don't even know, hurt feelings? When the hell did that become a thing? And again, I don't have those kind of protections. Most people don't.

The demands are never-ending, and increasingly onerous. It's all constantly shoved down our throats, just beaten to death. These things are discordant with a society of people who, and I've said and will continue to say this ad nauseum, just want to be left alone to do their own thing! It's hard enough to get through work five days a week, banking and shopping and laundry and yardwork and all the rest of it, without having to remember the latest version of the gay operations manual, AND put in your required "being an ally" time. Normal people don't have time for this shit!

You do you, I'll do me, and if we could just get back to that, I think we'd all be in a much better and happier place. 🥔

[buckybarnesowl]

It Never Ends - Chapter 7

Pairing: College!AU Bucky x fem! Reader

Series description: Bucky and Y/n are fourth-year undergrads with the same major. They’ve always had a crush on each other but were too reserved to do anything about it. One horrendous night pushes them together and they’re forced to navigate the fallout, for better or worse.

Chapter summary: Reader’s struggles continue as they deal with some flashbacks and some slightly unhealthy (albeit completely understandable) coping mechanisms. But it brings them and Bucky closer so we all end up getting a bit of a fluffy break in the end. Phew.

A/n: Sorry this is coming out so late. I will continue to thank each and every person for reading and sharing this story, and for being a witness to reader as a survivor. It’s not for everyone and I truly appreciate you all. Take good care of yourselves. My DMs/asks are always open if you need someone to talk to xx

Chapter 7 word count: 2.9k

Chapter 7 warnings: losing control, drinking alcohol, using sex as coping (no actual sex happens, just makeouts), flashbacks, reference to non-con, mention of vomiting (no graphic description)

Chapter 7 prompts: (none)

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“So what happens next?” Wanda’s concerned voice carried through Y/n’s headphones.

As soon as Y/n had texted her two friends about her decision, the group FaceTime rang on her phone.

“There’s some office that deals just with reporting.”

“God, it happens so fucking often they have an entire office dedicated to this shit,” Nat seethed.

“Right? Uggghhh,” Wanda agreed.

“So yeah, I have to go through them. But first I have an appointment with SVR on Tuesday--”

“SVR?” Nat interjected.

“Yeah, it’s the office for, uh…” Y/n struggled to remember the meaning of the acronym Dr. Cho had explained that morning. “...Sexual Violence… Reporting? Response? I forget. But that’s who’s going to help me through the reporting process.”

“Fuck, you must be so nervous.”

“Nat! Jesus!” Wanda reprimanded her friend’s bluntness.

Y/n chuckled at her two friends. “No, no it’s fine. I mean I should be. But... I’m kinda just numb to it? Like actually almost feeling good? It’s sort of scary,” she admitted with a low voice, turning her gaze away from the screen.

“Oh, hun, that makes perfect sense,” Wanda consoled. “Your body can only handle so much. It’s ok to just feel neutral for a bit. You probably need the break.”

“She’s right. I remember when that dude assaulted me in the mall. I didn’t really have any feelings about it, until I was fooling around with Clint one night and then boom! So I get it.”

“Oh my gosh, I forgot about that! And Clint! That was during first year, right? Whatever happened to him?

“Yup. He graduated last year. I think he lives on a farm now. Wife and two kids.”

“Wow, never would have guessed it,” Wanda said, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, me neither. He was one of the good ones,” Nat reminisced with a smile.

The three friends hummed in agreement.

“Speaking of good ones, where’s Barnes?”

“I told him I needed a nap after the appointment. Don’t worry, he made sure I got in safely. Said you’d kick his ass if he didn’t,” Y/n rolled her eyes.

“Damn straight,” Nat confirmed.

“Are you sure you don’t need us to come home early? We could come back in time for your appointment on Tuesday. There’s a train every two hours.”

Y/n sighed, seriously considering her friend’s offer.

“I… let me think about it? Like right now I feel fine about it. But I feel like it changes from one hour to the next.”

“No pressure, Y/n. Seriously,” Nat added. “Anyways, we’ve seen our families now. No one is off this week so we’d just be chilling in town doing nothing.”

“Whatever,” Y/n dismissed her friend’s justification. “You both deserve the break. Cable TV, someone else buying groceries. That’s what going home for reading break is for.”

“Well you’re our family too, babe. And if you need us then we’ll come back. It’s as simple as that.”

Y/n’s cheeks were burning and her stomach filled with warmth. “Thank you, both, so much. I’m so fucking lucky to have you.”

“We’re lucky to have each other,” Wanda returned.

Y/n yawned suddenly.

“K, I think I need to lie down. This morning really took it out of me.”

“Yup, go rest. We love you,” the two chimed in unison.

“Love you too.”

The three blew kisses to each other before ending the chat.

-----

Y/n blinked, the afternoon glow of autumn sunshine warming the wall of her bedroom. A quick glance at her phone revealed she had passed out for just over three hours.

Rubbing her eyes with one hand, she unlocked her phone with the other and opened her chat.

Y/n: i’m up. what are you doing tonight?

Bucky: how’d you sleep? And whatever you want, doll

Y/n: like a log. i want to get drunk

She watched the three dots appear and disappear several times before a response came in.

Bucky: i can be your chaperone

Y/n: noooo lets get drunk together

Bucky: Nat made me swear on my life to take care of you while they were gone.

Y/n: you can still take care of me if we drink, it’ll just be sloppier lol

Bucky: someone’s feeling impetuous

Y/n: English major pulling out the big words

Bucky sent through a series of eye roll gifs, before offering a solid response.

Bucky: fine. So where is this debauchery taking place?

Y/n: yours? I need a change of scenery.

Bucky: cool. We’ve got beer in the fridge and some other left over booze I think. Come over whenever.

Y/n: k dinner’s on me then. We could order pizza?

Bucky: sounds great.

Y/n: Awesome. Gonna shower then head over. See you in a bit.

Bucky sighed, closing his eyes as his hand flopped down onto the couch, still gripping his phone. His stomach flipped nervously at the sudden one-eighty in Y/n’s demeanor. Something didn’t feel right about her plan. But he had vowed to follow her lead, so that’s what he was doing.

He resolved to simply take it easy on the drinks. He would make sure she didn’t feel like she was drinking alone, but he wouldn’t get carried away. Nat and Wanda had made him swear he would look out for their friend and he had no intension of seeing the two redheads in protective mode—not against himself, at least.

“What have you gotten yourself into, James?” he huffed out loud. Another sigh, and he was up off the couch to tidy up for the impending evening.

-----

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” Bucky exlaimed, his ears turning crimson and a blush surfacing on his cheeks.

Y/n let out a full belly laugh. She was four beers in and definitely feeling it. Precisely what she had wanted.

“You don’t have to answer, Barnes, jeez. But you’re the one that picked truth. If you don’t answer then you have to drink.”

Bucky exhaled loudly, making sure she saw his discomfort. Though he kept the small grin on his face.

“Fine. But after this we take a break and order pizza.” It wasn’t lost on him that Y/n had lapped him twice in her alcohol consumption during the two hours she’d been there.

“Deal. Now spill. Have you ever kissed any of your guy friends. And if not, what guy would you kiss?”

“I… well, I’ve actually kissed both Sam and Steve, if you must know,” he admitted, but with his chin held high. “You know guys like to have fun too sometimes.”

“Woooow… that’s… fucking hot.” Y/n burst into laughter again at her own admission.

“Well I’m glad you think so, doll,” Bucky said with a smile, genuinely relieved. He’d always been attracted to people, not gender. It was a relief to know Y/n wasn’t weirded out by it.

“I’ve made out with Nat, and once all three of us did a topless photoshoot together. It was really tender and beautiful and—” suddenly Y/n smacked her hand to cover her mouth, shocked at her openness. “Fuck. I think pizza’s a good idea,” she muttered.

“‘S’all good” Bucky chuckled, “I was definitely going to ask you the same next time you picked truth, so you just beat me to it.” He hesitated before adding with a lowered voice, “And if it’s any consolation, I think that’s hot, so…”

Y/n felt heat rise to her cheeks as her eyebrows shot up at his level-up flirtation.

“Shit. Sorry, that’s super fucking creepy and insensitive given everything that you’re—”

“No! Jesus! Bucky, it’s fine. Just...” Y/n felt the excited heat be overtaken by familiar all-devouring flames. The ones that raged at all hours of the day, keeping her awake at night. The ones she’d been trying to douse with alcohol.

She stood up suddenly, but stumbled. Bucky’s arms reached out instinctively, catching her before she toppled into the coffee table.

“Whoa, sweetheart. You good?”

“Yeah, just, s-stood up too fast,” Y/n slurred. “Gonna go pee.”

Bucky shook his head as she disappeared down the hall.

At himself, at her, at the situation. How was he supposed to do this? How could he take care of someone who was going through what Y/n was going through, while he was simultaneously falling for. Scratch that, someone he’d fallen for already. Years ago. From that first time she had asked him if the seat beside him was taken during their Intro to Literature and Composition course in first year. Y/n occupied the empty spaces in Bucky’s mind and he had swore to himself he would come clean in their final year. Until that fucking Arts party.

Bucky shook his head as if to clear away the memory of that night, followed by actually clearing the empty bottles from the coffee table. Placing them next to the sink, he then filled two water glasses before ordering two large pizzas. He could never order pizza and not plan for left overs.

Just as the order was complete he heard the bathroom door open and turned to see Y/n padding into the kitchen. She had a determined look on her face that Bucky couldn’t quite read. Walking with purpose towards him, she only stopped once she had him backed against the counter.

Oh. That was what the look was.

“Y/n, I, uh…”

“Shhhh, no talking,” she hushed, placing a finger on his lips. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time and I think you have too so… fuck, here we go.”

All of a sudden her arms were wrapped around his neck, one hand lacing through his thick chesnut hair, the other hand pressed between his shoulder blades. Here finger nails softly trailed over his t-shirt as she closed her eyes and pushed her lips into his.

For an instant, time stopped in the warm glow of the dorm kitchen. There were no mid-terms. No final papers. No GPA to maintain. No worried friends. No appointments. No Brock Rumlow. No Quentin Beck.

Only Bucky and Y/n, heat radiating between their chests as they pressed into each other. Bucky’s prosthesis pulling Y/n closer by the small of her back as his flesh hand tenderly cupped the side of her head. Their lips professing years of unspoken desires. Teeth clashing as their tongues dared to connect.

Eternity was cut short. A sudden flash of saliva and beer breath flooded Y/n’s mind.

Bucky, she was with Bucky. She clenched her fingers around his hair.

Forceful hands on her chest and pants.

No, she wasn’t there in that room. She was with Bucky, she reminded herself again. She pressed her lips harder into his.

Told you we’d see you around.

Fuck.

Bucky sensed the shift just as Y/n pulled away from their kiss. Both of them were heaving, Y/n gasping for air as Bucky searched her eyes for confirmation that she was ok, hand still cupping her face as he rubbed a thumb across her cheek.

Until he saw what it was. It was written in the terror hidden just behind her glassy gaze reflecting back at him.

He couldn’t find the right words. He didn’t want to make it worse. Slowly he tilted his head to press his lips into her forehead. She kept heaving until suddenly she was leaning over the sink, retching.

“Shit, Y/n. ‘S okay, sweetheart, you’re ok,” he comforted, rubbing circles into her upper back.

She was sick a few more times before finally straitening herself, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Tears tracks were streaming down her face, whether it was from being sick or because she was crying, neither could say.

“I’m so s—”

“Nope, we’re not doing that. Not gonna let you appologize,” Bucky said with a firm tenderness. “Want some water?”

She nodded, accepting the filled water glass Bucky handed her.

“Thank you,” she managed out between gulps.

“You good? Or you think you’ll need to again?” Bucky motioned towards the sink with his eyes.

“Nope, think I’m good now,” Y/n replied quietly, unable to meet his gaze.

Bucky immediately started rinsing out the sink while Y/n finished her water, finishing as she set the glass down on the counter with a shaky hand.

“Let’s go sit on the couch then and wait for the pizza. Unless you want to go home, or…”

Y/n continued to stare at the linoleum tiles as Bucky trailed off. She was fully trembling now, teeth chattering as she wrapped her arms around her waist.

“You don’t have to do this,” she let out, barely above a whisper. “I’m so fucked up right now. I’m not your responsibility. It’s ok if you want me to go.”

Bucky had lost count how many times his heart had shattered this past week, so this instance was simply added to the undetermined tally.

He brought his hand to her cheek once more, fingers begging her softly to look at him. After a pregnant pause, she obliged.

“Sweetheart. I need you to listen to me right now. You hearing me?”

Y/n nodded.

“You are not a burden. You are not a problem. You are the most charming, intelligent, and sweetest person I’ve met on this campus—no, fuck that, ever—and I will never stop wanting to take care of you. So if you want to leave, I understand. But please don’t leave because you think I don’t want you to stay.” He paused, scanning her face to make sure she was still with him. The resurfacing of tears at the corner of her eyes confirmed that she was. “If it were up to me, you’d never leave.”

He then pressed his lips into her forehead again. It was all he could think of to show how much he meant every word.

Y/n’s chest began to heave again as sobs echoed through her ribcage, stuttering her shoulders and forcing her eyes shut. Bucky wrapped his arms around her and held her. Tight, strong, grounding. A few minutes passed before her tears subsided, allowing her to respond finally.

“Couch sounds nice,” she sniffed with a smile, breaking his embrace so she could rub her sweatshirt sleeve across her face.

Bucky chuckled at her wit. Even in the bleakest of moments, her light still found a way to break through.

He led her to the couch, guiding her to sit first. Then he grabbed the velvety throw blanket and draped it across her lap. Finally, he positioned himself beside her, his flesh hand clasping hers.

She immediately leaned into the gesture, wrapping her free arm around his torso and let herself fall into his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’ve cleaned up my barf twice in one week,” she groaned.

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. “And I’ll do it again if I have to.” He pulled her hand up to kiss the top.

“Aside from that, how about that kiss?” She asked, the sudden confidence brought out by how at ease Bucky made her feel.

“Best kiss I’ve ever had,” he muttered into her hand, lips still pressed to her knuckles. “I’ll do that again too if I have to,” he smirked, letting their threaded fingers drop back down to her lap.

“I’m sure that can be arranged. Though maybe after I’ve brushed my teeth? And eaten something.”

“Hmmm, sounds like a plan.”

Allowing a comfortable silence to fall, the two remained leaning into each other, hands still laced together. Until Bucky broke the peace.

“Y/n?” he asked quietly.

“Hmmm?”

“Did you, I mean, did I remind you of that night?”

It was Y/n’s turn to feel her heart shatter. She turned to look at Bucky in the eye. “Now I need you to hear me, k?”

Bucky nodded, grip tightening on her hand.

“You will never remind me of them. Never. Do you understand?”

Another nod, his grip still holding.

“I… I’m going to have to work on… that—” she sighed before continuing, “—but, no. You, James Buchanan Barnes, are nothing but sweetness and caring and pure good rolled up into an unbelievably attractive package so please do not lower yourself by even hinting that you could be in the same category as those two douchbags.”

A smile tiumphed over the concerned look Bucky’s face had been fighting.

“You’re something else, you know that?”

“I’ve been told, but usually more in a you’re weird context,” she chuckled softly.

“Y/n. You have to know that if you’re never ready to go further, I don’t care. You’re the only one I’ve had eyes for, ever since first year. And if this is all you can ever give me, it will be enough. You are enough.”

Y/n blinked at him, stunned by the sincerity of his words. She could feel it radiating between them and it made her tremble all over again. Before she could process his words further, she flung her arms around him.

“Thank you, James,” she whispered into his chest.

“Always,” he whispered back, kissing the top of her head.

His phone buzzed, disrupting the moment.

“Pizza’s here,” he muttered softly.

“Hmmm, I feel like I could eat an entire one to myself.”

“Good thing I ordered two then,” he mumbled into her hair.

“Hot and a talented pizza orderer? I think I’ve landed my dream guy,” she chuckled.

“I’m all yours, doll.” He pressed a final peck into her head before reluctantly breaking their embrace to grab the delivery.

Bucky had definitely stopped falling. He had hit solid ground, hard, and he didn’t care if he ever got back up.

Next chapter

[friedloverballoon]

Talk to me babe. What's on your mind?

🙏okay so I'm still a transmedicalist, still believe gender dysphoria is required to transition, all of that. Although I kind of disagree with some of my own posts now, which is crazy since I still have to defend them or whatever 🥲

What happened was I basically started giving people the benefit of the doubt. Even though over forty different people told me to die in some form (if someone tells me to die, I have a pass to be a little bitchy back to them, okay), I've grown to be very against the infighting after all.

Like, being bisexual and seeing so many people try and can the "B" from the LGBT because it's too str8 ppl, I do get fed up with the delicious irony of twitter asexuals talking about how bisexuality is transphobic and outdated and shouldn't be included in the "community". As of lately though, I have been a lot more tolerant. I don't roll my eyes when people add the Q+ to the LGBT acronym anymore, I don't care too much if an asexual thinks they're part of the community (and I wouldn't say anything about it either, even if I think a lack of attraction doesn't have anything to do with what the LGBT community isss, but that's not importantt…), I've kept my opinions, just am a fair bit more tolerable now, I'd say. Even if drama is fun as hell on here sometimes, I don't want to fight. Of course, I do know I can't always control that and a lot of people on Tumblr just get angry instead of talking things out anyway.

But speaking of drama, one of the examples of a post of mine I disagree with now is the xenogender one, aka the one that made me super famus. The information was right, but after looking more into the laws, I realized that there's a lot more other things coming up that are causing the surge in anti-trans laws. I was technically correct with my information, but I focused too much on the one obnoxiously vocal subgroup rather than the bigger stuff it was part of. That's not important right now, but it's a pretty good example lol. Still don't think it warranted people telling me they would track my location, but okaaay…

Either way, I'll stay here, probably post more thingies, but yeah, I don't want to be involved with mindless infighting. It's a whole other discussion about Tumblr discourse and how defensive you kind of have to get when there's so many people on the offense, but I think the radqueer thing from a couple months ago really brought this more to my attention. Because which one is worse: someone thinking a beer bottle is a gender or someone who wants to make molesting kids legal?

But yeah, we'll just have to see where this weird blog goes. Also, I have no idea if you want me to post this or send it back to you privately, but I post everything I get in here, so… hello everyone

[magickgirl786]

Fixing MCU Spider-Man (5/6)

I loved No Way Home and decided to watch all three of Tobey’s movies and both of Andrew’s movies as well as all of Tom’s MCU appearances after watching No Way Home and I have come to the conclusion that I really don’t like the MCU’s portrayal of Spider-Man/Peter Parker

This is because they decided to write him as a T/ony S/tark fanboy which goes against a lot of his characterization from the comics and previous film versions of him

So I decided that I am going to fix MCU Spider-Man and next up is Spider-Man Far From Home

Fixing MCU Spider-Man (5/6): Spider-Man Far From Home

Other than removing all of the “living up to T/ony’s legacy” stuff (which should be obvious with my other rewrites), the biggest change that I am going to be making in this movie is the removal of H/appy H/ogan. Sorry to anyone who likes H/appy and his relationship with Aunt May but I did not like it at all. Why would Aunt May decide to date the guy who literally blew off her nephew time and time again and acted like what Peter was doing was not important enough for him to care about and was one of the reasons why Peter nearly got crushed to death when a building fell on top of him? Yeah ... no.

This is why I am replacing H/appy’s role of saving Peter in Europe with Daisy Johnson from Agents of SHIELD because I just want her in an MCU movie already lol. To bring Daisy in to the movie, when Peter meets Fury for the first time, Fury is going to give Peter a card that has Coulson’s number on it and tell him that if anything is wrong, his first call is not to his family, it’s not to his friends, it’s not the Avengers, it’s to that number and when Peter calls that number for help, they send Daisy to help him

As for the relationship with Aunt May, instead, she gets to be single because another thing that bugs me about these movies is that Aunt May never gets to be her own character and her scenes are always about how “hot” Marissa Tomei is and she’s so much more than that so there is no H/appy and Aunt May relationship.

Instead of Aunt May sneaking the Spider-Man suit into Peter’s luggage, I’m going to have him leave the suit in the closet but then he’s going to look at the initials on his luggage “BFP” and remember his Uncle Ben. He’s going to look up, whisper “You were right, Uncle Ben” and take the Spider-Man suit out of the closet and pack it in his luggage

Also, with the scene with the banana and where we find out that Peter’s Spidey Sense/Peter Tingle isn’t working, I’m going to add a scene between Peter and Aunt May where she discusses that it took her the entire five years to come to terms with him being Spider-Man but she couldn’t be prouder of him and that she knows Uncle Ben would be too.

The other change that I am making is with the EDITH system because a series of drones that can neutralize any target at any time sounds an awful lot like Project INSIGHT from Captain America The Winter Solider and a little too HYDRA for me so instead it’ll be like how T/ony’s suits have JARVIS/FRIDAY and how Peter’s S/tark-tech suit used to have KAREN so it’ll be an upgraded version of Karen

The note from Tony will say “Thank you for telling me off and helping me become a better hero. I’m glad I had you and I am also glad I always had JARVIS and FRIDAY to help me. I hope that this software will help you become a hero even better than me.”

You can even keep the tech named “EDITH” to have that “Even Dead I’m The Hero” acronym and make it so that the AI can easily be hacked and made to do terrible things a la Ultron so Beck can use it for his evil schemes

Instead of the scene on the bus when Peter nearly kills them all with a drone, it’ll be that he’s trying to use EDITH to hack into Brad’s phone to delete the photo or whatever and something happens with the tech that makes the phone self-detonate or whatever and Peter uses his webs to get the phone off the bus and it detonates harmlessly outside the bus

After the battle with the fire monster, Peter will think he’s not a good enough hero and give EDITH to Beck as Beck was the one to save everyone from the fire monster and not Peter. During this conversation, he’ll talk to Beck about losing someone important to him but he won’t be talking about T/ony, he’ll be talking about Uncle Ben so in the illusion scene, instead of it being T/ony’s grave, it will be Uncle Ben’s grave

When Peter is in the Netherlands, he calls the number Fury gave him and Coulson sends Daisy to get him and when the Quinjet lands, Peter recognizes Daisy as Quake from the news (because of course Peter would know all of the heroes/vigilantes he’s such a fanboy lol) and asks how does he know she’s real and not an illusion. She’ll do something similar to the Skimmons scene in 4x15 where she quakes Jemma gently to prove she’s not an LMD. We can make it similar to how LMD’s couldn’t replicate Inhuman abilities, that Beck’s illusions can’t do that either and he believes her and they go off to save everyone

Instead of Peter using S/tark tech to make his suit, we’ll have it that Fitzsimmons have uploaded all of Spider-Man’s suits to some sort of mainframe on their Holotable on the Quinjet and Peter uses those schematics to design his own suit

Daisy uses her hacking skills to find Peter a back door into the EDITH system and the drones that can’t be detected by Beck (because she’s just that good of a hacker lbh) and then goes off to help MJ, Ned, Betty, and Flash while Peter fights Beck

I’m going to make it that Daisy can’t use her powers because if she does it will alert Beck and his team that she’s there so she’ll rely on her SHIELD training and fighting skills instead because lbh, Daisy could easily take down everything with her abilities lol

There are no other changes because I liked everything else about this movie. the only thing that I didn’t really like that I am not sure how I would even change is the fact that Beck was a disgruntled former employee of T/ony because this is now two villains in two of Peter’s solo films that have been villains because of their hatred of T/ony and they literally just beat up this poor child because of his connections with T/ony like what lol why can’t this kid have his own villains jfc but that is such a minor detail so whatever lol

Also I loved the Spideychelle scenes and hopefully my addition of MJ to the end scene of Peter and Ned in Avengers Endgame helps to make their relationship and their feelings for each other more organic and less out of nowhere

Finally the end sequence with Beck revealing Peter’s identity stays the same.

Next up will be fixing Spider-Man No Way Home!

[tmngoose]

Some Assembly Required: a Rottmnt story

Remember this post? Well, I decided to clean up what I had and show it to y’all. This was supposed to be a much longer story, but back when I was writing it, I jumped ship for a different fic I was working on and never came back OTL Characters: Donnie, Mikey, Raph, Leo, April, Shelldon, Draxum, Huginn & Muninn (albeit super brief) Tags: Lab accidents, fires, minor injuries, hurt/comfort, obscure UHF reference I won’t be uploading this to Ao3, so you can read it under the cut :U

For the longest time, Donnie dreamed of the perfect lab partner. Though Shelldon was an impeccable assistant, there were moments where Donnie longed to work side-by-side with another scientist. Someone with a thirst for knowledge! Someone who shared his passion for all things technical and methodical; a scientist, just like he considered himself to be! 

To think Baron Draxum would be Donnie's long-awaited lab partner was not a scenario the Softshell had ever fathomed. Still, it was one he accepted with great enthusiasm. 

Draxum and Donnie saw no reason to doubt their capabilities. However, the rest of the family remained wary whenever the two of them went off meddling in the lab. With April's help, Raph, Leo, and Mikey devised a strict set of guidelines to ensure Donnie and Draxum wouldn't get into too much trouble. 

"Scoff!" Donnie threw the hefty packet of rules down at his feet, offended. "What do you take us for: a pair of unhinged Frankensteins? Y'know, it'd be nice if, just for once, you guys would have a little faith in our scientific endeavors!" 

"It's not that we don't trust you guys," April explained, "It's just... you guys tend to get a little carried away with your projects, that's all!" 

"What's that suppose to mean?" 

"The last time Barry was in a lab, he created the Oozesquitos," April folded her arms, "And don't get me started about the time you messed with your brother's brains."

"Okay! I get it!" Donnie sighed. He picked up the packet of rules and flapped the dust out from its pages. "We won't get carried away: Todd scout's honor." 

April smiled, "Thanks, Dee." 

"Yes, well, if you'll excuse me, Draxum and I were just about to partake in our latest  scientific acquisition: Professor Philo's Chemistry Set for the At-Home Scientist!" Donnie started off for his lab, tucking the packet into a compartment in his battle-shell.

April shook her head, smiling as she headed inside the living room, where the sounds of 8-bit gaming welcomed her. Raph and Mikey were too invested in whatever racing game they were playing to notice April. 

"Soo, how'd it go?" Leo asked from his beanbag chair. "Is Donnie mad that we're afraid he'll bring Potatozilla into existence or what?"

"I say he handled it pretty well!" April plopped herself down in the recliner. "I told Donnie that we just wanted to make sure he and Draxum toned it down a bit, that's all." 

"See? I told you he'd listen to April!" Mikey grinned smugly at Leo.

Leo rolled his eyes, "Whatever." He went back to scrolling his social feed on his phone, "I'll believe it when they don't create a giant mutant potato or somethin'."

"Be nice, Leo," April swung her legs over the armrest. "We've gotta have a little faith in 'em. Besides, I've never seen Donnie this happy since-" 

KA-BOOOOOOM!!!

A powerful tremor shook the lair, taking everyone by surprise. The trinkets Splinter's 'Do Not Touch' cabinet rattled and shook, a few of the lighter items clattered to the floor. April held onto the armchair with Raph steadying it before it could topple over backward. Mikey hid inside of his shell out of reflex as Leo jumped to his feet, prepared to face whatever threat was upon them.

"Omigosh!" Mikey exclaimed, popping his head out of his shell. "What was that?!" 

"You don't think DIGG's tryin' to take down the Kaufman Coliseum again?" Raph frowned, trying to rub the ringing out from his ears. 

"Um, guys?" Leo sniffed the air, "Does anyone else smell something burning, or is that Raph's 'Taken-By-Surprise' stink?" 

Raph sniffed at his underarm, "Nope. It's not me!" 

April and Mikey took a moment to smell the air, their noses wrinkled at the familiar acrid odor of smoke. 

And smoke could only mean one thing: something was on fire. 

Oh no! Donnie! Barry! April's stomach dropped over the thought. She bolted out of the living room with Raph, Leo, and Mikey right behind her. "Please let it be a giant mutant potato!" 

It wasn't a giant mutant potato. 

By the time they entered the atrium, a thick cloud of smoke had spilled out from the mouth of Donnie's lab, billowing up into the rafters above. Although they couldn't see it, they could hear the fire roaring from deep within the lab.

"Mad Dogz!" Raph barked, "Initiate ‘Fire Safety Plan Alpha!’"  “FSssPAH!” Mikey pronounced the acronym from the back of the group.

But before Raph could lead the rescue, Draxum leaped out from the smoke carrying Donnie in his arms; their matching lab coats singed. Shelldon flew out, not too far behind, with Huginn and Munnin holding onto his back. 

"Barry!" April ran up to the soot-stained alchemist. "What happened?! I thought y'all we're gonna take things easy? Didn’t y’all read the packet?!" 

"We were," Draxum rasped, passing Donnie's limp body into Raph's arms. "If it weren't for a pair of idle hands." He gave his gargoyles a sharp look while removing the safety goggles from his face, leaving clean rings around his eyes.

Munnin's wings sagged, "The instructions weren't joking when it said 'everything in this chemistry set is a fire hazard.'"

"Yeah, including the instructions," Huginn hung his head, "Our bad."

"So, how're we suppose to handle this whole situation?" Leo asked, gesturing to the raging inferno that was (formally) Donnie's lab.

"I'm on it, dudes!" Shelldon replied, concentrating on his emergency protocols hardwired into his drives.

The fire-alarm system blared to life. Then came the hissing of the sprinklers going off and the gush of extinguishing foam spraying deep within the lab. Slowly, the smoke was beginning to ease up, much to everyone's relief.

Slowly, Donnie began to stir, groaning as he slowly regained consciousness, "Ugh... what? M-my lab..." His confusion morphed into panic as he realized the severity of the situation. "My lab!!" He squirmed feebly in Raph's arms, mortified.

"Woah, take it easy," Raph held Donnie against him, firm enough to subdue him yet careful not to hurt him. "That chemistry set of yours nearly got you guys barbequed." 

Donnie frowned, "No, you don't understand!" His eyes stung with tears as he thought of his life's work gone in a blaze of unsupervised stupidity. "Everything's ruined!"

"Hey, you don't know that for sure!" April gently touched Donnie's shoulder. "Besides, what's important is you're both okay!" 

"April's right," Mikey agreed, clinging to Draxum's side, "We're glad y'all made it out safely. A little flambéed, but you get the idea."

"But my lab," Donnie emphasized. 

"Lab shmab, we can worry about that later!" Leo nudged Draxum with his elbow. "For now, let's focus on getting you toasted marshmallows taken care of."

"Yeah, what Leo said!" Raph adjusted Donnie in his arms, heading for the bathroom where the first aid kit was kept. "Just you wait; maybe it's not as bad as you think!"

                                                            -x-

Raph's sense of judgment was always a mixed bag, and this time, he couldn't have been farther from the truth. 

The lab was a smoldering mess, virtually unrecognizable to the Turtles, Draxum, and April. The walls were blackened, and the smell of burnt wiring and computer parts hung sourly in the air. Puddles of foam and water gathered in parts of the floor, adding to the disarray.

Donnie searched desperately for anything salvageable, but the prospects were slim to none. The bandaged Softshell approached the remnants of his workstation, absolutely gutted. He reached for what was once a prototype for a new battle shell, but it crumbled into ash in his hands. 

"Alas, this must've been what it felt like to lose the Library of Alexandria," Donnie mourned poetically, sinking to his knees. Shelldon drifted up to his heartbroken creator, pressing his head against Donnie's side like the loyal drone he was.

"Okaaayyy, so it's a little charbroiled in here," Leo cringed. "But if anyone can fix this, it's you!" 

"Do you have any idea how long that'll take me?" Donnie moaned, overwhelmed by the daunting task. "It took me years of refurbishing junk and computer parts, and now I have nothing! Zilch! Nada! No equipment, no materials, no anything!"

Donnie's outburst left the others speechless. They had seen him upset before, but nothing to this extent. 

Quietly, Draxum approached Donatello, "As someone who has lost their life's work twice, I understand your plight," he said, joining the turtle on the floor. "However, unlike myself, you are fortunate not to face this endeavor alone. You have your friends, your brothers, and... your lab partner," Draxum looked off to the side, somewhat flustered by the sentimental mushiness his words implied. 

"Draxibald's right, Donnie!" Mikey beamed. He was so proud of Barry for stepping up to the plate. He popped up in between them, slinging his arms over their shoulders, "You've got us to help you! We'll have your lab up and running in no time!"

Leo smiled, "Yeah, with you bossing us around, we can totally get the job done!"

"But a total rebuild of this scope requires a certain level of technological sophistication!" Donnie deflated, "So unless you know of any tech-savvy geniuses out there, I don't see how any of this is possible."

"Oh, I know a guy," April answered, "And I'm lookin' right at him~" She smiled at Donnie, who didn't know how to process the compliment. "Have a little faith in yourself, Dee!"  Donnie blinked, stunned that his own words were used against him.

"Yeah, you said so yourself!” Raph joined in, “You and that big brain of yours built this lab out of nothin' but junk! If there's anyone who can build back better than ever, it's you! So whaddya say, Don?"

Donnie looked at Raph's hand extended out to him. He then glanced over at Leo, Mikey, and April, all eagerly awaiting his response. He turned to Draxum, who gave a curt nod.

Touched by the support of his family, Donnie wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye, "I say let's order some pizzas and chop-chop! Rome wasn't built in a day, people! We've got our work cut out for us!"  He took Raph’s hand and was lifted up from the ground.  Yes, Donnie supposed he could have a little faith in himself, and everyone else as well.

[dissociativedoe]

I've seen a lot of debates against tone tags that boil down to "nobody will remember all of those acronyms," and the main issue with that is. well. People have been making shorthand for things for a long time?

I remember being a kid and hearing adults around me complain about "text talk:" OMG, LOL, LMAO, WTF, the infamous ASL, etc. (and hey, did you know "etc." is shorthand, too? it's short for the latin phrase "et cetera.")

They balked that it was unprofessional, that kids would forget how to spell, or that nobody would be able to "talk proper" (whatever that means). But another complaint I remember hearing is that they didn't know what all of it meant. I mean, teens were coming up with new acronyms all the time. How are we supposed to keep up with deciphering their texts?

And nowadays, it's commonplace. Most people know what LOL and OMG mean, and how to use them. Teachers and old folks might still say they're unprofessional or that the youth doesn't know how to spell anymore, but that's about the extent of it.

The key thing about tone tags is that they were a shorthand language made as an accessibility tool. The point is to help you convey tone, which can prevent a lot of misunderstanding - especially if you're autistic like me, but just in general to prevent miscommunication.

Yeah, sometimes they can be confusing, and some are similar enough to get mixed up. But that's true for a lot of shorthand - hell, i still take a minute to figure out what someone means by ADA.

I'm not going to lie, some of them are similar enough in meaning as well that they're almost the same. I still can't tell the difference between /lh and /hj, but if that distinction matters to the person using it, who cares?

I've seen people just say "use your words" as an alternative - say "I'm being sarcastic" instead of /s, "(not talking about anybody here, don't worry)" instead of /nbh. The issue I run into is that I hugely struggle with words when socializing. And especially when you're non- or semi-verbal, that phrasing is hard, and it's clunky. Twitter and most phone messaging services also still have character limits, and an already-lengthy message may not have room for longer clarification. And again, as has always been the way with texting, people are always going to find shorthand to say what they mean. Are you going to start telling people to say "I seriously just laughed out loud" instead of "LOL?"

If you dont want to talk to people who use tone tags or if you refuse to use them yourself because you think they're stupid or whatever, that's fine. Nobody is forcing you to, and you have the right to avoid them. But that also means that others have a right to not want to talk to you if you outright refuse to use them when it's a tool they prefer or need.

If you don't know what the tone tag is short for, you can always ask. If you just want people to stick with the basics (/s, /j or /hj) when talking to you, that's also fine. But I really don't think it's fair to insinuate that people who use tone tags are bad people for... *checks notes* trying to convey tone and intent in a way that's short and easy for them.

TL;DR: Shorthand and acronyms have been used in texting for a long time; why are tone tags any different? Tone tags are a tool used to prevent miscommunication in a shorter space. If you don't know what one means, you can always ask.

[vivifrage]

oooh “Your name could be an acronym for stupid”, just anything involving Drifter

Ough... one of the Traveler's chosen clowns...

---

He couldn't say the ride back from the Tangled Shore was anything like, oh, easy. Or pleasant. Or, hell, luxurious would be nice. No, he got none of that normal 'smuggling an alien crime lord to new turf' crap.

It was, on the other hand, plenty entertaining.

The Spider was a particular, nay, pernicious kind of guest. Or host, depending on how you wanted the guy who lent the ship then spent his time draped on a couch, organizing bounties and rendezvous-es so long as he had a connection back to his boys.

The Drifter had to try not to grin and laugh when he overheard the Spider giving a real earful to whatever poor sap had damaged one of the Servitors when unhooking it from whatever cow milking - nah, Ether collecting - device they had set up down low in the lair. Oh, Spider dressed his boy down to the bone for that one, ranting and raving about how he ran good business, how his associates trusted him to keep the Ether flowing. Even threw in a real heart-wrencher of a line about how these people had families to support, some of them. What kind of Eliksni was this foolish bastard, threatening these kids' meals? Why, he'd had the very Scribe of House Light bouncing on his knee once, would he deny her Ether because he took one trip and somebody fucked up?

Now, Drifter hadn't met the Scribe in the flesh, but he'd heard what she had to say about the Spider and, well, any knee-bouncing days were long gone as far as she was concerned. Not that he said anything on it. Not with the line open and him in range to get picked up. Couldn't break the illusion too soon.

As soon as that telltale click of hanging up sounded, though, he let that grin break out wide and gleeful. "So," he said, "You're running a family-friendly business, now are ya?"

The Spider scoffed, a glittering cloud of Ether puffing into the air. He flicked that chat window away, wrist snapping back fast enough Drifter heard the clack of carapace hitting carapace. "It would be a mistake to think people wouldn't bring their families," he retorted, "Not with the offer of safety, steady Ether, and my kindness."

"Mm-hmm." Drifter perhaps let the sound drag out real long.

The Spider's eyes crinkled; good money was on a scowl under that mask of his. "You've not known Kells, Human. Not like we have." The glare didn't recede, even as he settled back against the arm of the couch, all four hands looped loosely over his stomach. "Even Misraaks fled to me when his daughter was of docking age. He was quite young then, hardly less of a child than she was, but like still knew like. He saw in me the wisdom to break tradition and the charity to stay my hand rather than provide a... traumatic amputation."

He waggled his lower hands. If the Drifter looked closely, he thought he could still see a discoloration up near the shoulder, some warped aspects to the shell.

Drifter let his grin get lazy in that charming, no-worries way that made people let him get away with stuff. "You're a real pioneering, oh, what'd they say, Spider-kell, aren't you?"

Another scoff, this one deeper, fuller in the throat. The kind that threatened to hack up a lung, or at least a fair bit of spit and mucus to hock on someone's feet.

"Not right, huh?" Drifter folded an ankle across his knee and swiveled in the pilot's chair. He let a hand find his neck, lending that last little bit of support and devil-may-care attitude. "Yeah, that'd be a little clunky. That ain't the name your mama embroidered on your underwear, anyways, is it?"

Oh, the eyes narrowed til they almost shut, that time. His heart thumped hard, once, in his throat.

"For all your intents and purposes, I am the Spider."

Drifter held up a hand, palm out, and shook his head. "Now, if you dropped that name, I hear ya. But folks like you and me?" He gestured between them, meeting his eyes without blinking. "We don't do names so easy at all, do we? And I gotta say, this trip's been a real bonding experience, hasn't it? Let's make a game of it. Try and guess."

Drifter gestured to him again. "You, for example, look like a Marvin if I've ever seen one."

The pure, sour, unamused look on the Spider's face nearly made him split his sides laughing.

"No?" His hand drifted to his face, utterly useless in keeping down the grin spreading from ear to ear. "Louie, maybe."

The Spider tossed his head, dropping eye contact first to turn his attention back to his screens and the next trouble his boys wanted him to shoot. "Your name could be an acronym for stupid."

The Drifter howled, each laugh a sharp bark filling the ship. If the Spider had hair to stand on end, his helm hid it, but the way his shoulders hunched was prickly enough, and only made him laugh all the harder, lungs burning for air.

As the laughter faded and he gulped in nice, cool breaths again, the Drifter wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye. Brows raised, he said, "Now, wouldn't that be something? Who's to say it's not?"

"Don't go changing this shit on me," Spider growled.

The Drifter just smiled, hands laced over his stomach as he spun this way and that. "It ain't changing if you never knew."

(Send me prompts!)

[kjack89]

Determination of Death (pt. 1/2)

Extremely self-indulgent, and the kind of angst I haven’t written in a long while. Because I was having a bad week and figured, hey, why not make it worse :)

I split it in two because it was getting long; second part should be posted sometime later this week.

Former E/R, modern AU. CW: car accident, major injuries, discussion of end of life care, referenced major character death. Y’know. The good stuff.

Joly sighed, staring longingly up at the clock in the emergency room as if he could somehow force it to jump ahead four hours to the end of his shift. Not that he would ever voice the thought out loud, since doing so was the surest way to jinx it, but it had been a quiet night, and this was his last scheduled overnight shift in the E/R for at least a few weeks.

He tapped his pen against the counter, idly wondering if he could maybe sneak out a few minutes early and surprise Bossuet with breakfast in bed. Suddenly, another doctor ran past, donning a trauma gown, and Joly immediately straightened. “What do we got?” he asked urgently.

“MVC,” the other doctor called over her shoulder, using the acronym to indicate a car crash. “Multiple victims incoming.”

So much for a quiet night.

Joly grabbed a trauma gown and followed her out into the ambulance bay to meet the ambulance that screeched to a halt, its lights blaring. “Unrestrained driver,” one of the paramedics reported. “Lost control of the vehicle and crashed head first into oncoming traffic. Nonresponsive at the scene, and we’re gonna need a tox screen – we think she might have been drinking.” 

“I got this one,” his colleague told him. “Go deal with the second ambulance.”

Joly nodded and jogged over to the second ambulance. “What do we—” he started as the paramedic shoved a clipboard at him, but his question died in his throat as he saw who was strapped down on the gurney.

It was Enjolras.

The paramedic was telling him something but it was as if Joly had gone temporarily deaf as he stared down at Enjolras, barely recognizable from the injuries he had sustained. Joly catalogued all the injuries he could see with a sort of vague detachment as if he was seeing them on someone other than one of his closest friends, the man he had vowed to walk through fire for.

Penetrating head trauma. Multiple facial lacerations. Chest and pelvis crush injuries. Open tibia fracture. Almost guaranteed massive internal injuries.

It was a miracle Enjolras was still alive, and Joly’s hands started shaking so badly that he dropped the clipboard the paramedic had handed him. “Dr. Joly?” someone was asking, and Joly just shook his head violently and turned away to empty his stomach on the pavement of the ambulance bay.

Christ, he hadn’t puked at the hospital since he was an intern.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his still-shaking hand and straightened to find his colleague gripping his arm and staring at him with clear concern in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” Joly whispered. “I just...he’s a friend.”

Understanding crossed her expression, and she nodded. “Ok,” she told him, her voice calm, soothing. It was the voice they used for hysterical family members, and Joly hated her a little bit for using it on him. “Get in touch with his emergency contact, get them to the hospital. You can brief them when they get here, ok?”

“I want to help—” Joly started, but she shook her head before he could even finish his sentence.

“You’re not a doctor right now. You’re a loved one.” She hesitated for just a moment before adding, with genuine sympathy, “I’m so sorry.”

He hated her even more for that.

Then she was gone, she and the paramedics whisking Enjolras inside to do what they could – if there was even anything that they would be able to do.

And Joly had nothing left to do but to call Combeferre and tell him the worst news he had ever had to deliver.

----------

It was now four hours past when Joly had been supposed to get off of work, and there was no indication that he would get to go home anytime soon. All of Les Amis had trickled in during the night and were now all camped out in the waiting room, eager for whatever news Joly could tell them.

But unfortunately, he had nothing that he could tell.

He pulled his scrub cap off as he slowly made his way over to where they were all waiting, trying to school his expression to something less grim, but judging by the way Courfeyrac’s smile slid off his face as soon as he saw him, he hadn’t succeeded. “How is he?” Combeferre asked, scrambling to his feet.

Joly swallowed. “He’s alive,” he said shortly. “That’s all that I can tell you right now.”

Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged glances. “What the hell are you talking about?” Courfeyrac asked, uncharacteristically blunt. “What do you mean, that’s all you can tell us?”

“I mean that I am required to tell Enjolras’s family first before I can share any details.”

Combeferre’s expression was ashen but Courfeyrac’s eyes flashed. “We are his family,” he started hotly, but Combeferre shook his head and squeezed Courfeyrac’s arm.

“Pontmercy,” he said, a little hoarsely. “We need to call Marius. He’s everyone’s power of attorney, remember? He can authorize them to share medical details with us.”

Courfeyrac quickly dug his cellphone out his jeans pocket, dialing Marius’s number from memory. “Come on, come on,” he muttered urgently as he waited for Marius to pick up. “Come on, damnit.”

A pile of coats that had been tossed onto a chair suddenly seemed to stand up of its own accord, and Marius emerged from under them, blinking owlishly as he clearly had just woken up. “Sorry, m’here,” he said between a yawn, and Courfeyrac looked like he was torn between wanting to hug him or throttle him.

Combeferre didn’t let him do either. “You’re Enjolras’s power of attorney, right?” he said in clipped tones.

Marius ran a hand over his face and blinked once more before nodding. “Yes,” he said.

“Then tell Joly that he can share medical details about Enjolras with all of us.”

Marius winced. “Ah,” he said. “Um, there’s a bit of a problem with that. I’m Enjolras’s power of attorney for certain things, mainly related to his estate and his trust fund, but I’m not designated as Enjolras’s medical proxy.”

Courfeyrac looked between Marius and Combeferre, his eyes wide. “What does mean?” he asked, a little faintly. “Who would make the decisions if Enjolras didn’t designate a medical proxy?”

“Well, generally speaking, the closest blood relative would—”

“His parents?” Courfeyrac interrupted, horrified. “He hates his parents!”

Marius shook his head. “No, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “The problem isn’t that Enjolras didn’t designate a medical proxy, so we don’t have to worry about that.” He winced again. “The, uh, the problem is that he did. And the designation is still legally binding.”

“Who?” Combeferre asked, his brow furrowed.

Marius just gave him a look. “You know who.”

Realization crossed Combeferre’s face, followed by something like rage. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

----------

Grantaire had been, up until that moment at least, thoroughly enjoying his evening. He had been hit on not once but twice at the bar, and had decided to take the second one, a thin, blond man (because Grantaire had always had a type, damn it), home for the night. They were right in the middle of making out like teenages on Grantaire’s couch when his phone rang.

Grantaire groaned and pulled away to reach for his cell, but the blond – Shane? Brendan? something? – pushed him back against the couch. “Ignore it,” he whispered before sucking on Grantaire’s earlobe.

He was only too happy to comply, but unfortunately, his phone had other ideas, ringing repeatedly until the best makeout session in the world wouldn’t have been able to hold his attention. “Let me just get rid of whomever this is,” he said, holding the man on his lap in place with one arm while reaching for his phone with the other. “Someone better be dying,” he said in lieu of a greeting, followed by a very confused, “Pontmercy?”

His brow furrowed as he listened to Marius, and he abruptly pushed the man off his lap, standing up and looking wildly around his apartment. “Yeah, ok,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up and threw his phone down on his couch. “You need to go,” he told the guy he’d brought him, unusually brusque. “I have to get to the hospital.”

“Oh no, is everyone alright?” the guy asked, reaching out for him, but Grantaire brushed him aside, grabbing his shirt from where he had tossed it earlier. 

“No,” he said shortly. “It’s my husband. He was in a car accident.”

“You’re married?” the guy asked, sounding almost offended by the thought.

Grantaire closed his eyes for a brief moment, wondering how he had got himself in the position of needing to explain this to a one-night stand. “No, I mean my ex-husband,” he said with a sigh.

“You’re divorced?” the guy asked, sounding even more disgusted by that.

“You know what, I don’t really have time to debate this with you, so while I’m sure you would have been a great lay—” Sudden pounding on Grantaire’s door cut him off and he groaned. “Great,” he sighed, hurrying over to open his door.

He was only a little surprised to see Combeferre standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering Marius’s phonecall,” Combeferre said shortly.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I did, and I’m getting ready to go to the hospital, so you can just—”

Before he could finish telling Combeferre exactly where he could go, the guy he’d brought home snuck past him, pausing to kiss his cheek and tell him breathlessly, “Call me when you’re back from dealing with your ex.”

Combeferre watched him leave, his expression stony. “Nice,” he told Grantaire, who rolled his eyes again.

“You have no right to judge me,” he snapped. “Enjolras and I have been divorced for longer than we were married, so I’m allowed to do whatever and whomever the fuck I want.”

“Yeah, well, about that,” Combeferre started, and Grantaire frowned.

“What?”

----------

“What?” Grantaire said, his voice cracking. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Marius quailed slightly under his glare. “Well, see, the thing about it is—”

“Enjolras and I got divorced!” Grantaire interrupted loudly. “I signed the damned paper!”

“You did,” Marius told him. “But Enjolras didn’t.” Grantaire’s mouth opened but no sound came out, and Marius continued, “He didn’t sign them, and he didn’t file them, so legally, you two are still married. And legally, you’re still his next of kin.”

Grantaire shook his head, but he still couldn’t seem to manage any words, and Marius reached out to grasp his shoulder. “We can talk through this more later but for now, Joly needs to talk to you.”

Without waiting for Grantaire to reply, Marius spun him around to face Joly, who looked exhausted. “C’mon,” Joly muttered, glancing at all their friends, who were staring expectantly at them. “Let’s talk over here.”

He jerked his head towards a meeting room off of the waiting room, and Grantaire numbly followed. Joly pulled the door open and stepped back to let Grantaire walk in first before following him in, closing the door after them. “So,” Joly started, but Grantaire shook his head.

“No, before you start, I just want to say…” He trailed off, then took a deep breath. “Despite the circumstances, it is really good to see you. I know Enjolras got you and Bossuet in the divorce, but—”

Joly let out what might have been a wordless sob, surging forward to wrap Grantaire in a fierce hug. Grantaire froze before slowly patting Joly on the back. Then, abruptly, his hand froze. “Wait,” he said, his chest tight. “This isn’t a good hug, is it.”

He didn’t say it like a question but Joly still shook his head as he pulled back, his eyes wet and red. “No,” he said hoarsely. “No, it’s not a good thing. It’s—” He broke off and shook his head, his tone turning professional. “It’s not good, R. Enjolras suffered severe internal injuries, but those—”

Again he broke off, but this time, he didn’t seem able to start again. Grantaire swallowed and nudged him gently. “But those?” he prompted softly.

Joly shook his head once as if to clear it. “The internal injuries were severe but probably not fatal,” he said tonelessly. “But he suffered massive head trauma. Part of his skull was broken in the crash and his brain swelled drastically, and likely irrevocably.” 

Grantaire reached out wordlessly to grasp the back of a chair, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. “Oh,” he managed finally as he stared unseeingly at the wall in front of him.

Joly quickly wiped a tear off his cheek and cleared his throat. “I know that this isn’t what you expected to be dealing with, but as Enjolras’s next of kin, you have some decisions to make.”

“He’s an organ donor,” Grantaire said hollowly. “I don’t– I don’t know if, in his condition, any of his organs are—” His voice cracked. “—are viable, but if any of them are, he would want to donate that.”

“His heart, his lungs, maybe a kidney and part of his liver,” Joly said, giving Grantaire a watery smile. “He could probably donate those.”

Grantaire jerked a nod. “So then do it,” he said, more harshly than he intended.

Joly’s smile disappeared. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple,” he said. “It’s...I mean, it’s complicated.”

Grantaire couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“No, I don’t just mean because of you and him,” Joly said impatiently. “I mean, it’s complicated medically.”

Grantaire blinked. “How so?”

Joly wet his lips. “In order to donate organs, a patient must meet one of two conditions. The easiest one is brain death. But unfortunately, we don’t know if Enjolras is brain dead yet.”

“How do you not know that?” Grantaire demanded. “Aren’t there tests?”

“Yes, and we’ve run all of them, but the tests revealed limited functioning. It could just have been an artifact of previous brain activity, so we’ll run the test again in a few hours.” Joly took a deep breath. “But if the repeat tests should even just the slightest amount of functioning, we legally can’t declare him brain dead.”

Grantaire shook his head slowly. “Ok, so what does that mean?”

“It means that him signing up to be an organ donor won’t be enough.” Joly met his eyes. “It means we would need your consent to withdraw life-sustaining measures and allow cardiac death if you wanted to donate his organs.”

Grantaire’s eyelids fluttered closed, and a muscle worked in his jaw for a long moment before he finally managed, his voice sharp, “Fine, whatever, I consent.” He opened his eyes to stare fiercely at Joly as if daring him to say anything. “Do you need me to sign something, or—?”

Joly just shook his head. “Again, it’s unfortunately not that simple.” 

“Why not?” Grantaire asked tiredly, feeling older than he ever had before.

“Because no matter how small a chance it is, if he isn’t brain dead, then there is still a chance—”

“That he could wake up,” Grantaire finished with sudden realization, and he hated himself for the way his heart leapt in his chest, hated that after all this time, the only person in the damn world who could still make him feel something like hope was Enjolras. 

Joly nodded. “Yes,” he said. “He could live in a comatose state for...well, technically indefinitely. And there have been cases where someone has woken up after a month, or six months, or a year, or—”

“But what are the chances of that actually happening here?” Grantaire asked, harsher than he intended, trying desperately to quash the hope he could still feel rising in his chest, that there might still be time left with Enjolras, time to at least say goodbye and tell him he was sorry, time to tell him he still – that he never stopped—

“In my medical opinion…” Joly hesitated. “Not high. The trauma that his brain has suffered...and even if he woke up, I don’t think he would be Enjolras anymore.”

Joly’s words hit Grantaire like a punch to the gut, and he sagged, still gripping the chair with all his strength to keep himself upright. “So then that’s that,” he said, his voice trembling, just slightly.

Joly just nodded once. “Like I said,” he said quietly, “you have a choice to make. Not even just in regards to donating his organs, but in regards to if you think he would want to live like this.”

A laugh burst unbidden in Grantaire’s throat, an almost hysterical sound, because that had been one of the last things Enjolras had said to him before telling him he wanted a divorce – “I just can’t live like this anymore,” Enjolras had said, sounding tired, and sad, and more defeated than Grantaire could possibly bear. “And I don’t think you can either. Or maybe you can, but that doesn’t mean we should.”

So Grantaire had signed the papers to dissolve his marriage to the only man he had ever loved and moved out, leaving Enjolras, and Les Amis, and his entire life behind. He had thought that chapter was over, but now—

He realized a moment too late that Joly had asked him something and was waiting for his answer, and shook his head once to clear it. “Sorry, what?” he asked.

“Do you want to see him?” Joly repeated.

Again, the words were like a dagger in him. “Until about three hours ago, my answer to that question would have unequivocally been yes,” Grantaire said, his voice low. “But now, like this…” He shook his head again. “But I have to, though, don’t I?”

He meant it more rhetorically than anything, but Joly shook his head, sympathy clear in his expression. “You don’t have to,” he told Grantaire. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“I should though,” Grantaire said with a sigh, scrubbing a hand across his face. “I can’t make this decision without seeing him – without it being real.”

He couldn’t, because no matter how things ended between them, he would never be able to picture Enjolras as anything other than alive, and perfect, and the thought of making a decision about ending his life when that was how he envisioned Enjolras still was frankly laughable. Absurd. Like the world’s sickest joke.

So he needed to see him. No matter how much it would break what was left of him in the process.

“Ok,” Joly said softly. “Then I’ll take you back to him.”

[thewidowsghost]

The War Gone Wrong (Obviously) - Stark! Reader x Steve Rogers

This is written for @rogersrogers334​.

3rd Person POV

Tony and (Y/n) Stark, the father-daughter duo, stand in the shadows as a projection shows Maria, Howard, and a Younger Tony talking.

After the projected scene is over, both Tony and (Y/n) walk out, side by side, to the front of the stage.

"That's how I wished it happened," Tony says softly into the microphone. "Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing, or BARF."

"You really need a better acronym," (Y/n) teases which makes the crowd laugh for a minute or so before the attention turns to the two Avengers. "An extremely costly method of hijacking the hippocampus to . . . clear traumatic memories."

Tony blows out a candle, "Huh." The whole scene around Tony and (Y/n) dissolves. "It doesn't change the fact that my parents never made it to the airport . . . or all the things I did to avoid processing my grief, but . . ." Tony takes off his glasses. "Plus, six hundred eleven million dollars for my little therapeutic experiment? No one in their right mind would've ever funded it.

"Help me out, what's the MIT mission statement?" (Y/n)'s voice echoes through the hall now. "'To generate, disseminate, and preserve knowledge.' And work with others," she adds, "to bring it to bear on the world's great challenges."

"Well, you are the others," Tony picks up (Y/n)'s words - the two having rehearsed this. "And, quiet as it's kept . . . the challenges facing you are the greatest mankind's ever known."

"Plus," (Y/n) says, amusement lighting in her eyes, her voice taking on a teasing tone, "most of you are broke."

The crowd chuckles again and after a moment, Tony says, "Oh, I'm sorry. Rather, you were. As of this moment . . . every student has been made an equal recipient of the Inaugural September Foundation Grant. As in . . . all of your projects have just been approved and funded."

The crowd of college students breaks out in applause and cheers.

"No strings, no takes . . . just reframe the future!" (Y/n) says over the cheering. "Starting now!"

Above the audience, the teleprompter now reads: Tony: Now I would like to introduce the head of the Foundation, Pepper Potts

Tony stares at the words sadly and then says, "Go break some eggs."

The two exit the stage, side by side.

Ignoring one of the teaches and one of her father's assistants, (Y/n) walks over to the bathroom and changes into a pair of casual clothes for the mission she was supposed to be on.

Approaching her father, (Y/n) says a quick goodbye, and the twenty-four-year-old woman closes her eyes and disappears, arriving in Lagos, Nigeria.

(Y/n), like her mother, was a mutant. (Y/n) had the powers of teleportation, absorption, and the ability to control elements, as well as the ability to shape-shift. 

Glancing around for a moment, (Y/n) pulls on a pair of sunglasses, places her COM set in her ear, and walks over to the Black Widow, who is sitting by herself with a tea in her hands.

"Morning, ma'am," (Y/n) greets Natasha Romanoff, "you mind if I sit here? There are no more open tables."

"Sure, go right ahead," Natasha says, hiding a smile at the sight of her best friend. Natasha and (Y/n) had been friends since Natasha had joined SHIELD, as (Y/n) and their partner, Clint, had recruited her.

A waitress walks over and (Y/n) orders a coffee, listening in on the conversation between Natasha, Wanda, Steve, and Sam going on.

"All right, what do you see?" Steve asks.

"Standard beat cops," Wanda murmurs around her cup of coffee in her hand. "Small station. Quiet street. It's a good target."

"There's an ATM in the south corner, which means . . ." Steve begins but Wanda cuts him off.

"Cameras," Wanda says.

"Nice Wanda," (Y/n) murmurs, and Wanda smiles softly at the approval in the older woman's voice.

"Both cross streets are one way," Steve says into the COMs.

"So, compromised escape routes," Wanda guesses.

"Means our guy doesn't care about being seen, he isn't afraid to make a mess on the way out," (Y/n) says softly.

"She's right," Steve says and (Y/n)'s cheeks dust a slightly darker color. "See that Range Rover halfway up the block?"

"Yeah, the red one?" Wanda asks. "It's cute."

"Looks like my first car," (Y/n) says with a soft laugh.

"Not the point," Natasha says and (Y/n) grins. "The point is, is that it's bulletproof, which means private security, which means more guys, which means more headaches for somebody."

"Probably us," (Y/n) adds. "I should have stayed with Dad.”

Wanda laughs but then says, her voice more serious, “You know I can move things with my mind, right?”

“You know I can set things on fire, or freeze them, or throw them at people?” (Y/n) says. 

“Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature,” Natasha and (Y/n) say in unison. 

“Anybody ever told the two of you that you’re a little paranoid?” Sam asks. 

“Not to my face,” Natasha scoffs, exchanging an amused glance with (Y/n) for a moment. 

“Nor mine, probably cause my Dad could sue anyone for some odd reason, but, you know, whatever,” (Y/n) says. “Anyway, why?”

“Did you hear something?” Natasha asks. 

“Anybody tell you that you two are perfect together?” Sam asks and (Y/n) holds back a fit of laughter and from the expression on Natasha’s face, she was doing the same. 

“Eyes on the target, folks,” Steve says, keeping Sam from saying anything else. “This is the best lead we’ve had on Rumlow in six months. I don’t want to lose him.”

“Oh, that’s why we’re here,” (Y/n) says. “Watch me get deaded by Rumlow if he’s here.”

“Okay Crazy,” Wanda says, holding back a laugh as the sound of Natasha smacking (Y/n)’s arm sounds through the COMs. 

Unknown to everyone but Steve, a garbage truck begins pushing its way through traffic, showing no regard to pedestrians or other vehicles. 

“Sam, see that garbage truck?” Steve asks. “Tag it.”

There is a moment of silence before Sam speaks, “That truck is loaded for max weight. And the driver’s armed.”

“It’s a battering ram,” Natasha realizes and (Y/n) sets a twenty on the table and stands up, heading for the alleyway where she’d teleported from MIT. 

(Y/n) teleports on top of the truck then just outside the Institute for Infectious Diseases Ward. 

Soldiers in black armor emerge from two trucks that had driven through the entrance to the Institution. 

“Go now!” Steve orders, readying his shield. 

“What?” Wanda asks. 

“He’s not hitting the police,” Steve says. 

“Yeah, no kidding,” (Y/n) grumbles as one of the soldiers shoots where she’d been standing a few moments before, while some of the soldiers shoot gas bombs into the building above (Y/n). 

Her fists lighting on fire, (Y/n) knocks out a few of the soldiers before Steve shows up.

“Nice of you to show up,” (Y/n) says with a warm smile towards the super-soldier. 

Steve smiles and says into the COMs, “Body armor, AR-15s. We make seven hostiles.”

Sam flies in and up to a rooftop, spinning and using his wings to block the gunfire, taking out two soldiers in the process. 

“I make that five,” Sam says. 

Wanda arrives and flies over a rooftop into the courtyard, blocking bullets with her powers. She takes control of a soldier and lifts him upwards. “Sam,” she calls, and the Falcon flies down and catches the soldier with one of his wings. 

“Four,” Sam says with a grin.

One of Sam’s drones flies by, scanning the inside of the building. “Rumlow’s on the third floor.”

“Aye Wanda,” (Y/n) says, running towards the girl. “Just like we practiced.”

“What about the gas?” comes Wanda’s questioning voice, her Sokovian accent thick at the moment. 

“Get it out,” (Y/n) says. 

Wanda uses her powers to lift (Y/n) up and through a window. 

(Y/n) grabs one of the soldiers and pulls off their gas mask. 

(Y/n) advances, taking out about five solders before making her way to the Bio-Hazard area. 

“Rumlow has a biological weapon,” (Y/n) warns. 

“I’m on it,” Natasha tells her, riding in on a motorcycle. She turns it on its side and skids it towards a soldier, taking out a few more in hand-to-hand combat. Rumlow comes up behind her, dragging her onto an armored vehicle. Natasha tries to electrocute Rumlow but it doesn’t work. 

“I don’t work like that no more,” Rumlow taunts. He throws her through a roof hatch into an armored vehicle, drops in a grenade, and shuts the hatch. “Fire in the hole!”

“Get out of there Nat!” (Y/n) calls, moving to stand on a balcony. 

Rumlow catches sight of her and sends a bomb her way and (Y/n) gets blasted back into a wall. 

Scrambling her feet, (Y/n) presses a hand to her bleeding forehead and breaks into a run as another blast shakes the building behind her. 

Another blast sends (Y/n) through a window and she falls over the side of the balcony, onto a metal container, and down onto the concrete below. 

(Y/n) groans, rolling over and staggering to her feet, her arm pressed tightly to her ribs, guessing some had broken. “Oh man, those are broken,” (Y/n) grumbles and Wanda rushes over, throwing an arm around (Y/n)’s shoulders, taking some of her weight. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Wanda says. 

Steve, Sam, and Natasha rush after Rumlow and the soldiers, Steve finally pinning Rumlow to the ground. 

“Something’s about to happen,” (Y/n) says, her eyes widening, hearing the conversation between Steve and Rumlow over the COMs. Then she turns to Wanda, “You gotta trust me? All right?” Wanda nods and (Y/n) teleports them to where Steve and Rumlow are. 

(Y/n) wraps her arms around Rumlow and nods to Wanda, who shoots the two into the air, not a moment too soon it seemed, because Rumlow explodes, (Y/n) screaming as she absorbs half the blast. The remaining energy hits the side of the building, shattering glass windows and setting the building on fire. 

(Y/n) drops back towards the ground, her eyes blurring slightly and Wanda shoots her arms up, catching (Y/n) and lightly lowering her to the ground before the Scarlet Witch looks up at the building in flames and covers her mouth with her hand. 

“Oh my . . .” Steve’s bright blue eyes, wide with shock, his mouth hanging open murmurs, “Sam . . . we need . . . Fire and Rescue . . . and a MedEvac team . . . on the south side of the building. We gotta get up there.”

Wanda glances down at (Y/n), whose forehead was bleeding, her right arm resting on her stomach, and the side of her face slightly burned, the woman’s (E/c) eyes fluttering shut. 

Natasha and Sam show up a few moments later and Natasha stares wide-eyed at her best friend’s unconscious body resting in Wanda’s lap. 

Natasha rushes over and helps some of the medical workers lift (Y/n)’s body onto a stretcher. 

The next day finds Natasha and Steve fussing over (Y/n) as she sits up in the Med Bay in the Avengers’ Compound. 

“I love all of you, but stop fussing over me,” (Y/n) says, getting to her feet and shrugging off Natasha’s hand on her shoulder. “I’m injured, not dead.”

Steve smiles at the thought, the same words as he had said to Natasha and (Y/n) a few years back when they were on the run from SHIELD, well, HYDRA. 

“Steve,” (Y/n) stops the super-soldier as she, Steve, and Natasha walk out of the Med Bay together. “Would you check up on Wanda? She probably feels responsible for what happened.”

Natasha turns to (Y/n) as Steve walks away, towards Wanda’s room, (Y/n) guesses. “Don’t you ever do anything that stupid ever again,” Natasha scolds her friend. “You did it in DC and Sokovia before now. You’re going to kill yourself by the time you die.”

“That’s incredibly strange wording there Miss Romanoff,” (Y/n) says with a smile. 

Natasha goes to say something but Sam walks up and leads Natasha down to the briefing room. 

A few minutes later, after (Y/n) had changed into a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt, she makes her way down to the briefing room, leaning on the doorway as she listens to Thunderbolt Ross, the Secretary of State, speak. 

“Five years ago,” Ross begins. “I had a heart attack. I dropped right in the middle of my back-swing. Turned out it was the best round of my life, because after 13 hours of surgery and a triple bypass . . . I found something 40 years in the Army had never taught me: Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an un-payable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives . . . but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some . . . who would prefer the word ‘vigilantes’.”

“And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?” asks Natasha in a falsely respectful voice. 

“How about "dangerous"? What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?“ Ross says and (Y/n) steps forward into the room from the shadows. 

“You don’t think we’re unconcerned about what we leave behind, Secretary?” (Y/n) says in a soft voice, which still carries through the silent room. “I think the Avengers, above all others, know what it’s like to lose the ones they care about and the wreckage left behind.”

Steve and Natasha look over to see (Y/n) standing behind Sam’s chair at the back of the room. 

“But,” (Y/n) smiles with a look of disgust in her eyes, “if you must, please, continue.”

“Thank you, Miss Stark,” Ross says, rolling his eyes and pressing a button on a remote in his hands. 

News footage from past Avengers and SHIELD matters flash on the screen as he speaks, “New York.” A Chitauri leviathan. Terrified citizens. A soldier firing a gun. The Hulk smashing into buildings, sending dust clouds engulfing the camera.

Rhodey’s expression turns regretful and he glances over his shoulder at Natasha. 

“Washington DC,” Ross continues. Three Insight helecarriers, firing on each other. The destroyed Triskelion. A helicarrier crashes into the Potomac throwing up a massive wave while in the background, (Y/n)’s body hits the river below. 

Sam is the one who looks down this time, and Steve spares a glance at (Y/n), whose expression had hardened into one of carefully controlled anger. 

“Sokovia,” Ross says, pressing yet another button on his controller. Terrified citizens running. The city rising. A building falling over. Wanda and Tony continue to look at the screen, Wanda swallowing thickly at the sight of her former home behind destroyed. 

“Lagos,” The burning building. Paramedics moving bodies. A dead girl. An unconscious (Y/n) being lifted into an ambulance.

Wanda looks particularly affected by the footage from Lagos and (Y/n) steps forward to place a comforting hand on the young woman’s shoulder. Steve also sees how discomforted Wanda seems and intervenes. 

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Ross nods to an aide and the images disappear. 

“For the past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.” Ross receives a thick book from one of his aides and slides it across the table to Wanda. She picks it up and then slides it to Rhodey. 

“The Sokovia Accords,” Ross tells the Avengers. “Approved by a hundred and seventeen countries . . . it states that the Avengers should no longer be a private organization. Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary. You say that it's enough to be a man. But there are gods. And the rest of us, what are we? They’re giants, we’re what they step on.”

The conversation has (Y/n) remembering what Phil Coulson had told Mike Peterson before he had become DeathLok. 

“The good ones, the real deal,” comes (Y/n)’s voice and everyone turns to look at her once again. “They’re, we’re, not heroes because of what we have that you don’t. It’s what we do with it that matters.”

Steve nods and sends (Y/n) an admiring glance. “The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place. I feel we’ve done that,” Steve adds to (Y/n)’s words.

“Tell me, Captain, Miss Stark, do you two know where Thor and Banner are right now?” Ross asks, meeting Steve’s eyes. 

“I have a guess,” (Y/n) says, meeting Natasha’s green gaze. “Asgard.”

Ross ignores (Y/n) and says, “If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes . . . you can bet there'd be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground.”

“So, there are contingencies,” Rhodey guesses. 

“Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords.”

Steve glances at Tony as Ross heads for the door. 

“Talk it over,” Ross finally says. 

“And if we come to a decision you don’t like?” Natasha asks. 

“Then you retire,” Ross says and Natasha stifles a smile. 

A few minutes later, (Y/n) finds herself sitting at the counter in the briefing room, her fingers pressed to her temples as Sam and Rhodey argue behind her. 

“I have an equation,” Vision interrupts. 

“Oh, this will clear it up,” Sam says, turning to listen to Vision.

“In the eight years since Mr. Stark and Miss Stark announced themselves as IronMan and Phoenix respectively, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially.”

“Are you saying it’s our fault?” Steve asks his eyes remaining on (Y/n), whose fingers had begun tapping lightly on the countertop in front of her.  

“I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict . . . breeds catastrophe. Oversight . . . oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

“Boom,” Rhodey says. 

(Y/n) glances over at her father, who was lying on one of the couches, one hand on his face. 

When Natasha speaks, he removes his hand to look at her. “Tony,” Natasha prompts. “You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal.”

“It’s because he’s already made up his mind,” Steve guesses.

“Boy, you know me so well,” Tony gets up, wincing, rubbing the back of his head. “Actually, I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache.”

He walks over towards the kitchen and grabs a mug. “That’s what’s going on, Cap. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort. Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal” Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?” 

Despite the negative thoughts running through her head, (Y/n) cracks a smile at her father’s question.

Tony sets his phone in a basket and taps it. The phone projects an image of a smiling young ham. Tony looks down, then back up, and pretends to notice the picture for the first time. “Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where Sokovia.”

(Y/n) swallows thickly and glancing at her teammates, she can tell that the others are also affected by this. 

“He wanted to make a difference, I suppose,” Tony says softly. “I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.” Tony takes a pill with some coffee, then faces the others. “There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.”

“Well said,” comes (Y/n)’s quiet voice, though everyone in the room heard it. 

“Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up,” Steve says. 

“Who said we’re giving up?” Tony asks. 

“We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blames.” 

“I’m sorry,” (Y/n) says softly and the others turn to her once again. “Steve,” she pauses for a moment. “That’s dangerously arrogant,” there is an apologetic undertone to her words and now Rhodey speaks. 

“This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA.”

“No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change,” Steve argues. 

“That’s good,” Tony presses. “That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

“Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don't let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

“If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s the fact. That won’t be pretty,” Tony says, shooting an apologetic glance towards his daughter. 

“You’re saying they’ll come for me,” Wanda’s gaze flickers to the others. 

“Us,” (Y/n) corrects, meeting Wanda’s fearful green gaze. 

“We would protect you,” Vision says. 

“Maybe Tony’s right,” Natasha says, shooting a glance at (Y/n), then Wanda.

Tony looks at the former assassin, surprised. 

“If we have one had on the wheel, we can steer. If we take it off -” Sam interupts Natasha. 

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kick her ass a few years ago?” Sam asks as (Y/n) rises from her place slumped against the countertop and walks over to sit by her friend. 

Natasha looks over at (Y/n) and sends her a comforting smile. 

“I’m just . . .” Natasha begins but (Y/n) continues for her. 

“She’s reading the terrain,” (Y/n) explains. “We have made . . . some -”

“Very public mistakes. We need to win everyone’s trust back,” Natasha finishes. 

“Focus up,” Tony says, still staring at Natasha in disbelief. “I’m sorry, did I mishear you or did you agree with me?”

(Y/n) cracks another smile as Natasha replies, “Oh, I want to take it back now.”

“No, no, no,” Tony argues. “You can't retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case closed--I win.“

Steve’s phone buzzes and he pulls it out to check it. (Y/n) glances over at Steve, a question in her eyes. 

(Y/n) knew that Steve had feelings for her - and (Y/n) did as well - and judging by the look on Steve’s face, she knew it had to be about Peggy. (Y/n) knew that, deep down, Steve still loved Peggy. 

“I have to go,” Steve says abruptly, dropping the Accords onto the coffee table and going downstairs. 

The others in the room glance at each other for a moment before Wanda stands up from her place next to Vision and (Y/n) stands up, following her. 

(Y/n) jogs after Wanda, catching up with the young brunette. “Wanda,” (Y/n) places a hand on her shoulder, but the girl continues to walk. “Wanda, stop.”

“What?” Wanda snaps, turning on (Y/n). 

“What are you going to do?” (Y/n) asks softly, her hand remaining on Wanda’s shoulder. 

“What are you going to do?” Wanda asks in return. 

“I’m going to sign,” (Y/n) says softly. “I think you should too. Like my dad said, if we don’t do this now, it’s going to happen later.”

(Y/n) gives Wanda’s shoulder a comforting squeeze before she turns, walking away. 

A few days later, (Y/n) and Natasha walk into the cathedral where Steve had just been mourning the death of Peggy Carter. 

(Y/n) smiles nervously at Steve as he speaks, “When I came out of the ice, I thought everyone I had known was gone. Then I found out that she was alive. I was just lucky to have her.”

“She had you back, too,” Natasha says, shooting (Y/n) - who was standing at her shoulder - a glance. 

“Who else signed?” Steve asks. 

“Tony. Rhodey. Vision.” (Y/n) answers. 

“Clint?” Steve asks. 

“Say’s he’s retired,” Natasha says, and (Y/n) and the redhead share an amused smile. 

“Wanda?”

“TBD,” Natasha answers. 

“We’re, well, off to Vienna for the signing of the Accords,” (Y/n) says. “There’s plenty of room on the jet,” she offers, hoping with all her heart that Steve would come. 

Steve sighs and bows his head and (Y/n)’s composer seems to fall. 

“Just because it’s the path of least resistance doesn’t mean it’s the wrong path. Staying together is more important than how we stay together,” Natasha tells Steve.

(Y/n) had the feeling that her best friend was trying to convince herself as well. 

“What are we giving up to do it?” Steve asks, avoiding meeting (Y/n)’s eyes.

Natasha sighs and Steve shakes his head, unconvinced. 

“I’m sorry, Nat, (Y/n),” Steve says softly. “I can’t sign it.”

“We know,” (Y/n) says softly. 

"Then what are you doing here?" Steve asks. 

"I didn't want you to be alone," (Y/n) says, stepping forward to wrap the super soldier in a hug. 

(Y/n) pulls back after a moment, holding back tears as she says, "Good luck, Steve." 

Natasha puts a comforting hand on (Y/n)'s arm and the two walk out of the cathedral. 

A few hours later, (Y/n) and Natasha are standing in the UN building signing papers for the Accords. 

"Excuse me, Miss Romanoff, Miss Stark?" asks a UN staffer. 

"Yes?" Natasha responds.

"We need your signatures," the staffer says. (Y/n) and Natasha sign the papers. 

"I suppose neither of us are used to the spotlight," comes a voice and the two women turn to see Prince T'Challa standing in front of them. "Though, Miss Stark, it seems to follow you everywhere."

"Well, it's not always so flattering," Natasha answers with a smile. 

"You seem to be going alright so far. Considering your last trip to Capitol Hill . . . I wouldn't think you would be particularly comfortable in this company."

"Well, I'm not," Natasha replies. 

"That alone makes me glad you're here, Miss Romanoff," T'Challa continues. 

"Why? You don't approve of all this?" (Y/n) asks. 

"The Accords, yes," T'Challa answers. "The politics, not really. Two people in a room can get more done than a hundred."

"Unless you need to move a piano," comes King T'Chaka's voice. 

"Father."

"Son. Miss Romanoff. Miss Stark," T'Chaka's says in return, nodding to his son. 

"King T'Chaka," (Y/n) says, nodding respectfully to the king. "Please let us apologize for what happened in Nigeria."

"Thank you. Thank you for agreeing to all this. I'm sad to hear that Captain Rogers will not be joining us today."

(Y/n) and Natasha share a glance. "Us as well," (Y/n) answers.

"If it is okay, I would like to have a word with Miss Stark," T'Challa says and (Y/n) nods. 

Smiling at Natasha, then nodding to the king, (Y/n) follows T'Challa to the window. 

Before T'Challa can say anything, T'Chaka begins to speak. "When stolen Wakandan vibranium was used to make a terrible weapon, we in Wakanda were forced to question our legacy. Those men and women killed in Nigeria were part of a goodwill mission from a country too long in the shadows. We will not, however, let misfortune drive us back. We will fight to improve the world we wish to join. I am grateful to the Avengers for supporting this initiative." (Y/n) spots something outside and she nudges T'Challa, pointing to a news van outside where several officers were milling around the back. "Wakanda is proud to extend its hand in peace."

"Everybody get down!" (Y/n) and T'Challa yell, sprinting towards where the king was still standing, giving his speech. 

An enormous explosion goes off between the two buildings sending (Y/n) and T'Challa flying back. 

(Y/n) staggers to her feet, her hand wrapped around her bleeding forearm, and watches, horrified as T'Challa finds his father lying on the floor with his eyes closed. The Prince grabs his father's wrist and feels for a pulse, but King T'Chaka lies still. Devastated, T'Challa lies across his father, then lifting him and rocking him. 

Natasha darts forward and pulls her friend down onto the floor and rips off part of her sleeve to wrap around (Y/n)'s arm, (Y/n)'s eyes wide with shock.

The survivors are evacuated from the buildings and fire crews begin to hose them down.

Natasha and (Y/n) sit on the bench beside T'Challa's. 

"I'm very sorry," Natasha says softly. 

T'Challa glances at the two, holding a silver ornate ring which he toys with between his fingers. "In my culture, death is not the end. It's more of a . . . stepping-off point. You reach out with both hands and Bast and Sekhmet, they lead you into the green veldt where . . . you can run forever."

"That sounds very peaceful," Natasha replies, her voice still soft. 

"My father thought so," T'Challa answers, placing the ring on his finger. "But I am not my father."

"T'Challa. Task forces will decide who brings in Barnes."

T'Challa clenches his fists, "Don't bother, Miss Romanoff. I'll kill him myself."

3rd Person POV

Steve - in his uniform - strides through an underpass, then jogs onto a private runway, heading for a grounded chopper. An electro-disabler slams onto the chopper and Steve looks up. 

Above him, Tony and Rhodey descend, landing on the ground. 

"Wow, it's so weird how you run into people at the airport. Don't you think that's weird?" Tony asks, his helmet retracting.

"Definitely weird," Rhodey answers. 

"Hear me out, Tony," Steve says. "That doctor, the psychiatrist, he's behind all of this."

T'Challa, clad in his Black Panther uniform, leaps over a truck. "Captain."

"Your highness."

"Anyway," Tony says, walking behind Rhodey. "Ross gave me thirty-six hours to bring you in. That was twenty-four hours ago. Can you help a brother out?"

"You're after the wrong guy," Steve answers calmly. 

"Your judgment is askew," Tony replies, some of his anger showing now. "Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday. 

"And there are five more soldiers just like him. I can't let the doctor find them first, Tony. I can't."

"Steve . . ." It was Natasha's voice now. ". . . you know what's about to happen. Do you want to punch your way out of this one?"

"All right I've run out of patience. Underoos!" Tony calls. 

A figure in blue and red spandex shoots what looks like a web, stealing Steve's shield and binding his hands, landing on a car. 

"Good job, kid," Tony praises. 

"Thanks. Well, I could've stuck the landing a little better. It's just the new suit… Well, it's nothing, Mr. Stark. It's--it's perfect. Thank you," Peter stumbles over his words.

"Yeah, we don't really need to start a conversation."

"Okay. Cap . . . Captain. Big fan, I'm Spider-Man." 

"Yeah, we'll talk about it later. Just . . ."

"Hey, everyone."

" . . . Good job."

"You've been busy," Steve interrupts. 

"And you've been a complete idiot. Dragging in Clint. 'Rescuing' Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave, a safe place. I'm trying to keep . . . I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart," Tony finishes. 

“You did that when you signed,” Steve answers calmly. 

“Alright, We're done. You're gonna turn Barnes over, you're gonna come with us. NOW! Because it's us! Or a squad of J-SOC guys . . . with no compunction about being impolite,” Tony scowls at Steve. 

Steve holds up his hands and Clint shoots the web off with an arrow. “Alright, Lang.”

“Hey, guys, something . . .” Peter says. 

He gets kicked back and a full sized man is now standing beside Steve, holding out his shield.

“Oh great,” Tony says. “There’s two in the parking garage. One of them’s Maximoff I’m going to grab her.” Tony flies off in his suit. “Rhodey, you wanna take Cap?

“Got two in the terminal, Wilson and Barnes,” Rhodey answers. 

“Barnes is mine!” T’Challa shouts. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark. What should I do?” Peter asks. 

“What we discussed. Keep your distance. Web ‘em up,” Tony answers.

“Okay, copy that!” Peter uses his webs to swing away. 

Scott Lang - Ant Man - faces Natasha. “Look, I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“I wouldn’t stress about it,” Natasha replies. She kicks him in the groin and he miniaturizes, throwing her head over heels. She zaps him off her wrist and he slams into a nearby truck, leaving a small dent. 

Tony is now hovering over Wanda and Clint. “Wanda, I think you hurt Visions’s feelings.”

“You locked me in my room,” Wanda retorts. 

“Okay first, that’s an exaggeration. Second, (Y/n) wanted me to protect you. Hey, Clint.”

“Hey, man,” Clint answers, readying his bow. 

“Clearly, retirement doesn’t suit you. You get tired of shooting golf?”

“Well, I played eightteen, I shot eightteen. Just can’t seem to miss,” Clint fires an arrow which Tony deflects. 

“First time for everything,” Tony replies. 

“Made you look,” Clint smirks. 

“Suddenly a sar slams past Tony and he looks up as dozens more come crashing down. Wanda moves her glowing red hands until Tony is burried under a pile of cars. 

Tony flies over to Natasha once he unburries himself and helps her up. 

“Is this part of the plan?” the redhead asks. 

“Well, my plan was to go easy on them. You wanna switch it up?” the billionare asks. 

Clint spots the Quinjet. “There’s our ride.”

“Come on!” Steve calls. 

Steve’s team runs towards the Quinjet but they are stopped by a fizzing stream of energy slicking across the runway and they stop. Looking up they see Vision hovering overhead. 

“Captain Rogers,” Vision begins. “I know what you believe what your doing is right. But for the collective good you must surrender now.” As he speaks, the rest of Tony’s team arrives. 

“What’d we do, Cap?” Sam asks. 

“We fight,” Steve answers. 

“This is gonna end well,” Natasha says. 

The two teams stride towards each other with grim determination etched on their faces. 

“They’re not stopping,” Peter says. 

“Neither are we,” Tony replies grimly. 

Steve blocks a punch with his shield from Tony as he lands. Clint fires an arrow at Vision as Rhodey flies after Sam and and Bucky, trading blows with T’Challa.

An explosive arrow hit Tony.

Natasha throws Scott as Peter wings through the air, struggling to evade flying vehicles.

Bucky lands punches on T’Challa. 

Clint and Natasha battle with batons and eventually, Clint pins her down with his bow. 

“We’re still friends, right?” Natasha asks. 

“Depends on how hard you hit me,” Clint answers.

Natasha spins the archer with her legs and jumps to her feet. As she’s about to kick his head, her foot stops and glows bright red. With a wave of her hand, Wanda throws Natasha back. “You were pulling your punches. 

As Natasha’s thrown back, someone catches her before she can hit the ground. 

“Nice to see you,” the figure says with a ghost of a smile as she sets the redhead back on her feet. 

“(Y/n)! What are you doing here?” the redhead asks. 

“I’m making sure nobody dies today!” (Y/n) yells over her shoulder, running to where Steve was talking to Peter. 

“Look kid,” Steve says as (Y/n) comes up behind him. “There’s a lot here that you don’t understand. 

“Mr. Stark said you’d say that,” Peter replies. “Wow.” He fires webs which stick to Steve’s leg and shield. He pulls and Steve slides towards him. Peter kicks him backwards and then rolls clear. “He also said to go for you legs.” As Steve runs to get his shield, Peter webs his hands and pulls. Steve grits his teeth, spins and somersaults, propelling Peter through the air. 

Steve catches one of Peter’s webs and tugs the boy near him, knocking him down with the shield. Peter recovers and pull himself on top of a gangway. “Stark tell you anything else?” Steve asks.

“How about don’t beat up kids?” (Y/n) asks teleporting in between the kid and Steve. 

“Go,” (Y/n) tells the kid, then readies her fists at Steve. 

Growling with frustration, Steve throws his shield at (Y/n) but (Y/n) stops it with a jet of water. 

(Y/n) charges at Steve but is stopped by Bucky, who had launched himself at her and pinned her to the ground. 

Bucky goes to punch his metal fist into her face but (Y/n) teleports away. “What the!” Bucky exclaims. 

Vision had just shot a shining beam of energy at the control tower and it collapses towards the entrance of the hangar. Wanda holds other hands, keeping the tower from collapsing, letting Steve and Bucky run through it. Rhodey descends behind her and fires a sonic disruptor and Wanda holds her head and screams. The tower falls around Steve and Bucky but they make it into the hanger. 

Natasha, who was in the hangar, catches sight of the tower falling on top of another figure. The two had made eye contact before the tower had collapsed on top of her, (E/c) on green. 

“Tony!” Natasha yells, running past, completely ignoring Steve and Bucky, who run past her into the Quinjet. “We’ve got a big problem!”

“Romanoff, what is it?” Tony asks. 

“(Y/n) . . .” the redhead trails off. 

“What happened?” Tony asks frantically.

“The control tower, it collapsed on top of her,” Natasha breathes. “We need somebody who can lift heave things.”

Tony, Rhodey, Wanda, and Clint show up soon and the five dig through the rubble and Natasha heaves one chunk of rock, moving it. 

(Y/n) raises up her arm, her hand trembling and everyone rushes over to move the rest of the rock. Her hand falls, palm facing up, and she exhales, her breath ragged. 

“I hope one of y-you can c-carry me,” (Y/n) stammers. “Cause I think my leg’s b-broken.”

The last slab of rock is removed and everyone looks at each other. A sheet of metal was stuck in her abdomen, and blood was pooling under her. 

“Y-you’re gonna have t-to c-carry me.”

Tony comes out of his suit and takes his daughter’s hand in his own. Natasha moves to take the other. (Y/n)’s eyes close in pain for a moment and then she opens them again. 

“I-I think i-it’s bad,” (Y/n) voice trembles. “Cause I can’t feel it.” 

Her eyes close once more and then she opens them again, looking at her father. 

“D-dad? W-when di-id you get h-here?” (Y/n) stutters and Tony squeezes his dying daughter’s hand. 

“Oh sweetheart, I’ll always be here.” Tony says, a tear falling from his eyes. 

“T-that’s sweet,” (Y/n) slurs. Her head lolls to the side and she sees Natasha and Clint, the archer’s hand placed on his redheaded friend’s shoulder. “Nat. C-clint.” A tear streaks down Natasha’s face. “D-don’t c-cry. I-I’ll be o-okay.”

“Only you could comfort us like this,” Natasha says, tears falling onto her hands. 

(Y/n) looks over at Rhodey, and his helmet retracts. “U-uncle R-rhodey?”

The man nods. 

“W-watch m-my Dad,” she says. “H-he tends to be r-reckless sometimes.”

“I will,” Rhodey promises. 

“Doll, that’s not every nice,” Tony scolds lightly and (Y/n) lets out a soft laugh. 

“Wanda,” (Y/n) says, addressing the youngest. 

Wanda looks up from her feet. 

“Y-you’re so s-smart and t-talented,” (Y/n) tells the young girl. “And d-don’t le-et anyone tell y-you different.”

Wanda chokes down a sob as (Y/n) falls limp against the rocks under her. 

Natasha runs her hands gently through her friend’s hair and (Y/n) jolts conscious once again. 

“N-nat,” (Y/n) stammers. 

“Breathe, just breathe (Y/n/n),” Natasha murmurs. 

“N-nat, t-ell St-teve I’m sorry,” (Y/n) slurs.

Then she falls limp . . . 

She breathes her last breath . . . 

And falls silent, not moving again . . . 

Well, this was, well, this made me cry writing it, so . . .

Word Count: 7,164 words

So yeah, I don’t know if this was what @rogersrogers334​ was looking for, but here it is. 

Anyway, Imma go cry in the safety of my bed now . . .

Love,          Kaitlynn ❤️😍

[breanime]

Hello beautiful lady! smut for prompt “Does he fuck you like this? Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Please! Love you!

warning: steamy

*gif not mine*

It was never your intention to hook up with a coworker. True, you fantasized about Johnny Tuturro nearly every night, but it was just that—a fantasy. You never thought you would ever sleep with someone you worked with.

And then you did. Insult to injury…

…it wasn’t Johnny.

Johnny was FBI, and you were DEA. As your years undercover started to stack up, you found yourself working with Johnny and some of the other agents in Graceland more and more. You and Johnny flirted—he was the resident flirt, after all—but you hadn’t so much as shook his hand. So when you got drunk one night with a fellow DEA agent and ended up having sex with him, you were shocked at yourself. It meant nothing, and you two started hooking up as a way to release tension after tough cases. The sex was average at best, mediocre at worst, and honestly, the thing that kept you coming back was the fact that he kind of looked like Johnny. His smile wasn’t nearly as breathtaking, and he didn’t have Johnny’s deep, dark eyes, but they had a similar build and similar coloring, so your DEA slam piece was a suitable substitute for the real thing.

You had just finished a case in South California, and you were exhausted. You washed your undercover persona off of you, letting the warm water cleanse you and strip away the layers and the lies until you were yourself again. When you got out of the shower, you noticed you had a message on your phone. You sighed when you saw who it was—your DEA “friend”. You’d just closed a pretty big case, and you knew news of it was circulating through the acronyms (FBI, DEA, ATF, etc.), but you’d earned a few days off, and you were going to take them. Which is why you were currently in a hotel room, looking forward to not having to deal with anybody—criminal or government agent—for at least 72 hours. So when you read his text asking if you “wanted company”, you just rolled your eyes and ignored it.

But then you got a knock on your door—and the only people who knew where you were worked with you—so you sighed and looked through the hole and—

—oh.

It was Johnny.

You opened the door, frowning as he walked in. “Tuturro, what are you doing here?”

He turned to you, a smirk on his handsome face. “Heard you just closed the case on those SoCal meth dealers,” he said as you tried (and failed) not to check him out, “so I thought I’d come and congratulate you.”

You smiled, putting your hands on your hips. “In person?”

“Mm hmm,” he answered, turning to look around the room, “since you’re in my neck of the woods…”

“Are you looking for something?”

He turned back to you. “Didn’t know if you had…company.”

The pause before he said “company” let you know exactly what kind of company he was referring to. You frowned. “Fuck. How’d you hear about that?”

“Paige,” he shrugged, “but to be fair, I begged her to tell me. Actually had to take over her chores for three weeks to get her to talk—”

“—wait, you asked Paige who I was sleeping with? Why?” Your heart was twisting in your chest. What if he had been interested in you too, and now he thought you were a slut? What if he talked to the DEA slam piece and just thought you were an easy lay? Was that what he was here for? And if it was, would you still go for him? You wanted Johnny bad, but you knew him well enough to know that the attraction was more than just physical. You liked him. He was smart and funny and courageous and kind… He was everything you wanted, but what if he only wanted one thing from you?

And what if you gave it to him? What then?

“Nah, nah, I asked her if you were seeing anyone, and then she told me about Derek…” Johnny waited for you to interject, but you didn’t. You bit your lip; what exactly could she have told him? You were afraid to ask. “…And I don’t wanna get in the way of anybody, or you and him, but I also really, really wanted to see you,” he was rambling now, and you could feel a smile spreading on your lips, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I know I missed the chance to shoot my shot, and I’m sure Derek is a cool dude or whatever but…” He stepped up to you, and you looked up at him, eyes wide and heart pounding. “…he ain’t me.”

You swallowed, and you could see nothing but determination in his dark eyes. “No,” you agreed, “he’s not.”

“Look, I don’t care if my being here pisses him off or whatever, or if he has an issue with me after this—if he does, he knows where to find me,” Johnny sighed, “but I do care about messing things up with you—I like being your friend, I do, but damn, Y/N… I want more.” He reached out, his hand cupping your face, warm and steady. “I want more.”

“I do too,” you confessed, outing your hand over his on your face, “Johnny, I… I’m crazy about you.”

He smiled, and even though it was dark outside, it was like watching the sun rise. Johnny Tuturro’s smile was incredibly beautiful, and you couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Apparently, that was all that needed to be said, because Johnny leaned forward and kissed you, and it was easily the best kiss you’d ever had. You wrapped your arms around him, wanting him closer, and you tilted your head, inviting him to kiss you deeper.

“You sure,” he asked, still kissing you, “this is okay? I don’t want Derek—”

“—Derek isn’t my boyfriend or anything,” you said back, eyes closed as you kissed him, “he’s just a guy I sleep with sometimes.”

He chuckled, one hand going to the small of your back to keep you close to him, and the other going to your waist. “But that’s done now, yeah?”

You laughed back. “Yeah…” You bit your lip again, and Johnny groaned. “What?”

“You don’t know, huh?” He asked, looking down at you. “You don’t know how incredibly sexy you are when you do that. Fuck…”

You shivered; his voice was getting deeper and rougher as he spoke, and it was sexy as hell. Johnny’s hands fell to your hips as he kissed his way down to your neck, and you moaned lowly at the feel of his soft lips on your skin. “Johnny…” You sighed, your hands finding their way underneath his shirt, caressing his toned back. “Johnny…”

You could feel his smirk on your skin, and that turned you on even more. “Yeah, baby?”

“Johnny,” you were whining now, and he lifted his head up to see the pout on your face, “I want you.”

“Yeah,” he leaned down and kissed you again, “I want you too…” You took hold of his shirt and started to lead him to the bed. “I just want to be clear,” he said as he helped you out of your shirt, “I don’t wanna be the new Derek. I don’t want you just part time… I want you all the time, for real.”

You nodded, licking your lips as he took his shirt off. God, Johnny was just perfect. “I want the same thing.”

“Tomorrow,” he promised, kissing your neck again as those long fingers of his went to unhook your bra, “we’ll go on a real date…”

“Yeah,” you agreed, closing your eyes as his warm mouth fell down to your exposed breasts, “yeah, we—we’ll do the whole dinner and a movie thing.”

“Mm hmm,” he hummed, his tongue flicking against your nipple, “anything you want, baby…” Gently, he laid you down on the bed, and you sighed happily at the feel of his lean body on top of yours. You could kiss Johnny forever. “Fuck… I’ve wanted this for so long…”

You could feel his hardness against your thigh, and you scratched at his shoulders as he kissed and licked your breasts, his mouth soft and firm on your sensitive nipples. “Me too,” you sighed, “mm… Johnny…” You giggled. “You’re so much better than Derek.”

He looked up then, smirking at you. “Hell yeah I am.” You didn’t know it then, but Johnny was already itching to prove that to you, even though you’d already decided it was true. So when he slid your pants off and kissed his way, achingly slowly, down to your center, you were already nearly shivering with desire. But when he spread your legs for you and sank between them, his mouth working against you—you nearly floated off the bed.

“Fuck, Johnny,” you gasped out, hips jumping upwards, “oh fuck…” You reached out and put your hand on his head, gasping again at the sweet obscene sounds he was making as he ate you out. Johnny, to your great joy, was a very vocal lover. And his tongue was… beyond description. You came into his mouth, calling out his name as he chuckled against you.

“Look at you,” he said, kissing his way back up your body, leaving each and every inch feeling loved and adored, “you’re so beautiful…”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and brought him down for a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and you couldn’t help but smile against his lips. You felt his hands go to your thigh, lifting it up, and you bit his bottom lip, sucking it into your mouth as he groaned. He was right at your entrance, the tip of his dick sliding against you, gathering the wetness and making you squirm.

“Baby, look at me,” he demanded softly. You did. He was staring down at you with nothing but affection in those deep dark eyes. He smiled, and your heart flipped in your chest at how unbelievably beautiful he was. He caressed your face, two fingers softly running down your cheek. “So beautiful,” he whispered.

“Johnny,” you said back, your voice weak with desire, “please… I need you.”

He kissed you, and as he pulled back, he pushed inside of you.

And you were full of sunlight.

Johnny started out slow, giving you time to adjust to his (considerable) size, kissing and sucking at your neck as you moaned. You rolled your hips, and you felt him bite at the base of your throat, spurring you on. Johnny felt incredible, like he was made for you, and from the way he was moaning, and touching you and kissing you, he felt the same way about you. You brought your hands up to his face and moved his head so he could kiss you, and when you did, he started to fuck you harder, deeper. You bit his lip, and Johnny pushed all the way into you, making you gasp.

“Yes,” you sighed out, nails digging into his back, “yes, yes, yes!”

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling back and pushing in again, “You like that, baby?”

“Yes!”

“You want more?”

“Yes! Please!” You clenched around him; you never begged, but Johnny brought that out of you.

“Fuck, you feel so good, just like that,” he groaned, his voice deep and rich in your ear, “Yeah, baby, take it just like that… Fuck…”

“Johnny,” you could feel your orgasm building up as he fucked you harder, “fuck—yes! Don’t stop, baby, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

“Yeah?” He grinned down at you, watching you bite your lip as your eyes rolled back in your head. “Does he fuck you like this?” He growled out, and even the tone of his voice was adding to the coil of desire within you. “Yeah,” he went on when all you did was moan in response, “I didn’t think so.”

That got you—you came, calling his name, and Johnny groaned as you pulsated around him. He pulled out of you, and for a second, you thought he was done, but then he turned you over and started fucking you from behind. You dug your nails into the mattress, eyes closed and mouth open as you moaned and screamed his name. Johnny knew, already, exactly how you liked to be fucked, and he gave it to you with no hesitation. You glanced at the clock; you’d been fucking for about two hours now. By the time Johnny came, finishing on your back, you’d already come a total of four times, and your body was buzzing with arousal.

You and Johnny cuddled under the covers, nose to nose, smiling goofily at each other.

“So,” he asked, his hand rubbing hearts onto your lower back, “I know I promised you dinner, but how would you feel about breakfast?”

You smiled, closing your eyes. He leaned in and kissed you, and you melted against him. “Breakfast sounds good,” you said back, “but I was actually hoping the first thing I put in my mouth in the morning,” you opened your eyes to see him watching you, “would be you.”

Johnny grinned; the sun shining in his eyes. “Oh, baby…

..you ain’t gotta wait till the morning for that.”

You grinned back; clearly, you wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight—and you couldn’t be happier about that.

*******************************************************************************************

This is gonna be the only one for tonight, I’m so tired you guys. Sorry if this isn’t that great. Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! And if you really enjoyed it and you can send in a tip, I would greatly appreciate it!

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[joyful-soul-collector]

50 Christmas Ornaments My True Love Gave To Me

Summary: It was Christmastime in the Stark-Rhodes-Potts’ household, with Tony, Rhodey, Pepper, Peter, and Morgan all sitting at the table. Jingle Bells was playing quietly in the background, and each one of them was working on decorating a clear plastic christmas bauble, a growing pile of colorful ornaments in the center of the table.

OR

The Iron Family gets carried away making Christmas ornaments, and Peter talks to his dad about asexuality

Taglist: @phahbiyah @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @clevermuffinalmondpeach @stuck-in-a-fictional-universe @canonismybitch @freckledmountain @hold-our-destiny @not-your-housekeeper98 @misskirkstark @iron-loyalty @skeeter-110 @m3ga1nsp1r3d @nazezdha321 @peterparkerspidgeons @fallenstar07 @baloobird

Let me know if you want to be added/removed! I don’t mind at all either way! Also thank you to @baloobird for beta-reading this for me!

Read on Ao3!

“This was the best idea. Peter, remind me never to doubt you again,” Tony said, gazing at his newly made red and gold Christmas ornament. It was Christmastime in the Stark-Rhodes-Potts’ household, with Tony, Rhodey, Pepper, Peter, and Morgan all sitting at the table. Jingle Bells was playing quietly in the background, and each one of them was working on decorating a clear plastic christmas bauble, a growing pile of colorful ornaments in the center of the table. 

“I told you it would be fun!” Peter said with a laugh, carefully pouring a bit of red glitter into his own ornament. 

“Told you!” Morgan echoed, despite the fact this activity had been a complete surprise to her and she had told Tony no such thing. Morgan reached forward suddenly, grabbing the white glitter. 

“Oh, dear you need to be more careful with that,” Pepper said as Morgan spilled some on the table trying to pour it into her ornament. “Here baby, use the funnel.”

“Finished!” Rhodey said suddenly, nearly startling Peter into flinging glitter everywhere just as Morgan had done. Rhodey held up a bauble that had been painted in three stripes of red, blue, and grey, with “T+R+P=‎⎊” painted in black overtop. It took Peter a moment to realize that the colors were representing each of their Iron Suits, and he said “Awww” along with the rest of the family. 

Both Tony and Pepper kissed Rhodey on the cheek, Tony on the left and Pepper on the right, and Peter laughed at the sheepish but adoring smile Rhodey gave them in return. He placed his bauble next to the others and gazed fondly at the colorful pile. 

“I think these are my favorite ornaments,” he said with finality. 

“Ha! You sure about that? You like them even more than your special War Machine one Pep gave you?” Tony said, an eyebrow raised skeptically. 

“He’s a close second of course, but these are my favorite since we made them together as a family,” Rhodey said, grinning happily. 

“Aw, you’re extra sappy today, Pops,” Peter teased, putting the top on his ornament, and smiling at the layers of red and white glitter in his candy-cane themed bauble. 

“Are you implying that I’m sappy all the time?”

“Not even just implying. You’re sappy. You’re a sappy, mushy, lovey-dovey, man,” Peter said, scrunching his nose at his father, and sticking out his tongue childishly. Rhodey made a mock-offended gasp, and pressed his hand to his chest. 

“I’m deeply offended by this. You know I’m not sappy, right Little Mo’?”

“Super sappy,” was all Morgan replied with, clearly more interested in stuffing bits of ribbon in her ornament than she was in the conversation itself. The rest of the family laughed as she continued to fill her bauble, and Tony threw an arm around Rhodey’s shoulders. 

“Nah, I think I actually agree with you, Honeybear. These are probably my favorite as well, I can’t believe we never did this before. I almost wish we could make more, we were each only able to make five,” Tony said, looking down at his completed ornaments beside him, a slightly disappointed look on his face. “I had a lot more ideas for what to design.”

“I did too,” Pepper said, looking down at her own baubles, neat and elegant, all themed with the colors of white and gold, unlike the rest of the family, who had gone a bit more wild with their designs. 

“Well… who said we’re not allowed to go back to the craft store and get some more?” Peter said tentatively. When all three parents raised an eyebrow he quickly went on. “I mean we have plenty of paint and glitter and ribbon left! We could probably just get some more baubles and have enough supplies to make more--I mean what else are we gonna use this stuff for? Might as well use it up on more ornaments so we don’t waste it, ya know?”

The three adults were now wearing varying convinced facial expressions, though Morgan’s response definitely worked in Peter’s favor. 

“Yes! Let’s do it! Pleeeeease???” she said, looking up at them and giving them her best puppy eyes, garnished perfectly with a little sniff. 

Peter was grabbing his coat before they even said “yes.” 

~~~

“Ya know, I distinctly remember you saying all we had to get was more ornaments, and that we already had enough supplies to make another batch,” Tony said, frowning at Peter, who was gazing at the rows of glitter on the shelf. 

“Yeah yeah, I know, but we only got christmas themed colors last time! What if we got something else besides the red, green, white, and blue?”

“Well we got gold and silver too, and a little black--”

“You know what I mean,” Peter groaned with a roll of his eyes. “We could do so much more with some extra colors--Ooh look!” Peter snatched four containers of glitter off the shelf and presented them to Tony. “We could make pride flags! You and me could have personalized asexual pride ornaments!”

Tony sighed at the sight of the bottles. 

“Well… that would be cool… I dunno kiddo…” Tony said slowly, pushing his hands in his pockets as he thought. 

But Peter suddenly realized what he was doing and his face turned red with embarrassment. He really shouldn’t be asking for things right now, especially when he only wanted these colors because he was feeling a little insecure. That’s not a good enough reason to be spending money on glitter they were never gonna use again. 

“I--Um, nevermind, sorry,” Peter said, his hands shaking a little as he reached up to put them back. 

“What? No, Peter, I was--”

“There you two are!” Pepper said suddenly, making them both jump and turn in her direction. She made her way over, Rhodey and Morgan trailing behind. “What’re you doing over here?”

“Well the kid’s twisting my arm into getting us some pretty ace glitter,” Tony responded, and Pepper glanced at the bottles Peter was still holding. Peter grimaced inwardly, wishing Tony hadn’t said anything. He didn’t need Pepper to explain to him they can’t just buy whatever he wants just because he’s a little upset. 

But she wasn’t angry with him. She snorted, rolling her eyes at Tony’s pun. 

“Well if you two get your pride flag then I want mine too,” she said, reaching over and grabbing some pink, purple, and blue bottles, the colors of the bisexual flag, and throwing them in the basket with the pack of ornaments. The knot of nervousness that had formed in Peter’s chest instantly unraveled, and he suddenly felt a lot more at ease about putting his own bottles of glitter in the basket. 

“Hey don’t forget mine!” Rhodey said, reaching for the pink, yellow, and blue bottles, the pansexual pride flag, and putting them in too. 

“Oh, you guys need the polyamorous flag too!” Peter chirped, snagging the blue, red, and black bottles of glitter. “We can use the gold paint back at home to put the pi symbol on it too!”

All three parents smiled warmly at him, and Rhodey reached forward to ruffle his hair affectionately. Peter remembered when Pepper and Tony had first started dating Rhodey, they’d been so nervous to tell him because they were scared he wouldn’t like it. Peter was only about ten when they told him, and he could tell they had been very worried. Peter colored a picture of the three of them holding hands the next day, and hung it up on the fridge. He found out later that Tony had given it to Rhodey, and Rhodey keeps it in his wallet now, taking it everywhere he goes. And when Rhodey eventually moved in and got married to Tony and Pepper, Peter was extra enthusiastic in helping him get settled, to make sure he felt welcome. 

Peter’s always done his best to make sure his parents knew he loved them, and accepted them just the way they were. 

But Peter was suddenly snapped out of his memories by Tony’s voice. 

“But what about Little Mo’? We can’t have her feel left out!” he said, gazing down his daughter by his feet. But Morgan suddenly held up a large colorful bag, showing off the contents to her fathers, mother, and brother. 

“Pom poms!” she squeaked happily. The bag was filled with hundreds of colorful pom poms of varying sizes, some of which were definitely too big to force into the ornaments, but Peter knew that wouldn’t stop Little Mo’ from trying. 

“Oh yes, you forgot, Dad,” Peter said, scooping up his little sister and resting her on his hip. “The ‘P’ in the acronym doesn’t just stand for Pansexual and Polyamorous, it also stands for Pom Poms.”

“Oh yes, that’s the new one isn’t it?” Tony said with a snort, now sorting through the glitter in the basket to get rid of repeated colors. 

“Yup. Maybe I can get MJ to design a pride flag for it,” Peter said with a smirk. 

“I’m sure she would do so happily,” Pepper said, taking the pom poms from Morgan to put them in the basket, and kissing Morgan's head. “Now why don’t you and your Dad get back to the car and buckle Morgan in while your Papa and I get everything checked out?”

A few minutes later Peter walked out of the store with his sister and dad, and Tony was buckling Morgan in her carseat. 

“Snug bug?” Tony asked her as he adjusted the straps of her seat. 

“Snug bug,” Morgan confirmed with a giggle. Tony smiled and booped her nose, before drawing out his phone and opening up a game. 

“Wanna play on Daddy’s phone?” he said, handing it to her and helping her put in the headphones. Then Tony moved back up to sit in the middle row of the van, where Peter was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“You never let me play with your phone when I was little,” he said bluntly. “I’m sensing a favorite child has been chosen.”

“Pfft, is that another one of your spidey powers? Your Spidey Sense get upgraded along with your suit?” Tony asked with a roll of his eyes. “No, I just needed her to be distracted.”

“What? Why?” Peter asked with a frown. 

“Well, it seems my other bug isn’t so snug,” Tony said, looking at Peter pointedly. 

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“What’s up kiddo? You seemed a little worried back there,” he said. 

“I did? When?” Peter said, hoping to wiggle his way out of the conversation somehow, stall until his Mom and Papa got back. 

“When you were asking about if you could get the ace flag colors. You know I was joking right? I wasn’t actually considering saying no to you, I want you to be able to show your pride however you like,” he said gently. It seems Peter wouldn’t be able to get out of this one.

“No, yeah I know that, it… wasn’t you I was worried about,” Peter said with a sigh. “Part of it I guess was uh, well you know how I get guilty asking for things. I didn’t want to make you spend money on me.”

“Ya know for the child of a billionaire you sure worry about money a lot,” Tony said with a smirk. “I don’t mind spending money on you. You’re important to me, and I have the ability to do it, so I like to. But, you already know that, and I have a feeling the money wasn’t the only thing bothering you. Am I right?”

Peter’s face turned even redder and he glanced out the window to see if his Mom and Papa had come to save the day. 

No such luck.

“I uh… Flash said something the other day. Bothered me,” Peter muttered. 

“What did he say, kiddo?” Tony said, reaching over to squeeze Peter’s hand. 

“…he said nobody would ever want to date someone who was asexual like me. That no one would wanna be in a relationship with someone who wouldn’t, uh--” he glanced at Morgan to make sure her earbuds were still in, “--‘give them any’.”

Peter looked down and picked at a loose thread on his jeans, avoiding his father’s gaze. 

“Oh Peter, I’m sorry. That’s not true, there are plenty of people who will love you just the way you are,” Tony said, smoothing a thumb over Peter’s knuckles. 

“Yeah, I mean I-I know that in the back of my mind--I mean you’ve got two people who love you, and you’re ace like me, so--so I mean I’m sure I’ll find at least one person, it’s just--” Peter broke off with a sigh. “What if… What if I find someone who’s okay with me being ace, but they’re not nice in other ways? What if there’s only one person who’s okay with me being ace, and it turns out they like, I dunno, hate that I’m Spider-Man? Or they’re even abusive or something? What if the only person who will ever like me is someone who’s bad?”

“Peter, nobody really ever has just one person they’re compatible with. I learned that when I fell in love with Rhodey,” Tony said with a soft smile. “There’s going to be more than one person who’s okay with your asexuality, just like there will be more than one who isn’t. There will be people who are okay with it but are terrible in other ways, just as there will be people who aren’t okay with it but are amazing in other ways. 

“And of course, that means there will be people who are just bad for you overall. People who aren’t okay with your sexuality and are awful. But that means there will also be the opposite! There will be people who will be fine with your asexuality, and are also kind, and funny, and will have qualities you love. 

“Humans are complex, you’ll never meet one that’s exactly the same as the other, and yet we have the ability to love so many different people, in so many different ways. It’s part of why I fell in love with both Pepper and Rhodey. I love how unique they are. 

“Like you said: two people who are so different from each other, and yet they both fell in love with an asexual person like me. And neither of them are terrible, obviously,” Tony said, and Peter laughed, finally looking up at him. Tony smiled and gave his hand a final squeeze. “Basically, of the hundreds of humans your age in New York, I doubt there’s only one person who would be good for you, and even less likely that the only people willing to date you are abusive and awful. It mathematically doesn’t make sense. Throw in the fact that you’re the kindest kid I’ve ever met, and I doubt there’s an asexual-accepting human in the world who wouldn’t wanna date you.”

Peter laughed again, leaning back on the headrest as his chest filled with relief. 

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “I dunno what I’d do without you to help me with all this stuff.”

“Of course, kiddo. It’s what Dads are for.”

~~~

An hour later, Peter and his family were finishing up making the last of their baubles, Peter carefully painting the Spider-Man logo on his glittery asexual pride ornament. He was feeling a lot better after the talk with Tony, like a weight had been lifted off him. It even made painting a little easier, despite the fact he was awful at painting. 

Rhodey had finished about half an hour earlier, now in the kitchen making cookies while Pepper and Morgan watched Klaus in the living room. The smell of Rhodey’s cookies wafted into the dining room where Peter and Tony were still working. Peter snapped up and sniffed the air, drinking in the scent of chocolate, butter, and sugar, the signature smell of Rhodey’s chocolate chip cookies. 

Peter’s stomach gave a deep growl at the scent, whining miserably about how empty it was. 

“Wow, someone’s hungry,” Tony said, glancing at Peter’s middle with a smirk. 

“I knoooow,” Peter groaned, wrapping an arm around his belly. “I was so distracted by the ornaments I forgot to have a snack when we got home. Dumb super metabolism, I’m gonna starve to death before those cookies get out of the oven.”

“Well don’t do that,” Rhodey said, walking in with a plate piled high with cookies. “Guess you were so distracted you didn’t hear the timer go off either, huh?”

Peter wasn’t listening though. He’d already put his ornament down to let the paint dry and was making grabby-hands at the plate, practically drooling. 

“Alright alright, calm down, don’t eat too fast either, you’ll give yourself a tummy ache,” Rhodey said, handing him the cookies. Peter scoffed as he stuffed a cookie in his mouth. 

“I’m fifteen, I don’t get ‘tummy aches’,” Peter said through his mouthful of cookie. 

“Tell that to whoever got a tummy ache from eating a whole solid chocolate santa in five minutes last week on a dare from Ned,” Rhodey muttered as Peter stuffed more cookies in his mouth. 

“That was not a ‘tummy ache’, that was Extreme Christmas Celebrating.”

“It was a tummy ache. You said ‘I have a tummy ache.’”

“I did not--”

“Uhh, guys?” Tony suddenly interrupted. Peter and Rhodey looked at him, and Pepper glanced back from her position on the couch. 

“Yeah?” they all said. 

“I uh… I think we have fifty ornaments here,” he said, staring wide-eyed at the pile. Peter blinked. 

No, no way, they didn’t make that many. 

“You sure you didn’t miscount?” Rhodey said, looking at the pile more closely himself. 

“Oh I’m sure. There’s fifty ornaments here. We made fifty ornaments,” Tony said. 

“That can’t be right, each of us only made… only made…” Peter had been about to say five, but realized that was before they bought the second batch of ornaments. If they made five, and then each made another five… 

“Ten. There’s five of us and we each made ten ornaments,” Pepper said in disbelief. “How did we not realize we’d be making ten each? Fifty ornaments?”

They all stared at the pile in silence for a few moments. 

“Well, I guess the tree will be a bit crowded this year,” Peter said, taking another bite of cookie. They all laughed, then Rhodey, Tony, and Peter, settled on the couch next to Pepper and Morgan to finish the rest of the movie with them. 

Later that day when Peter had a bellyful of cookies, they decorated the tree with their new ornaments, as well as the ones dragged out from the boxes in the garage. And while it was a bit crowded like Peter had predicted, it was the best one they’d ever had, with their pride ornaments glittering in the firelight, and Morgan’s pom pom baubles adding the perfect sprinkling of color to the green branches. 

Peter had never seen a more perfect tree. 

[popculturebuffet]

Don Rosa: “The Magnificent Seven (Minus 4) Caballeros!” or City Slickers 3: The Crystal City

Saludos Amigos, the Ride of the Three Caballeros returns! After some time off to take care of other seasonal commissions and to finally get the life and times fo scrooge mcduck back on a steady pace, everyone’s three favorite chappies in snappy serapes are back for another go round.  This time i’ts back to comics one last time as we take a look at “The Magnificent Seven (Minus 4) Caballeros: which was the penultimate story from Duck Maestro Don Rosa, and as a result the final one set in present day, as while the next one would have a wraparound segment, it’s a flashback tiding up the one last bit of Scrooge’s past Rosa hadn’t clicked into place yet, and thus we’ll get to that eventually as part of life and times. And honestly it serves as a fittng and satisfying conclusion to Donald’s story. 

The geneisis of this one is rather simple in comparison to “The Three Caballeros Ride Again!”. Don Rosa REALLY enjoyed writing TTCRA, wanted to have another adventure with Donaldo and his boys, and given the previous story was a huge hit likely had no trouble convincing his publisher. And since he set the first story in Panchito’s home country of mexico, it only made sense to have the next story in Jose’s home country of Brazil. Adding to it Rosa specifically wanted to avoid using the amazon rainforest this go round, as to him pretty much every story involving Brazil focused on the massive and wonderful rainforest. And while a great setting, Rosa knew there was much more to the country and wanted to show it off. And to his credit.. he’s 100% right as i’ve seen dozens upon dozens of stories set in the rainforest but not nearly as many set ANYWHERE ELSE IN BRAZIL. If their lucky we get to see Rio, but that’s about it. So kudos to Rosa for wanting to display more of a beautiful country and show it had more to offer than merely it’s biggest attraction. As for what treasure they’d be after, the lost city of crystal stuck out to him, having been described in a goverment document that was so degraded when it was found there wasn’t much left to go on and searched for by a famous explorer who was the basis for indiana jones whose name I forgot but we’ll run into his name again later. So yeah not as much setup here and what tiny bit is left can be covered when we get to our villian. So with all that out of the way, let’s ride on!

We open with Scrooge firing Donald and throwing his ass out on the street, berating him for screwing up and then telling him to be back early tommorow to make up for his firing. Then Gladstone literally walks all over him becausae he’s a jackass, and Daisy then shrieks at donald for you know, being stuck on the floor, having messed up the shirt she ironed for him without.. actually you know asking for context, HITTING HIM, then telling him to pick her up for dinner at the ritz. 

It’s like this intro was perfectly designed in a lab to piss me off. All three of the characters who on a good day ar excellent but on a bad are outright monsters, at their worst, treating Donald like crap, i.e. the reason to call them monsters, and generally abusing him for flimsy reasons. And again Daisy HIT DONALD. No that’s not right, she shoryukened his ass! She upercutted him! God damn. And her just casually doing that is played for laughs. In a lesser Rosa story this would only get worst and be “oh haw haw”.. instead... to my delighted suprise.. this is all treated seriously. Yeah really. Instead of being treated for laughs like normal, and not being a dark enough work comedically to make it work like say It’s Always Sunny, Donald is seriously depressed, beaten down phsycially and mentlaly and when the boys, who’ve been present for all of this and tried to help him up off the ground, ask why he takes this.. the answer is pretty damn bleak. 

Just.. holy shit that’s dark.. and I applaud Rosa for not only recognizing this isn’t always funny, but for actually tackling it. And I will grant Donald being a butt monkey CAN be funny, especially when it’s caused by his own ego. It’s the basis of his entire career. It’s good stuff. My issue has been more that Rosa sometimes dosen’t get that either some aspects have aged poorly, even by the 90′s, and thus dosen’t adjust them or play them more for drama, sprinkling a bit of that in with the comedy. So to see him do that HERE, to acknowledge in some way his own faults and do something with them.. i’m very proud of him and it warms my heart that he could do something like this that shows he could grow and change, even SECONDS from the end of his career, but with no intention of ending his career at that point or even after finishing his next and last story. It just ended up happening that way and as such this story carries even more weight as for all intensive purposes, this is the final tale of Donald Duck for Don Rosa’s Barksian universe. This is the last big tale before whatever triggers Scrooge’s retirement, the last tale he wrote in the here and now. And while not perfect for some reasons we’ll get to from a character perspective? It’s a pretty good note to go out on. 

Anyways Donald somehow makes this SADDER by mentoing, when Huey, Dewey or Louie tries to make him smile that he hasn’t smiled in some time before sadly loping off to make their dinner before buying daisy’s. 

Yeah... I just.. I need a moment.... Here’s my asistant iwth an important message

Okay i’ve regained my composuer.. and yes I will be shwoing that off at every opportunity. I have generous friends. Now where were we? Ah yes with their uncle in a depression hole, can relate, they figure he needs a nice gift to get him out of it. The boys think he needs friends.. and of course the boys come to mind, though the fact their on the other end of the contient proves a problem.. but Huey, Dewey or Louie has a solution and takes the boys to the Woodchucks because of course they do> Their primary go to for anything is the guide which to be fair contains the entire sum of the world’s knowledge in a guidebook. 

So the boys, with the other two likely filled in on the way, plan becomes clear when they stop by Woodchuck HQ and talk to the guy in charge of the badge department, which ahs a fun acronym because of course it does, this is one of Rosa’s faviorite running gags and mine as well.. I just don’t have it in me stamina wise to type the whole thing out. Point is the boys ask that Donald be used as courier for a special shipment of badge’s to Rio. The authority guy is understandably a bit reluctant to give a non-woodchuck this duty, but the boys remind him that in a previous story, not sure if it’s barks or rosa’s, Donald apparently not only found the last remaning pieces of fort duckberg but saved them from the mill. As a result the Fort, which was the original HQ of the woodchucks until Scrooge threw them out, was apparently rebuilt. So the guy in charge is more than willing to not only give donald the duty, but an open ended plain ticket, i.e a vacation. The Nephews do have to guilt him a bit more to get donald a condsensed pamphlet based on the brazil chapter of the guidebook which at this point seems like overkill. Just.. buy him a guidebook boys. IT’s a bit much to ask that a portion of your heavily guarded and protected text be given to your uncle for a vacation and seems like a tad of a stretch but the gag, including the boys getting badges in guilt and convincing, makes it work. 

So after the boys set off to telegram the rest of the Cabs, we cut to donald arriving in rio, passing christ the redeemer on the way

The Rio Woodchucks greet donald and take the package for him, giving him new orders to go by cable car to the observation deck atop Sugar Loaf Mountain. This is a real mountain in Brazil and frustrated Rosa because he couldn’t find any pictures of what the station looked like in the 1950′s, despite as he put in his notes having eager fans from the region, researchers and other contacts try to find it, settling for having vintage cable cars pulling into modern stations he got from photos from said contacts. If I hadn’t said it before i’ll say it now the man is a BEAST when it comes to getting things acurate, only bending it if it helsp the story and still making sure his drawings are as accurate as possible. It’s one of Rosa’s most adimirable traits. 

Donald took a Donde, some form of streetcar there, hanging on the back and .. uh I have no words for this..

Donald Duck ran into a horse and it farted in his face. Just... why though. This horse naturally is Senior Marteniz, with Panchito currently being thrown out of a cable car for trying to put his horse in there which is fair. What isn’t is people having an issue with his hat. I mean.. people wear hats. I know it’s a bit big for the tight fit of the cable car but still it’s a bit weird to throw a strop about anywhere outside a theater or sports place where he’d be actively obstructing people’s view. And it appears to be the same weirdly crazy asshole.. Imean again the horse thing is resonable but calling it a “crazy hat” I mean yes it’s a big hat.. but ... you you do know mexico exists right? And sombreros? or other cultures at all you weirdly specific douche? 

At the top, after a quick and funny hat swap gag, Panchito reveals the triplets called him here.. as did Jose who assuemd it was  lovely senorita.. who uppercuts him. And it’s STILL more reasonable to uppercut some rando hitting on you, if not by much, than Daisy’s Domestic Abuse. Anyways the three put things together and Donald realizes via flashback the boys hoped his smile would return and said he’d have help. 

Donald, being utterly beaten down by life, apologizes.. but it turns out the boys needed this as much as he did. Jose’s night club career is flopping hard, with his agent unable to get him bookings and Panchito has barely scraped any money together for his ranch dream from last time. It’s a nice touch: That the boys , while having more exciting careers have just as much strife as Donald does and as much problem. It helps make them feel as real as donald, as characters with their own lives and adventures outside of him and their own wants and needs and it really helps the story come alive. Jose however has some suggestions to escape their blues. 

But Panchito suggests instead they go for some adventure and go diamond hunting in the plains of brazil, which the two agree to.. and Donald’s a big gung hoe about carving his way through human flesh.. just jesus man.. get a therapist. Your Ducktales counterpart did and he seems mildly well adjusted. So the adventure is on.. and they all toss their hats.. off a mountain. First thing on the provisoins list hats.  Before we head on I just wanted to point out even though most of my audience here is likely unaware the movie exists that this Comic honestly reminds me of the 1991 comedy City Slickers starring Billy Crystal, Daniel Stern and Bruno Kirby. If your struggling on the name Daniel Stern, think Marv from Home Alone. 

No.. the RIGHT marv. I may not be a huge fan of Home Alone but we respect Daniel sterns in this house. And yes if you didn’t know French Stewart played Marv in one of the sequels now you do. And i’m sorry you know that. 

There we go. Right Marv and Wrong Dad from Christmas story. Back on point City Slickers is a terrific comedy I finally saw a few weeks back about three friends all facing mid life crisises, with Billy Crystal being unsatisfied with his career and undsure WHY he does, Daniel Sterns having cheated on his shrewish wife with one of his employees whose also now pregnant, and Bruno Kirby being a ladies man whose faced with the prosepct of settling down, go for a weeks vacation to a cattle drive, as Brunos character tends to set up these trips but this time they actually need it. They encounter cows, assholes and a cowpoke named Curly. It’s pretty good. 

But yeah they both feel kinda similar, if with far less drama and crumbling marraiges on the cabs end because you know, this is for children. I’m pretty sure it’s just a concidence but given Rosa’s love of film, even if it’s more 30′s and 40′s films, and how the City Slickers seems right up his alley, I wouldn’t he suprised if he saw it and simply took some slight inspiration from it. Either way the similarity makes me giggle a bit. Again the plots aren’t all the same but the basic setup is about the same, complete with the main character’s family making sure he goes. It’s a bit of a stretch but I thought it was pointing out and while this review is comissioned, how I go about it isn’t so if I want to take a few paragraphs to compare this to an excellent comedy you should defintely see with two underated actors, maybe three i know nothing of bruno kirby other than the man had horse allergies and thus had to take heavy medication every day so good on him, and a lot of fun. 

So our premise and pastiche firmly in place, our heroes fly out to the frontier to adventure and Donald even thought ahead on them needing two more mounts and bought them from the local farmer for 100 bucks: It turns out their a llama, who jose takes and an old ox which donald reluctantly takes and wonders how to steer.. which I just got the double pun. Nice touch.

So our heroes head on with Donald expressing suprise they aren’t in the jungle like the movies, Jose correcting him, you get the bit he’s going for. But as they travel Donald not only breaks out the pamphlet but also , once jose mentions finding el dorado, casually mentions he and Scrooge already found it in columbia, and when Jose incrediously mentions that maybe he also already found the lost mines of the incas.. turns out yeah they did that too. Dont’ know if it was a barks or rosa story for either, since I didn’t check that part of Rosa’s notes, but it brings the scene into greatness as the boys not only belivie donald and figure he’s not pulling their legs.. but marvel at his life. And it’s here Donald smiles a bit.. he’s already got his smile back realizing that as miserable as his life can be.. he’s still seen and done things no man, even his globetrotting pals, has sever done before or sense. Found long lost places, solved mysteries and rewrote history.. sometimes literally sometimes in the “found things that changed historical knowledge” sense. Point is.. he realizes he has more to his life than he thought and maybe it isn’t so miserable after all. 

Donald also mentions the local waters are filled with stuff and the other Cabs mounts quickly climb on his continuting the gag of the Cabs assuming donald’s some big expert by accident. For me personally it varies in how funny it is, sometimes it’s grating othertimes it’s genuinelly pretty good, your mileage will vary. We then get a page and a half of slapstick with various animals and this gag repeated and it’s eh. Not bad, and there’s a REALLY great visual bit where donald gets squeezed by an anaconda and not only is he comically and tightly squeezeled, but it takes a few panels for it to wear off. Other than that not bad stuff but nothing especially new or really that funny. 

Our heroes soon find a pit trap.. and a capybara in said pit trap.. which I also give myself credit for recognizing on sight. Who dosen’t like a good capybara? Their basically a large brazillian rodent if you were curious. Donald asks what can they do and hte boys take it as a secret test of character, and not just donald being kind of lost and decide to help free trapped animals instead of treasure hunt which Donald, much like his entire life, just reacts to with “what what are we doing now?”. But they manage to free the greatful Capybara and we get this inspired bit. 

Naturally the sheer confusion of seeing this as well as being confronted with the relaly bizzare nature of his world, i.e. having both a rodent whose an old friend and one that’s clearly just a regular animal causes Donald to fall into the hole. He’s soon found by the natives.. and here we get one of the worst aspects of this story and one I honestly didn’t expect to encounter given Rosa’s research: Calling these indgeinous people’s.. “indians”. Yes really. 

We were in 2004 by this point, and even in the cultural cesspool of the early 2000′s, a time where micheal jacksons actions towards children were used for reams of jokes and where R.Kelly got off for the same just because “he makes the good musics”. What i’m saying is even in this time in history, we knew better than to use the term indian and I remember distinctily the term native american being in my text books even at this point as a kid. So Rosa, a world traveled knowledgable adult.. has no excuse for this, not even “It was the 50′s when this was set and they’d used this” as while he had Scrooge being mildly racist in “The Empire Builder from Callisota”, he didn’t you know, have scrooge use the fucking n word or other slurs during the story because you know that’s racist and he knows it’s racist. I’m coming down so hard on him because I expect BETTER. I can, even if it bothers me and I will give out about it, KINDA ignore the daisy stuff because domestic violence against men wasn’t as wellk nown, so while it dosen’t play well and I won’t pretend to enjoy it I can at least understand why rosa thought this was funny when it isn’t> This? The man clearly should know better, should know to use correct terms, and is usually better about this, but just isn’t here and for one of his last stories it’s REALLY depressing to see a man I have a ton of respect for fail this badly. It’s just a small element of hte story but it really sticks out badly and says bad things about an otherwise good man. Even a good man can really fuck up and Don.. honestly really fucked up even when, normally his portryal of indigneous people’s is really good.. and is for the rest of the story. This is just a really bad if really easy to miss bit I feel he deserves some flak over it. He knew better. This story proves he knows better in other ways and knows indgenous people deserve resepect. He just dosen’t show it in his laungauge and it’s disheartaning. 

Anyways, the Natives drop donald off with their cheif.. who turns out to not only speak perfect english, but has a rather nice modern setup and clothes. He’s the son of the former cheif whose dad, using a secret crystal city with a rich mine, paid for his son to go get an education in the US and hopefully bring back knowledge for his people. Instead all he learned was to be a greedy selfish asshat who calls his own people “savages”. This is what i’m talking about: While the indian thing is bad and Rosa should feel bad.. the rest of the story does treat these tribal peoples with genuine grace and care, as our main villian is shown as one partly because rather than respect his culture and simply use thenew knowledge of the outside world to help his people by educating them, bringing back new techniques and medcidnes while mixing it with thier old culture, the bastard prince simply wrote them off as savages and used his new learnings to rule them and get them into trapping, a buisness i’ts later made clear at the end of hte story they don’t like and only followed him because he’s their chief. And it dosen’t even come off as them following him as chief because their stupid, mainly just because of tradition and knowing they can’t escape him and he’d just find htem and find some way to cowtow them. The tribe here are innocent victimes forced into a life they don’t want by an asshole who became a colonizer instead of a hero and leader to his people and simply wants to sell them out as soon as possible to fiance a fancy and comfy life for himself.  The bad guy here is recycled from Rosa’s pre scrooge work, and works well here and honestly.. is a good villian and a good antagonist, something Rosa struggled with sometimes when not just using what barks made. He’s a chillingly realistic villian: someone who would step on where he came from instead of helping it and again treats these people as simple victims forced to be minons by circumstance and as the end of the story shows, and we’ll get to that, not nearly as stupid or “savage” as this cruel bastard thinks. And naturally being a cruel bastard, Chief, since his name isn’t given, plans to ransom donald as he naturally has no hangups about selling people AND rare animals. Thankfully Donald’s only a prisoner for a bit as Donald’s ox makes a back door and with the help of their mounts the boys free all the trapped animals and escape.. with Senior Martinez accidently taking the Chief’s necklace. Turns out that’s the sigal that signals his right to rule, so he figures if the tribe finds out it’s missing they’ll rightfully dump his ass and tells them to give chase, which the cabs find out about via a wild parrot. It’s better not to ask. 

So our heroes head into the wilderness to loose them and find a rocky slope, making their way up to some more plains. They now have both a high vantage, and a place to set up camp so do so. They also found out Martinez took the necklace, and now know why the chief is after them, but Panchito decides to keep it for now till they can figure out what to do with it. SO over the camp fire Donald decides that if they can find this lost mine that the Cheif’s dad used to go to,  they won’t need to look for diamonds the hard way and Jose’s skepticism is rebuffed by the fact that Donald’s found plenty of lost cities with scrooge.  So donald brings up the legend of the crystal city, with the guy who found it being colonel percy fawceet, and brings up more adventures you get the bit by now. Point is he mentions a crystal arch lighting up at night to ward off intruders.. and sure enough our heroes happen to be right by it, complete with a crystal road that simply had been covered by shale over the years. Donald decides to get some rest and head out in the morning, with a valid explination as to why not to worry about hteir perusers till then: It’s so dark that even if they left a trail, they can’t follow.. which the evil cheif agrees to though he finds the trail they dug up, pointing as an arrow and now realizing his dad’s treasure was real, plans to naturally exploit the hell out of it.  So the next morning, bright and early, our heroes have built a raft, and are greatful they looked in first as the waters are stalked with dangerous predatory creatures. How htey haven’t all killed each other, I do not no, but it looks cool so i’ll shut up now. So our heroes leave their mounts behind and head in up the stream via the raft and find the massvie and awe inspiring lost city.. as for why it hasnt’ been found they soon figure out why: THe stream in is dangerous, and jose figures it was delebratly packed with dangerous animals, and thus few would think to go in there, and the only ohter way up is scaling the cliffs it’s build into, but as the cities built into the sides of said cliffs, no one can see it from a distance. It’s a birlliant way to justify just WHY something remained lost and somthing barks is tremendous at. Our heroes soon find though that the canal go deeper and approaches a water fall.. and thus jump off loosing their only way back and thus heading in deeper to see if they can find another way out. Meanwhile the Cheif has found the swamp and recongizes his dad mentoning it and being a greedy jackass, and suddenly realizing that maybe his people won’t want to loot the city their swarn to protect, tells them to guard the Cabs mounts while he goes on ahead. 

Our heroes journey deeper into the unknown and after coming across pick axes mine carts and the like find the mines of fear.. lit with crystals and with wall to wall gems. So they’ve sucessful founds the lost minds of ophir, set up by one of king solomon’s realtiives. The actual King Solomons Mines had been found in a barks story, naturally and is also likely the basis for the african mines level in the ducktales game. 

Donald being donald.. ends up sitting on a giant anaconda who swallows him whole as he dosen’t realize just how big the thing is when his pals mention it to him, and only escapes through Dumb Luck, as is the duck family way, lighting a match and causing the Anadonda to spit him out and run... unfortunately not only does Panchtio loudley announce he dosen’t have his pistols, The Chief shows up with a gun. Naturally he intends to plunder, because jackass you see, and intends to leave the cabs stranded, with the anaconda picking them off one by one when they inevitibly have to sleep while he’ll come back with inflatable rafts and boats to loot the rest. The cabs bemoan the fact that their fucked.. and then this happens. 

So with that Donald FINALLY snaps, tired of taking the world’s shit and determined not to be the looser everyone around him but his boys clearly think he is. Seriously Donald.. dump. her. ass. It’d also tell you to dump gladstone in a shallow ditch but given your love for hacking through human flesh and his luck I don’t want you to impale yourself. So thus.. Donald stops getting polite and starts getting badass.. shouting THAT’S THE LAST STRAW BEFORE.. .. welll...

Bad. Ass. Also who knew Donald was part Kree? Wait .. how though? Questions for later. So as Donald gives the asshole his RICHELY deserved asshole a beat down, the anaconda pops up and grabs the boat.. with Donald STILL fighting the Chief the whole time. Holy shit. If this is your last time writing a character in a lead role what a note to go out on holy jesus. The cabs however show their CLOSE to as badass with Panchito roping the anconda and Jose attacking it once it curls around.. and unlike last time where his umbrella was quickly disarmed, here the Anaconda eats the tip.. only for Jose to expand it and on Panchito’s command, hook the damn thing. I didn’t relaize till writing this up just HOW badass this story’s climax is.. just holy shit this is awesome incarnate. 

Donald ends up loosing the fight eventually as asshole whomps him on the head with the gems.. and sends donald flying, destroying the gate regulating the water thanks to freeing the anaconda. As a result asshole escapes.. for about five seconds till he drops over the falls, presumibly to his MUCH deserved death and even if he surivives, likely wont’ for long without anything to defend himself. Goodbye asshole, you were a good villian but you’ll be better tarantula chow. 

Our heroes are still stranded.. but Panchito notices the Anadconda escaping and well... he decides to equal donald in badassery. Again..words do not do this justice. 

Our heroes disembark, and find that the tribe has been held at bay by the noble steeds, and as I mentioned earlier, and why despite the frequent use of .. that word i’ve said enough already, this story isn’t too bad. The tribe, once free.. are perfectly intellegent and nice, only in the game because of tradition that asshole abused. Their going to head deeper into the valley on the offchance asshole makes it back so he can’t find them. So the tribe is free and seeing the emblem as the symbol of their opressor and not wanting it, they can likely make a new necklace honestly just without the gems, Panchito gets to keep it. So our heroes won, the adventure is over and our heroes head back to rio

In our final scene we get our wrap up with our heroes back in Rio to enjoy what’s left of their vacation.. which given the scope of events only two days of it have passed so far, so it’s nicely implied they have a day or two before Donald has to go back where he can just.. enjoy himself. Have an actual vacation now his soul is whole again. Our heroes went to the authorities, and it turns out the Chief was one of the most infamous trappers in Brazil, and is now again either dead or in no way shape or form easily able to come back into the country.. and when he does, he’ll now have every officer in the country on his ass.So in short he’s pretty fucked and i’m pretty happy about that.  Naturally our heroes dont’ get to keep the mines, because well... it belongs ina museum.. or to become a museum and cultural landmark and the boys know and respect that. But Jose and Panchito both still got something out of the deal: for starters they have their confidence back, as seeing tthey could keep up with donald after realizing what a legend their friend is restored their own weary souls. Meanwhile, Jose’s newfound fame as the man who found a new brazilian cultural touchstone means his agent was able to get him booked up for a year, while Panchito , after consulting with the good senior martenez, decided ot keep the broach, and use it to get their ranch. And Donald? What did he find?

Donald found his smile again. He’s found himself again. After letting life beat him to near death, to just a souless shell. he’s found the real Donald. He’s realized that despite Scrooge’s finaical abuses he lives a rich full life. It’s part of why I compared the story to city slickers. While Donald’s life is far worse off than Billys, like him he finds himself again after the rousing adventure. And who knows what his future holds? Given Scrooge’s grave picture, yes Rosa drew that, he probably does marry daisy and work for the old bat.. but maybe now he can fight back, refuse to let htem walk all over him and actually find a healthy relationship with daisy and with his uncle before his uncle finally retires to Goldie’s loving arms. I could be wrong, it could be same as it ever was just he gets angry again.. but I like to think of something better for our boy. A better life and one more fufilled and more happy and one where he finally finds his pot of gold. He may not of found it yet but well.. there’s always another rainbow and he realizes that now just as his uncle did years ago. Donald is finally whole again to find his hapniess and a better life. Maybe with daisy, maybe with scrooge, maybe without them. Probably without Gladstone because he needs to cut that tumor out of his life, but still, he’s found himself and sometimes that’s all you need to find your purpose. So with that warm thought in my head our heroes play us out one last time. Well not for the restrospective obviously but still. 

Final Thoughts; While I do prefer the previous story, on going through this again for the review, I did find this story utterly charming and a great way to send off our boys and Donald for Rosa’s work. While again that one word is very unfortunate and Rosa should’ve known better, otherwise the story is pretty imaculate, using history to build a thrilling story with tons of character and a tremendous arc for Donald. And as I said the villian is excellent and overally the story is pretty great. Maybe held back a bit by the racisim, but the rest of the story is so joyous, badass and well crafted, it’s easy enough to override the less savory aspects. Dosen’t mean they didn’t need to be noted it just means this story is magificent and as usual for Rosa’s work I recommend it. 

Next time on the Ride of the Three Cablleros: We go to Disney Juinor for Mickey’s Perfecto Day! ..... whelp at least it’s a short one. 

And if you’d like to comission your own review, their just five bucks, jsut direct message me, tell me what you’d like, and I will send you the link on my paypal and get to it asap. Thank you so much for reading and have a happy holiday.