#I ALREADY HAVE KAMALA OKAY LEAVE THE ALONE

[kittyhazelnut]

I just got an email from Funko about Funko news and buy them before they're gone or whatever and I was like IT MUST BE THE QUANTUMANIA POPS THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO NOTIFY ME ABOUT WHEN THEY'RE AVAILABLE ON THE OFFICIAL SITE!!! and then it was the fucking Ms. Marvel pops I've already seen a million times because I'm always on the goddamn website -_-

[thecursivej]

Live Reactions Harris vs. Trump pt. 1 of ??

Oh this is very, VERY, debate-y.

DAMN HE SCARED! Cowering while Kamala is like "Hiiii"

Did David Muir just say it was Kamala and Trump were elected 4 years ago? Weird

Ope, looks like Donny is already struggling to stay awake.

Definitely doing better than Biden did. It seems she's been practicing impromptu speaking (slay).

Okay... but are we better than we were four years ago? (I personally say yes, but the american people need to see you answering this question).

LMAO not trump giving the lil' nod at "he's gonna do what he's done before"

Already very respectful, very straightforward, great connection to the camera (and in turn the audience through the camera).

Donald...Tarrifs end up hurting people because they raise the....SALES TAX. Ayiyiyi.

Damn, already blaming immigration.

Trump brought up African American jobs and fucking Kamala looks like she wanted to cackle.

LOOK AT HER FLOOOOW (if you're a debate kid/coach, you know)

He's so upset, because he knows she's spitting the truth.

Welp, jan 6th very passively mentioned; mark your bingo cards.

Damn, great rebuttals from Harris. Trump isn't event really rebutting.

BIDEN MENTIONED. MARK YOUR BINGO CARDS.

Have...have you looked at her plans? Donny boy?

THANK YOU DAVID MUIR FOR PRESSING; HELL FUCKING YEAH.

...bruther you do not understand the economy. What the fuckeroni and cheese are you saying?

My ass is mirroring Kamala's expression before the camera even shows her.

Yeah, call his ass out Kamala. Call his ass out. But also pls answer the question; why we keeping them tarrifs?

Okay so, if you've got "someone doesn't answer the question" go ahead and mark that shit if you haven't.

I love Harris just being like "Bro what the fuckeroni and cheese is this?"

MARK HARRIS LAUGHS, GOOD FOR HER.

LMAO That Marxist reaction is AMAZING.

OPE, ABORTION, HERE WE GO BESTIES.

WHO THE FUCK IS ABORTING A CHILD AT NINE MONTHS!? That is murder, not abortion.

LMAO Tim being out of it?

WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY SAYING THIS SHIT!? Yeah, no, making up bullshit right now.

....Does Trump know what Roe even is?

Each state that's voted for abortion to be in their state's constitution HAS VOTED YES AND ENSHRINED IT. WE DIDN'T NEED TO OVERTURN ROE YOU DUMBASS.

THANK YOU FOR THE CLARIFICATION THAT YOU CANNOT AND NOWHERE IN THE U.S. IS IT LEGAL TO KILL A CHILD ONCE IT'S BEEN BORN HELLO!?

Great job with the response, Kamala. Truly, a wonderful response. ESPECIALLY calling on religious differences and faiths.

Girl her use of rhetorical questions is just so... so... GOOD. As a public speaking professor, this shit slaps.

PROJECT 2025 MENTIONED, MARK YOUR BINGO CARDS

I'm about to molly-whop Donny boy (spiritually in my heart pls leave me tf alone FBI)

Bruther your actions speak louder than their words.

IMPOSSIBLE!? HELLO!? Nah dawg, never tell me the odds.

Ope, student loans mentioned, mark your bingo cards.

HELL YEAH PUSH FOR THAT YES/NO!!!!

Annnnd no yes/no. Not worth it.

MMMMHMMM YOU TELL THAT ORANGE CHEETO PUFF THAT NO ONE IS ASKING FOR THEIR NINE MONTH OLD CHILD TO BE MERKED.

Kamala did answer the question; she would support reinstating all the protections from Roe v. Wade.... but as we see that isn't enough. There needs to be a clear outline of what to do.

NOPE YOU DON'T GET TO RESPOND CUT THE FUCKING MIC ABC

Welp I've got a bingo already, 26 minutes in...holy fuckeroni and cheese.

WW3 mentioned

Once again, no answer from 45.

Welp, here he goes continuing to peddle the false info about Haitian immigrants (who did legally immigrate here) eating people's pets; which the Mayor and PD have DEBUNKED. Fucking wild

I love that Kamala looks so fucking concerned for his brain.

LMAO LOVE DAVID MUIR CLAPPING BACK AT TRUMP

PFFFTTTT "I heard it from people on TV" BITCH WHAT!?

I love Harris just giggling at the absurdity.

I feel like the only noise in Donny's head right now is the AOL startup noises.

God... I'm so fucking done with his bullshit and we're only 34 minutes in.

What's hysterical is the Biden admin KEPT Trump's immigration policies... bruther. The fuck?

Here he goes again about migrant-crime

SLAY TO DAVID MUIR CORRECTING SHIT AGAIN

Can we just cut his fucking mic already?

CONVICT MENTIONED MARK YOUR BINGO CARDS!

I am fucking cackling.

Mmmm good use of rhetoric, Kamala. Good job.

Kamala looks so done with this bullshit. If I was up there debating, I'd have written down "what the fuck is this fucker saying?"

Democracy mentioned

CUT OFF HIS MICCCCCC

Slay to Lindsey asking the hard questions.

Mmmm, good job focusing in on fracking since she's in Pennsylvania....BUT ALSO FUCK FRACKING....But also yeah we do need various forms of energy...BUT NOT AT THE CONSEQUENCE OF THE PLANET PLEASE.

"I was given a small loan of a million dollars" dawg... that's not small....

Oh fuck off Trump, you get to talk while she talks? But when she does? You're so angry? Fuck off.

CUT THE MIC FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST JESUS

Jesus christ he goes over time just fucking cut off the damn mic.

He definitely isn't gonna answer about Jan 6. He's just gonna deny deny deny. "I think IT'S gonna be big" BITCH!?

I'm so sick of this shit already.

MMM GOOD ON KAMALA CALLING OUT THE BLOODBATH COMMENTS. HOLD HIM TO IT GIRL.

Legit fuck off Donny. You're not fooling anyone.

....Named two fox news hosts....not very reliable motherfucker.

He knows he's losing when he says "let's leave this debate right now"

BRUTHER HE ISN'T PRESIDENT.

Mark "random personal attack" for biden.

CUT HIS MIC, DAVID, DAMN.

DAMN STRAIGHT YOU LOST FUCKO.

"Fired by 81 million people" GIRL ATE. AND READ. BECAUSE READING IS FUNDEMENTALLY.

Y'all I am maniacally cackling at the way he's getting roasted as hell.

VICTOR ORBEL?! WE GONNA FOCUS ON THAT FACIST HURTING HIS OWN COUNTRY!?

Jesus just cut the mics. Lord almighty.

Oh here we go; Israel and Hamas... this should be interesting (for anyone worried; I am Pro Palestine through and through; fuck Benjamin Netanyahu)

So Kamala's main phrase is "Let's look at how we got here"

We have to be freedom for Palestine; but if we don't cut off Bibi? Then they will destroy all of Palestine so we won't get a two state solution, Kamala. For fuck's sake, they (IDF) killed an American protesting in Israel.

Why...are we talking about Ukraine right now? Hello?

This would absolutely have happened under Trump and with his anti-semitism? It probably would've been worse.

Weird fucking compliment to ABC from Donny, that ain't gonna help tho.

Ayiyiyi.

WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT UKRAINE?!

Already, that's it for this part, go get a snack and water, I need to scream into the void. BRB

[hislittleraincloud]

Surprised Jenna - like many other Latino/Latina people with influence have already - hasn’t come out to endorsement Kamala after Tr*mp and his supporters made that Puerto Rico garbage comment

HEY.

SHE'S 22 YEARS OLD. AND SHE DOESN'T HAVE TO DO SHIT. YOU CARE MORE THAT SHE DOESN'T FIT YOUR PERCEPTION OF A YOUNG WOMAN WITH A POSSIBLE INFLUENCE ON HER FANS WHO DOESN'T "USE" THAT POWER. LEAVE THE GIRL ALONE AND STOP INSULTING HER INTELLIGENCE, INTEGRITY, AND TAKE ON THE WORLD. YES, SHE IS A CELEBRITY BUT SHE DOESN'T OWE ANYTHING TO ANYONE.

🤭

Yes, m'dear.

I expressed the same sentiment of yours that earned me the ire of the shitbird anon I just quoted verbatim a few days ago.

I hope that everyone remembers how silent Ortega is being on this, especially when she's made a big shit about "wanting to be the Puerto Rican Dakota Fanning" (even mentioning this in newer interviews, still), whining about not having/seeing representation, etc. My critics here hate seeing me crit her up, but she's the one who puts herself and some of her views sparingly out there; but this Puerto Rico thing is just as big as the insults that happened in 2017 after Hurricane Maria (the paper towels, the lack of response from that POS orange fuckface). That ugly ass diaper wearing motherfucking imbecilic rapist from Hell wanted to trade it for Greenland. Our baby girl here was only 15 then, but she is now old enough to fucking put her platform where her mouth is (yeah, as the days have gone by, my anger about it has only risen, especially since we're even closer to Tuesday).

I'm not Puerto Rican, but I am Mexican and Spanish on my father's side. I'm a full on burrito with extra rice (my mother is Southeast Asian)

If I were famous and had a platform like she does, I'd have been begging my fans to vote blue since Day 1, because 1) we know Trump hates us brown people to begin with and has been saying horrific things since the 2016 campaign and 2) Project 2025 is terrifying and facets of it are already cutting into our lives and making a huge mess of it for women, trans people, and people of color. I mean for fuck's sake, Tennessee (our Jairo's home state 💕���) ratified a law earlier this year that brings back Jim Crow era-like anti-miscegenation discrimination regarding marriage (it was targeted towards 🏳️‍🌈 marriages, but if an officiant objects to solemnizing the marriage of a mixed race couple, they're legally allowed to do that per the law...even Jon and Cairo [if they were real] wouldn't be able to marry if the officiant objected to Jon marrying an obviously not white Cairo). It's exactly what the Heritage Foundation wanted, and it's only going to get worse if the orange fuckface is let back in.

As usual I digress, but this shit is serious.

Anyway, all of the most famous contemporary Puerto Ricans have spoken up about the floating island of garbage and the whole "Latinos love making babies"/have no pullout game (which yanno, Ortega should really be on top of too, it was a DOUBLE insult to her and her family), but she's ✨busy✨. Too busy to stand up for her mother's peoples, but not too busy to make TikToks with Thing. Fuck that, and y'all should keep it in mind the next time she does say shit about politics.

But here's a celebrity who has (another Puerto Rican who has a massive, massive number of 🏳️‍🌈 wlw fans, even though she too is into guys and married), and I love her for it:

"Oh, but Tor, that wasn't an endorsement!" — Okay babies, 4 years ago vs. now

Bonus "Like" from Johnna Dias-Watson that Imma take for soft endorsement, so even freaking Divina has a tiny voice here...and she's queer. 💕 🏳️‍🌈💖✨

Once more, if Ortega finally does come out for Kamala, I will issue corrections and apologies, but it's almost too fucking late — the election is only five fucking days away — and it'll likely be too little. There are already a good handful of kids her age who think that it's okay to either vote 3rd party* or sit it out, spouting rhetoric that is well-observed and intended but impractical.

*Psst: No, it's not okay to vote 3rd party in our solidly 2 party system in our general election. The last two times a crapload of people voted 3rd party, it gave us Bush & the Iraq War and Trump & his maelstrom of domestic destruction. Republicans adore 3rd party candidates for the general election because they fucking know the kind of people who will choose them are mostly sanctimonious, ignorant and/or unhinged leftists whose votes would otherwise be unfavorable to them. Cut the shit and get serious if you're one of those 'but Republicans and Democrats are the same!' crap à la Chappell Roan (the elder Gen Z whose attitude about our politics is influencing other Zs). They are not the fucking same. Just looking at the SCOTUS picks should tell you that it's fucking laughable every time someone says this. Democrats are also not the ones who are passing misogynistic anti-abortion and phobic anti-🏳️‍🌈 and anti-🏳️‍⚧️ laws that affect everyone at their state level. Do your due diligence AND your civic duty towards your fellows and pick the one who isn't intent on destroying anyone who isn't a white (male) Christian nationalist.

[firstelevens]

38 sambucky? 💕

38. until you come back home

(part two to this ficlet)

Bucky has already manfully teared up a few times by the time the dragon makes its appearance and makes him go all misty-eyed again. There’s gasps all around the party as what must be hundreds of thousands of red and gold lights blink on, sporadically at first and then in a cascade, and suddenly, above them all is the outline of claws and fangs and enormous wings spread against the night sky.

He turns to look at AJ, who looks incredibly pleased with himself. “I- how did you pull this off?”

“I told Shuri we had the fireworks covered, but we needed a dragon,” AJ says. “She got it done in three days, and Cass and Uncle Sam and Joaquín spent all afternoon putting the frame up. Do you like it?”

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” says Bucky, pulling him into a one-armed hug.

AJ hugs back without hesitation, his easy affection unmarred even at thirteen. “Happy eleventy-first birthday, Uncle Bucky.”

“Thanks, kid,” Bucky says, giving his shoulder a squeeze before letting him go. He nods over at the cake–two-tiered, decorated with flowers, just like in the movie–and the cluster of kids standing near it. “Now go get some more cake before Yusef tries to cut into it himself and takes the whole thing down.”

As AJ hurries away to prevent disaster, Bucky scans the crowd for Sam. He’d been in the center of a gaggle of people a few minutes ago, animatedly telling the story of the time that Bucky had fallen overboard from a still-docked Paul and Darlene and taken Sam with him. His audience has since dispersed, and Sam stands on the fringes of the party, in conversation with Joaquín.

There’s tension in his shoulders, his arms crossed as Torres speaks. Bucky is too far to hear their conversation over the noise of the party, but Sam’s terse nod and Joaquín’s quick, conversation-skirting retreat feel familiar enough.

When Bucky makes it over to him, Sam is looking up at the dragon, a small frown on his face.

“Under no circumstances are you taking this thing down and redoing it,” Bucky says, just to make him smile. “We learned that lesson two Christmases ago.”

Sam laughs, letting Bucky pull him close. “I don’t know what you’re talking about; I still think my plan would’ve worked.”

He snorts and presses a kiss to Sam’s temple. “Sure it would, sweetheart.” 

His hand rests on Sam’s side, just over a not-quite-faded scar from the last time they were in the field together. Sam is leaning against him now, the signature Captain America posture traded for the silent seeking of comfort. 

After a few quiet moments, Sam pulls back a little to look at him. “Buck,” he starts to say, “I have to-”

“I know,” says Bucky, and watches a furrow form between Sam’s eyebrows. He smiles and shrugs a little at the unasked question. “I saw you talking to Joaquín. Can’t believe it’s my eleventy-first birthday and you’re the one who gets to mysteriously disappear halfway through the party.”

Sam’s answering smile is wry. “I wouldn’t if I had any other choice, but they need people in the air and-”

“-and Carol’s off-world with Monica, and you can’t let Kamala go in alone,” finishes Bucky. “I know. It’s okay.”

Sam worries his lower lip for a moment. “We’ll do a birthday dinner when I get back,” he finally says. "Leave up that dragon so you can live your hobbit dreams.”

Bucky decides not to point out that Sarah would probably be less than thrilled by a giant wire dragon hanging over her backyard for an undetermined length of time. “Sounds good, sweetheart,” he says instead, and is rewarded for it when Sam kisses him.

“Love you,” he says, forehead pressed against Bucky’s. “Save me a piece of cake?”

“No promises,” Bucky says, grinning. “Go be Captain America.”

Sam gives Bucky’s hand a squeeze before pulling away and slipping out past where the dragon throws its light. It’s dark enough by the house that no one else sees him go, but Bucky’s eyes stay on him until he disappears around the corner.

—

It’s just past two in the morning when Sam creeps back into the house, gently setting the shield and wingpack down by the sofa. It’s quiet and still, every light off except the one above the stove. 

He pulls open the fridge to get a bottle of water–there’s something extra dehydrating about fighting mutant eagles at a high altitude for three hours straight–but gets sidetracked by the enormous wedge of cake on the middle shelf, toothpicks stuck into it to keep the plastic wrap from smearing the frosting.

It’s the trick that his mother would use when she brought sheet cakes to church picnics, and the toothpicks are driven in just unevenly enough that Sam knows it was Bucky’s work. He leaves the cake where it is and grabs his water, chugging half the bottle as he makes his way to the bedroom.

By all appearances, Bucky is asleep when Sam slips into bed, but as Sam throws an arm over him, he speaks. “If you eat that cake without me, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

There’s a growl in his voice that should make it intimidating, but it’s hard to find him threatening when he’s leaning into Sam’s warmth and snuggling closer to his chest.

“Okay, baby,” says Sam, trying not to laugh. “Thanks for waiting up for me.”

“Thanks for coming home,” Bucky says, before pressing his face back into the pillow.

“Always,” murmurs Sam, and pulls Bucky just a little bit closer before doing the same.

[shreddedparchment]

Perennial Pt.11

03/29/2022

Tell It to My Heart

Pairing: Bucky x Reader          Word Count: 2,972

Warnings: language, angst, breakups, jealousy, pining, fluff, heartbreak

Featured Flower: Gladiolus, Lavender, Jasmine

A/N: Oh, Bucky...you dumbass. I hope y’all enjoy this one! xoxo

Please DON’T copy, translate, or repost my fics on any other sites or blogs!

Don’t be an asshole, please.

How many times have you glanced at your phone today?

"He hasn't called?" Kamala’s gentle prodding comes from concern for one of her idols.

"No," you sigh. "He texted me last night."

Kamala leans against the counter, her apron smothered in soil at the center where she clearly was wiping her hands after moving your orchids into a new pot.

"What did he say?" She wonders.

You swipe your phone on and it immediately pulls up to your texts with Bucky.

Bucky: I'm okay. I'll call you later.

A message he'd sent only after you'd spammed him with concern and worry.

"Nothing to make me worry less."

"Maybe he just needs some space from everyone? Breakups are hard, aren't they?" Kamala asks, and you realize that she probably hasn't had a boyfriend yet.

"Yeah, they can be very difficult. Especially if you really liked the other person. And Bucky really liked Kali." You bite your lip, locking your phone as you consider that he probably loved her.

"Shouldn't you go see him?" Kamala asks, moving to the door. She props it open and starts to pull in the buckets of flowers as the sky outside burns an orange and pink.

"He said he wanted space," you tell her, speaking a little more loudly when she's outside but bring your voice back down when she's walking by. "I don't want to overstep."

"You're his friend," Kamala shrugs then disappears into the back. Her voice floats back out, "And didn't he spend like decades alone with only Hydra? Maybe he doesn't know how to ask or accept help?"

She's got you chewing your lip, tapping your phone as you stare at his last message.

She stops by the counter again, leaning against it as she glances at your phone.

"You know, I am fully capable of closing. I have my key now and I don't think we're gonna get any more customers."

She watches you shift on your feet, fretting about the choice that you've already made but are too afraid to give yourself the permission to push against this line that Bucky has drawn.

Kamala reaches over and locks your phone, picks it up, and holds it out for you.

"Go."

Something about the way she says it gives you enough of a push and you move around the counter as you pull off your own apron and leave it on the counter.

"Thanks, Kamala! I owe you." You tell her, squeezing her arm as you move for the door, keys and wallet already on you.

You hesitate by the door, staring across the street as you consider bringing what you'd been working on all day for him.

It had been two weeks since bowling night and another week after that since Bucky let you see him. You just wanted him to know that you're there for him.

You hurry to the refrigerator and pull out a modest vase filled with deep purple gladiolus, lavender, and small jasmine spread throughout the green of the bouquet.

Each flower is a wish for the best and maybe he can take some strength from them.

You know that it isn't much. Flowers are hardly a cure for heartbreak. You work with them every day and your own heart is still chipped away at every day.

Even now, walking down the sidewalk to the end of the street where cabs are easier to hail, you think about how this sudden turn with Bucky and Kali has not made you happy.

How can you find any happiness in Bucky’s misfortune? You can't. You don't.

You should be happy he's single again. You should rejoice in the fact that now you might have a chance.

But in your heart is the phone call that broke you.

Bucky’s thick voice, the slight tremble, and tears you could hear but not see.

"We broke up," he'd said, his breath hitching. "I think she's been thinking about it for a while."

And then you were crying too. You don't know why it hit you so hard to hear him so destroyed but it did.

"I'm coming over," you'd gasped through your tears.

And just like that he shut the door. He told you not to come to him. He told you he didn't want to see anyone and with a firm goodbye, he hung up leaving you in a state of worried despair.

With the bouquet in hand, every step you take towards Bucky’s apartment gets heavier and heavier until about a block away you stop and can't move another step.

What if he gets angry with you for coming to see him? What if he tells you to take your flowers and shove them and slams the door in your face?

Instinct takes over and because you've been without your best friend for several weeks, you've come to rely on your newest companion.

He answers your call after two rings.

"Hey, didn't expect to hear from you today. I thought you were staying at work late?" Steve's voice is as familiar to you now as Bucky’s had been before he disappeared.

"I'm…I decided to close early." You wait a moment, catching your breath before admitting your weakness. "And I'm standing just outside of Bucky’s building."

"Did he ask you to go over?" Steve wonders, a small hint of what you think is excitement in his voice.

"No. He finally answered my texts though." You move to lean against the nearest wall, balancing the bouquet of special flowers you'd made under one arm gently so as not to crush them.

"What did he say?"

"He said he's okay and that he'd call me later." You shrug even though Steve can't see you. "I mean, am I being like, selfish? For wanting to see him?"

"I don't-" Steve begins but you cut him off because now that you're talking about this openly, it's hard to stop.

"This isn't because of how I feel about him…I mean it kind of is but it's also just…the way he sounded that night he and Kali broke up. Steve, I've never heard him sound like that and I haven't been able to get it out of my head.

"Is that selfish of me? Am I being inconsiderate or-?"

This time Steve ends your rambling with a firm call of your name.

"Look, I know you're worried. I think that's exactly what he needs. I won't be back until tomorrow so having you there would ease my mind.

"Buck can be stubborn. Hydra brought out his sullied qualities but he's softer with you. Just knock and if he invites you in, go. If he asks you to go home, do that too. Give him whatever he needs even if you see he isn't doing so great and what he needs is for you to force your company on him."

You're not sure you can do that. At the end of the day, as pathetic as it is, a limited amount of time with Bucky is better than no time with Bucky.

"What if he gets mad at me?" You whisper, afraid to speak louder as emotion squeezes your throat.

"What’s the worst he can do? Send you away? We both know that Buck can't stay away from you anymore than you can keep away from him." Steve tells you, ridiculously.

As if Bucky could ever be as attached to you as you are of him.

Still, you guess he's right.

"I just don't want to make things harder for him," you confess.

"You won't. If anything, I'm sure it'll be good for him to have someone as a buffer between him and his thoughts."

"Yeah," you agree, distracted by the notion of Bucky kicking you to the curb.

"I'd offer to come with you, but I'm still in Alaska." Steve muses, his heart obviously with Bucky just as much as yours is.

"I know. I'm sorry. You said emergencies only but-"

"Buck's depression falls under that category. For both of us, right?" 

"Right." He knows you too well. Too quickly.

Just like Bucky. Are you really this easy to read?

"Wait, what part of Alaska are you in? Your voice sounds super clear."

"I can't disclose that information but Tony's fancy phones help with the service. Don't worry, your presence there can only be a good thing for Bucky. Trust me. Maybe he'll finally be smart enough to see just how much you really care about him."

Your body suddenly grows cold, nervous as your intrusive thoughts about what his breakup with Kali might mean for you come rushing in.

"I wasn't even thinking about that, Steve. It's the last thing on my mind. I just wanna see him out and about again." With a resigned sigh you let yourself succumb to your emotions and tears overflow onto your cheeks.

Quickly you wipe them as they come, making sure that no evidence of your crying will remain for Bucky to see.

“Seeing you can only be a good thing. Trust me. Tell him I send my best, okay?”

With a small sigh you nod even though you know he can’t see you. “Okay. Thanks, Steve.”

“See you soon. We’ll all go out for drinks or something.”

“I’d like that,” you smile.

“Bye.”

“Be safe.”

“Deal.”

The line goes dead and you give yourself a few minutes to gather your thoughts and nerves before you move right for the front door.

~~~~~~~~~~

It takes you too long to knock on his door.

You can hear the TV going on the other side. You’ve never been to Bucky’s place before and it’s unfamiliar territory.

Kali must have been here lots of times. He’s probably seeing her on every seat she ever sat in or…in his bed.

You shake the depressing thought away, willing yourself not to be jealous of something that’s obviously already over. Even if for Bucky the scar is still healing. 

Your first two knocks are too soft. Nothing changes inside.

Frustrated, your third set of knocks are too loud. Literal banging on the wooden door.

You chew on your lip, irritated with yourself but finally from the other side you hear movement. A shuffling? Like skin on floor? Thumps. Footsteps, you realize.

There’s a click and the door opens only there’s no one to greet you.

The crack is large enough that you can see inside and opposite the door is just a wall. You move in, looking up at the sconces as they light the narrow hallway and follow it down towards a decently sized living room.

The kitchen is small, about the same size of yours with a similar island but the materials are nicer. There’s a sterling silver coffee machine, fridge with a surprisingly large array of pamphlets, menus, and reminders held up with simple dot magnets. The microwave is white and built in. There’s a landline at one end of the island, a blender, toaster, and stove beside the sink.

You stop just at the end of the island and quickly take notice of the single dining chair against the island, not facing it, just beside it. There’s a single armchair facing the TV at an angle. There’s a side table pushed a little further into the room with a notepad and a lamp, a few surfaces like a small cabinet and a tv stand for his TV which is indeed going over the evening news.

Between the armchair and the side table, Bucky’s made himself a small nest. Two blankets at most and what looks like a throw pillow. It matches the one on the armchair.

Bucky sits down on the blankets, no shirt, black boxer briefs, and his sleek metal arm left out and exposed. You’ve never seen him with it completely out before. The night at your house, he’d worn a shirt so it was still just as visible as it always was when he removed his jacket in your shop.

He sits with his elbows propped up on his knees, staring at the TV with his dog tags dangling at the center of his chest.

Despite there being a bedroom that you passed on your way towards the living room, he seems completely at ease here instead.

“Hi,” you manage, slightly breathless because you haven’t seen him in weeks and he looks…he looks good and bad. The part of you hopelessly in love with him–because if your reaction to his heart breaking is any indication, you are most definitely in love with him–can’t help but notice how good he looks. He’s perfection.

Super soldier perfection.

The other part of you, the less selfish side of you notices the beard on his chin and face–which yes, also looks really freaking good but he always shaves–and the tired look in his eyes.

“Steve said you were coming,” Bucky tells you flatly.

He’s not looking at you. He’s staring at the TV, not seeing it.

“I was worried about you,” you admit, then look down at the bouquet in your hand. “I brought you some flowers. I know that it’s not much but I…I just thought they might cheer you up.”

He scoffs and your heart gives a shattering pulse.

“Or not…” you shrug, turning away from him to look at the floor.

Why do you feel so uncertain here? You came to make sure he was good and to offer some kind of comfort. Instead you feel like you’re here to be accepted or rejected and it’s making your heart ache.

You take a peek at him and see him staring at the arrangement, his eyes scan it then fly up towards your face and whatever he sees there softens his voice.

“They’re nice, kid. Thanks.”

Hopeful, you look up and meet his eyes, hoping that you’ll see some kind of opening to talk about his breakup.

Instead you remove your purse, drop it on the island beside you as you balance the vase of flowers you brought him before moving around him to place them carefully on the small cabinet at the other end of the living room.

It’s giving you mid-century vibes and the flowers look exquisite against the design.

“I-I wasn’t sure if you’d like them. I know it’s a pretty useless gift given the circumstances. What good will flowers do when so much has gone wrong, right? But I-” Ugh, here comes the ache again. Deep in your chest making you feel like someone’s got your heart in a vice and won’t stop squeezing. “I can’t really do much else.”

Turning you meet his eyes again and he’s watching you with a much softer expression. He looked almost angry when you came in. Surly and disapproving. Now the sadness in his eyes has overcome his entire face.

He’s dropped his guard.

“Buck, I-I’m so sorry,” you whisper, unable to speak any louder as you move over to sit beside him on the floor.

It’s hard and it hurts your leg but you don’t pay it any mind.

He shakes his head, pushing his lines down tight into a straight line as his eyes water and he turns back to the TV.

“I shoulda seen it coming.” He nods. “Truth is, I was never good enough for her. She needed someone a little less weighed down by things and I’ve got an entire past of mistakes to make up for. I have a job that takes me away from here for days, weeks, and even months at a time.

“She needed someone normal. And the kids thing…”

You desperately want to ask if he offered to match her energy. Would Bucky give up kids for Kali? Would he give up his desire for a family?

“...I’m glad I found out now instead of later on down the line when we were planning a wedding or somethin’. I was able to finally give her a reason to end things with me and she didn’t feel so guilty.”

“Did you love her, Bucky?” you wonder, hurting but also invested.

You want to know him, inside and out.

Bucky considers your question and after a very long, very tense moment, he shakes his head.

“I think that’s the closest I’ve gotten in a long time or maybe even ever, but something always felt off. I chose to ignore it because she’s everything I wanted in a girl. Sweet, smart, kind, and she didn’t put up with any bullshit. She was also beautiful. So…so beautiful.”

You try not to think it, but it slips through.

If she’s beautiful, what does that make you?

“What can I do, Bucky? How can I help?” you ask him, leaning over to place your hand on his bicep.

He smiles at you weakly, drained of all emotions and energy.

“I wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee and some breakfast,” he says, leaning over to nudge you with his shoulder.

You give him that all too familiar look of exasperation you give him when he’s being a complete idiot and look towards the window.

“It’s like seven o’clock, Bucky.”

“Oh,” he says, looking towards the window too. “I guess I should go to sleep then. I haven’t slept in like, three days.”

He breathes in deeply and exhales slowly as he shifts his blankets and abandons his pillow in favor of resting his head on your lap.

“Can you play with my hair?” he asks out of nowhere, eyes already shut. “It’ll put me to sleep so much faster.”

“Uh…” your heart is absolutely pounding. “...sure.”

You slip your hand into his dark locks, they’re surprisingly soft and you haven’t even made one pass through before you hear a soft gentle snoring as his mouth falls open and his body goes completely limp.

You stay anyway, playing with his hair wishing this moment would never end.

[jbreenr]

⚠ MS MARVEL 101 SPOILERS ⚠

Alright…

Yes, I didn't watch it today at 2am bc I fell asleep. I'm old, leave me alone.

Anyway, dID YOU SEE MOONKNIGHT IN THE M OF MARVEL IN THE OPENING?!???!? AAHSSÑSKLS.

Got excited. Sorry.

I love that they added Blinding Lights and not only for the trailer.

Kamala being a hard core fangirl is such a mood. Like, I can totally see myself doing that (I'm not good at drawing but ykwim).

Also, i know for a fact that my driving test would go the same way. I wouldn't make it to the next block without hitting something.

This dude called her “Camelia” and, he was there for half a second but I already hate him.

Now, Bruno is a bay and i love him. Something happens to him and I go riot. K?

Uuugh. I relate to Kamala in this. I know what is like to have strict parents and growing up like that. I feel ya, girl.

I. Just. Love. How the text messages and Kamala's plan shows with this changing art and neon lights on the streets. They're dope!!

Now, nOW!! Did you see the belt? She was about to add it when her parents entered her room. Añdkdkñd.

And talking about her parents, ngl, I did feel bad for them. Like, they were going to let her go with their conditions and i know it was a wrong way to express her thoughts but we get it.

And the fact that she said that she made her dad cry just gives me this unsettling feeling. Idk, I've mentioned this in the past. I hate the idea of grown ass men crying. It makes me wanna join them.

But well, her plan with the bus didn't go as planned, obviously. And even though I felt bad for her bike, it was a funny touch.

I'm gonna mention just a few of the references I catched from the AvengersCon:

The Star Spangled Man song, the girls from the Stark Expo, that card? with America's ass, the iconic “I can do this all day”.

And I'm sure there are more but I'll check them later.

Okay but, ✨ Zoe's costume ✨ The original (sort of) Ms Marvel costume.

I got scared for a moment with the giant Ant-Man's head started moving, then I was like “okay, they're cheering, it's all cool”, then it moved a vain and it fell and caused the giant Mjölnir to play a wrecking ball and drag Zoe with it and i was scared again.

Luckily (and obviously) Kamala saved her.

And i don't know why people complained about her powers and why they were changed. They look so f-ing cool. They look cOSMIC!

Did you see the art in those credits? The Kamala from the comics? I mean *chef kiss*.

And last but not least… *clears throat* WTF was that post-credit scene? Who are these people and why do they want to bring her in? Mind your own business, floks and leave my girl alone.

Or don't. I wanna see what happens next.

[justaniche]

Hey! I’m dying for more Daxton. I seriously can’t wait for season 2. Can you write something about Nalini realizing Paxton is good for Devi? Like he takes care of her/protects her and helps her deal with her trauma

Thanks!!

Hi!

omg let me say first, anon, thank you for this ask. youre the first person to take me up on my offer to write stuff for you so thank you again.

A little bit about this writing piece before I actually show it to you, there was a point when I was writing it when I wasn’t sure if it was going to reach 1K words but there was a point where the words just start to flow and I can proudly say it is 2.1K and that is not a lot but based on what I thought it was going to end up being it has come along way. and this is one of my first-ish never have I ever work of writing. I think it’s the first I’ve written entirely off the top of my head. My other ones are either not posted or it’s my work inspired by the episodes and its just everything through Paxton‘s point of view so it’s a bit different.

this is getting sort of long so anyway, without further ado. here it is. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think and if you like it please feel free to send me another!

Nalini had just about had it. The day’s raging dumpster fire began with traffic that resulted in her being late to work. If that wasn’t bad enough, a patient she saw a couple days ago came back complaining that her treatment caused a breakout. After a follow-up, she discovered the patient hadn’t changed any of their habits despite her advice! So was it really the treatment, or the fact that they don’t wash their face? All that suffices to say when Nalini got home she was already on a very short fuse. Kamala was out for school and let her family know she wouldn’t be home for dinner so it was known by both Devi and Nalini that they would be cooking without her today. Nalini gave Devi specific instructions so that, regardless of how late her day ran, they could have dinner at a reasonable time. Devi did not follow those instructions. Nalini came home to the door unlocked, closed but unlocked, the house a mess, and Devi’s part of dinner not made. No matter how many breaths she took, Nalini was mad. No, mad didn’t quite cover it. She silently walked up the stairs, hell-bent on seeing what caused this disaster, and if she didn’t like the reason she planned to riff for the rest of the night. But approaching Devi’s door she found it ajar. She peeked inside, and that's where she found them.

After winning his swim meet, Paxton was on top of the world. The school day had been what it tended to be, light. Filled with class and hanging with his friends in the hotpocket. But that was hours ago. It was early evening when he saw her, Devi Vishwakumar, they had sort of become friends over recent weeks but given the up and down nature of their relationship, Paxton was always very aware of her. Devi had a way of grabbing Paxton’s attention. He was always trying to figure her out. Of course she made a hell of a first impression, first couple of impressions actually. Devi was sorely different from anyone else in his circle and Paxton wasn’t yet sure how he felt about the sudden invasion. He pretended he didn’t but after unintentionally watching her Paxton began to notice Devi’s change in mood sometimes. Like right now, from where Paxton was he saw the set of her shoulders. The tension was apparent as Devi stalked across the school grounds. Confusion flooded Paxton’s mind and before another thought could register, he was jogging towards her.

“ Hey, Vishwakumar, wait up! ” He called towards her but she didn’t stop

Devi cast a look over her shoulder, her voice was muffled when she spoke, “Uh, Hi Paxton, I can’t talk.” her voice cracks, “I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Paxton slows down for a second as he takes in the situation, Devi speeds up.

“Are you okay?”

Devi breaks into a dead sprint and Paxton doesn’t think, he just follows.

Devi was doing okay. Today was harder than most for a reason she couldn’t name but Devi was making it through. That was until last period art class. The teacher gave a simple assignment, and that was to paint your happiest memory. Immediately when the words left his mouth, a memory came flooding into Devi's mind like a tidal wave.

Devi was 8 when her father convinced her mother that going to a Californian beach as a family would be an adventure. Devi barely remembers the build-up, it was a haze of packing sandwiches and equipment. Leaving the house, only to discover something had been forgotten. A car ride that seemed to stretch into forever. But the beach was magnificent. At least it was in Devi’s memory. It was a gloomy day, the threat of rain looming, so the beach’s visitors were far and few in between. Devi remembers that feeling of warm sand under her feet. She remembers those first fragile steps into the tide, only to rush back as the ocean crashed forward chasing her back to shore. She could see her mom, in the distance, setting up their makeshift camp for the day. She was more content watching her family than participating. The ocean was vast and blue and terrifying. Devi could not urge herself to take more than a few steps. Devi doesn’t know how her dad saw her distress but it was like he could read her mind. He grabbed her and lifted her high then settled Devi on his shoulders. He insisted that she was safe there, she was too high for the ocean to ever reach. He held her hand as he walked slowly but confidently further into the waves. He stopped just as the water kissed her mid-calf but it was enough. From way up here, with her father by her side, the ocean wasn’t anything to fear, it was something to marvel at.

Devi had a firm picture in her mind of her happiest memory and it was her family’s adventure at the beach. But Devi couldn’t make a move to make this image a reality. Sadness crept up on her and got a vice grip on her heart. Her vision blurred and she couldn’t breathe. How had she ever breathed before? Was it always this hard? The bell rang, signaling the end of the day but Devi was on autopilot. Eleanor and Fabiola felt miles away, whenever they’d focus in the daze of her mind, the grip on her heart tightened and dragged her back to darkness. Devi doesn’t know if she said goodbye to her best friends,

She blinked, band began

She inhaled, band was over

She stood, the sun was setting

She gazed, the stress stiffened her movements as she walked around campus. Where was she headed?

Devi was desperate for light, for clarity.

“ Hey, Vishwakumar, wait up! ” The sudden noise broke the muddle, if only for now, she was again aware of the devastation and loss weighing on her mind and on her heart.

She recognized that voice and it was getting closer, she glanced over her shoulder. Paxton, no no no, she didn’t want anyone to see this least of all her newest and most popular friend, “Uh, Hi Paxton, I can’t talk.” Why was her voice cracking? “I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Devi finally knew where she wanted to go as she increased her speed.

“Are you okay?” Paxton’s question was the final straw, she couldn’t stop her tears and they fell uncontrollably past her cheeks. Paxton was going to catch up, and Devi was crumbling by the second. So Devi did the only thing she could. She ran, ignoring the echo of the beating steps behind her.

Nalini could hardly comprehend the scene playing in front of her. Devi, her only child, her entire world, looked so small folded up on the floor in front of her bed. Devi was always so strong, with a personality larger than life. She always seemed bigger than her stature, always taking up more space. Nalini's anger from the day deflates, leaving no trace it was ever there to begin with. Nalini tears her eyes away from the form of her daughter to take in the room. It was dark but the other figure inhabiting the room was clear as day. Paxton sat before Devi, his body language soft. He had one hand on the arms Devi wrapped around herself as he spoke to her gently. Paxton’s volume was soft as a whisper, any louder would shatter the delicate atmosphere. Witnessing this scene felt like a secret and the longer Nalini stood there the guiltier she felt. Devi never expressed emotions this deeply to her. Everyday problems with her friends or tests or Ben Gross, yes. But Devi never shared this.

Nalini's mind was going a million miles an hour as he crept back down the steps and began cooking dinner. She knew Devi would refuse but she needed to have something ready, just in case. When everything was mostly done, she was quiet as she moved around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the meal. Nalini knew he was trying to walk silently but she still caught Paxton as he descended the steps. Nalini kept her back to him as she called, giving Paxton an out if he needed.

“Paxton?”

“Um...yes, Hi Mrs. Vishwakumar” at the acknowledgment, Nalini felt comfortable enough to turn around.

Paxton was standing in the doorway, shuffling in obvious discomfort. What he expected her to say she didn’t know. Gods, neither did Nalini. Questions flew through her mind faster than she could catch them. She didn’t want to ask him about what happened, Nalini wanted Devi to share when, if, she was ready. Nalini realized, amongst these questions, that she didn’t know Paxton. Here was this kid, late in the evening comforting her daughter. She couldn’t even be upset that they were home alone when she recalled how broken Devi looked. All Nalini had done thus far was judge Paxton, he looked like a jock so she thought him dumb. She made these assumptions about him, that he’d peak in high school or that he was shallow or that he was a walking STI, but they were just that. Assumptions. This kid stayed with her daughter for she didn’t even know how long, she’d been cooking for close to an hour so it was at least that.

All these guesses and judgments were useless when she stood in front of him. Paxton had a rigid set to his limbs, Nalini thought it was probably from sitting in one position for so long, and he was still dressed in gym clothes. Paxton looked new in Nalini’s eyes and she regretted never wanting to know him before now. Nalini didn’t know where to begin, she wondered if he’d eaten.

“Would you like something to eat?” Nalini's silent prayer must’ve been heard because he accepted. She was being given another chance. She quickly worked around the familiar space, grabbing one of the good containers and piling more food than necessary, successfully straining the unyielding plastic. She was handing the meal over when she paused, they both had a hand on the object between them but Nalini couldn’t let go, not yet.

“Thank you, Paxton, really, I don’t know what happened and I won’t ask but I saw what you did for Devi.” Paxton had the decency to look a little shocked. He hadn’t heard anything. Paxton was too absorbed before. His mind was a broken record repeating only, Devi.

The moment shatters when the front door opened, “I’m home!” Kamala’s voice fills the silent home. With the trance broken, Nalini’s hold on the container falters and she drops her hand allowing Paxton to leave. Words were failing him so all Paxton could give was a tightlipped smile in response.

“Thanks for the dinner.” Paxton’s smile was looser now and that gave Nalini courage.

Kamala was unloaded the day around her but Nalini was focused on making this right, “You’re welcome to come by Paxton, anytime.” She could only hope Paxton knew just how much she meant those words. His smile was burdened but bright, he nodded strongly and then he was out the door.

Kamala was fixing the table for a very late dinner when she called for Devi to join, Nalini hoped she would. “Who was that? And why was he here so late?” Pure curiosity laced Kamala’s voice.

“Paxton is one of Devi’s friends. He’s a good kid.”

Those details were all she could provide before Devi came bouncing down the steps. Nalini couldn’t be sure if it was the fact of what she saw or reality but Devi’s movements looked heavier than they normally were.

“What’s up guys?” Devi’s voice feigned casualness, “Dang mom, isn’t it late for a thousand-course meal?” She questioned as she took in the lack of clear surfaces on the dinner table.

Nalini just brushed it off, indicating for everyone to take a seat. “So how was everyone’s day?”

Nalini wasn’t looking for Devi to share but this was her family. She would always want to hear how they were, plus it was tradition. As they consumed insane amounts of food they were bound to regret eating this late at night, everything felt so normal and easy. But something had shifted in Nalini today and even though it was new and she was scared to death of this person entering Devi’s life with the propensity to hurt her. Nalini can’t say she minded too much because it was Paxton. He had proven himself worthy of a chance, and Nalini wouldn’t soon forget it.

[cant-think-of-anything]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Anti Anna Lightwood!

Tw for mentions of past toxic relationships, period typical homophobia and implied sex

Thanks for title idea @lifewouldbebetteronmars

Anna bowed her head to watch her champagne swirl slowly inside of its glass, mirroring the dance that had struck up in the center of the ballroom. Parties were a common occurrence between the members of the London Enclave meaning that she, an unignorable member in said enclave, was required to spend long nights in crowded ballrooms. Commonly, they stretched into mornings, waking up in unfamiliar sheets. 

Often it was the case that such outings were amusing opportunities to charm the young ladies who spun in their bright silks, but tonight Anna was in no mood to dance with a short-lived lover. Her attempts to keep her eyes on the dance or on her drink were in vain as they pulled to rest on Kamala again and again. It was an aggravating desire, one she could not rid herself of. Kamala was seated in the corner of the room, her hair left down in loose dark waves, covering the straps of their gown. Her head was tilted to the clock as if they were waiting, hand tapping impatiently against the table. Anna ripped her gaze away, cursing Kamala for making her feel such a way. 

The night swayed slowly along, only interrupted by the doors swinging open to admit Anna’s cousin, Eugenia Lightwood, into the midst of happy chaos. Her cousin provided little interest to Anna until she chose to seat herself besides Kamala. Anna straightened against the piller, uncomfortable heat spreading across her neck. She watched as the pair bent their heads close, conversing in playful light tones. A stab of something pierced her chest. It had been a long time since she had last felt it. Jealousy. 

She could recognize love when she saw it. She had never shown it to the girls she considered lucky to have gained her attention, but she could recognize it in its soft glances and thinly concealed adoration. But did Kamala deserve to have it? Did she deserve to have hurt Anna in such a way and cast those longing looks at another?

Anna’s glance flicked away then, soughting out Evangeline, a recent girl Anna had courted only to leave her soon after, dancing unhappily with her newly wed baronet. Then to Katherine, another discarded girl, watching her husband glumly as he rattled on about politics with his group of  men. Then to another girl, standing tense next to her husband. Her eyes roamed around the room picking faces she vaguely remembered before resting once more on Kamala.

“Happy, aren’t they?” 

The voice cut her from her dangerous line of thought. She ripped her eyes away once more to see Alastair Carstairs and her own brother standing beside her. Though to their credit, Chrsisotpher looked rather uninterested, wandering little ways away. Alastair kept his eyes on Anna, arching one of those eyebrows in a way that made Anna feel judged as she rarely did. Indignance pushed through, and she straightened up to level his stare.

“It hardly concerns me.” 

“It seems plenty of your concern, you’ve been gawking at them for an unsettling amount of time” 

“I don’t see how that matter involves you.” Anna responded, forcing easiness as she leaned back against the pillar, bringing her cigar to hover near her face. 

“That plume of smoke won’t hide you. You’ve been staring at her all night.”

Anna’s eyebrows flicked up. “I simply believe that entertaining the notion of them.” she gestured to the pair, “is a mistake. Given the way Kamala chooses to live.” 

“Surely you can’t be that foolish? Surely you see how your situations are different?” He responded, his voice cutting. When Anna only regarded him with apprehension he sighed long-sufferingly. “I suppose I should lower my expectations severely for you lot. I don’t feel as if you should be voicing your opinion of heartache and betrayal.”

“Heartache was not a topic of discussion Mr. Carstairs.” 

“You have no claim over them. They do not have to live in agony because you believe yourself to be superior to them.” 

Anna felt her jaw clench, her eyes snapped to Alastair but he was already walking away, Christopher rejoining him. With a single backwards glance at Kamala she strode to the large arches leading outside. A few whispers followed, she wasn’t known to leave a party alone. Sitting in the carriage with moonlight turning her hands to the color of steel she felt the oddest surge of doubt. It was all nonsense Kamala’s friend had spouted in vain to make her unsettled. 

Wasn’t it?

~~~

Eugenia watched Kamala’s face as Anna left the room, it was an odd mixture of satisfaction and peace. Gently she placed her hand on top of theirs. 

“Are you okay?”

Kamala’s face twisted into a soft smile, one that felt too gentle to be displayed in such a loud room. Eugenia stood up, carefully sorting out her skirts before pulling Kamala to their feet. 

“Would you accompany me to the garden Ms. Bridestock?”

“Oh I would be delighted to Ms. Lightwood,” she responded, bowing slightly.

They pushed through the doors, Eugenia catching a glimpse of the rest of their friends throwing them curious looks. They could explain later. Or whenever the time was right. Kamala tipped her head back to look at the stars who reflected themselves in their dark eyes. Eugenia watched them raise their hand towards the sky, hovering over the bright moon with her other hand clasping Eugenia’s.

They couldn’t fix the damage of the past, all the hidden tears and undeserved blame. But they had this. And it would be everything.

Tagging: @adoravel-fenomeno @saint-fool-darklingswhore @eugeniaslongsword @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd (lmk if you want to be added or removed)

[mimisempai]

Wait for me on the other side 1/8

Summary:

Mobius, a watchmaker, and Loki, a teacher, realize that they are separated by two years of time when they exchange letters from different years in the mailbox of the house on the cliff where Mobius lives. As the two lonely hearts feel they have found their soulmate, will they ever meet?

or the Lakehouse AU that nobody asked for.

Notes:

This is my very first multi-chapter AU. I hope you'll enjoy it. Chapters will be released on a weekly basis.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32948254/chapters/81773392

3772 words - rating G

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 (End)

When two people "connect" the bond between them can be so pure and simple as to stir hearts in heaven.

When they connect in all the right places at all the wrong times, heaven weeps for broken hearts. To heal these broken hearts, heaven breaks time.

—Blithe Spiritus

Loki took one last look through the rearview mirror at the cottage on the edge of the cliff, which was getting smaller and smaller as he drove away.

Shifting his gaze forward, his face slid to the crate on the passenger seat, where Croki, his pet alligator, was sitting.

"I hope you will like your new home..." Loki sighed.

Then suddenly, he braked abruptly, holding back the cage with one hand as it slid forward. Then he backed the car up.

"Shit. I'm sorry Croc'"

He walked over to the mailbox. He put his hand through the window, opened the mailbox and put an envelope inside. Then his long fingers pulled the red flag in a vertical position, to indicate that there was mail. All this under the eyes of Croki who followed with attention all his gestures.

He tapped the top of the cage, "Come on, this time we're off for good."

He rolled, speeding up, refusing to look at the sign for the tiny village his home was in, New Asgard.  Loki rolled east, the cliff behind him, then passed a sign: New York, 35 miles.

The traffic became heavier as he approached the city.

After maneuvering through the various streets and making his way through the New York traffic, he stopped in front of an apartment building on a busy street. It was a very recent building, cold and sterile. The contrast with the tranquility of New-Asgard was striking.

He parked, got out of the car and took a moment to absorb the change in his surroundings. Then with a sigh, he began to unload his things.

**********

Loki stopped at the steps in front of the entrance to the imposing establishment - September High-School. He inhaled deeply to give himself courage before moving forward, climbing the few steps and pushing open the heavy door. He entered and walked to what appeared to be the front desk where a busy looking secretary was standing.

Loki asked softly, "Excuse me?"

"Just a minute, okay?"

Loki waited a minute, politely, then tried to get the secretary's attention again.

"Ahem... Excuse me, I need to..."

She handed him a stack of paper, while saying, without looking at him, "Just fill this out and wait for me there, okay?"

Loki handed it back to her.

"No, I'm Loki Laufeyson. I'm a new teacher. I was told to report here."

The secretary looked sheepish, "Oh, I'm sorry, Professor. You need to find Principal Romanov. She should be around here. A woman with red hair, dressed in black, you can't miss her."

He did indeed find the Principal in the hallway that the secretary had pointed out.

Natasha Romanov may have looked young to be a high school principal, but everything about her demeanor, her head carriage, her attitude exuded confidence and authority. She walked quickly down the hallway and Loki, though tall, had a hard time keeping up with her.

The principal handed him a large stack of files as soon as they arrived in her office.

"You will be in charge of the sophomores, this morning you will have three classes to teach and three this afternoon."

Loki repeated to be sure, "Three?"

"That's a quiet day, for a first day."

Loki looked a little dazed, he didn't think he was going to jump into the deep end and thought he would have some time to adjust.

The principal turned around, as if she sensed his hesitation, "The teacher you replaced let us down without notice, and it took us a while to find the right replacement, the students lost a lot of time for their final exams. We have to do our best to make sure they pass."

They walked past a student who was sitting alone on a bench, looking sulky. Romanov motioned to a supervisor.

"What's he doing here?"

The supervisor replied, "He was grounded because he took apart a computer to prove Professor Banner wrong and has to do an hour of gym under Professor Odinson's supervision. However, I can't leave the place unattended, and I was waiting for my backup to take him there.

"Peter get up," said principal Romanov in a sharp tone.

The young man stood up, a sulky look on his face.

"Professor Laufeyson, take him to Professor Odinson in the gym and then you can begin your lessons in this class."

The principal pointed to the door of the classroom in question, then turned and walked back to her office, not waiting for an answer.

"Well come with me, Mister...?"

The young boy followed his lead and replied with a pouty tone, "Parker, Peter Parker. »

"Then let's go Mr. Parker, the computer dismantler." replied Loki with a wink.  He knew he couldn't condone what the young man had done, but he couldn't help but find it amusing.

Seeing that the professor didn't look reproachful as he said these words, Peter lost his pout and got a small smile.

"Although I'm curious as to what could have caused you to disassemble a computer."

Peter seemed to come back to life, explained to an amused Loki, that Professor Banner, who taught biology, had said that nothing could compare to the complex construction that was a living being and Peter had wanted to show him the opposite by dismantling the Professor's laptop.

"But I was about to put it back together though, I don't understand why he got so upset."

Loki couldn't help but laugh.

Peter's face frowned because they had arrived at the gym.

They walked through the door and there a giant blonde man came striding in, "Peter Parker, it's been so long! Tell me what you've been up to again." he ruffled Peter's hair who tried to shy away from it, then he held out his hand to Loki who had to hold back a wince at the strength of the professor's grip.

"Professor Odinson, but call me Thor. Nice to meet you. New professor?"

"Yes, I am the new literature professor, Loki Laufeyson, but call me Loki. I'll leave this promising young man to you," He winked at Peter before continuing, "as for me I'll be teaching my first class."

"Welcome here, and good luck!" threw Thor at him before turning back to Peter, "Go change, we'll start with 10 laps running around the basketball court."

Hearing Peter's grumbles, Loki smiled as he walked away.

A few minutes later, he stopped outside his classroom door and took a deep breath.

"It takes a little time to adjust, but most of the students here are exceptional and the teaching staff is really, really nice."

Loki turned to see who had just spoken.

He found himself facing a black man, taller than him, and very impressive. But despite his imposing nature, his smile and eyes were very warm as he held out his hand. "Heimdall, art professor, welcome."

Loki grasped it and replied, "Loki, literature professor."

Heimdall gave a small nod in the direction of the door, "Good luck." then walked away.

Loki, surprisingly relaxed following this little interlude, walked through the classroom door with a confident air, placed his belongings on the desk and with an engaging smile on his lips addressed his first students, "Hello, I am your new literature teacher and I hope we will work well together."

He paused, letting his gaze roam over the entire class before continuing,"O Captain! My Captain! Who knows where that came from? No one? No idea? It's-"

A young boy raised his hand at the back of the classroom.

"Yes Mister...?"

"Keener, Harley Keener."

"All right Mister Keener, I'm listening."

"It's a Walt Whitman poem about Abraham Lincoln. And it's plagiarism of Professor Keating's introduction played by Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society."

Loki didn't lose his confidence at all and replied, "Thank you Mr. Keener. I'm not going to apologize for the plagiarism. I didn't expect anyone to contradict me since this film was released long before you were all born. Thank you, Mr. Keener, for setting me straight. I won't ask you to call me Captain, Sir, or Professor, but simply Loki. Yes, Mr. Keener, Loki, as in the Norse god of mischief... "

The whole class, including Harley, laughed and Loki thought that it wasn't such a bad start.

But he still felt exhausted at the end of the day, and he slumped into the chair at his assigned desk in the teacher's lounge. He leaned in and put his head back, closing his eyes.

"So they've worn you out already?" it was the deep voice, which he recognized as Heimdall's. He opened his eyes to see that the art professor had sat just at the desk next to him.

"Yet the Famous Five keep talking about Loki, the new professor who is super cool. It's been a long time since I've heard a literature professor on such good terms." It was Thor who came to join them and pulled a chair to sit in the space between Heimdall and Loki.

"The Famous Five?"

Thor chuckled before answering, "They're called that because they're always stuffed together, probably five of the smartest minds in this elite school, and as a result always going out on the town to..."

"…the benefit of science." finished Heimdall.

"That's their argument every time they get busted," Thor clarified.

"Who are they?" asked Loki, curious.

"There's Peter who you met this morning, he's in the same class as his two childhood friends Ned and MJ. There's Harley who talked about how you put him in his place, when he thought he had fooled you. Captain my Captain huh?"

Thor chuckled before continuing, "and finally Kamala Khan, the newest one, a little brunette, a ball of energy who always wears a big red scarf, summer and winter and who the other four have taken under their wing."

"Interesting..." replied Loki, thoughtfully.

"Wait until you're the target of their prank and we'll see if you find these kids interesting." said an unknown voice behind him.

"Bruce my friend! Were you able to fix your laptop?" exclaimed Thor with a laugh.

Loki turned around, only to find himself standing in front of a man who was a little older than him. He stood up and held out his hand, "Professor Banner, I presume."

"Am I that famous?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow as he shook the outstretched hand in a firm grip.

"It's mostly that I had the pleasure of taking Peter Parker for his grounding to Thor." replied Loki

"That brat..." harrumphed Bruce. "He's smart... but his habit of proving he's always right..."

The other men laughed in unison.

"So boys? Are we having fun?" a young woman with short blond hair stepped forward and held out her hand, "Carol Danvers, homeroom teacher at this crazy school."

"Nice to meet you," Loki replied, shaking the outstretched hand.

Unaccustomed to being around so many people and especially such friendly people, Loki felt a little overwhelmed and suddenly the fatigue of this first day seemed to fall on his shoulders to the point that he had to stifle a yawn.

Thor patted him on the back and said, "I have an excellent remedy for that."

"What is it?"

Heimdall and Thor high-fived each other and said in unison, "The Bifrost."

At Loki's look of complete incomprehension, Carol explained, "It's a bar two blocks away, good burgers, good beer and for good company, that's us." she finished with a wink.

Loki realized they were inviting him to come with them but he hesitated and finally replied, "Thanks. I better not drink tonight. I'm dead."

Bruce retorted, "We're all dead."

"Yes, but I still have a lot to unpack."

They nodded, and did not seem disappointed by his refusal, even rather understanding. Loki really wasn't used to this kind of company.

Heimdall put his hand on his arm and then said softly, "Next time, then."

Loki, not understanding why his throat was tight, simply nodded.

A little later, they separated in front of the school gates. Loki on one side and the group on the other.

" Bye Loki!"

"See you tomorrow Captain!"

Loki lived only three blocks from the school and soon arrived home. When he entered he realized how sterile and cold his large apartment seemed.

He had not yet had time to unpack all his things and the boxes were scattered everywhere. The first thing he had unpacked was Croki's terrarium, which took up a whole room.

As he closed the door, he heard Croki's typical little paws coming and rubbing against him as usual. He patted his head and headed for the kitchen. Croki was a Cuvier's Dwarf caiman. Loki had once wanted to get a dog, but in the animal shelter he had immediately felt a connection with the animal, perhaps because he was different, like himself.

Loki opened the refrigerator which was desperately empty except for Croki's fish ration. He put it on a plate and put it on the floor while commenting, "Need alligator food. And human too."

He was going to have to do some shopping tomorrow.

After snacking on a bag of chips, exhausted, he took a quick shower before going to his room.

"Good night Croki."

His room was as functional and depressing as the rest of the place. He went to stand in front of the window. Outside it was all stone buildings. It was very difficult to even see the sky. He sighed, "What a view..."

He pulled the blinds and went to bed. Once his head was on the pillow, he fell asleep very quickly, which prevented him from thinking too much about everything he missed.

**********

A red pickup truck passed the New Asgard sign before parking at the side of the path that leads to the house. Its back end was filled with furniture and moving boxes. A mustachioed man with gray hair got out. He walked toward the cottage on the edge of the cliff and stopped, hands on hips, contemplating the view.

He opened the door, looked for the electric power meter. He turned it on and went to turn on the light in the entrance and then in what seemed to be the living room.

Mobius examined the place, satisfied. There wasn't much. A stereo, some books, an armchair. But the bare and cosy furniture matched perfectly with the austere beauty of the small cottage. He looked out the window at the cliff. He was going to like it here.

It took him a good four hours to unload his pickup truck by himself and install just about everything he had brought. Once finished, he grabbed a cold beer that he had put in the cooler and while drinking it quietly walked around the house before getting in the car to go shopping at the local grocery store that he had spotted on his way in.

Once he had gone around the store, with his groceries in his arms, he went to put them on the counter.

The young owner and his wife were behind.

"Hi, are you new around here?" the owner asked him.

Mobius smiled and replied, "More or less. My name is Mobius."

The owner replied, "My name is Clint and this is my wife, Laura."

Laura smiled and added, "You're going to like it. Especially now that the weather is getting warmer." Then pointing to the groceries, she added, "We'll get you some boxes for all that."

"Oh thanks." replied Mobius.

Laura fetched an empty box from a high shelf. Now that she was no longer hidden by the counter, it was obvious that she was pregnant. Clint rushed to her. "No, honey, let me."

Mobius looked at them, feeling moved and at the same time fully aware of his own loneliness. He paid, took his box and left, but not without promising the young couple to return.

He parked in front of the small road with his groceries in the back of the truck and noticed the mailbox with its flag up. He stopped and opened it. There was an envelope.

For the new tenant.

He took in the groceries, put them away, made himself a sandwich tray and taking the letter, he went to sit on the armchair in front of the bay window. He put his tray on a small table next to it, opened the letter and started to read.

Dear new tenant.

Hello and welcome to your new home and congratulations, blah blah blah. You have made an excellent choice, New Asgard is a wonderful place and this house is a gem, as you may have already noticed.

I'm sure you'll love living here as much as I do.

By the way, I'm the former tenant, Loki.

Mobius looked perplexed but also pleasantly surprised.

The post office forwards my mail normally, but if something should happen here, because the post service is what it is and we are never safe, my new address is below. Thank you.

Mobius turned over the letter.

P.S.: Sorry for the pawprints leading to the front door. They were already there when I moved in, as well as the box in the attic. I think it belongs to the owner.

Mobius stared at the letter in amusement and could not help but check the end of the letter.

He went to the front door. The floor was clean. Inside and out.

"What did he talk about?" he scratched the back of his head before heading for the ladder that led to the attic. He opened the hatch, poked his head through and looked around. It was empty. No box.

Mobius went back down, shrugged, crumpled the letter and threw it away.

He finished his meal and went to bed.

The next day, in his clock store, while repairing an antique watch with an extremely complicated mechanism, he couldn't help thinking about the letter and its more or less strange ending when he was interrupted by the doorbell indicating that someone had entered the store.

He put down his tools, wiped his hands, and headed for the store.

"Hey Mobius! I made lunch, shall we share?"

It was the bubbly and somewhat invasive, Sylvie. The owner of the antique gun store right across from him.

He replied, annoyed, because she had interrupted his work that he loved, "I can't, I have urgent work to finish."

"Oh come on Mobius, there's nothing urgent about an old watch."

"It is to its owner."

She made a disappointed pout, "Well, okay..." she sighed and headed for the door, then turned abruptly. "Is it true you bought a house? Where is it? How is it?"

Mobius rolled his eyes, used to Sylvie's chatter.

"It's an isolated cottage, in a small village called New Asgard."

"You're sick to isolate yourself like that!"

"It's what I want and I already feel at home there. And now, if you don't mind, I'm going to get back to my work, which is not urgent." He walked briskly toward his studio, annoyed by the criticism of his choice, and didn't even hear the door close.

In the late afternoon, after his day's work, he decided to repaint the faded fences that lined the small path. The manual work, like his work on watches, helped him to clear his head.

A few hours later, as the day was getting darker, Mobius was kneeling on the steps and applying a new layer of paint to the weathered planks. He finished, satisfied with the result, and began to put his equipment away.

Behind him, a small dwarf alligator trotted along the path. Mobius didn't notice it at first. The alligator sped up and before Mobius could react, he stepped into the paint and left footprints behind him. "Hey!"

Mobius tried to catch the alligator but it ran back inside the house whose door Mobius had left ajar. Mobius was about to follow him, wondering what an alligator was doing here and if he was dangerous, when he suddenly stopped.

On the ground in front of the house, there was a trail of paw prints.

Mobius rushed to the garbage can and searched with determination through his trash when he finally found what he was looking for: Loki's letter.

He stared at it.

Sorry about the footprints leading to the front door. They were already there when I moved in, as was the box in the attic. I think it belongs to the owner.

He remained for a long moment staring at the crumpled note.

*********

Loki went out to have lunch at a place he had spotted not far from the school.

Finding the weather warm, he opened his coat and continued walking.

When he arrived at the place, he sat down on a bench and started to unwrap his sandwich, a book in his hand. He enjoyed this moment of calm, even if the place was crowded on this beautiful day.

Once finished eating, Loki closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sunlight warm him up. Just aware of the surrounding sounds, the water of the fountain, the splashes and laughter of the children playing there, an old man grumbling about global warming, the pigeons landing not far away, hoping to get some crumbs from those who like Loki had decided to have lunch here.

Suddenly, a horrible noise, a high-pitched squeal and a horn made Loki sit up. He suddenly opened his eyes and looked around.

A few meters away, in front of Loki, a double-decker city bus was trying to stop. It was going pretty fast, although you could tell the driver was trying to brake.

Loki registered it all, the noise, the bus, before noticing the gray-haired man standing directly in the path of the bus. There was nothing to be done, it was inevitable and almost immediate, the man was hit by the bus, and Loki, horrified, saw his distant figure fly ten or fifteen feet into the air before crashing to the sidewalk. The faint sound of the impact reached Loki half a second later, due to the distance.

Loki automatically took out his cell phone and dialed 911. As he walked towards the impact point, he gave all the information to the rescue workers, trying to remain calm.

Once he hung up the phone, he started to run towards the lifeless body.

_______

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 (End)

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd and english is not my native language I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless🥰

[lovelyirony]

"a single thread of gold/tied me to you" for ironhusbands?💛

If there is one thing that James Rhodes cannot stand, it is “love at first sight.” In his professional and personal opinion, there is no such thing. It is simply a concept that Disney invented so they could make cutesy stories about princesses finding their princes immediately and give people hope about love, but in the end it is all about the money. 

“You’re a cynic,” his sister Jeanie tells him over breakfast. She flings a stray Cheerio at him. “You are a cynic and you’re never gonna date someone because they’re going to think you suck.” 

“People are going to date me and realize that I’m a good, realistic choice,” James responds, sticking his tongue out and stealing a drink of her orange juice. “People are going to date you and you’ll be disappointed because you watched too many romantic movies and you let it taint reality.” 

“Loser.” 

“Dork.” 

And then he’s in college. 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t meet Tony Stark for two years despite the fact that every single year, they live in the same building on different floors. He has had to evacuate about twenty different times because Tony cannot stop himself from doing experiments in his room. 

The third year, James is an RA and required to live with one of the residents because of “experimental tendencies.” They don’t elaborate on why he’s stuck with a roommate, what the tendencies are, or who he is. 

“You’ll know,” comes the email from the coordinator, and he has never wanted to curse so badly in an email before, but here he is. 

But he’ll deal with it. Just like how he’s going to deal with everything this year. 

-

He thought he would get the room to himself for a little while before everyone moved in and brought everything and he would check them in. 

But no. 

There’s his roommate, lounging on a bed, and grinning. 

“Simply enlightening to meet you, James. They told me I could come back if I had a trusted roommate.” 

“And they stuck you with me?” 

“Well they were going to stick me with some dude who got the email, and then immediately transferred to Dartmouth. So I think you were the second option.” 

“Great.” 

He hates life, maybe just a little bit. 

Tony wants to do things. Which is fine, but he isn’t really in the mood to have the conversation of the fact that he can do things, but he doesn’t want to do them. He has to focus on being an RA and preparing for the Air Force. 

“Why prepare for that when you could be living?” Tony asks, lounging on Rhodey’s bed. 

Oh yeah, that’s new too. Rhodey. Apparently, “Jim,” “James,” and “Rhodes” were unacceptable nicknames. 

What is acceptable is Rhodey. And of course, the “honey bunches of oats” and “loveliest RA of all time in the history of MIT” and “sugar-puff” and “sweetness overload” 

He’s responding to all of them, by the way. 

Rhodey didn’t think his mental health would get this bad by the beginning. He had actually scheduled it to be around October. 

- 

And then the students come. There are nervous freshmen, the sophomores who don’t say anything as they move in and get settled, and the returning juniors and seniors greet Rhodey and Tony with familiarity and laugh about the posters that Rhodey’s worked hard on. 

“So, we’re having joint-RA’s or something?” Miles asks, throwing his comforter over his bed. 

“No, we’re not,” Rhodey says, hoping his expression is somewhere along the lines of not-showing-emotion. “Tony’s just...” 

“I’m simply too exhausting for Housing to deal with anymore, so I have a babysitter,” Tony says with a wink. “And who better than our lovely Rhodey?” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Sugar-puff?” 

“Still no.” 

Miles snorts. 

“This year should be good. Tony, you gonna pull any fire alarms this year?” 

“Rhodey has expressly banned experiments in the building, unfortunately,” Tony sighs. “It’s like he doesn’t want everyone to bond over having to leave at two in the morning...” 

“Nothing says bonding like hating a rude wake-up call,” Rhodey says, and Tony nods. “We’ll let you get all moved in, Miles. Remember that floor dinner is at six!” 

“You got it!” 

Rhodey gives Tony a look. 

“You know, I can do this on my own.” 

“Aw shutterbug, I’m not gonna let you.” 

“Are you really this intent on following me around?” 

“Well, what if I want to overtake your position next year? What if you tragically get a raging headache and it’s up to me to know what to do? What if your mother kidnaps you and never lets you come here again?” 

“I’m sure the college kids will be fine,” Rhodey stresses. “And I’ll still have access to email and the groupchat, genius.” 

Tony just laughs. 

“Alright, okay. I gotta go get some shit for my new class. The teacher sent out an email stating that the textbook is mandatory, and we have to do book work. This feels like eighth grade all over again.” 

Rhodey snorts. 

“Is it for Professor Casper?” 

“Yeah, did you have him?” 

“Yeah, you don’t need the book. You can find it online for free, and he never collects the book work. It’s a waste of time to get the book.” 

“You’re an angel-and-a-half, love of my life,” Tony says. “And for that, I’ll snag an extra pudding for you at the dining hall.” 

“Is it vanilla or chocolate this time?” 

“Chocolate with cookies in it.” 

“Oh my god, seriously? Already?” 

“Guess they must have had a jump,” Tony teases. “I’ll see you at dinner.” 

- 

Tony has a specific way of getting people to open up and actually talk with others that Rhodey envies. 

If Tony wasn’t so hellbent on convincing the group that if Miles and Kamala create a distraction, they could totally sneak out one of the pictures of the mascot. 

“We are not doing that the first week,” Rhodey says. “Maybe the last.” 

“It’s a beaver,” Tony whines. “Who’s gonna miss it, a Canadian?” 

“It’ll be the floor bonding activity,” Gwen says, finishing off her fifth (maybe sixth) slice of pizza. “Better than talking about your feelings about the campus or whatever.” 

“No.” 

“We’ll convince him soon,” Tony whispers conspiratorially. “Also, who here is a freshman? I have some advice regarding the math classes and which teacher you want...” 

- 

Rhodey does have to admit, that sometimes it’s easier to have Tony around, who is so willing to stay up until the late hours because of some stupid drama or to help Peter at his chemistry homework and also ease his anxiety about leaving his Aunt May all alone. 

Tony isn’t all wild and crazy as stories have led him up to be. 

"I wore out all my crazy freshman year after going to two frat parties and deciding that no one knew anything about how to have fun,” he declared. “I mean, come on. Why have beer pong when you could quiz people about obscure fashion facts?” 

Rhodey snorts. 

“Don’t make that the next game night. Hey, what do you think about having a movie night this Friday? I’m thinking something not scary, we’ve been doing a lot of those.” 

“It is October, what do you mean not scary?” 

“Some of our residents don’t like scary,” Rhodey reminds him. “Honestly, I think we could do with a bit of Halloween fun.” 

“Hocus Pocus? Double Double, Toil and Trouble? If you want to be slightly scared of old women and clown parties, I’d recommend it.” 

“You weren’t scared of clowns beforehand?” 

“Of course not, I wanted what they have; the ability to fit eighteen people in a car.” 

“Couldn’t you just gut the car?” 

“Not the same effect, honey-pie. Not the same effect.” 

Miles and Peter both end up lobbying for Hocus Pocus, with little to no competition other than a promise that the other choice would be shown later on in the semester. 

They’ve shoved all the chairs together and multiple people have brought out their own chairs, and Tony saves a seat for Rhodey under the premise of “Rhodey organized it, he gets a seat.” 

It’s a tough squeeze, and Tony and Rhodey get all tangled up together. 

Tony smells like expensive cologne and coffee, and he grins up at Rhodey and maybe the lights from the TV aren’t bright enough, but for a moment his heart skips a beat. 

Well. Shit. 

When he goes home for Thanksgiving break, Tony seems a bit...sad. 

“What, your mom cook the worst turkey in the world?” he jokes. 

"Sure,” Tony says, eyes unfocused. “Yeah.” 

"Dude, you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Tony says, turning. His smile brightens, eyes crinkling. “Why wouldn’t I be fine, buttercup?” 

Rhodey gives him a look. 

“I’m gonna call you when I get home, okay? You better answer.” 

“I always answer to you,” Tony says, and damn Rhodey’s mind shouldn’t be going where it is. 

Rhodey waves, gets in his car, and thinks about how Tony most likely has a problem on his mind, how he should probably not room with him, and his Aunt Ada’s green beans. 

God, he loves those green beans. 

- 

Tony is alone for Thanksgiving. Jarvis and Ana got an opportunity to visit Aunt Peggy in England, and he knew that they hadn’t seen her in two years. He didn’t want to be selfish, have them stay just for him. 

So, it looked like deli turkey sandwiches were in his future. If there’s still some soda in the fridge, maybe that too. 

He sighs, and turns towards the lab. Dum-E’s not even here, as he didn’t fit in the travel car, so Tony let him loose on the floor to “keep guard” over the dorms and make sure that no one broke in or stole the cords that he knows he accidentally left in the common room. 

The odd thing is, he had almost told Rhodey. Almost let him know that he’d be alone for Thanksgiving, but is that weird? That’s weird, right? To tell people your emotions just...it’s so messy. 

They have to deal with it, you have to deal with the fact that they’re dealing with it, and then other people know that you both are dealing with it and it’s just a whole mess of epic proportions, you know? 

-

Rhodey finds out on Thanksgiving, when they’re doing the parade on the TV and there’s a new snippet on the gossip channel when they go on commercial break. 

Howard and Maria Stark, vacationing off the Mediterranean Coast. 

“It’s reported that Tony Stark has preferred to spend his time in the vacation home,” the news reporter said, her smile wide and placid. 

“Tony’s lucky,” Mama says, wrapping golden yarn around her fingers as she works on another sweater. (A small one, a tiny one. It’s for the new baby in the family for Christmas.) “He tell you about it?” 

“He’s not there,” Rhodey says numbly. 

“He’s not?” Dad says, eyes raised over the newspaper. 

“No.” 

“He didn’t tell you, did he?” Dad asks. 

“No, no he didn’t.” 

“Well then. Next time he’ll come with us.” 

Rhodey nods. 

“Christmas?” 

“Clear it with his parents if they’re not spending time together.” 

“Got it.” 

- 

Rhodey’s Thanksgiving is...nice. He can’t stop thinking about Tony going alone. 

So he calls him. It’s two in the morning, he might be asleep, and Rhodey’s not sure if he got the “eight” in the last four digits right or not. 

“Howard’s out, who is it?” comes a sleep-addled voice. 

“Good thing I’m not looking for Howard, Tones.” 

“Rhodey? Why are you calling me?” Tony asks, and Rhodey can imagine his eyes lighting up and that’s...that’s something. 

“You spent Thanksgiving alone, I wanted to see how you were.” 

“Aw, checking in your residents?” 

“Checking in on you.” 

Tony stills for a moment at the phone. 

Besides Jarvis, no one had ever really checked in on him. 

“Um, I’m fine?” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah. I mean, it sucks to be alone on Thanksgiving, but I don’t really like any of the foods that people usually have, so I’ve been fine. I ordered wraps from my favorite place.” 

“Good to hear, good to hear.” 

There’s a silent pause for a moment, the one where they both try to find something to say. 

“Listen,” Rhodey says. “If you’re ever stuck for a holiday alone, you’re coming with me, okay?” 

“I don’t want to intrude on your family,” Tony says softly. 

“They all wanna meet you. Jeanie says she can kick your ass at ice hockey!” 

“You guys can actually play ice hockey?” 

“With limited degrees of success.” 

“Oh, now that I gotta see some time.”

- 

They come back to college, and Tony is back to his usual antics, greeting everyone who comes through the elevator with a shower of shredded paper. 

“Welcome to Winter Wonderland! Next stop: suffering through finals!” 

“Ugh,” Kamala groans, “stop it. Stop making me think. I have to memorize Byronic poetry. Do you know how boring that is?” 

"Speak for yourself, I have to build a wooden chair,” Riri whines. “Who works with wood these days? It’s so old-fashioned.” 

“Create the most bitching chair alive,” Tony says. “And I’ll help you with the necessary tools. Your professor isn’t expecting much, mainly just that it can support the weight of two people, you’ll be fine. Kam, Byronic poetry is not that bad, you will be good. We will bake cookies.” 

“Can we even bake cookies? I thought our floor got banned from kitchen usage,” Peter says. “Hey Rhodey.” 

“Hey kiddo,” Rhodey says. “First of all, yes we are banned from the kitchen. Second, we’re only banned and get in trouble so long as they know we’re there. And since more than half of us are nocturnal creatures and I am willing to wake up to help, we can bake cookies.” 

There are cheers around the room, and Tony mocks offense. 

“You don’t trust me to help the future youth?” 

“Given that we’re not allowed to rent out any more equipment from the front office? Yes.” 

“You wound me, darling.” 

“Only as much as kitchen equipment goes, sweetheart.” 

Tony grins. 

“Aw, you missed me.” 

“Yeah, I did. Now come on, you gotta help me with a billboard about the movie night this Friday. We thinking a romantic comedy or something mildly terrifying but probably won an award?” 

“Mildly terrifying!” Gwen calls from her dorm. “If we watch two people falling in love I’ll choke! We’ve been doing it all year!” 

“We’ve only watched, like, three rom-coms?” 

Gwen rolls her eyes, as if he’s missed something completely obvious. 

“You don’t get it. I’ll try again later. Hey, are we doing floor dinner tonight?” 

“They’re serving pizza sandwiches, so obviously,” Tony says. “We will feast like kings.” 

- 

Christmas is a festive time for Tony. He loves it, and goes overboard with decorations. Rhodey lets him, because you can’t stop Tony once he loves something (and Rhodey is kind of. Fond of him). 

Pepper comes up from the fifth floor, whistling. 

“Damn, Jim. I knew you would do a good job with decorations, but not this good. Is this...did you buy a miniature village? How was this budgeted?” 

“It wasn’t,” Rhodey says. “Tony’s really into Christmas and the floor convinced him that the theme should be Christmas Village. He’s been crafting identities for each villager instead of studying for any exam. The craft store employees know him by name now.” 

“Well, we all have our vices. You two seem to get along well. Housing is pleased that he hasn’t blown up anything yet.” 

“If they try to serve cheese ravioli again, he might.” 

“That’s a problem for Dining,” Pepper reminds him.  

“Still, it’s abominable. Where did they get them, bottom of the Hudson River?” 

She snorts, adjusting her shirt. 

“Probably, but hey. They still got eaten, even if that one freshman threw them all back up at the entrance.” 

“It was payback, they were vile.” 

Tony waltzes into the lobby, arms filled with glittering tinsel. 

“We are not letting you hang that,” Pepper says, gaping at it all. “Do you know how hard it is to get rid of tinsel?”

“We’ll manage!” Tony says. “Also, are you free at six-thirty?” 

“No, that’s when we’re getting dinner on my floor, what do you need?” 

“Just that little tidbit of knowledge,” Tony says, looking down at his phone. 

A message buzzes from the groupchat, and Rhodey glances at it: 

We are a go for the real Christmas tree. I have the vacuum, and a believable lie. Rhodey’s gonna tell us when the RA on duty is gonna come so we can hide it. 

Rhodey looks at Tony, grinning. He smiles right back. 

“Is there some weird roommate telekinesis I’m missing here?” Pepper asks. 

“Yes,” Rhodey says. “We’re discussing dinner plans.” 

Another text from Harley: 

I’m already picking one out with Peter. I have good taste. When is the ornament-making party? 

Pepper looks at them. 

“You’re planning something that I probably would have to disapprove of. I’ll tell people I got your floor watched tonight.” 

“Pepper, light of my life, my absolute sunshine? You’re the best,” Tony says, grinning. “Rhodey-darling, help me with tinsel?” 

He can’t say no. Simple as that. 

That is how tinsel gets strung throughout his hair as he’s watching Tony climb onto chairs that shouldn’t be climbed on to hang it from everywhere. 

“People deserve to have a good-looking Christmas,” he says. “Besides, I wanna win the decoration contest.” 

Rhodey laughs. 

“Okay, okay. I think we got it in the bag.” 

Later on in the week, Tony can be seen flitting about from room to room with help and jokes to lighten the mood. 

Rhodey has to admit, being an RA with Tony around is...nice. Better than he thought. 

And maybe he has feelings. He’s not going to say anything about it. After all, they’re roommates. He also isn’t allowed to have a relationship with anyone on the floor, regardless of anything. 

It doesn’t mean every RA follows it. God knows Sharon’s snuck down to the fourth floor to see Sam near-about every night, and her residents usually keep it a pretty good secret. 

Still. There’s also everything else to consider, and the fact that he doesn’t even know if Tony likes him like that. 

He doesn’t have to focus on it. 

- 

At least, not until the week of finals when he’s dying and Tony’s made him peppermint hot chocolate and sits on his bed, just about an inch away from his notes for his history class. 

“Do you remember what you told me on the phone?” Tony asks softly. 

“You up to compete against Jeanie for this year’s ice hockey championship?” Rhodey asks, smiling. 

Tension releases from Tony’s shoulders. 

“Only so long as you’ll have me.” 

“Always, genius. Always.” 

- 

After the last resident leaves for the holiday and Rhodey checks in with those who are staying, he and Tony hit the road, dragging suitcases behind them. 

“Are you sure I’m allowed?” Tony asks. “I can always find a hotel along the way...” 

“Mama wants to meet you, I keep telling them a ton about you,” Rhodey says, laughing. “They told me they want to hear your side of the great Glitter Debacle.” 

Tony laughs. 

“You mean the truth?” 

“Uh, I’m sorry, how are you going to convince them that green glitter was needed? And that you could clean it out of carpet?” 

“Determination and grit?” 

Rhodey laughs again as they pull onto the highway. 

- 

After a couple of hours, they make it to Rhodey’s home. His sister comes out, hugs for both. 

“Good to meet you Tony,” Jeanie says. “I’ve heard a lot, and I think we’re going to get along awesomely after I tell you every single embarrassing thing that Jim’s ever done.” 

“Only if I get to share stories too,” Tony teases, grinning. “Aw, they call you Jim?” 

“What do you call him?” Jeanie asks. 

“Jim-Jam, angel-dear, sugar-puff, Rhodey. You know, the usual.” 

Jeanie snorts, taking one of Rhodey’s bags. 

“Calling you the first one from now on.” 

“Tony did you have to let her hear any of those?” Rhodey asks, exasperated in a teasing manner. 

“Of course I did,” Tony sing-songed. “Now after you, I’m sure your mom is waiting to hug the living daylights out of you.” 

- 

It’s not until Rhodey gets all settled in and Tony is downstairs competing with his dad in a round of chess that Jeanie sits on his bed, the intention to annoy. 

But it’s...different. She looks at him. 

“You love him a lot, don’t you?” 

Rhodey stills. 

“You wouldn’t have told him he could come here if you didn’t.” 

“You’re right.” 

“I’m always right,” Jeanie says, flipping braids over her shoulder. “Nice of you to finally realize that I’m the smart one.” 

Rhodey doesn’t say anything as she saunters out of the room. 

He makes the decision not to tell Tony. 

If it goes wrong and if Tony says no, he doesn’t want it to be an awkward family event but more importantly, the most awkward rest of the year ever. He can say it as they’re moving out, and that’s that. 

He tells Jeanie as such. 

“I thought you didn’t believe in love,” she says as they’re preparing the soup for dinner.” 

“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” Rhodey says. “I do believe in love. There’s a difference.” 

There’s a hell of a difference. 

First sight, you don’t know everything. The second, third, fourth, fifth, and so on? Oh you learn so much more, and they become that more important. 

He learns that he doesn’t mind picking up tinsel, so long as Tony is laughing and singing along to all of the worst Christmas songs ever, and maybe. Just maybe he could picture looking at Tony underneath the fairy-lights that they hung in the dorm room for all time. 

Love is terrifyingly exhilarating, even when it isn’t supposed to be. 

Rhodey did not think his heart would race so much as Tony listened to his Mama talk about her wedding china, about the utter disaster that his father was. 

“He forgot his tie,” Mama said, smiling. “Oh my lord, my mother had a cow about that. I thought he looked kind of dashing.” 

Tony’s eyes drift towards the wedding pictures, which are slightly shaky, but everyone had such wide smiles. 

It’s a far cry from the publicity photos from the Stark wedding, Rhodey remembers the solemn expressions, the stuff tuxedos. 

“I love it,” Tony says softly. He looks at Rhodey across the table, setting down the final plate. “Tell me more, Mrs. Rhodes.” 

“Call me Mama, honey, Mrs. Rhodes is for people I don’t like that much. I think you’re gonna be my new favorite.” 

“Even over me?” Jeanie says, grinning as she kisses Dad on the cheek. “I’m your favorite.” 

“You’re my favorite until now,” Mama says. “Don’t think I don’t know that you skipped out on setting the table because Tony was here and graciously offered.” 

“It was nothing,” Tony says. “Just happy to help. Thank you for letting me stay at your home for the holidays.” 

“We’re always lucky to have guests,” Dad says, setting down the main dish. “Now let’s eat.” 

Family dinner is a brand new concept to Tony. He’s had maybe four or five of them, and the majority of which were staged for some holiday shoot or some “celebrating American values” shoot. 

It was awkward, weird, and he didn’t get why. 

Now, he does. Jeanie has been steadily moving mashed potatoes away from Rhodey’s plate, and Mama caught her eye and winked, distracting him with talk about his college major and news about the neighbors. 

Mr. Rhodes watches it all with a careful eye and a lax smile. 

After dinner, they play cards. 

It should be boring, but Jeanie puts on an old record and Rhodey keeps trying to count cards, and Tony didn’t think you could count cards in a game of Spoons. 

“You can’t, he’s just a try-hard,” Jeanie stage-whispers. 

“You-” 

Jeanie laughs, rolling herself out of Rhodey’s grasp as he chases her around the family room. Tony leans back into the couch, and shouts with surprise as Jeanie trips Rhodey into the couch. 

His body twists, and Rhodey’s facing him on the couch and they’re close and with the fire roaring in the fireplace and the Christmas lights outside shining through the windows, it’s almost magic. 

It is magic, but Rhodey is kind of terrified of that. 

Tony breathes in, breathes out. 

“Hello sugar-puff,” he says. 

“Hello genius,” Rhodey says, a smile on his face. 

Oh. 

The night does not get much sleep. 

Tony doesn’t sleep anyway, but Rhodey finds that quite often he can’t sleep without some softly-playing rock in the background, doesn’t matter if it is a highly-questionable AC/DC song. That and Tony softly murmuring about his plans, and it’s like a personalized lullaby. 

Rhodey cannot sleep. Tony’s in the guest room, and he can’t sleep. 

There’s a soft knock on his door. 

Tony’s there in shorts and a t-shirt that’s probably expensive, but he’ll never say if it is or not. 

“Can I...I can’t sleep.” 

“Get in here, Tones. I can’t sleep either.” 

The bed is a tight squeeze, but they make it work. 

Rhodey whispers until he drifts off to sleep about Christmas and school and everything else. 

Tony watches with quiet eyes, interjecting with his own stories occasionally. 

They fall asleep tangled up together, and Rhodey doesn’t mind it one bit, not as he pulls Tony in closer. 

-

Waking up is bittersweet, honestly. Rhodey has Tony in his arms, and that’s...that’s perfect. He thinks this is going to be the best thing that’s ever happened in his lifetime. 

“It’s too early, darling,” Tony groans. The light from outside is already peeking through the blinds, and he has stuffed his head right back into a pillow. 

“Jeanie’ll be here soon to bother us for Christmas breakfast,” Rhodey says. “And unless you want her pouncing on the bed and landing on wrong everything, we better get down there.” 

Tony smiles sleepily, stretching. 

“Thanks for letting me sleep in your room, honey-bunch.” 

“No problem,” Rhodey said. “Missed the constant AC/DC and late-night discussions about robotics.” 

“Not like I did much talking, Mr. Sap,” Tony teased. “Or was it me who mentioned that they had a favorite plate for dinner?” 

“Listen, it’s superior and you did not once interrupt that story to complain. I think I did a great job explaining it.” 

Tony laughs. 

“I’m gonna go get dressed, okay?” 

“Not until after present unwrapping,” Rhodey says. “We stay in pajamas.” 

“I’m cold,” Tony whines. 

Rhodey chucks his sweatshirt at him. 

“Then here you go.” 

Tony’s eyes light up as he shrugs it on, wiggling as he brings it up to his nose. It shouldn’t be that cute. But it is. 

“You are the light of my life.” 

Rhodey laughs, rolling his eyes. 

“Maybe. Now come on.” 

They head downstairs together, and they both get swept up into the speed of things, with Jeanie racing around the house and telling Tony that he got treats too, they just didn’t have a back-up stocking. 

“Hush,” Mr. Rhodes says, handing Tony a carefully wrapped gift. “After breakfast, we’ll go ahead and open it.” 

He smiles, and Rhodey thinks it’s the best thing he’ll ever see. 

- 

Christmas gifts, Rhodey thinks, are his new favorite thing to see Tony interact with. 

It’s painfully obvious that he’s never really had any personal gifts, anything that reminds people of himself. He carefully unwraps the paper, careful not to rip it. 

“You nerd,” Rhodey says, grinning. “Come on, show us what you got.” 

Tony laughs as he opens a box with two coffee mugs from the rest of the family, emblazoned with “Rhodes” on one cup, and the other being a simple red with gold trim. 

“They’re perfect,” he says. “Thank you so much.” 

“You’re feeding his coffee addiction,” Rhodey answers. 

“Like you aren’t doing the same,” Jeanie teases. “You made him his cups of coffee this morning.” 

“That is because I have trained him well,” Tony says, grinning. “Rhodey, here’s my present to you, open it.” 

He’s nervous. 

Both of them are, but Tony especially so. 

He told Rhodey once that he’s not good at shopping for other people. He tends to have the phrase “go big or go home” permanently circling in his mind, and it can lead to...complications. 

(Rhodey remembers the overhaul of his closet for his birthday, complete with a visit from a rather well-known designer.) 

Inside is a beautiful jacket. It’s all patchwork, artfully sewn together with embroidery thread spelling out “James” at the lapel. 

“I commissioned Janet,” Tony says, smiling softly. “She wants you to still walk in her fashion show, by the way. Says you’re a model.” 

Rhodey snorts, shrugging on the jacket. 

“You helped with this, right?” Rhodey says. “I can see it in the gold thread you got on the sleeves.” 

“I may have had some creative input.” 

“I love it,” Rhodey says. “Now here’s mine.” 

Tony breathes, and Rhodey wonders if this gift will be enough. He feels a bit stupid, it doesn’t seem like that great of a gift, in retrospect- 

It’s a puzzle. 

A puzzle of their favorite cafe and restaurant to go to at MIT. It was in a shop window, and Rhodey could tell that Tony would love it. 

On top is a scarf, since Tony gave away his last one to another student in their philosophy class. 

“I love it,” Tony breathes, tackling Rhodey in a hug. “I love it, I love it! We have to do the puzzle after this.” 

Mrs. Rhodes sends her husband a look. 

Yeah, Tony would be around for a long time. 

- 

They set up the puzzle on the floor of Rhodey’s room, clearing away any luggage. It’s silent for a while, Tony moving around the pieces and Rhodey looking for edge pieces. 

They work closely together, side by side. 

Rhodey can’t stop staring. 

He should be able to. He’s stopped himself before, but now? 

Sunlight is coming in through the window, playing around Tony’s fingers as he nimbly picks up puzzle pieces, and this is the eternity that Rhodey wants so badly. If he died right now, he thinks he would choose for Heaven to look like this. 

“You okay?” Tony asks, eyes looking up. He took his contacts out, and now he’s just in his tortoiseshell glasses, the ones that he secretly likes more and Rhodey loves. 

“I’m in love with you,” Rhodey blurts out, because he can’t stop thinking about how beautiful Tony is and how much he loves him. 

He realizes that this could very well be considered a mistake. Because they still have to live together and drive back together and it won’t be the same, and the residents will notice no matter how well they both act--

Tony pops his head right under Rhodey’s chin. 

“Kiss me?” 

That’s all it takes. 

They mess up part of the puzzle, but that’s okay. They find they don’t mind it too much. They can work on it later, when Tony’s done getting Rhodey out of his new jacket and Rhodey works his hands underneath Tony’s sweatshirt. 

-

Mama takes one look at them for dinner and grins. 

“Jeanie, you owe me a night of dish-washing.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Mama!” Rhodey hisses, embarrassed beyond belief. 

Tony just cackles, and elbows Rhodey out of the way so he can get to his chair at the table. 

“Couldn’t have fooled you for a second, could we?” Tony teases. 

“Not at all,” Mama states proudly. 

Rhodey rolls his eyes and squeezes Tony’s hand under the table. All will be well. 

- 

When they both get back to college, none of their residents are surprised, at least not until they have to have a “knocking before entering” policy put in place after one particular late morning. 

[mysilverwords]

Sav's Masterlist 📜

This is my full masterlist where you can find all my works, from what fandom they're and ship/character they are about. Please check the original post regularly, it's gonna change over time.

The fics with * I consider to be my best works.

TSC

📜 The Last Hours 📜

THOMASTAIR

* Light - Thomas dies in a battle but he returns as a ghost to look after Alastair.

I do not love you - “Did you miss him?” He asked, his voice trembling a bit. His whole body was frozen in anticipation. In his soul was burning a little flame of hope. One pathetic, painful hope. Alastair looked him in the eyes and without a flinch said, “All the time.”

* In Henry's laboratory - The scene in ChoG where Thomas and Alastair make the antidote in Henry's lab! 

* “What if Paris was the first time we’d met?” - Modern College AU! What if Alastair and Thomas met for the first time in Paris?

* The Sanctuary - Rewriting the scene in the Sanctuary from the Alastair’s POV

* “I’m leaving.” “Of course you are, that’s all you know how to do.” - “Alastair shook his head. “I can't,” he ran a hand through his hair. “I don't want to argue with you.” “We're already arguing!” Thomas said. “Why is it so hard for you to have one dinner with me, Alastair? Even for an hour?”

* Tale of the Prince and the Servant || Royal AU - After an exhausting day Thomas goes to his favorite place - a forgotten gazebo in the royal garden. But then someone accidentally finds it too. Prince Alastair doesn't expect that he wouldn't be recognized in the dark. But this gives him an opportunity to talk with someone else without being treated like a royal. Night after night they meet at the gazebo, unable to see the face of the other but inevitably falling for each other.

* Tale of Knights and Secrets - sequel to Tale of the Prince and the Servant (can be read on it's own), following Thomas and Alastair as they, together with Kamala and Grace, go back to Thomas' old home and queendom, trying to unncover a conspiracy

* A KIND OF MAGIC - Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4  • Chapter 5 • Chapter 6 • Chapter 7 • Chapter 8 • Epilogue - Chain of gold but if Alastair had broken up with Charles before meeting Thomas in London. (It follows different fantasy plot tho)

Ten bucks and a date - “I disagree,” Alastair raised an eyebrow. “You know what? Let's bet.” “Okay,” Thomas said with a laugh. “What is the bet?” “If you lose,” Alastair said. “You owe me ten bucks.” “And if you lose,” Thomas said with sparkling eyes. “You owe ten bucks and a date.” Alastair's heart jumped. He grinned. “Deal.”

Kissing tears from the other’s face - “Leave me alone,” he looked away. “I don't want you here.” Thomas flinched. Alastair's words were cruel but Thomas knew better than to believe them.

Tentative kisses given in the dark - For a long moment, he looked so painfully unsure that Alastair felt hurt himself. He took one more step toward Alastair, in the shadows, and looked at him. His eyes were searching his face, for what Alastair didn't know. He only hoped Thomas wasn't going to find something that would hurt him.

One person has to bend down in order to kiss their partner, who is standing on their tip-toes to reach their partner’s - “You knew perfectly well I was mean when we got together!”

Short and sweet kiss after meeting up for a date - “Guys,” James said. His friends turned to him. “This is stupid. We should leave.” Matthew looked scandalized. “How could you say such a thing?We're here to see if this random, untrustworthy looking guy is good enough for our Thomas. We can't-” He suddenly turned to them. “They're leaving!”

A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck - Thomastair from the Academy time

A kiss pressed to the top of the head - Alastair leaned on him, exhaling. “I just hate that of all days, it had to happen on our anniversary,” he murmured. “I wanted this day to be perfect.”

WLW / OTHER SHIPS

* Tenderness || Anna x Grace - “Don’t be so gentle with me,” she whispered. Anna stopped. She slowly moved her head and whispered in Grace’s ear, “Then what do you want me to do?” Grace let out tremble sigh. She slid her arms around Anna’s waist. “Tear me apart.”

A love letter from Ariadne to Anna - I was on the verge of giving it up. And then I heard you. While I was sick I heard you asking me not to die. It may sounds funny but this is the most romantic thing I have ever heard. Maybe it had nothing to do with the words themselves but with the fact that they came from you.

Beautiful hair || Jordelia - “James tried to focus his eyes on her. He knew how she looked. It wasn't from a photo because Lucie said she hate to be photographed but he had heard what she was looking like. Lucie had talked about it, the rest of the Merry Thieves had also met her. The only one who still hasn't met the famous new friend of his sister was James and actually this had to happen this evening. And it was happening now but probably it would be better if James wasn't drank.”

* Sweet as sin || Arianna - “Why are you here Ari?” Anna asked after a few minutes of intense silence. What she could say? That today was the anniversary of her parents' death? That she missed her father calling her dulārā? That she wanted Anna to hug her so badly that she could cry?”

The Taste of a Kiss || Gracetopher - Prompt: A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating

Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed || Jordelia

Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips || Ghostwriter

A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party || Ghostwriter

An awkward kiss given after a first date || Gracetopher

* Marie Curie's Guide to Fake Chemistry || Gracetopher - feathering a fake dating AU with demi Christopher and greyro Grace

PLATONIC/SINGLE CHARACTER

* Alone || Grace Blackthorn - “As she entered the carriage, Grace wished she could talk with Jesse. The daylight made the thought of him seem like a dream and Grace couldn’t bear it. But when she saw who was waiting inside, Grace relaxed a little. It was Christopher Lightwood.”

Braver || Thomas Lightwood (with a special guest Magnus Bane) - “Alastair looked at Magnus first, then at Thomas. Sighed. “Fine, I'm coming too.” Thomas felt relief when he heard that. For reasons he couldn't explain, he wanted Alastair to come with them. With Thomas.”

* The Weight of Love || Young Thomas Lightwood - it follows young Thomas throughout different stages of his life pre-Spain - how he feels about his overprotective family, different aspects of being a Shadowhunter and the short time spent with Alastair.

Disappear into the sun || Alastair Carstairs - “Alastair dug his fingernails into his palm. It wasn't enough. Would it ever be?”

“You held the sky for so long. Let me share the burden with you.” || Alastair & Cordelia - “He should put on nice clothes. He should go outside. He should be held together. He should.”

“You broke me.” || Grace Blackthorn - “The left side of Grace's face was burning from the slap of her mother. Tatiana was looking at her angrily, with clenched fists. “Get up.””

“I didn’t know where else to go.” || Christopher Lightwood  - After Barbara dies and Thomas goes to live with the Lightwood-Herondale family.

Thomas & Co. - Lucie, Christopher, Eugenia Headcanons - I just wanted to make some headacanons about Thomas’ relationships with his friends and family because we were robbed of content about this 🤧

📜 The Dark Artifices 📜

Part one: “I’m leaving.” || KitTy *

Part two: “I didn’t know where else to go.” || KitTy

KitTy’s reunion after three years being apart.

* “Why are you wearing my sweater?” || KitTy - Domestic KitTy “When Kit woke up, he found himself in an empty bed. Ty was probably already awake. He liked waking up early in the morning to run. He said that he liked that there weren't many people around. As Kit was walking towards the bathroom he smelled coffee. Ty was awake and at home. Kit smiled at the thought.”

* BLACKTHORN DETECTIVE AGENCY || KitTy - Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 - Sherlock AU! Slow burn(-ish). Kit had just returned in London and needs money. Ty is a detective known as Sherlock Holmes who needs a new partner.

* The Ghost and the Shadow || KitTy - Unusual Soulmates Tattoo AU, Angeles & Demons AU, Exes to Lovers, some bad poetry and angst with a happy ending, lots of symbolism. “A ghost was in love with a shadow but they could never touch.”

Whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss || KitTy - “Don't, don't, don't, don't, Kit told himself. Don't look at him. He, of course, looked.”

📜 The Infernal Devices 📜

“You’re an idiot.” “But I am your idiot.” || Gabrily - “In Gabriel's dream was a lot of screaming. How father was talking nonsense and his skin was turning into a disgusting mess of scales. [...] He grabbed his phone. It took a few seconds for his eyes to get used to the light. He dialed the number.”

“You’re everything I could’ve wanted and more.” || Charlotte x Henry - “She heard the creaking of wheels before his voice. “Lottie,” Henry said quietly. She looked at him. “You look tired,” he said gently. “We both should go to sleep.” [...] Charlotte signed. “Five more minutes and I will come.” Henry smiled. “I know this excuse. Five minutes turn into five hours.””

Small kisses littered across the other’s face + Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter || Gabrily

📜 The Mortal Instruments/Other 📜

* Raphael Santiago discovers he is aromantic - Headcanons

* Music Headacanons - Part 1 • Part 2

* AroAce Headacanons - TLH • TDA • TMI

The life he was supposed to have || TMI gang meets Ash - Ash meets the TMI gang and the Lightwoods are remained of what could have been for Max. Angst with happy ending hehe

A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick || Helen Blackthorn/Lily Chen - Lily and Helen's make out scenes in TRSOM

A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it || Malec - Alec listened a few more seconds, nodding to himself. Magnus was amused to just watch him. He obviously just got out of bed. He was barefoot, his hair messy. He was wearing one of Magnus' white shirts.

Other Fandoms

Nicholas & Seiji || Fence one shot

How could you || original poem

* His armor || Greyro Kaz Brekker - “Sharp mind, a limp and a pair of gloves against the merciless Ketterdam. What else did he have outside his armor? All his demons, real and imaginative, waiting to eat him alive.”

An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose || Kanej

[gracereadstoomanybooks]

answering questions I’ve been asked on TikTok✨

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QUESTION: how did you get into reading?

So, when I was in middle school (many moons ago) we had this thing called AR Testing. Basically, you read a book and take a test on it—the questions were things that happened in the book, it was really simple. If you got a good grade, you got points. The more points you earned, the more eligible you were for the reading party at the end of each semester. Me, being the nerd I am, got top of my class because I went through 8th grade level books like it was nothing. The librarian at my school brought me books from the high school to read since everything was easy for me, and alas, my addiction began. And now that I have adult money, it’s a true addiction. Also, telling my father “I’m bored” and his response being, “go read a book or something” so thanks dad.

QUESTION: what’s one book you ALWAYS recommend to people?

This one is tough because I’ve read THOUSANDS of books, but if I had to choose one, it would probably be Confess by Colleen Hoover. I fell in love with her work in high school when I first read Ugly Love, but Confess is the type of book that pulls at your heart strings, y’all. It has everything people love: humor, sexual tension, drama, love. GO BUY THE DAMN BOOK. Or honestly any book by Colleen Hoover—she’s a fucking amazing author.

QUESTION: outside of making TikToks, what do you do for a living?

I currently work at a restaurant and hate every second of it. If anyone tells you to become a server, DONT. It’s not worth the hassle, I promise you. Sure, you can make decent money but the amount of rude customers and shitty tips you receive each shift is very disheartening. If you really need a job, do anything BUT work in the food industry.

QUESTION: what’s your wattpad story about?

First question: which one? I have about 30 drafts sitting there waiting to be posted. But, I’m going to assume you’re talking about the Harry Styles fan fiction I’ve been working on for the past 4 years and haven’t had the courage to post. I’ll tell you a little about it: Elaine Aldridge is forced into a betrothal to a man she’s never met & loathes. She goes to his court and realizes things aren’t what they truly seem. And the guard her future husband sticks on her??? None other than Mr. Harry Styles. Add in some magic & deaths and you’ve got my story— The First Prince. (Honestly, that’s an extremely shitty description so if you wanna check it out go to my wattpad account)

QUESTION: how old are you?

Ahem. . . twenty-one.

QUESTION: what is your dream career?

Being a published author and having people rave about my books. That’s all. Or, an editor for a publishing company. Imagine reading all day and being paid for it🤩

QUESTION: what was your least favorite read of 2020?

I already KNOW I’m gonna get shit for this but....... the wicked king. YALL I LITERALLY COULDNT GET THROUGH IT IM SO SORRY, I STILL HAVENT FINISHED IT

QUESTION: current favorite author?

Sarah. J. Maas. I don’t know what it is about her writing style, but it’s addicting. Throne of Glass is hands down the best series I’ve ever read. A Court of Thorns and Roses is the first book I’ve EVER reread. Her stories truly suck you in and hold onto you—you get lost so easily in her writing and it’s like once you’re done with a series, nothing will compare. Or, at least that’s how I felt after finishing Kingdom of Ash. Honorable mentions: Jennifer L. Armentrout, Penelope Douglas, L.J Shen, Elle Kennedy and Kennedy Fox.

QUESTION: any recommendations/tips to give to a new reader?

I’ve always given this advice to people who want to get into reading: find what you like and start with that. If you like romance, I’ve got a list for you to choose from. Mystery? Another list. Sci-fi? I GOT YOU. Fantasy? Yes! Sports fiction? It might take me a second but I’ll find you a book. Nonfiction? I’m zero help in that category, honestly. The point of the matter is that you’re never going to enjoy a book if you aren’t interested in the underlying topics.

QUESTION: do you ever find yourself comparing your life to fictional life?

Yes. All the time. I daydream about being apart of the Inner Circle and living in Terrasen with Aelin and Rowan. I think about what it would be like to have real powers and a mate. It drives my boyfriend crazy—but he loves me anyway.

QUESTION: what are your most anticipated books of 2021?

Here’s a list:

A Court of Silver Flames by Sarah J. Maas

The Crown of Gilded Bones by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Gods and Monsters by Shelby Mahurin

Crescent City 2 (Untitled) by Sarah J. Maas

A Vow So Bold and Deadly by Brigid Kemmerer (I just ordered this one & it arrives tomorrow)

Blessed Monsters by Emily A. Duncan

QUESTION: why did you start a Tumblr?

Honestly, I used to love tumblr when I was in grade school (way too young to be on here then but what else is new). I like having an extra space to get my questions and comments out without having to compress it into a 60 second video for TikTok to see. Tumblr is a good place to blog & post things like this.

QUESTION: what’s your favorite song right now?

I’ve listened to Carry You by Novo Amor every day for the past two months and I cry each time.

QUESTION: why write Harry Styles fan fiction?

Simple: I love Harry Styles. I’ve been a fan of him and One Direction since they were on X FACTOR. Read that again. X. Factor. I used to watch their performances on YouTube before WMYB even came out. Of course, I love all of the 1D boys but I was always a Harry gal. And I look up to him in a way—I’ve read things about people wishing they knew him personally and honestly? I would never want to meet him. I like the version of him I’ve cooked up in my brain over the past 10 years. I like the symbiotic relationship I have with his music. Fine Line is a ✨masterpiece✨. HS1 is a ✨work of art✨.

now, some topics I’ve been asked way too many times and want to finally get to:

QUESTION: political views?

the saying “anyone but trump” has been in my brain for the past four years. No, I’m not a republican. No, I’m not a democrat. I like to think of myself as a progressive (ahem, liberal) Did I vote for a democratic candidate? Yes, and I’d do it again and again until the US isn’t one of the worst countries—I’m sorry, businesses— to be apart of. I wanted Bernie but got Biden, and I’m alright with that. And my girl Kamala🥳

QUESTION: how did you feel about the BLM protests?

I went to multiple BLM protests and donated a lot of funds to BLM & other organizations. It’s 2021, people... stop being fucking RACIST. And don’t be afraid to call racist people out! Black Lives Matter, even if no one is posting about it anymore.

QUESTION: thoughts on abortion?

your body your choice, queen! not my uterus, not my problem.

QUESTION: there was a comment on an old video of yours talking about r*pe, why did you delete the comment?

I made a video when I first started my account on TikTok about reading in public and feeling “turned on” by it. Go watch it if you don’t know what I’m talking about. BUT, some ignorant male decided to comment and say “this is how girls get r*ped”. Whew. So. I deleted the comment because ....

I am a victim of sexual assault. Along with a lot of other women. 1 in 5 women have been victims of sexual assault. Talking about being r*ped isn’t funny.

No one else needed to see his comment. I reported it immediately and his account was shut down.

I never got justice for what happened to me, and the fact that some random male—who had never even met me or seen me before my video showed up on his FYP—had the nerve to comment that? Unacceptable.

this question isn’t as controversial but

QUESTION: what’s the best way to get out of a toxic relationship?

okay, let me just start off by saying that the people around you who love and support you are going to be your backbone. Leaving a toxic situation is hard, and every situation is different, but my best piece of advice to offer you is don’t be afraid to ask for help. Your loved ones are going to be there for you when you need them, even if you don’t believe they will. If you explain what’s happening, someone you know and love will drop whatever it is their doing to make sure you get out safely. good luck my babes.

now, back to our regularly scheduled program:

QUESTION: any tips on making tiktoks?

Literally none. I post what I think is funny and relatable and if anyone agrees, I’m satisfied. Even if it’s one view, it’s good enough for me. So I guess my one tip is to not base your life off of an app and followers.

QUESTION: favorite Harry Styles fanfic?

DONT MAKE ME CHOOSE. Duplicity is up there, along with Stall 1&2, and Kiwi. After? Absolutely not.

QUESTION: favorite WEBTOON?

y’all already KNOW. LORE OLYMPUS BY USEDBANDAID. Rachel is a genius and I have reread the series a million times. Hades is my soulmate and Apollo can rot in the fiery pits of the Underworld. also, if we’re talking about other webcomics, reading Walk on Water on mangadex...🤫

QUESTION: favorite movie?

Howls Moving Castle. I will be getting my “a heart is a heavy burden” tattoo very very soon.

QUESTION: I read your Elain theory on tumblr, can you explain a little more?

I thought I was pretty straightforward but I’ll say it again: she is always the “good” one and it’s too suspicious. SJM has already given one Archeron sister a happy ending, Nesta’s is obviously inevitable, but Elain? She has too many options for a happy ending. Lucien, who is her “mate”. Azriel, who is intrigued by her slightly. Her human guy—I don’t remember his name—who is disgusted that she’s not human anymore. Or, alone, planting flowers all day. BUT! My point is that she’s not truly happy. She was forced into the Cauldron just like Nesta. She was ripped away from the life she loved so dearly and didn’t want to give up. The man she was going to marry now hates her guts because she’s a High Fae. She has the perfect set up for a villain plot line and I’m all here for it.

well, that’s all I feel like doing tonight. hope you enjoyed my little q&a! be kind, and talk to you later! byeeee!

[livsoulsecrets]

Fictober Day 2 - That’s the easy part

Prompt number: 2

 Fandom: Ms Marvel

Rating: General Audiences 

Warnings/Tags: Canon Compliant

Summary: A different take at the final scene in Magnificent Ms Marvel #14.

-

— Kamala, you need to rest, okay? — Miles insisted, trying to get his friend back into her hospital bed. He felt like it was a lost cause already, despite his efforts.

— You need to stop telling me what to do. — Kamala argues, pushing him out of her way.

— Hey, I am just trying to help! I know this whole mess sucks, but we’re working on it! Me and the Champions can fix it. You need to trust us to handle it while you recover. — He tries once again, this time Kamala at least stops dragging him to the door. She doesn’t say anything for a moment and Miles can’t decide if that is a good sign or not.

— They used my name! — She finally says, her voice breaking in the most un-Kamala way. She takes a deep breath and he can’t help but notice how tired she looks, despite having just woke up. — I almost died trying to do the right thing and they used it to outlaw me! I can’t stay here and let you deal with it, Miles. I will not let them decide what we do with our lives, especially not using my name. So, thank you for coming, but I need to do this myself and you need to leave.

Miles wants to argue her, wants to call a nurse or Sam or her parents, tell them to come and make her stay where she is safe and healthy. But he knows it is useless. No one in the world could stop Kamala once she makes up her mind about something. So he gives in, like he feared he would do since the beginning.

— Fine, but can you promise you will call me if you need help? Or Sam, Viv, Riri, literally anyone. — He complies, defeated.

— I promise I will. — She still sounds just as annoyed as before, but her words are sincere.

— Also, I’m really glad you are okay. We were all worried about you. I mean- I was too. I really thought you had- Or that you would... — He doesn’t finish his sentence, but Kamala’s face softens, showing she understands.

— I thought that too for a moment. But I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere. — She shakes her head and gives him a serious look. — Anyway, it doesn’t matter now, that’s the easy part.

— Excuse me? Getting out of a coma is the easy part? — He asks, shocked.

— Of course it is, the hard part comes now: stopping those idiots from destroying everything we built. — She finishes, chin held high, determination clear in her tone, looking more like Ms Marvel in that depressing hospital room and ridiculous gown than ever.

That is the Kamala he knows, the one who he trusts enough to be led by, the one who doesn’t give up. Right now, she is just as brave and confident as he remembers. It almost makes him forget the few seconds he spent believing he had lost her among the chaos. Almost.

— You will stop them, I know that. — He says because it is the truth.

— No, Miles. — She smiles, opening the door so he can leave her room. — We will. — After that, she shuts the door in his face and leaves him alone in the hospital hallway.

Maybe he did convince her of a thing or two by coming here. It was more than he was expecting to do, so he takes it as a victory.

He really needed one today.

[cedarmoons]

@4biddenleeches sorry not sorry i did this to ur kids

His fingers are warm on the back of her neck, and his touch lingers. She watches his reflection in the mirror as he leans forward, tilting his head and pressing a kiss to the exposed skin of her throat, fingers curling over the tops of her arms. The heart-shaped emerald dangles over her sternum, catching the light.

It is an hour past dawn; the children are still asleep; they are ready to leave.

“I think you’re worrying too much,” Asra says, smirking against the curve of her shoulder. His eyes are lepidolite purple in the faded light, holding her gaze in the mirror. Ziah makes a face, then opens her jewelry box and puts on three rings of malachite, moonstone, and amethyst. Asra reaches around her, taking hold of the strip of black velvet that serves as a choker, clasping it around her neck as well.

“I am still not certain this is the best idea,” she says, taking an amethyst pendant in hand and turning around. Asra doesn’t move as she drapes it over his head. “We are asking Aredhel and Julian to watch nine children between the ages of ten and nineteen for two weeks. Alone. That is...”

Asra’s smirk is wide and shameless. “I think they’ll do a great job. In fact, I think they’d be insulted by your lack of faith in them.”

Ziah rolls her eyes. He kisses the knuckles of her left hand, the pressure of his mouth mothwing-light, and turns away, picking up their scarves. She winds hers around her shoulders as he does the same. 

“Did you pack an extra pair of your glasses?” she asks.

Asra nods, looking down at his mostly-packed bag and pushing his spectacles back up his nose. “Do you have extra ointment for your hand?”

“Mhm.”

Downstairs, six new heartbeats. Julian’s laughter, Aredhel’s dry response to something Katya had said. Ziah puts her hand on Asra’s back, then reaches out to help him close their bags. “They are here,” she tells him, and downstairs someone knocks.

Asra grins, then kisses her cheek. “Great. I’ll let them in.”

He takes the bags with him, leaving Ziah alone in their new bedroom—now fully unpacked, and cluttered with trinkets and items and reminders of days past, gathered over the years spent together. (Nearly twenty, she thinks, and smiles: nearly twenty years she has had with him, and she would not trade a moment of it for the world.) She had tucked the packing list under the jewelry box, and a list for Aredhel under Muriel’s carving of a wyrm, and a general grocery list tucked between the dresser’s mirror and its elaborately carved frame.

She checks the packing list, makes sure every item has been crossed off, then grabs the lists for Aredhel and leaves the bedroom. The kitchen is down the hall, on the other end of the house: once a leisure room, refashioned into the kitchen to accommodate the shop and study downstairs on the ground floor. It had taken several days to build it all.

Ziah waters some of Lizbet’s plants—the ones that had not been able to fit in her half of the attic, and the ones that she’d deemed hardy enough to not require her care in her room—and leaves the grocery list, along with a bag of coins, on the countertop, making sure to scribble Aredhel and Julian’s name in large lettering at the bottom.

When she goes downstairs, Katya is halfway up them, bouncing on her feet, her familiar close behind her. Katya stumbles to a stop, grinning up at Ziah, then cheerfully says “Morning Ziah!” and lunges forward, wrapping her arms around her middle. Ziah laughs and pats her shoulder.

“Korra isn’t up yet,” she says.

“I know!” Katya says, cheerfully, and continues on her way to the attic.

Dmitri and his familiar have already disappeared into the study, and Asra is speaking with Aredhel and Julian. Asra looks toward the stairs and his words trail off, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth. “There she is,” he says, holding out his hand to her. “Everything good to go?”

Ziah nods, closes the distance between them and takes his hand, squeezing it, before turning to Aredhel and Julian. “Thank you both so much for this,” she says. “I know it is much to ask.”

“It isn’t!” Julian assures her, grinning. He looks healthy, well rested: she is glad to see it. His grin fades, slightly, replaced with more serious reassurance. “We’re glad to do this, honestly. I think you two deserve a little vacation. Aransia is beautiful this time of year.”

“Don’t you worry about the kids,” Aredhel says. “We can handle them.”

“Speaking of,” Ziah says, pulling out her third and final list. She glances at Asra, who smiles, and looks back to Aredhel and Julian. “Some notes for you both. Yosef is allergic to nuts—of any kind. We have vials of potion that counteract the allergy just in case anything happens, there’s one in the kitchen, first overhead counter to the left of the sink, in a blue basket, the cabinet doors are glass so you can’t miss it. There’s another one in Yosef’s room. He knows where both of these are, and so do the other children. 

“Second, on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, Evander goes to the palace for tutoring. A carriage will come pick him up and bring him home, so you won’t have to worry about that. Yosef may want to go with him, because he likes the library—and please, if Dmitri would like to go as well, he is more than welcome—but Kylan will definitely go with him to see Portia.”

“See Portia?” Aredhel repeats, brow wrinkling. “Why...?”

“He told us he’s in love with her,” Asra says.

“He’s—what?” Julian sputters, laughing.

“He is eleven, and we’ve already told her of his crush,” Ziah asks. “He doesn’t know that she knows.”

“She thinks it’s cute,” Asra adds. “And you know what, he’s weeded her garden for her several times, when we can’t even get him to make his bed, so I think he’s serious, for now.”

“Anyway,” Ziah says. “Moving on. Kamala and Indira’s birthday was two weeks ago, and Navra and Nasmira gave them instruments as presents, a sitar and a hang drum. Kamala is determined to learn them both. If she’s in a bad mood and blames you for it, she will play one of them in front of your bedroom.” She looks up, eyes widening in horror. “We forgot the extra mattresses.”

“Mizi,” Asra says. “Evander has a bunk bed, and you know Dmitri will be sleeping in the study. They’ll be fine.”

She exhales, hard. “Right.” Upstairs, Korra is arguing with Lizbet, and Katya is laughing. Upstairs, Indira is humming as they brush their teeth. Outside, she can hear the neigh of horses as Nadia’s carriage arrives to pick them up. She looks back to Aredhel. “One last thing—”

“Ziah,” Aredhel says, smiling, “if it’s on the list, we’ll read it. Promise.”

“If the kids say I approved something and it’s not on this list,” Ziah rushes out, “they are lying, don’t believe them. Lizbet is not allowed to paint her room whatever color she wants, no matter if all of them say Asra and I allowed it.”

“United front?” Julian asks, grinning. “Smart.” 

“If there’s an emergency,” Asra says, “Korra and Lizbet know how to message us. We’ll get it if we’re near water. If that fails, find Faust. She’s in the forest, usually around Muriel’s hut. She can let me know if anything happens.”

They both nod. Aredhel smiles. “We’ll be fine,” she insists, and draws Ziah into a hug, one Ziah returns, closing her eyes and enjoying her warmth. When Aredhel pulls away, she says, “And if worst comes to worst, we can always ask Portia or Muriel to help out. You two focus on enjoying yourselves, okay?”

Julian glances out the window and sees Nadia’s carriage roll to a stop. His eye widens. “Darling,” he says, facing Aredhel, “how about you and I go upstairs and say hi to the others, hm?”

Nadia knocks just as Aredhel and Julian disappear upstairs. They are not on bad terms with Nadia—she had pardoned them for their murder of the Count, and publicly thanked them for their assistance with ending the second red plague—but things are... awkward, still.

Asra opens the door, beaming. Nadia steps inside, dressed for travel, her hair in a long braid that drapes over her shoulder. “Good morning,” she tells them both, warmly. The coachman collects their bags and brings them out to the carriage. Nadia closes the door behind him and smiles at them both, her gaze lingering on the emerald Ziah is wearing. “Asra—happy birthday. I trust you received the shipment of books I sent here?”

“Yep,” Asra says. “Dmitri’s already finished one by now, probably.”

“I can hear you,” Dmitri calls from the study. Asra laughs.

“Am I wrong?” he asks, and Dmitri doesn’t reply.

Nadia smiles warmly and, after kissing both Asra and Ziah on the cheek, she goes into the study to speak with Dmitri herself. Asra sighs once she’s gone, intertwining his fingers with Ziah’s. “I am,” he whispers, “so ready for this vacation.”

Ziah laughs. “That’s what happens when we adopt four children under thirteen in two months, Asra.”

Asra’s smile widens. “Worth it, though.”

Upstairs, Korra asks Julian where Ziah is, and Julian tells her the truth—she’s still downstairs, you can catch her if you hurry.

Oh. Oh, that cannot be good.

“MOM! WAIT!” Korra shouts, right on time. Ziah winces. “LIZBET TURNED HONEY GREEN!”

“Nadia,” Asra calls, “that’s our cue, time to go!” He raises his voice. “We’re leaving, Korra, sorry! Talk to Julian or Aredhel!”

Nadia appears almost immediately, and Ziah can hear Korra and Honey both sprinting through the house, Honey’s yowls loud enough and strong enough that she can hear the distress in his voice. Nadia opens the door, laughing, and Asra laughs with her as he gets all three of them out the door.

Ziah sees Honey at the top of the staircase, meowing pitifully—a black tomcat turned lime-green from head to the tip of his fluffy tail. Asra reaches around her and shuts the door just as Honey decides to run down the stairs. Ziah turns around and Asra bursts into laughter, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close.

“You,” she accuses playfully, “are entirely too pleased about this.”

“What’s not to be pleased about?” he teases. “I’m going on vacation with two beautiful women, our kids will be safe and taken care of for two weeks, and Aredhel’s finally repaying all those favors she owes me. This is the best birthday present I could ask for.”

Ziah laughs, shaking her head, and follows Nadia to the carriage. She settles beside Nadia, leaning over and resting her head atop Nadia’s shoulder, closing her eyes when Nadia begins to stroke her hair. Asra sits across from them, and wordlessly Ziah gives him her scarf so he may use both their scarves as a pillow.

“Aredhel and Julian are both admirable parents,” Nadia assures her, as the carriage jolts and moves. “Dmitri and Katya are both darling children. I am certain they can handle anything your children throw their way.”

Asra snorts, then giggles, cheeks dimpling as he laughs so hard he uses Ziah’s scarf to muffle himself. Nadia arches an eyebrow, silent, and he shakes his head. Once he’s calmed a little, he lowers the scarf and grins at them.

“She’s right,” he says, snickering again. His delight in this situation should not amuse Ziah so much, but he is always endearing. She only shakes her head at him, hiding her smile in Nadia’s shoulder. Asra shrugs, grinning. “Hey, you know what? What could go wrong?”

*

Ziah checks up on them once, with a bowl of seawater in her lap. It is dark and warm in Aransa, humid; they have been here for five days. She sits on their rented manse’s balcony, overlooking the sea. The two halves of her heart are fast asleep inside, wrapped around each other. Asra will reach out for her in his sleep soon and realize she is missing, but for now she has enough time to check on the children.

Korra is the one who answers her call, Mango perched on her shoulder, bobbing her head in time with the distant strumming of Kamala’s sitar. 

“Hey Mom!” Korra greets, cheerfully, and Ziah swallows.

“Hello, love. How are things in Vesuvia? Are you all being on your best behavior for Aredhel and Julian?”

“Oh, just—just great,” Korra assures her, her eyes flicking up to something out of Ziah’s view. “Everything’s peachy. Mango-y, if you will. Really.”

“You’re so cute,” Mango says, lifting golden-orange wings with emerald remiges. She bobs her head again. “You’re so cute.”

“Thank you, Mango,” Ziah says, dutifully. Mango flaps her wings. In the background, Lizbet says hey is that Mom?

“Go away Lizbet!” Korra says, nose scrunching. “Mom doesn’t wanna talk to you because she knows you’re a filthy snitch—”

Something crashes in the background. Someone shouts Honey! — Ziah thinks it sounds like Aredhel, but the voice is muffled and cracks mid-syllable, she cannot be certain.

Regardless, the shout makes Korra turn her head, presumably looking down the hall toward wherever Honey had knocked something off the table or shelf. Presumably while maintaining eye contact with whoever was telling him to stop pushing the delicate item in question.

“Uh-oh,” Korra says.

Mango lifts her wings, beak clicking twice before she finally says, very clearly in her odd parrot voice, “Well, fuck.”

Ziah’s mouth drops open. “Korra, did—”

“Lizbet taught her that,” Korra says, quickly. “Love ya Mom gottagobye!”

The bowl of water goes dark, and Ziah is left staring at her own reflection in disbelief. A moment later, it lights up again, and when Ziah touches its surface Lizbet is smiling up at her with a gap-tooth grin, winding a strand of golden hair sheened in blue around her finger. 

“So,” she says, gleefully, “in the five days that you’ve been gone, Korra set Kylan on fire—”

“—it was an accident!” Korra shouts. “Lizbet, shut up!”

Lizbet ignores her and beams up at Ziah, giggling with the kind of delight that only comes at expense of one’s siblings. “Cookie ate a bunch of grass and threw it all up on the study carpet, Aredhel and Julian took us to the park but Katya and Korra wandered off and got lost and we all spent hours looking for them—”

“LIZBET’S SNITCHING!” Korra bellows, out of sight. Her pronouncement is immediately followed by a faint but ringing chorus of disapproval. She cannot hear what the other children are saying, but it makes someone say there will be no killing! which is never good.

“Also Aredhel and Julian lost Dmitri,” Lizbet says, laughing. “But he was in the study the whole time, they checked the entire house like twice! Also I don’t know who thought this was be a good idea but at some point we tied all our sheets together to see if the wisteria really is strong enough to climb down—”

“You did what?” Ziah asks.

“It wasn’t me!” Lizbet protests.

“Yeah it was!” Indira replies. 

“Dinner’s ready!” Julian calls. “Come and get your pasta!”

“One sec!” Lizbet cries. “I’m talking to Mom!” 

Indira’s face appears in the water, half-shoving Lizbet out of the way. “It was her idea to tie Yosef in the sheets, and lower him out the attic window,” they supply, matter-of-factly. Lizbet screeches, and Indira has to shout over her to be heard: “But don’t worry, he’s fine now! Also tell Dama Lizbet’s the one who taught Mango how to swear!”

“She taught Mango how to what?” Asra asks from the doorway. He strides over, leaning over Ziah’s shoulder, staring down at Indira and Lizbet. “Lizbet. You did what?”

Lizbet laughs, a little hysterically. “Dinnertime Dama loveyagottago!”

The water goes dark, and Asra and Ziah are left staring at their own reflections. After a moment, Asra purses his lips and sits beside her on the patio sofa. Ziah listens to his heartbeat, and Nadia’s, and the rush of the waves on the beach below. She takes several moments to process the chaos she has just witnessed and lifts her head, meeting Asra’s gaze in the darkness.

“We should go back,” she says.

“Pfft,” Asra replies. “Nah. They’ve got it under control.”

Ziah blinks at him. “How much of that did you overhear?”

“Just the Mango part.” He reaches out and presses his palm against her back, rubbing in slow circles. She exhales and leans against him, closing her eyes and turning her head, nose nuzzling his throat. Asra kisses the crown of her head. “Again, I’m sure they’ve got everything under control.”

Despite the confidence in his voice, his shameless grin betrays him.

Evander is their eldest, at sixteen—Korra and Lizbet were both fourteen, Indira and Kamala both twelve, Yosef and Kylan both ten. Cookie was the only familiar who behaved: Honey was more interested in destroying things and dropping half-eaten small animals on tables and beds and pillows, and Mango never, ever stopped talking. When you told her to quiet down, she only spoke louder.

And that was not considering Katya and Dmitri and their familiars.

Too late, she realizes the true magnitude of what they have asked of Aredhel and Julian.

“I don’t think they’ll ever offer to babysit our children again,” she says, faintly. “In fact, I don’t think they’ll want anything to do with us ever again.”

Asra laughs for several long moments, smiling against the curve of her shoulder. When his fit of amusement has passed, he kisses her jaw. “I think you’re being a little dramatic, Mizi.” After a moment, he sighs, resting his cheek on her shoulder, arms wrapping around her. “Come back to bed? We miss you.”

Ziah sighs again, then nods, standing up and dumping her bowl of water over the balcony’s guardrail. Nadia stirs when Ziah climbs back into bed, but she settles when Ziah kisses her brow, half-smiling in her sleep.

With Asra and Nadia flanking her, both of them entwined with her—arms and legs and sheets tangled between them—Ziah takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, letting herself focus only on the two halves of her heart, and not Aredhel and Julian, undoubtedly at their wit’s end, half a continent away.

*

They come home later than expected. Nadia’s negotiations with Aransia for investment in and trade treaties with Vesuvia had not fallen through, but they had stalled, and Nadia had not been able to leave until two and a half weeks into their vacation. When Ziah had told Aredhel, Asra by her side, Aredhel had smiled—tightly, thinly, an expression that had not looked like a smile at all and more like a grimace—and told them to enjoy their vacation.

“Also, Asra,” she’d said, “we’re even.”

“Deal,” Asra had agreed.

Which means it has been over three weeks when the carriage finally comes to a stop in front of their new home, the sky painted rosy with predawn light. Asra is still sleeping across from them, but at Nadia’s gentle touch he rouses, blinking and looking bleary-eyed at them both.

“Home?” he whispers. Ziah nods, helping him sit up. She gives him his glasses and he smiles at her before putting them on.

“Thank you for the vacation, Nadia,” she tells her, kissing the inside of her palm and then her wrist. “I had a beautiful time.”

Nadia smiles and draws her into a proper kiss. “Visit me soon,” she says, a playful light dancing in her scarlet eyes. “If the damage control does not take up too much of your time.”

Ziah laughs, and Nadia’s smile widens. Asra kisses her goodbye as well, and then helps Ziah out of the carriage. The coachman retrieves their bags from the top of the carriage, then takes his place at the head of the carriage, snapping the reins. Ziah and Asra stand in front of the house, waving and watching, until Nadia’s carriage is gone and they are left alone in the silence.

Asra turns to her. “How bad do you think it is?” he asks, wrapping an arm around her waist. She shakes her head slightly, leaning down to kiss him, enjoying what little peace they have left.

“We shall find out momentarily,” she says, taking his hand in hers and threading their fingers together. Together, they open the door and step inside.

The house is quiet. Dmitri is curled up on one of the sofas in the study, a blanket pillaged from someone’s closet draped over him. Several books, all of them open and all of them bookmarked, are within an arm’s length of the sofa. He is the only one in the study, so they go upstairs.

Aredhel and Julian are at the kitchen table. Julian’s head is tucked into the crook of one arm, the other arm resting limply across the table, bare, tattooed hand limply holding a mug of what must be coffee. Aredhel is also leaning over, not quite as visibly exhausted as Julian, her hand stroking over his hair and the other resting on the table.

“Wow,” Asra says.

The only movement, from either of them, is Aredhel’s gaze sliding from some vague point at the back of Julian’s head to Asra and Ziah, standing at the top of the stairs. Out of the corner of her eye, Asra is trying very hard to suppress his grin. Ziah gives him a look and he clears his throat, expression smoothing over. But she sees the shine of mischief in his eyes.

Ziah lets go of Asra’s hand and walks forward into the kitchen, gently reaching out and touching Julian’s back. He sighs at the touch but doesn’t move. She moves on to Aredhel, putting one hand on her shoulder. 

“How was the trip?” Aredhel asks, voice polite but strained.

Before Ziah can answer, something pale and off-color catches her eye. She looks up and frowns at splotches of beige yellow that had not been there before.

“Is that...” she starts.

“Pancake batter,” Aredhel supplies, dully. Her voice is hoarse. There are bruises under her eyes from lack of sleep.

“It’s all right,” Ziah says. Asra leaves the kitchen, taking their bags down the hall to drop them off in their bedroom. She hears Cookie’s slobbery breaths as he wakes up and realizes she and Asra are home. The door to Yosef and Kylan’s room squeals open. Cookie trots down the hall, panting, tail wagging, and greets her with a single sniff.

“Okay,” Ziah says, quietly. “You two go home.”

Julian lifts his head. His eyes are red-rimmed, irritated, and he has not shaved in several days. He blinks at her, and Aredhel doesn’t move. Ziah sinks into the chair beside them. “You two go home,” she repeats. Cookie puts his head in her lap, and when she lowers her hand to pet him, he licks at her fingers. “Go home and rest. Eat. Enjoy each other’s company. Katya and Dima can stay with us all day. And then tonight, if you like, you are both more than welcome to come back for dinner. If not, Asra or I will walk them both home.”

Julian and Aredhel stare at her, both too exhausted to speak. 

“You’re the best, Ziah,” Aredhel finally says. Ziah smiles.

“Go,” she gently encourages, standing up and picking up Julian’s coffee mug. It is half-empty, gone cold. She gets Julian’s overcoat and Aredhel’s cloak, and escorts them both to the door. “Dinner will be at sunset,” she tells them. “I understand if you do not come back by then.”

They both nod, and Ziah waits until they are out of sight before shutting the door. She turns around and sees Asra coming down the stairs, his traveling hat still on his head, red scarf still wound about his shoulders. She meets him at the foot of the stairs and takes off his hat, resting it on the knob of the staircase newel.

She drapes her arms over his shoulders, kissing him gently, smiling at the hitch in his breath. Nearly twenty years they have spent together: her world has narrowed down to him, and Nadia, and the seven children they have taken in. Twenty years ago she had not imagined any of this for herself, and now...

She would not trade a moment of it for anything.

“I love you,” she tells him, smiling.

“I love you, too,” he says, kissing her again. When they break apart, he takes her hand and pulls her to the center of the room, taking her once again into his arms.

Asra starts to hum a tune they’d heard at an Aransi celebration—Asra had been the one most eager to dance, drawing Nadia and Ziah in with him in turns, and the tune of this song had stuck with him for the rest of the trip. His hands rest on her waist, curving around to the small of her back, and slowly they start to dance. They sway in place until Asra draws her into a slow kompa, stepping forward and then backwards, their rhythm guided only by his humming.

He grins, cheeks dimpling, and keeps humming, spinning her and then being spun by her in turn. They come together, hips slowly rocking on the beat, and he turns his head to press his nose against her cheek, hands sliding up her back and then back down to her hips. She touches him everywhere, hands running over his shoulders, curving over the back of his neck to feel the soft hairs there, brushing his cheeks. Not once does his humming falter; not once does the music stop.

They dance until Cookie wakes Yosef up, and the whole house realizes they have returned.

[androidavenger]

hypothetical mcu-verse viv

okay I can't actually figure out a way to get viv if vision lives in infinity war bc presumably he'd just be dating wanda for the rest of the movies until one of the actors wants to leave and they can't adapt the vision solo without years of tragedy so in the interests of every cloud having a silver lining, please consider for a champions movie:

vision dies but his consciousness survives somehow in the remnants used to create viv which means she wakes up with his voice in her head guiding her, force ghost obi wan style

except his voice keeps fading away and he has to struggle to keep himself alive as it's been years since he's had a body so viv being totally alone (before she meets the champions) is a constant fear

vision isn't jarvis but jarvis contributed and he started off as a voice in the helmet of a hero that needed help so it's fitting maybe

she recruits the other champions (some of whom are already friends - miles/sam/kamala, who I assume would already have been introduced and maybe kamala with her own movie) and along the way aims to fulfil her quest to get vision, a paternal figure she may or may not call 'father' when she needs his help really badly and also it's kind of metaphorically true, his body back, which definitely happens

(she assumes he's going to leave her then but let's be honest she's cared more about him than literally any mcu avenger even in this headcanon I just made up, so as he points out, why would he want to do that?)

(I mean he absolutely reunites with wanda but that's a separate thing)

tl;dr - vision dies to create viv but then ends up as a jarvis-esque voice in her head for a bit

bonus points if she wakes up after over-exerting herself in the final battle, can't hear him and assumes he's faded away but surprise:

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

3) No continuity baggage.

 “For new readers, getting into comic book series that have decades of history can be intimidating.”

 Then new readers need to learn to get over that and dive in because that’s honestly the only real way to do it.

 “No matter the amount of recap pages, helpful captions or so-called “jumping on points,” there’s always going to be an unspoken baggage of continuity underlying the modern-day issues they pick up, which, at best, make old enemies feel less stale to new eyes and at worse render plot twists, cliffhangers or entire storylines completely incomprehensible without knowledge of prior arcs involving these characters.”

 Tell that to everyone who ever picked up a Spider-Man comic book in the 1980s and 1990s (which was way more than today btw, with the 1990s having the highest selling issue ever) who didn’t have many jumping on points, new #1s, the internet, that many reprints, no Marvel Unlimited and 20-35+ years of Spider-Man history but became regular readers anyway.

 Shit tell that to anyone who picked up Spider-Man in the 1970s after Amazing Spider-Man #100 who had to somehow find out what happened across 100 issues they had to track down due to a lack of reprints, no electronic services and had to cope with those being collector’s items in high demand and even higher prices.

 Once upon a time comics were written in such a way that every issue was somebody’s first. There was no ‘unspoken baggage’ bullshit like the author is pretending there was.

 Readers went back if they could or wanted to but generally they could roll with the story as was.

 I did it. my first Spider-Man comic book was literally the last part of the last story in the 2+ year long convoluted nightmare that was the Clone Saga and it thrilled me because it was well written and well drawn.

 That’s all you need.

 A good writer writes to the old established fans AND the new comers alike.

  “Spider-Man has a particularly cluttered biography, between the “Clone Saga,” “Spider-Verse” and the history-altering “Brand New Day.”

 Spider-Verse wasn’t a cluttered biography it was one arc. The clone saga makes sense when read in sequence though it is long and BND never altered history, OMD did.

 And the degree to which it rendered Spider-Mans’ history more convoluted was AT LEAST comparable to how Secret Wars fucked Miles’ history.

 But we’re gonna conveniently ignore that so the author can continue to shill Miles I guess.

 “Those coming from other Spidey media expecting more fun stories of a webhead fighting bad guys and maybe tussling with other animal-themed villains might leave disappointed.”

 Nowdays sure because he’s Iron Man.

 But hand them a decent older run and they won’t be.

 “That is, unless they pick up a Miles Morales book,”

 Or the David Michelinie run, or the JMS run, or Marvel Knights Spider-Man, or the Lee/Ditko run, or the Roger Stern run, or the Tom DeFalco run, or the DeMatteis runs, or the Peter David run or the Marv Wolfman run.

 “which despite their own origin in universe-rupturing crossover events are about as accessible as a modern Big Two superhero series gets, lacking that excessive amount of history and backstory.”

 See above about accessibility.

 And...no.

 Kamala Khan and other new characters existing in the same universe they were created in less than 5 years ago is as accessible as it gets.

 Finally Miles’ got shittons of baggage by virtue of switching universes, having his origin story invalidated and you know continuing shit from the ORIGINAL Ultimate Spider-Man series.

 It’s not like Miles series starts fresh that you don’t need to have some familiarity with Peter’s adventures. Ultimate Spider Woman, Mary Jane, Electro, Gwen Stacy, Green Goblin, Aunt May. All these characters are present in Miles’ first arc with a presumption that you know who they are already.

 Also that backstory makes the franchise RICHER not poorer.

   2) He’s still a teenager

 “The debate over whether or not to allow comic book characters to age will never be done.”

 Only because morons keep bringing it up and not recognizing you obviously should let them age.

 “On the one hand, you have the example of “The Simpsons,” where Bart Simpson has been a rabble-rousing 10-year-old for over 20 years and likely always will be there.”

 Putting aside how cliché this example is, the Simpsons stopped being about Bart by like season 3 or 4 and it stopped being actually good in season 10 which was nearly 20 years ago. Which blows up the argument here.

 “On the other is John Constantine who, in the original “Hellblazer” run, aged in real time. Most superhero books land somewhere in the middle, with the de-aging properties of reboots and relaunches accepted into the fold.”

It’s not accepted. It’s practiced by DC to obviously crappy results hence Rebirth is a thing.

 “It can be difficult removing a character from the original age, however.”

 No it isn’t.

 Peter Parker, Smallville Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Harry Potter, Son Goku and Son Gohan prove that to be the case.

 “Spider-Man is a character whose entire existence is rooted in teenage angst and the drama of high school.”

 No he isn’t. He’s rooted in down to Earth realistic life experiences and the responsibilities one has to contend with as part of that whilst balancing that against the realities of living up to the responsibilities of being a superhero.

 If you think Spider-Man is anything other than something along those lines you do not understand Spider-Man.

 The author is a superficial idiot who’s never read much Spider-Man and is parroting erroneous lines they’ve heard elsewhere, like from Tom Brevoort’s lying mouth.

 Spider-Man was in high school for 28 issues before his creators graduated him.

 He isn’t rooted in angst he simply felt it because all 1960s Marvel characters did but Spidey especially since he was a teenager initially but that changed over time.

 The drama of high school wasn’t that big of a deal early on next to the drama of Jameson and Betty Brant who were unconnected to Peter’s high school life.

 “Removing Peter Parker from that made sense at a certain point, but after he graduated college, creators have floundered to find something for adult Peter to do, cycling through freelance photojournalist to scientist to CEO to public school teacher.”

 Yes.

 The acclaimed Roger Stern, Tom DeFalco and J.M. DeMatteis runs of Spider-Man sure are great examples of ‘floundering’

 Him having to cope with dark stuff like gritty street crime, marriage, existential issues self-identity challenged by the presence of his clone, impending fatherhood, and his own mortality sure was the writers floundering.

 Seriously, all the examples the author listed were just different JOBS Peter has had, not proof writers have floundered constantly since 1983. They don’t even prove Peter’s JOBS have floundered in real life adults often change professions.

 “Miles remains a 14-year-old high schooler,”

 No he doesn’t. He’s been allowed to age and is closer to 17 years old currently.

 “that rich vein far from fully tapped at this point.”

 Because a high school adventurer who deals with crazy unordinary events as well as regular high school experiences is something comic books and pop culture as a whole hasn’t revisited ad infinitum as the default setting of countless series.

 “For fans craving the classic high school Spidey experience, look no further than Miles Morales to deliver the hormone-fueled goods.”

 Or you know read the older Ultimate Spider-Man comics, the Ditko Spider-Man comics, Spidey or watch the Spec Spidey cartoon.

  1)   He Still Has a lot to Learn

 “Miles Morales is still relatively green. He’s been receiving a helping hand from an Avenger here, another Spidey-adjacent hero there, but the fact is he’s a kid. A kid of better-than-average intelligence and the proportionate strength and agility of a spider, but a kid nonetheless. There’s still an almost infinite amount of scope for him to learn and grow, and also for him to completely mess up in the way rookies do, all of which make for interesting stories and a clear character progression in the years to come.”

 Peter Parker has at least 30 decades worth of character development in him if you make him a father, let alone anything else you wish to do with him.

 And this is such a bullshit goalpost moving argument to make.

 Miles is better because he has LESS character development and is at the start of his career as opposed to Peter.

 Okay...I guess every new TV show that just started this year must be by it’s nature automatically better than the Sopranos, the Wire and Game of Thrones.

 I guess Speedball was an inherently better character than Peter Parker because he was 25 years behind Peter.

 I guess every Robin ever is automatically better than Batman and Superman combined.

 I guess the Iron Fist TV show is better than the Daredevil TV show because it’s only had ONE season instead of two.

 I guess the DCEU versions of Superman and Batman are inherently better than the MCU versions of Captain America and Iron Man because they’ve only had 1-2 movies about them whilst Cap and Iron Man have had a minimum of 3 each.

 The POTENTIAL for character development doesn’t make you better than the character who HAS the character development.

 Practically EVERY character has potential for growth. But staying stuck there, or going downhill (as Miles has since his inception) kinda makes you far LESS than a character who’s got the character development.

 Character development>>>>Hasn’t got there yet.

 “Peter Parker, comparatively, is spinning his wheels.”

 Yeah right NOW he is. He didn’t USED to do that, he wasn’t even doing that a mere 15 fucking years ago. This isn’t going to last.

 “He’s done everything, beaten everyone, self-actualized several times over as a spider-god, the literal center of the multiverse in “Spider-Verse,” and now as an international industrialist.”

 a)   Being an industrialist never self actualized him

b)   He was never a Spider God, the author needs to read the damn books

c)   He was also never the centre of the Multiverse

d)   What the hell does self-actualizing even mean in this context?

e)   He’s never been a father in 616?

f)     He’s never owned a small business

g)   He’s never had to make peace with his abusive father-in-law

h)   He’s never turned evil

i)     He’s never learned magic

j)     He’s never swapped powers with anybody

k)   Oh look there seems to be lots of shit whether good or bad he’s never done

 “At this point, writers have to keep applying new gimmicks to the original Spidey to make him interesting, and though the results have sometimes been magnificent — thanks to Dan Slott, J. Michael Straczynski and their innumerable collaborators — it feels like arranging deck chairs on the Titanic.”

 With Slott sure.

 With JMS no it was never a gimmick it was all natural.

 Notice the author only citing the most recent regular ASM writers as though they did a quick google search and nothing more as research.

 We don’t need to apply gimmicks to make Spider-Man interesting. We just need to allow him to progress again. Renew Your Vows proved that.

 “With Miles, the fascination and entertainment comes naturally.”

 Well it would do if Bendis wasn’t writing him and hadn’t fucked him by switching his universes.

 And it would also help if the fascination with Miles wasn’t rooted in yet another teenage superhero story. It’s been done to death by this point and this is another teenage superhero story about another smart kid who has spider powers and calls himself Spider-Man. 

  What can we conclude form this ‘article’?

 1)    The author is a Miles Morales shill who will move the goal posts and stack the deck in order to paint Miles in a light that puts him over Peter

2)    If this article is indicative of the attitudes surrounding Miles Morales on the whole then Miles Morales is excruciatingly overrated

3)    The author doesn’t understand much about storytelling

4)    The author doesn’t understand or know much about Spider-Man in general (specifically Peter Parker) or the defining philosophies underpinning the franchise

5)    The author wants to generate cheap dishonourable clickbait

BONUS!

CBR is such clickbait bullshit they even made a crappy video to go along with their crappy article for anyone too lazy to read it.

See this video indicates to me the speaker and/or writer and/or researcher of the artcle and video really don’t know what they are talking about.

·         Because they only site Dan Slott and JMS among the creators who;ve worked on Spider-Man beyond the early days which says to me they did a quick google search of Spider-Man writers and since those are the latest two with full on runs they threw the names out to look smart.

·         Because no self respecting Spider-Man fan doesn’t know how to pronounce John Romita’s name