#I have far too much self-respect to watch cable news

[old1ddude]

...

[victorianoruben]

{Untitled yet}

Ruvik X F!Reader

Chapter 1

Warning: none, I guess?

Written by: me and @another-bryk-in-the-wall

(thanks to my best friend for beta-reading it!)

Sometimes the hours are blurring together on nightshifts. Sometimes they are extremely stressful. Emergencies where there are only two people on a shift.

Other times you have 6 hours of complete rest and boredom.

That day it was the latter.

You haven't been working here for long and already find this hospital to be “different from others".

Many employees were emotionally cold and absolutely not interested in anyone, while just some liked to make jokes with you and treated you like a normal person. Also, the whole atmosphere here seemed very private. There weren’t too many patients who were going out of their way to socialize or make friends inside of the hospital. Hell, most didn’t even leave their rooms.

You sat bored in the lounge with your mobile phone in hand until you suddenly heard footsteps. They reverberated eerily in the long hallway and you turned to face that direction, startled. It was rare that anyone was wandering the halls this late at night. You saw a man in a tight red uniform aiming to walk past you, not even acknowledging your presence.

Only when you took a closer look at him, did you notice his burn scars. They were covering half of his face. When he noticed that you were looking at him from head to toe you decided to greet him, instead of just awkwardly staring at him. A relatively meek "Good evening, Sir" came out of you. You felt very overwhelmed by his dominant presence, which intimidated you a bit. That feeling only worsened when you let your eyes wander to the top of his head... Was that his brain surrounded by glass? No, that couldn't be. You were surely imagining things. But, what if you weren’t. Oh god damn it, what had he been through?

He emanated a unique self-confidence unlike anything you had ever seen in anyone with facial scarring. Usually patients like that were unsure and shy, afraid of being judged over something they had no control over. Human beings could be downright nasty to anyone with a scarred face. Something about facial scars disgusted people and the victims could clearly feel the contempt of others and as a result, they tended to lose all confidence.

This man, however, seemed to practically ooze confidence, which you respected and you caught yourself of being fascinated by or more like interested in his presence. You felt how your heartbeat rose from 0 to 100 when you both made eye contact, though you tried all your best to keep yourself collected and professionally polite. But that didn't work that easily.

"Good evening.", the man replied, his face completely blank and his voice monotone. He was just looking at you without a friendly gesture, without a smile. The man was simply studying your appearance as well. One of the many abilities he gained over the years was that he could read people like an open book, left open for him to peak in. Someone had longer fingernails on their right hand and short on the left? Guitar player who doesn't want to destroy the neck of said guitar. Some dog owners always carried treats with them, even if the dog wasn’t coming along. All those little clues told him enough about a person before they even spoke their first sentence.

But you. He couldn't read you yet, and this peaked his interest.

You hadn't been here for a long time, because he knew all the long-term workers and their darkest secrets.

"Are you busy right now?", the man pointedly looked at the phone in your hand, currently playing a silly cat video. Truth be told, he enjoyed that kind of content, but would he ad this? Never. Absolutely never. He would rather get the other side of his brain exposed than to admit that he liked cat videos.

"I need some help with my studies. Care to join me?", that was a big lie but he was curious -

Who were you and why did you peak his interest more than the average nurse in here? He'd find out soon enough.

Only now did you wonder what he was even doing here during these late hours. He didn’t look like a doctor. Was he a lab assistant? He certainly looked like some sort of scientist.

Pressing your lips in a thin line with a weak smile you put my phone in your pocket and nodded, slightly mortified that he had caught you watching cat videos of all things. It surely didn’t look professional.

"No, I'm not really busy. I’m just having a long boring night- I mean, not that I’m complaining... I wouldn't wish for emergencies either. So, yeah… I’d be glad to help you," You fumbled a little over your words, still slightly unsettled by his presence.

You’d do nearly anything to escape the boredom of a quiet nightshift, though. And you weren’t really worried about him being some kind of serial killer. Sure, your colleagues were weird, but they weren’t really the kind of people to chop you to pieces and bury you in the closest forest. Weird didn’t equal serial killer. Besides, you were curious about the man.

You were walking next to each other in silence that was quickly going growing awkward. Nervously you were fumbling with your hands in your smock overall, thinking of starting any conversation just to get out of this uncomfortable silence.

"I've never seen you before. I'm still pretty new here. Do you work here as a laboratory or doctor assistant? Also, with many nightshifts? Is that really that common in this mental hospital? " You had narrowed your eyes questioningly when you looked up to him. By reading his facial expressions it didn't seem like he liked to answer you. His forehead was wrinkling in silent contemplation, which made you suspicious. It was unusual to have an assistant running around here so late at night.

Maybe you weren’t so far of with the serial killer suspicions. You actually contemplated hightailing out of there.

'Quick, think of an answer. She is just a pretty and naive nurse'

But even a little slip up could cost his head. He could tell by her tensing posture that she was seconds away from fleeing the scene.

‘That could end badly’

"I mostly work nights," he tried to keep his answers short and to the point. Laying on a confidence in his answer that he didn’t actually feel. He made sure to look her in the eye shortly and casually avert his gaze back to the hallway. If he didn’t look her in the eyes at all he would look like a liar and if he stared at her too much he’d look like one too. It was a delicate balance, that he had mastered over the years "That is because the nights are quieter and I can focus on the patients better this way."

You took a glance at him, still wondering about what his actual job was. His answer was too vague for your taste. But the curiosity was still grown inside of you.

You had decided to work in a mental hospital because the human psyche had always been kind of a mystery to you. Mental illnesses were both fascinating and tragic in your eyes. The mind was even more delicate than the body, in your eyes. It was so easy to break and healing it was a true challenge. It was your goal to help people with mental illnesses like depressions, dissociative disorders and PTDS.

So, you really wanted to know what this scientist - or whatever - was working on.

You both arrived at the door to his office. You signed an NDA before, but who knew what could happened once you opened mouth. He didn't trust anyone in this damn hospital.

"Do not be surprised by the sight in front of you once I open this door. All I am asking you is to check the vitals of the patients in the bathtubs. I want to make sure they are doing well but I am not entirely sure how to do that.", he lied through his teeth, ready to push you into one of the bathtubs once the chance was there.

Or could you be useful to him in the near future?

When you entered his so-called office after his warning you had expected anything - but that!

Never in your life had you seen a machine this far developed... It looked like something directly taken out of a science-fiction movie. The construction filled the whole room. There were wires everywhere, all connecting to a weird sphere in the middle of the room. Completely gob-smacked by the strange… whatever that was you took a while to take notice of the bathtubs. When you did, though you froze up immediately. There were people - no patients - in lying in the bathtubs, connected to the cables, which were attached to the back of their necks.

Like a statue you stood there for at least 20 seconds. Staring at one patient, you slowly went to him just to check his state. Curious to see if he was aware of his surroundings or if he was unconscious – maybe asleep . What was this system?

Could that reach possibilities to help several people out of mental illnesses or was this just a machine designed from a psychopath just for his own use?

And why would he need help from just a nurse like you?

You let out a sarcastic laugh, "Looking at this huge thing… I highly doubt that you don’t know how to check vital signs ", you shook your head and crossed your arms, taking several steps back, out of his direct reach. No way would you let him put you into one of these tubs!

You really wanted to run away and never go to the hospital again.

"So, tell me. What do you really want from me? Do you expect me to go into one of the bathtubs? Gotta tell you, that’s not gonna happen. I mean... not to sound judgmental. Because technically this could be something to help our patients. But I gotta tell you, this,“ You gestured towards the patient that was laying in the tub right in front of you, “looks quite suspicious and not very save. I hope the patients volunteered for this, because if they didn’t I have to report this. Don’t get me wrong, you seem to be quite intelligent and this looks interesting, but I cannot allow something like this to continue without - "

"- You are annoying. All I want you is to check the vitals of the patients and you are throwing a whole speech at me.", he shot back, not amused with your behavior.

"I am a scientist, not one of your doctors. What I am doing here could change the world forever. It is a system which helps people with heavy trauma to forge new memories and get rid of the trauma. Do you understand me?", the scientist continued to spit out. There was a look of passion in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. They had looked quite dull and emotionless up to this point. It was clear to you that he truly cared about that project of his.

What you weren’t aware of was that the man had a plan. He'd snow you . Make you feel comfortable. And then, he'd put you in the bathtub too. The next one on his list would be Tatjana from the reception area. And then it was your turn.

What even was your name? He chanced a quick glance of your name tag, just enough to read "(Y/N)" on it.

"Listen to me, (Y/N). This is a top-secret project. If I find out you talked about it outside of this room, I will make sure you suffer great consequences. And trust me, I have my eyes and ears everywhere. Now go and check on the rest of these people before I get angry. Then, you may leave."

Author's Note:

I'm still unsure if I keep making this as a slow-burn whole Fanfiction or just cut the whole thing I'm planing into single parts like One-Shots

[miggydiaz]

For the salty ask 1, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10, 14, 16, 20, 22, 23 and 26 for cobra kai pretty please

My answers are so long, so I am putting this under the cut @wonderwolfballoon! Also I just noticed your Daniel icon I SWEAR I’M NOT DRAGGING HIM TO BE MEAN!!!

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?* My biggest IDGI ships for CK are probably Elimetri or Kiaz. I’m not here to yuck other people’s yums or anything, but I do think there is something to the idea that Migueli isn’t popular because it’s a ship predicated on mutual respect for one another. Kiaz has the obvious enemies to lovers vibe and I just generally don’t sail those ships. Elimetri has... its problems, IMO, most especially around the idea that Demetri has to like... save Hawk from himself? Idk. I just like romances that I feel are based on love and mutual respect and not ...tropes.

 I am also not a Lawrusso shipper although I have a lot of those on my dash and you all are great! Again, not yucking yums! Daniel just makes me want to head butt him too much to pair him romantically with anyone 😂 I don’t even want his wife with him. He needs to self reflect~ 

4. Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?* 

I once saw someone ship Amanda and Anoush and I noped out of that so fucking fast I almost tripped over myself. I’m not sure if they’re popular. I just think some people feel the need to get Amanda out of the way to sail their ship and stuck her with Anoush which... no. Just no. Let Amanda be a messy single queen with a martini hobby, thanks! 

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?* 

Not in CK. I’m lucky because I pretty much stick to my little Migueli bubble and I’m okay with that? Lmao lord knows the Squad on my dash is all about the DISCOURSE™️ so idk if I just don’t feel the need to get sucked into the wider ship wars because we have good healthy debates, but so far, so good. 

6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?* 

I never hated it... I just didn’t have many feelings on shipping with this show in general at first. Then I was in the CK tag one day and I saw Migueli fan art. Then I discovered @afurioushawk‘s falconry series and it was all over for me after that! So fandom DID make me love a ship, just not one I hated.

9. Most disliked character(s)? Why? Oh boy. How much time do you have? In some instances, it’s a good thing season 3 happened because otherwise, this would be a multi-page essay on the problems with race and class privilege as it pertains to Sam LaRusso and just some... generally not nice comments about Demetri that I’m conflicted about because I’m not sure if the writers are intentionally trying to write him a specific way and it’s just not translating to me or what. But season 3 revamped both of their images with me a lot. I’m way more flexible in terms of Demetri, but lmao I was the number one Sam LaRusso hater for a minute there (or maybe number 2, I can think of at least 1 other person who was in that boat with me back in like... August/September, but I won’t call them out because I don’t want them to get hate...) However, I have grown a bit in my opinions of Sam, and even though I still think she’s responsible  for a lot of shit she NEVER gets held accountable for, I also think that’s a reflection of the adults around her too, and this includes my otherwise unproblematic queen, Amanda.

But honestly, my most hated character (other than the obvious villain that is Kreese) is Daniel. No matter how handsome Ralph Macchio looks in cable-knits, because Daniel has always been a sanctimonious, shit starting drama king and I say that about KK Daniel too. I’m not saying Daniel was the ~true villain~ or anything, or that Johnny was innocent -- I can only drink so much Red and Yellow Kool-Aid -- but Daniel’s always been annoying to me as a protagonist, and turning him into a smarmy wealthy car salesman who is also a class traitor did not do him any favors in my book. I will say, I also like Daniel more in season 3 than I have in previous season, but since he is the adult, I will be mad at him longer than I will be at the kids, ya feel?

10. Most disliked arc? Why?

 Johnny’s entire season 3 storyline. The sheer level of REGRESSION at every turn drives me bonkers. It’s like watching him go through all of the stumbling blocks of season 1 all over again, but without the “he’s learning! He’s going to make mistakes!” free pass that I was willing to give him the first time around. He regularly jeopardizes Miguel’s recovery and it’s played for laughs. He fucks up on every level with Robby. He spends most of his time running away when things get hard or too real. He drops the ball completely with Hawk, and like, not to put too fine a point on it, but a lot of Hawk’s issues are because Johnny put Hawk on this ‘flip the script and be a badass’ path and then offered him no guidance for how to walk that path and instead left him in the hands of Kreese. And then he has the nerve to go to Hawk and basically be like “I made you what you are!” lmao yeah Johnny, you sure did, that’s why he’s breaking peoples arms, hoss. And then all of the nonsense with Ali and Carmen, like... if you were planning on teasing KK fans with Ali and him getting back together, why write her as married in the first place? Why even tease the idea of Carmen and Johnny until after you were sure what you were going to do with Ali as a character? Instead, they do what they did in season 3 and it makes him look like a colossal jerk. So yeah. Literally every choice they made with Johnny this season, I hated.

14. Unpopular opinion about your fandom? People who hate Tory are not valid, sorry not sorry.

16. If you could change anything in the show, what would you change? I would have kept Miguel entirely out of Tory and Sam’s beef. Or at least not directly inserted him into it like he was with the kiss. I know the writers thought it was necessary to push Tory to the point of inciting a fight at school, but I am just so exhausted over girls being unable to fight about anything but boys. Also I would bring Aisha back.

20. What is the purest ship in the fandom? 

I am probably biased, but I still maintain it’s Migueli. Look, Miguel stood up to Kyler for Eli and Demetri both. Hawk joined CK because he saw what it could do for some skinny nerd who was getting his ass kicked. And he took to CK, really took to it! Even flourished before he started getting mixed messages. And he and Miguel were pretty much inseparable after that. They coordinated their wardrobes ffs. Hawk dubbed him El Serpiente and no one else calls him that — it’s Hawk’s nickname for him. Miguel confides in Hawk only secondary to Johnny, who is like a father to him. The entire Coyote Creek exchange shows they can fight and disagree but... well, to use the cliche, they don’t go to bed angry, you know? They’re square the very next day. Hawk is the first person at Miguel’s side when he gets kicked over the balcony and the LOOK he gives the second floor where Robby is? That boy is out for blood immediately to avenge Miguel. So much of his s3 behavior is fueled by that need for vengeance because MD is wholly responsible for what happened to Miguel. And Miguel is so confused and betrayed by Hawk’s shift in behavior, and yet still holds out hope that Hawk will see through Kreese’s BS and come with him to The Dojo I Refuse to Name. And when Hawk does make that deflection finally, he shows up at MD with Miguel. There’s so much more that I know I’m missing but whether someone ships them or not, that is a tried and true love and respect for one another, a willingness to fight for and defend one another that you don’t often see in TV friendships... or even in most tv relationships. And I just think that’s the best ❤️

22. Popular character you hate?

 Daniel, hands down. I mean... I don’t even necessarily hate Daniel, you know? I just think it’s really, pardon the pun, rich that a guy of immense wealth and privilege can’t get a therapist or turn to his far too patient wife for help with his existential crisis over his high school bully opening up a karate dojo to make some money and help a kid who is getting the crap kicked out of him. I get that Daniel’s narrative is necessary for the rivalry, but it does nothing to make him sympathetic as a character.

23. Unpopular character you love?

 Tory, definitely! Everyone hates her and then there’s me and the Squad over here banging away on our Coors Banquet cans yelling TORY RIGHTS! Seriously she catches so much flack for a teenage girl who is... the sole income provider for her family? At 17? While caring for a sick mom and a little brother? And fending off a creepy landlord? Tory has it so rough and then she meets a cool girl at her dojo who asks her to hang out at some fancy ass country club which is probably the nicest place Tory has ever been in, and then she gets talked down to and accused of being a thief and has another girl lay hands on her, only to find out that same girl is her new boyfriend’s ex and... ugh. I HATE that Tory gets shit all over when Tory and Sam wouldn’t even have beef if Sam had apologized to Tory as she SHOULD have. Tory isn’t innocent, but damn, I’d be pressed too.

 My other unpopular character I love? Nathaniel. Seriously that kid is THE best. He’s a literal child but is out there like I WILL FUCK YOU UP, even though he’s MD. Honestly, his Cobra Kai energy is so ferocious I won’t be surprised if he moves back to CK eventually. Anyway, I love him.


26. Most shippable character?

 Miguel, hands down. It’s because he’s so affable and sweet overall. And because his hair is so fluffy and pettable that no one can resist touching it. I like to imagine that one day he and Hawk are talking about their hair and Hawk makes a joke about how Miguel’s mane is getting so long that it’s going to be bigger than his own, and then he reaches out to ruffle it and internally has a bisexual meltdown because oh no IT’S SO SOFT AND NICE. But uh... anyway, yes. Definitely Miguel.

[kittybellestark]

Falling Apart At The Seams

Part 5 of 5

Read on AO3

Read Part 4

this is v dialogue heavy and we officially see Peter again lol

uh this has been great to write and seeing y’alls reactions has been cool

Trigger warning: discussions of past rape, self-blaming and insecurities

What happened with Mary was kept out of the news.

Tony was grateful for it. Had the news gotten what had happened to him- Tony really didn’t want to think of it. But he was grateful. It was only the Avengers he needed to deal with. Just the Avengers and Peter. His son.

He had a son. A whole full grown child that he was forced to create. 

At least he already knew Peter. It’s not like he was some stranger. They already had something of a relationship. This wasn’t the first meeting, they weren’t starting from scratch. Well okay, they might be starting over but it’s not like Tony and Peter are complete strangers. 

Tony had heard that Peter was already aware of what had happened. It should have been Tony who told Peter what happened, but he was glad that May did it first. With Mary’s confession in front of Peter and then May going to talk to Tony there was just too much going through Peter’s head that May needed to say something. Leaving him waiting for an explanation when he already knew half the story would have only caused Peter more harm.

It was selfish of Tony to be grateful that he didn’t need to explain anything to Peter, not anything in depth. He knew they’d need to talk about things eventually, but explaining why he was Peter father wasn’t something Tony stomach at the moment. They can talk about their relations without bringing up the why. For now, at least.

For a week Tony didn’t leave him room. He needed a week to get all his thoughts together, in a place no one other than Pepper or Rhodey would bother him, in a somewhat safe place. The week let him look at pictures of Peter, watching footage of the two of them in the lab before everything. It let Tony think through things, how he should approach Peter and what he should say. The time in his room was necessary. It gave him the smallest feeling of being safe and that was a win.

But Tony didn’t feel all that safe.

Tony knew Pepper was right when they spoke last week. But knowing that she’s right doesn’t stop him from feeling everything he’s done has been wrong. Logically it made sense, that Tony wasn’t at fault for any of it. Had the roles been changed, had it been Rhodey instead of Tony, Tony knew he would be saying the same things as Pepper. Unfortunately, it’s just too personal. Not that Rhodey isn’t personal, but there’s a difference between it happening to your friend and yourself. Logic doesn’t work when you’re brain forgets what logic is. 

He wasn’t sure how to connect with Peter anymore. It seemed that once Peter received the label ‘son,’ Tony wasn’t able to go about things like he used to. The alarm bells in his head would start going off when he’d classify Peter as his child and panic would start to rise. It wasn’t fair to Peter, that Tony was hiding in his room trying to settle himself into everything, but it wouldn’t have been very fair for Peter to watch Tony break into panic attacks either.

The best part of the week, was that Tony didn’t really see Mary in Peter. Not in the pictures he had or in the interactions they had in the lab. Sure, there were certain parts of Peter that resembled Mary, the shape of his lips, the curve of his nose, even his eyebrows. There was a lot more Tony in the way Peter looked though. Peter’s jaw, eyes, smile and hair were all Tony.  No doubt about it. So if Tony just focused on the parts of his child that was solely his, then it shouldn’t hurt so much.

“Fri, could you ask Peter down to the lab?” Tony’s voice shook, uncertain if that was the right move, but if entered the lab right after Peter then he could make sure that he is closer to the door in case he needed to leave.

“Are you sure, Boss?”

“Yeah. Tell him I’ll be down right after him.”

Tony waited a few minutes before making his way down to the lab. He could feel his heart pounding erratically. This was... a lot. It’s a lot. Tony just needs to face the truth and not hurt Peter too badly in the process. It’d be better if Peter didn’t get hurt at all but it’s already far too late for that.

He entered the lab, and saw Peter sitting at his own work bench, fiddling with a coiled cable. The teen look exhausted, the positive energy that seemed to follow Peter everywhere was gone. He looked pale and looked as closed off as he used too when they first met.

“Do you call me Mr. Stark because your name used to be Tony?”

That wasn’t how Tony wanted to start the conversation. It wasn’t even something he considered until he entered the lab. This wasn’t even the type of conversation Tony wanted them to have. At least it was a step in the right direction. Talking is better than no talking. 

“Oh, um- not at first. Y’know before I met you, I’d only refer to you as Tony Stark, because, obviously. Then calling you Mr. Stark was out of respect, but then getting to know you it felt like it’d be weird to call you Tony because I’ve associated a lot of bad things with that name. I guess I didn’t want to associate those things with you, but it’s a little too late for that, right?”

“You’re allowed to hate me. I knew I had a child, I didn’t know it was you, but I knew there was a kid out there, that was mine. And I ignored you, the idea of a kid because I was too hurt to keep you out of an unsafe situation. So you’re allowed to hate me for that.”

“Wait. You didn’t know that I was your kid?”

Peter put down the cable and Tony sat down on the nearest workbench. The two stayed a few work benches away from each other, enough room to have the much needed separation, yet not far enough to be alone. DUM-E moved from his docking station to Tony’s side, resting it’s arm across his legs. The electronics in the room seemed to hum louder now that there was no other noise to distract from conversation, and the lab just didn’t feel all that safe.

“No, I didn’t know, not until right before you did. Do you know why I ever approached you?” There was a beat of silence before Tony continued. “Of course not, I never told you, not really. Obviously you know I approached you because of Spider-Man, but honestly I hadn’t really paid attention much to your web slinging antics before hand. Then one day this video of you went viral, right? Not you catching a bus or getting attacked by a cat in a tree, not even you getting completely toppled over by that one dog. It was this video of you as Spidey, holding this little girl in your arms. She was crying, and you kept her body covered with this blanket. You held her tight against you, and you started talking about how your babysitter used to hurt you the same way hers was. There were camera’s on you, people videoing this horribly personal moment, and you either didn’t notice, or you didn’t care. You told that little girl that your babysitter raped you, and comforted her, and let her know that good babysitters would never touch a child or anyone like that. Peter you were fourteen at the time, and I hadn’t told anyone what happened to me. That video going viral helped me tell Pepper. She was the only one who knew what happened until I told Rhodey this year. 

“Because of you, I was able to tell someone who loved me a whole lot what had happened to me. I felt I had a debt to repay, so I found out who was behind the mask, and it happened to be you, an actual child. I wanted to make sure you were safe and that despite what happened to you with your babysitter, that you’d have a good life going forward and that if you continued being Spider-Man that you would have the best equipment and help on hand. 

“I never intended to offer you an internship, or for you to become apart of what I consider to be my family. I genuinely did not know that you were I abandoned. I spent years hating myself, because the whole thing was my fault and then I couldn’t even bring myself to find out who my kid is, where they are, and then take them out of Mary’s care. Every time I tried to bring myself to do it, I couldn’t.

“Because of you Peter, I was able to open up about what happened to me. And because of you, I was able to start healing. It’s shitty of me to have only started to come to terms with everything that happened when you were 14, then start healing when you were 15. I’ve had your whole life to deal with it, and I didn’t. Me being able to heal should have never been put onto you, or knowing you. I should have put in the work and I should have found out who you were when she released me and taken custody of you.”

That was a lot more emotions then Tony was expecting to give all in one go. A lot more truth than he thought he’d tell Peter right away. But, if he was going to do this, try and be someone in Peter’s life that Peter can continue to go to, then this heart-to-heart, this raw honesty is necessary. Peter might hate Tony forever, or choose to not have a relationship with him, but at least they can talk things through.

“I was really angry at you,” Peter started, “when you got back to the tower and Mary was there. I was really angry. She admitted everything, right then and there, probably because I happened to be there. I blamed you for the years of trauma I was caused that I don’t even remember anymore, and every bad thing that happened in my life. My first reaction was to blame you, because suddenly Mary is saying you’re my father, and I don’t really think a DNA test is necessary to prove that. I look like you, I act a bit like you too, the team always joked about it. This was just confirmation. I blamed you though, for everything. I thought it meant you knew exactly who I was to you and that you lied. And I thought that you knew what happened to me before and you chose to stay away. It’s not like you didn’t know you had a kid right? So I thought, ‘he knew he’s my dad so why didn’t he save me.’ Then May talked to me. She reminded me of my own experiences. I had shut down after Skip- uh, I shut down after that. I was eight years old, and I wouldn’t get out from underneath my bed unless I had too. I refused to go to school, I iced out all of my friends, but I still had my aunt and uncle. I had a support system, and therapy and I got to see my rapist go to jail. 

“We’re both guys, Mr. Stark. May told me you didn’t tell anyone, because you didn’t think they’d believe you. I don’t tell anyone either, y’know. Yeah, so I was raped by another man, and was also a child, and you were an adult raped by a woman, but people still have that idea that we wanted it, that we could have fought them off. It’s messed up. I dealt with my trauma about it for years, and I had people to go to. You didn’t. I don’t think you could be a father to me, like that, I don’t know if anyone could be if they were in your shoes. It’s a lot to go through, especially when you know that Mary’s goal in all that was me. My existence was her motivation in raping you. I don’t know if anyone could be a good parent, knowing that someone raped them with the intent of having a child. Mary is a horrible person, and she’s done bad things to me and worse things to you, but she’s still my mother, I can’t ever erase that. She wanted me so badly, that she was willing to kidnap and rape you for months on end. Her motivation was me, Mr. Stark. Had she not of been a horrible person who wanted to have a kid she wouldn’t have done what she did to you. But she’s a bad person, who wanted me to exist, and I shouldn’t blame you for trying your best to deal with things on your own because of Mary.”

“Kid, it sounds like you’re trying to blame yourself for something,” Tony sighed. “You didn’t exist then. She wanted a baby, obviously that’s the source of her motivation that we know, but that’s not on you. Mary is at fault here, no one else. Don’t shoulder the blame for this.”

Tony felt dizzy. This was a lot more than he was expecting. And he was expecting a lot. Crying, yelling, hatred, being blamed. But he didn’t account for who Peter is. Of course Peter would make the comparisons between the trauma they’ve both had and take on the blame himself. Peter has always been the type of person to feel guilty over something he had no control over, just like Tony. It shouldn’t have surprised Tony that Peter would have thought about what Mary did and what Tony went through so much that Peter would take on all the blame, And yet here they are, Peter finding a way to put the blame on himself and Mary.

“I know that it’s not my fault, Mr. Stark. Rape can’t be blamed on anyone except the rapist. But I was still the motivation behind it. Mary, my mom, raped you for me to exist. If she didn’t want a kid she wouldn’t have raped you. If I wasn’t put into witness protection she wouldn’t have kidnapped you with the intent to rape you, again, for another child. It’s not my fault, but I’m still the reason behind it.”

Peter’s shoulders shook, and Tony could see his eyes were red and glassy as Peter tried not to cry. Tony’s heart hurt for the kid, his kid, his son. Peter was Tony’s son, and he was here and hurting. He wasn’t even hurting because Tony abandoned him, but because he blamed himself. Peter was too good, far too good for Tony, and far too good to have come from a place of terror.

“I don’t blame you, Peter. I didn’t blame you when I didn’t know it was you either. When I didn’t try to find you it wasn’t because I thought it was your fault. It’s because the entire thing felt like mine, and I didn’t think I could be a good father, especially if you looked like Mary. You don’t look like her. You look like me. I thought I hate hate my own kid because of what happened, but I don’t hate you, Pete. I’m really grateful that you’re my son. Out of all the kids in the world that could have been mine, I’m lucky it’s you. I don’t know if I could ever be what you want or expect me to be, but I can do my best.”

“Mr. Stark- I don’t understand?”

“I don’t know what type of relationship you want, whether that means cutting me off completely or keep the whole mentor-mentee thing, or if you want the father figure thing. Whatever you want I’m okay with it. And I don’t want you to think that I’m going to take you away from May. She raised you and I won’t tear you two apart. Kid, this also isn’t me trying to make you feel like you have to what you think I want.”

DUM-E whirred leaving Tony to grab a stress ball and bringing it over to Peter. This made Peter smile, taking the stress ball and tossing it for DUM-E to fetch. The robot beeped chasing the ball and heading back to Peter. Tony stayed silent, letting Peter play with DUM-E and think. 

While this was a lot for Tony, it was surely a lot more for Peter. Their situation couldn’t be considered anything less than traumatic. It’s not like Peter hasn’t had enough trauma in his life. This was selfish of Tony, he should have considered what Peter has gone through. Now Tony has put pressure on Peter about a possible relationship. Of course Peter would say he wants some sort of relationship with Tony, he hates disappointing people. Peter wouldn’t do anything if he thought it’d upset someone. Tony should have been responsible, he should have just taken himself out of the equation. Just because Tony cared for Peter doesn’t mean he has any of the right to just stomp right in and claim himself as  a dad.

Tony was horribly selfish for thinking he had any claim in Peter’s life. And even more so for putting a decision on Peter that Tony should be making. Everything is being put onto Peter like there wasn’t already enough there. Tony is already failing as a father. Already, like the last 15 years of Peter’s life hasn’t already been a complete failure on Tony’s part. He’ll never be good, not for Peter, he never has and never would.

“Sorry, Pete, this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t- this wasn’t- I’m sorry.”

Tony stood up, sniffing as he brushed off his legs. He moved to leave the lab, leave Peter, quit making mistakes. For 15 years Tony has failed his son- Peter’s whole life- 16 years he’s failed himself and his child. This will give Peter time. Time to recognize that Tony was being selfish. Everything was wrong and Tony should not be entitled to Peter’s life and emotions.

Peter looked confused, his held tilting to the right, eyebrows furrowed, and a small pout. For just a moment Tony saw a flash of Mary on Peter’s face before it passed. Tony couldn’t help flinching and taking a step back, before dropping his head forward. He flinched at his own son. Tony flinched, he saw Mary when he looked at Peter. There was no way to be a good father if he couldn’t separate the person who hurt him with the person who came from that.

“You can’t just leave, Mr. Stark. I’m not something that you can just lose interest in and come back when you feel like it. I’m your kid now, if you don’t want me in your life just say it. I’d rather you just say ‘Peter you remind me too much of your mother and I don’t think I can look at you,’ instead of stringing me along.”

“I’m not trying to do that. I don’t want to pressure you into something you don’t want.”

“I don’t care. You’re the adult. You can’t say whether we’re going to be estranged or close is on me then walk out. That’s not how it works, and I don’t even know how this works. But you don’t get to walk out on me. We’re family, and you don’t walk out on family.”

“I don’t know what to do, kid. I’m not trying to walk out on you, just give you time. Everything has been overwhelming, and I just gave you a lot to consider.”

“No,” Peter stood up, still staying on his side of the room, but moving a little closer to Tony, “I’ve had a week to think when you secluded yourself. A whole week where I had to deal with this alone. Richard died, he was my dad and he died trying to get me out of a bad home. Ben died, he was my uncle and the closest thing I’ve had to a dad for as long as I can remember, he died protecting me. Then I’m told you’re actually my dad, and my mother didn’t try killing you. Instead I have to deal with the fact that I’m born from rape, that my mom is a rapist. You’ve left me alone for a week to deal with this, we’re now at the part where we get to decide what happens. And it’s not you walking out on me.”

Tony sighed and sat back down on the workbench. He ran one hand over his face before tucking his hands under his legs. 

“No walking out,” Tony agreed.

“We’re in this together. I don’t know if I can go through this alone.” Peter’s voice cracked and his face became redder as he obviously tried not to cry.

“Okay,” Tony nodded, his voice choked full of emotions, “okay. Together then. We’ll make it through this, Pete, we’ll be okay.”

Maybe the words weren’t all that believable to Tony, he can’t know how things turn out. He’s been proved wrong a hundred times over. But this time it feels right. Like he wasn’t taking the first steps into a bad decision. This time Tony has Peter and even May in his life now. He may not be great at being what Peter needs, he’s got so much trauma to work through and now a kid. 

Tony has people in his corner this time, and maybe now that’ll make things different. He has Peter and May and Pepper and Rhodey. They’ll help him get through this. His family will help him. Tony has a family. 

They’ll be okay.

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[thoughtsofanexcitedspacechild]

50 things I’ve learned this year during a global pandemic/general life advice from your local teenage train wreck :) (Pt. 1)

1. It’s okay to let go. Of things, people, old interests, even your past self. It doesn’t matter. If it isn’t benefiting you anymore, it’s okay to let things go.  

2. No relationship is worth pursuing that doesn’t match your energy. If someone’s not matching the love you give them, pull back to match their energy. That way, you save your energy for the people in your life that do. Most times, the people who do match your love and energy are the one’s that are in it for the long run and will be there for you. 

3. Stop caring what other people think about your interest. Often times we have so much shame for liking what we like. Why is that? If it isn’t hurting anyone, then why does it matter that you have an obscure taste in music, books, movies, etc.? Stop apologizing for what you like!

4. It’s okay to not want to grow up, even if that’s all you wanted to do as a kid. You don’t have to grow up. 

5. Going off of that, if you’re a “gifted” or “mature” kid, it’s okay to mourn your childhood you never had. Watch that show that you never did as a kid and fall in love with it. Finger paint with no exterior motive. Read way below your reading level. Reread Harry Potter or the Percy Jackson series. Play outside. You deserve it. 

6. “Kids” shows, including atla, lok, etc. often have more complex and interesting plots and characters than most “adult” shows these days. Don’t dismiss something just because it’s geared for a younger audience. Watch and learn from them. 

7. The changes you want to happen don’t suddenly happen. They’ll happen after many months of trial, error, and consistency. Take baby steps and celebrate small victories. 

8. You’re body will always be imperfect, and it’s okay. You’ll eventually learn to accept it once it doesn’t change so fast during adolescence, but don’t feel pressured to. It’s okay to not like how you look, just don’t let it keep you from enjoying life and your body from serving it’s purpose. 

9. Most high school guys don’t want a serious, long term relationship yet. They all have to mature a little bit for that, and it’s normal to feel frustrated about it, but don’t blame them too hard for it. You matured at a faster rate then them, and they still need a little more time. The best thing to do it wait for it. 

10. Questioning your sexuality is a normal part of life. You like guys? Good! You into girls? Great! It literally doesn’t matter, and God doesn’t really care either. There’s nothing in the Bible against it, and he made you that way right? Why not embrace it! Asami was your first gai crush? WONDERFUL! me too! Want to label yourself? I’ll respect and support whatever your decision is! Don’t know or don’t want to? Also perfect!

11. God (or whatever you believe in, or don’t!) made you imperfect for a reason: to embrace those imperfections and grow through them, to improve. Why would God put you on this earth if He didn't think that you had a reason to grow closer to Him through your imperfections? Make sure you use and acknowledge your imperfections, because they’re your lifeline to Him in prayer. It’s what you need to improve on, and ask help for, and that’s okay! (Spoiler alert, even when you do this stuff and work super hard, you’re human, and you’re still gonna mess up and make mistakes! Perfection wasn’t intended for humans, and I don’t believe it ever will be!)

12. When summer rolls around, get a summer job. Go down to the local ice cream place and ask if they’re hiring. Get an application and fill it out nicely with good handwriting. Then, take it back and wait. If they say yes, great! If not, that’s good too! Keep looking! Once you’ve found a place, settle in. Learn how things work. Learn how to do your job good and effectively. Immerse yourself in it. Then, have fun. Name the machines. (Big Bertha the waffle iron, or Fernanda the flurry machine, etc.) Name the ice cream flavors after your favorite fictional characters based on what they’d order (Aang is cookie dough, Obi Wan is mint chocolate chip, etc). Make new friends there and schedule your shifts with them. Get them in on your games too! It makes it more fun. Take time to show them your names for the ice cream flavors and machines, and maybe start using the names as abbreviations to make orders more efficient. Make sure you work only how much you can handle, even if that’s once a week or seven days for nine hours each. Whatever makes you happy! If you work in customer service, make them smile. Give the little kid extra sprinkles for wearing a fun mask or stickers if you have them. If there’s a tired mom, help her out by prioritizing her order to get out fast if possible. Whatever helps them. Thank the customers that tip! Then, get your paycheck in the mail and save all your tips. Put it in the bank and save it for college or when you need it. (Make sure to buy yourself something nice with the money sometimes too!)

13. When in school, don’t feel pressure to over achieve all the time. It’s okay to do the bare minimum sometimes. If you have an A, why are you worrying about if it’s a 95 and not a 98? It’s still an a, and that’s great! School is there to help you learn, so don’t force yourself to do extra busy work for a little extra credit (unless you absolutely need it!).

14. Take time to learn and do other things outside school that you may not be getting credit for. They’ll serve you in the long run! You like to write fan fiction? Keep writing! It’s helping! You love a sport? Good! It’s keeping you healthy while teaching you real life skills. Most of these things are gonna stick with you forever, so keep doing them and don’t let you passion fade away.

15. Write letters to your friends that live far away. Even if they don’t respond, they will appreciate having something that’s harder to lose or accidentally get deleted. Make the letter nice with pretty paper or colored pens or stickers, and spray your favorite scent on the envelope. Then seal it with a sticker and send it off. They really will appreciate it. 

16. Splurge on your own Spotify premium account and make a playlist for each mood. Make one for studying, working out, singing at the top of your lungs, one for when your happy, sad, etc. (You can also search my name, Hana Zainea, to listen to any of my playlists and see if we have the same music taste. If so follow me there and I’ll follow back to see your playlists!) Listen to your music and take time to enjoy it. Set aside ten to fifteen minutes just to do that. Let it flow through you and wake your soul up. 

17. Learn how to make handmade gifts. Wether that’s learning to make necklaces, earrings, bracelets, crochet, knit, or even make a nice card with hand lettering, learn how to make at least one solid handmade gift. It’ll give you a new skill as well as let the other people in your life that you love them. Handmade gifts are valuable and kept forever no matter how good they look. 

18. If your best friend lives far away like mine does, plan a monthly bsf subscription box. You can send each other a letter and a few little self care gifts once a month. It’s soooo fun and I can’t recommend this enough. 

19. Have photos that you like printed in physical form and hang them on your wall even if it’s just with tape. You’ll like being able to see and access happy thoughts and memories easily and have them hanging on your wall instead of sitting in your camera roll. 

20. You don’t have to keep up with social media. Delete it if you want, or limit your time on it if you want. Sometimes the “connection” we experience through social media isn’t always healthy, so monitor your use. 

21. Have a screen time widget on your phone and keep track of it. Try to cut your usage down by half an hour every week and eventually reduce it to the amount of time that you’d like to spend on your phone without being excessive, whatever that looks like for you. 

22. Meditate. This isn’t anything religious or spiritual, and it brings many benefits. It’s basically you setting a time aside to think for yourself. You can use one of the hundreds of guided meditations on youtube, or listen to theta waves/meditation music or just find a quiet place. Find a place where you know you won’t be disturbed, and then start to let your mind wander. What’s bothering you. When you turn off you mind, what’s the first thing that pops up? What keeps you from just being? What do you need to focus on in order to help yourself feel better? What are some things that you regret that are weighing on your heart? Now, what is your desired reality? Where do you want to live? Who do you want to meet/live with? What do you do? What do you act like? What do you have to do to make this happen? If you pray/are a christian, ask God for help with this desired life. (Remember, ask and you shall receive!)

23. Get yourself a hydro flask or any other durable water bottle, specifically a 16 or 32oz one. This way, it’s way easier to keep track of how much water you are drinking. A 16oz bottle is one pint and a 32oz one is a quart. Four of the 32 and eight of the 16oz are a gallon. Start by trying to drink a quarter of a gallon (2 16 oz or 1 32 oz) then a half, then three quarters, and eventually you’ll be drinking a gallon plus of water a day. (Put stickers on it to motivate yourself. Trust me it works wonders having fun stuff on there. Makes it enjoyable) 

24. If you’re able, make and give gifts often. It brings more joy than expected. 

25. Get rid of clothes. Toss all the old ones out. Reinvent yourself. Invest in pieces of clothing that are timeless (crewneck sweaters, cable knit sweaters, tan and brown colored dress pants, nice wool coats and sweaters, etc.) You’ll have these forever. 

26. Maintain your physical appearance. Make sure to change your clothes, follow proper hygiene, use lotion, etc. You’ll feel much better, trust me. You don’t have to use expensive products or put on a full face of makeup either, but putting some effort in will make you feel much better about yourself. 

27. Find a tea that tastes good to you. (Preferably without caffeine so you can drink it whenever.) Try everything! Then get yourself a nice mug and have some at a dedicated time each day. Relax and enjoy a constant in your life. 

28. If you’re into it, research and try reality shifting. I’m not going to go into depth in this post (that would take awhile) but if you’re really needing an escape but can’t go on vacation due to money, time crunches, etc, you can shift to any alternate reality that you’d like. Further in depth post about this to come. 

29. Read. Anything. A book, and article, the paper, the news, even the back of a cereal box. Think about it. What did you learn? Anything? 

30. Never accept criticism from someone you wouldn’t go to for advice. 

31. Call your parents if you live away from home. If not, spend more time with them. They love and miss you. 

32. Same with your siblings. 

33. And grandparents.

34. Find a way to remember your home town. Know it like the back of your hand. 

35. Read Shell Silverstien poems. They’re funny. 

36. Have a piece of jewelry that you never take off. Keep it to remind yourself of your sanity and to remember yourself. 

37. Cry of you need to. It’s bad to hold it in. 

38. Series you should read (even though some are nerdy): Harry Potter, Percy Jackson/Heros of Olympus, The Hunger Games, The Red Queen Series, The Giver Series, Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit. 

39. Standalone books you should read: The Book Thief, The Fault in our Stars, They Both Die in the End, Where the Crawdads Sing, The Scarlet Letter, Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, The DaVinci Code, The Great Gatsby, The Catcher in the Rye, Out of my Mind, Love that Dog, The Unfinished Angel, To Kill a Mockingbird, Romeo and Juliet

40. Shows you should watch: Avatar (Even if you’re a casual fan of the fandoms) : The Last Airbender, Legend of Korra, The Mandalorian, The Office, The Clone Wars, Parks and Rec., Stranger Things

41. Standalone Movies/Series you should watch: The Notebook, any of the Disney classics (specifically Lion King, Hercules, and others during that era), the Harry Potter movies, the Hunger Games movies, The Star Wars Movies, All of the Pixar movies (specifically Soul and Coco), Ten things I hate about you, the perks of being a wallflower, Clouds, If anything happens I love you

42. Artists to listen to: Norah Jones, James Taylor, John Denver, Anson Sebra, Ed Sheeran, The Paper Kites, The Artic Monkeys, Conan Grey, L. Dre (for Lofi) Song recs are on my Spotify haha (Hana Zainea) 

43. Invest in good supplies for art. It’ll make a difference.

44. When something feels off, clean your bathroom. Not your depression cave of a bedroom. Your bathroom. Trust me. It helps so so so much to have on clean space. 

45. Have a cohesive scent. Like lavender? Buy lavender everything. Use it in lotions, deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, candles, etc. You’ll have a scent that people will now associate with you and you only. 

46. Learn how to cook while your at home. Ask your parents if you can go to a nutritionist and learn what foods nourish your body the best. Eat them and let yourself feel good about what you put in your body. 

47. Learn how to do basic home improvements while still at home. Fix toilets, clogged drains, clean ovens, showers, sinks, etc. You’ll be grateful. 

48. Don’t do drugs/drink. It’s not worth dulling your senses to miss out on your wonderful life. 

49. Annotate your books. It makes you engage more and you’ll like looking back on them. 

50. If no one is looking, you should totally cart surf down the isle at the grocery store. It’s the little things that count. 

[dandanthemotorcycleman]

Winterizing your bike, and yourself

               So, I’m a mid-west boy born and raised.  Which means riding year-round is not necessarily advised.  Hell, I don’t run outside past about early November so safe to say, the bike will probably also not be making an appearance past All Hallows’ Eve.  I purchased my bike in the fall since it’s considered off season and I wanted a deal.  I got one, but what that meant was, my first task with the new bike was to winterize it before I even got to learn to ride it.  Since I haven’t been able to ride it, all I’ve been able to do so far is go out to the garage, sit on the bike, and imagine.  I fired it up a few times, and even once bravely tested out the clutch by riding it from one side of the garage to the other.  Boldly go and such.

               The end result of my experimentation was a dead battery.  Turns out motorcycle batteries are a tad finicky and don’t like being used but not charged regularly.  Who knew? On top of my misuse, I purchased a used bike so who knows how the battery was treated before I so carelessly wore it down to nothing.

               Being the nerd that I am, I immediately jumped into some online research to determine if I was going to need a new battery in the spring and how much one would set me back.  As it turn out, how much it’s going to set me back can vary quite a bit depending on what level of technology I want to embrace.  I’ll save you the full breakdown of options, but I’ve decided on a gel.  I believe they boast a decent cold weather start capability, mid-range pricing options, are less likely to leak than an old school battery, and the play nicely with battery tenders.  Battery tenders by the way are another topic entirely but for now just know that you’re going to need one.

               Anyway, I may be getting ahead of myself.  I may or may not even need a new battery in the spring.  Step one, for now, was to remove the current (pun intended) one and hook it up to a battery tender for the winter.  If the battery is still usable, the tender will keep it fully charged and it should be ready to hook back up and go in the spring.

               So, my friend who was kind enough to test ride the bike for me was also kind enough to let me know that I needed to pull the battery for the winter, or I may have just left it on.  Complete beginner here after all.  He assured me it was a fairly simple procedure and should, “take about five minutes”.  I don’t doubt that this would be the case for anyone remotely familiar with what they are doing.  Forty-five minutes and three YouTube videos later, I had the battery safely removed and the seat back on the bike.

               I’ll give you just a brief breakdown of what it entailed here so you have a general idea of what you’ll be doing, but I would highly recommend YouTube for some audio-visual assistance.  I started by popping open the battery cover on the left side of my 2011 Sportster.  This was fairly straightforward and even I didn’t need a YouTube video to make it this far.  It was at this point that I began scratching my head.  Two wires appeared to be attached to the red terminal and the instructions on the inside of the battery cover clearly stated, remove the black connection first.  At this point, I’m thinking that I need to remove this bracket thingy (technical term) and probably pull the battery out to access the black terminal.  Feeling a little crowded by the seat being right in my face, and wondering if it may be possible to access the black terminal from underneath the seat, I figured I should proceed by taking the seat off so I could get a better look at what I was getting myself into.  Seat removal the first time for me was five minutes and the first two of three YouTube videos.  The learning curve is steep on this and popping the seat off takes about 30 seconds the second time you do it.

               After getting the seat off, I was welcomed by a jumble of wires but still couldn’t get to the negative battery terminal. Fair enough, the goal was to remove the battery anyway, so I may as well focus my energies back on that goal.  Big pro of seat removal is that even though I think the battery can be removed without taking the seat off, getting it out of the way really makes it easier to see and manipulate the bracket holding it in place.  There was only one screw holding the bracket, so I popped that bad boy off and the bracket came off easily enough after that.  I slid the battery out of its compartment and there it was.  The vaunted black terminal.  Thirty minutes into my five-minute job and I’d found it!

Quick background interlude here.  I served for a year overseas in Operation Iraqi Freedom.   Spent a solid chunk of that year fixing radios and electrical systems in HMMWVs.  That’s a Humvee for you civilian types.  Point being, I’m not entirely unfamiliar with working on vehicular electrical systems. So I do have a healthy respect of what happens when someone shorts out a battery while trying to remove it.  I managed not to do it, but apparently PFC Garrita dropped a wrench on one and it touched both terminals.  Oh, and HMMWVs run two 12V batteries in series to provide 24V of output.  From what I heard, the end result was spectacular, and sparks flew.  The lesson here is, when you disconnect the black terminal, don’t let it make contact with the bike frame as it is often used as the ground.  My college physics is a little rusty so I can’t go into too much detail anymore about exactly what would happen and why, but just make sure the black lead is tucked out of the way or even taped off if you’re the very cautious type.  With a properly fused bike, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but best not to test the system.

Unscrew the bolt from the red, or positive, lead and disconnect the cable. There you have it.  Battery removed.  Screw the bolts back into the battery so you don’t misplace them, and your battery is ready to hook-up to that tender sitting in your basement workspace. Close up the battery cover, pop the seat back on and pour yourself a beer, all while patting yourself on the back for a job well done.  Try not to pull a muscle.  It can be an awkward angle.

So that’s your bike taken care of, but how do we make sure we’re taking care of our own internal battery during the long cold winters with short, sometimes dreary, days?

Lean on friends.  Don’t be afraid to reach out to old acquaintances.  Remember that relationships are a two-way street and it takes traffic flowing in both directions to keep them active.  If you’re feeling lonely and down, ask yourself what you’ve done to reach out to someone else recently.  Don’t be afraid to put yourself out there and make an effort.  Last summer when people were really feeling stuck home alone with the Covid blues, I commented on an old high school acquaintance’s post about a local distillery that he’d checked in at the year before.  It’s a local distillery that’s opened just outside of my hometown and I was completely unaware of it.  I think my comment was something to the effect of, going to check this place out when this whole corona thing finally passes.  Next thing I know, he’s calling me via the Facebook chat app, and we end up spending the next two hours catching up.  We were by no means best friends in high school, but it was great to talk to him again and I’m really looking forward to checking out that distillery when society opens up again.

I will say, if there is one silver lining to the pandemic, it’s the fact that we all have learned how to Zoom, or Houseparty, or Google chat or whatever group video call app you use.  Point is, use one.  I have some close high school friends that historically I’ve been lucky to see once a year and we’ve actually had more virtual “face to face” interaction in the last year than actual face to face time in the previous three years combined. Technology is making our world smaller and our friends more accessible.  

That brings me to the second self service of surviving winter with the double threat of a pandemic.  Keep looking to the future.  Usually this time of year I start planning a road trip or begin eyeing up upcoming musical festival dates.  Covid obviously makes this additionally challenging due to the uncertainty factor but start doing some research on locations that may offer outdoor activities as the weather begins to warm.  So, there are certain limitations to our current ability to foresee the future, but try to remind yourself that winter and Covid, as with all things, will pass.

Try to stay active.  I’ll be honest, I don’t like outdoor activities once the temperature starts to drop below 30, let alone the teens.  I’m trying to get better at enjoying the winter season here in the Midwest. I’ve found having and wearing proper gear helps.  Even with that, I’ll just acknowledge that I’m definitely more of a summer guy when it comes to outdoor activities.  This makes watching my diet and hitting the weights all the more important from November to March.  The nights may be longer, but that isn’t going to guarantee a good night’s sleep by any means.  I struggle with being tired already by 6pm but then being unable to sleep at midnight when I finally crawl into bed.  Even getting just 5 or 6 rounds of short but high intensity lifting or cardio during the day gets blood flowing and helps my body prepare to shut down and recharge at night.

Finally, find and keep alive, your year-round hobbies.  Aside from picking up the bike as a hobby, I home brew, play guitar, and write…which is what brought me here.  If your hobby is a productive one that results in say, some mildly palatable beer, all the better.  But there’s nothing wrong with having a hobby with no end goal or use other than enjoying loudly and poorly attempting to play and sing along with your favorite songs while no one else is around.  The more varied our hobbies, the better the mental exercise and more importantly, the more interesting and fulfilled people we become.  

Until next time, take care of your bike and take care of yourself.  

[buckybabybaby]

Mr Hollywood (Chapter 12)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it.

But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 2350 (the longest so far!)

Chapter summary: Bucky's first première!

Warnings: none!

A/n: this is so late, again! Sorry, again! Life is just so busy, all the time...

Previous: Chapter 11

Mr Hollywood Masterlist | Main Masterlist

*****

The train rattles it's way down to London, and you stare out at the passing trees, ignoring Dayton. You can feel his eyes on you, and you know he wants to talk about the events that lead to you calling him in a panic a couple of days ago, just after you'd realised you didn't have a clue what to wear to a première.

When you'd accepted Bucky's invitation you hadn't even thought about how everyone else there would be a celebrity of some sort, and that they would dress accordingly. Thank goodness Dayton is still part of that world and was able to help you out at such short notice, clearly thrilled that you were planning on attending, and more than happy to take the second ticket.

He nudges your arm to get your attention. “You okay?”

You glance his way, hum, and turn back to the window. He sighs from beside you, then moves to sit in the seat opposite, leaning forward to catch your eye.

“Y/N.”

“Dayton.”

“Look, you don't need to tell me what was said. Just, are you two okay now?”

“I think so.”

“Good.” He sits back again. “I'm not here to make excuses for him. At all. What he did was awful and it says a lot about you that you've managed to forgive him. He may be my brother but I'm not blind to his faults, it's just, I also know how cut up he was after it all. You mean everything to him, and I'm positive he won't do anything to hurt you again now he's got you back.”

“He said it wasn't worth losing me,” You say quietly. “And I couldn't lose him either. I wasn't myself when we weren't talking.”

“I know. And, just so we're clear, if for some reason he ever does do anything like this again, I won't hold back because he's my brother.”

You snicker at the idea. “Poor Bucky, no family loyalty.

“I mean it Y/N. You're like another sibling to me. It tore me apart when you two weren't getting along.”

Your smile drops at the thought of upsetting him. “Sorry.”

“Don't. Don't apologise when it wasn't your fault. Just swear that no matter what you'll come to me if you need help.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Dayton finishes his speech by moving back to your side and producing a bag of chocolate buttons out of his coat pocket, offering you a handful as you readjust yourself, conscious of not crumpling your outfit before you even get to the première. Watching as the landscape becomes more built up the closer to the city you travel, you mull over how fast things can change.

Only a month ago you couldn't imagine yourself ever wanting to see Bucky again, let alone attend his début at a red carpeted event, and now you can't imagine yourself being anywhere else.

*****

You can only just see Bucky through the mass of people in the cinemas lobby. A mix of TV stars and their entourage make getting to him impossible, so you and Dayton stay on the sidelines, looking on with matching proud grins.

Bucky's stylist flutters around in front of him, adjusting his bow-tie as he appears to zone out, moving this way and that as directed in a daze.

“He looks a bit scared doesn't he? I've always avoided this side of fame, I don't like interviews much.”

“Really? What about that short film you made about your diet? And your...” You turn to him as you try to remember. “Your OS system?”

He chokes in surprise. “You've seen that?”

“Everyone has! When I first met you I was a bit worried because of it.” You say, amused by how flustered Dayton's become. “It was such a relief when I found out you were not as pretentious as that video suggested.”

“It was meant as a joke!”

“I don't think many people saw it that way.”

“No, I know that now. Perhaps that's why I crashed my car, maybe I did it on purpose so people would forget about that video when I was dying.”

You gasp, lightly smacking his arm. “Don't say that!”

Before you can launch into a lecture about inappropriate jokes, he's shouting his brothers name over your shoulder, spinning you in his direction, and disappearing off to leave you alone. Watching as Bucky weaves his way through the crowds to get to you, your heart aches with want.

He looks so good. Between his light blue suit, fluffy hair, and the way the colour is coming back into his cheeks at the sight of you, if you weren't already head over heels for him this image would be your downfall.

“Hello,” He breathes, stopping in front of you.

“Hi.”

“I was frightened you weren't coming.”

“I said I would, didn't I?”

“Yes, but-”

“And I always keep my word, you know that.”

“I do. Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Dunno. Sick? This is so weird, I have no idea what I'm doing.”

“You'll be okay Bucky. And you look the part. Very pretty.”

He flushes at the praise. “Thank you. So do you.”

“Not playing it safe with a black suit, I see.”

“No, I thought...” He runs a hand down the lapel self-consciously. “Does it look okay?”

“Yes Bucky. You look great.”

“Thank you. And thank you for being here.

“Wouldn't have missed it.”

Dayton takes that as his opening to greet Bucky too, wishing him luck as he's called away for a last minute briefing. Watching him banter with Sam Wilson so easily reminds you of Isabella's words. She was right about him having a new best friend, but you're happy for him, not jealous or upset, and it's obvious the respect and admiration is mutual. A friendship like that is exactly what Bucky needs to get through this.

*****

Near the end of the evening, Dayton is dragged onto the red carpet for photo's with Bucky after a member of the paparazzi recognises him and causes a fuss until he agrees to join his brother. You use the moment to escape back into the venue, the flash bulbs and screaming fans a little too much for you to handle at that moment, and your wandering through the foyer leads you to a table full of merchandise for the new show.

Earlier in the day a few lucky fans had been invited to a meet and greet with the stars of the show, and as well as photo's with Bucky and Sam, they'd also taken away a goody bag full of branded products. A spare sack sits in the corner, and you can't resist taking a peak.

Inside, there's the pretty standard items you'd expect, pin badges and pencil cases, however the box at the bottom of the bag is what you're drawn to. Picking it out, you flip it over so you can see it's contents.

A miniature replica of Bucky, or his character at least, rests behind the clear film, complete with the metal arm that is evidently a big part of the story. It even looks like Bucky, the face, though small, recognisably his, and you well up as you think about what this must mean to him.

This is more than he could have ever dreamt of

You've just managed to wrestle the model out from the cable ties when a voice from behind you makes you jump.

“You must be Y/N.”

Startled, you hastily put the figurine back down on the table. Wincing when it rolls over the edge and falls to the floor with a thud, you reach down to retrieve it as you splutter. “Sorry! I wasn't going to take it! I was just looking.”

Straightening up, you turn to face the person who's caught you sneaking around, double taking as you meet Sam Wilson's eye.

“I'm sure you can have it if you want. And if anyone says anything, tell them I let you.” Holding his hand out, he introduces himself. “I'm Sam.”

“Yeah, I know,” You say, accepting his hand as you mentally scold yourself for being so starstruck. “I mean-”

“It's okay,” He interrupts with a smile. “You are Y/N, aren't you?” You nod. “Thought so. I've heard lots about you.”

“All good, I hope,” You try to joke, shoving your shaking hands behind your back

“Oh, absolutely.”

You don't know how to reply, palms sweating as you grip the toy.

“Sorry,” He cringes. “That sounded a little creepy, huh? I just mean Bucky speaks about you all the time.”

“Does he?” You squeak.

Sam laughs kindly. “You're precisely how he described. I can see why he's so-”

“Stop annoying Y/N, Wilson.”

Bucky pops up by your side, so close you can feel the heat from his body even through both of your outfits.

Sam's eyes flick between the two of you. “Okay, yeah, I can definitely see what this is. I guess I'll be seeing you around Y/N.” He leaves, grinning mischievously.

“What was that about?” You ask, confused.

“Nothing. Ready to go?”

You yawn, slipping the figurine in your pocket discreetly. “So ready.”

“I'm sorry I can't offer you a bed for the night. It seems rude to make you travel so far so late.”

“It's fine. Sophia's insisting I go back to theirs tonight so it'll take five minutes to get there once we're off the train.”

“Please send her my love. I feel like I haven't seen her for ages, some brother-in-law I am.”

“She understands.”

“I am trying to be better.” He links his arm with yours as you walk back out towards the underground. “It's a balancing act and it's not easy, but I am trying.”

*****

Bucky and the rest of the cast are making their way up up to Manchester for a talk show tomorrow morning, so you all travel together back to the mainline station. You stick close to Dayton, overwhelmed by the presence of so many famous faces, not wanting to do anything to embarrass yourself, or Bucky by association.

The others part ways quickly, their train due in later over on the other side of the railway concourse, and when they're gone you can relax again. Dayton finds your shyness around Bucky's cast mates entertaining, giggling quietly to himself at the way you collapse onto a bench in relief.

“It's not funny! I'm not used to this. Before tonight I'd met one celebrity, you, so excuse me for finding it a bit much.”

“Hey! You've met me too, I count.” Bucky protests from your side.

He's hung back to see you off, not sure of the next time he'll be free to meet up so he's making the most of the last minutes now.

“Okay, two. And then there was at least one hundred people of varying degrees of fame on that red carpet. I wasn't ready.”

“Neither was I.” Bucky rubs at his eye, looking as tired as you feel.

“You did really well though. And you'll be just as good tomorrow.”

“We'll see.”

“No, you'll be great.”

It's cold on the platform. Shuddering, you realise how wrong you were when you thought that you could get away without a jacket, and it doesn't go unnoticed.

“Cold?” Bucky asks.

“A little.”

In an instant, both he and Dayton are holding out their coats. You would try to object, however you've known them long enough to know they won't take no for an answer.  

Bucky pouts when you allow Dayton to slip his over your shoulders.

“I see how it is.”

You laugh at his disgruntled tone. “It would take forever for me to get yours back to you.”

“I could buy a new one.”

“I'm sure you could, money bags.”

He splutters at you as, laughing, you step out of his reach when he tries to tickle you in retaliation

Then the train is pulling in, and you hesitate as Dayton and Bucky hug, unsure if you should embrace him too. He makes that decision for you, wrapping his arms around you for the first time this year, and you struggle with your emotions, not wanting to let go as the doors open with a beep behind you. Dayton tugs gently on the back of his coat you're wearing to get you moving. Boarding the train whilst fighting off tears, you find a seat by the window and wave at Bucky through it until he's out of sight.

With nothing but your own reflection to look at now the sun has long since set and the countryside outside the city is shrouded in darkness, you find your eyes dropping, snuggling up in the warmth of Dayton's coat. Using the hood as a makeshift pillow, you would have fallen asleep had your companion not started talking.

“Where are you and Bucky going to go from here?”

You keep your eyes closed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, is there ever going to be a conversation about you two? Or is it going to continue like it always has, ignoring the obvious?”

You whine as you meet his gaze, not liking where this is going.

Dayton continues regardless. “You know I've never pressured either of you, so I'll only say this once. You two would be so good together. Basically perfect, like you were made for each other. Sophia agrees, all we want is for you both to be happy, and we think you would be if only you would admit how you feel to each other. It has to be on your terms though, at your pace, so I'm not going to push too much. I just hope you say something soon.”

You shrink further into his coat, sniffing as your eyes fill up. “It's safe not saying anything.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“What if he doesn't feel the same?”

“Of course he does, you don't have to be afraid of that.” Bringing you in to lean against his side, he strokes your arm comfortingly. “I know how you must be feeling, you've just got to be brave. It'll be worth it, I promise.”

*****

Chapter 13

A/n: This is the video they were talking about! I've made Dayton's character nothing like he is in Logan Lucky though, so for the purpose of this story, don't take it seriously! He would have meant it as a joke/parody of other ridiculous athletes and their silly diets.

[iamonlypartlymajestic]

What's the Opposite of a Gazelle? (Middleditch & Schwartz “Dream Job”fanfic)

*Co-written with @awildtrashcan*

AO3 LINK

Chapter 1 - A Lion?

 “Ah-ah-achoo!” 

 The force of Sawson’s sneeze echoes along the metal walls of the very cramped vent he is currently crawling through. 

 A faint female voice arises from an opening a few feet ahead of him, “What was that?” 

 Sawson quickly squirms up to the opening, furiously whispering, “Nothing! Don’t worry about it!”

 Through the vent’s thin crevices, he sees the tight bun of the well-dressed woman below him wobble slightly as she looks around the room. “Hmm…” she replied, “Yup, nothing suspicious at all.”

 She continues typing and Sawson smirks. Works every time. 

 He squirms onward, but not before remembering to cover his face with the collar of his shirt. No need to risk another sneeze. 

 He finally arrives at the aperture leading to his target: Mr. Times’s office. 

 Sawson punches open the air duct, again whispering, “Shhh! Stop making noise.” In panic, he flails at the falling metal cover, just barely grasping it with his fingertips. He freezes for a moment. Did anyone hear him?

 Complete silence.

 Nope, he’s good.

 He releases a sigh of relief and shoves the air duct cover behind him. 

 Sawson hooks his harness to the top of the air duct and lowers himself down carefully. All according to plan.

 Hours before Sawson found himself traversing the dusty vents of the New York Times building, Timothy III had taken a break from hate-watching Keeping Up With the Times to send "Kyle" a personal automated message about how he had a hunch that Mr. Times was hiding potentially unfavorable footage from airing on the show.

 He mocked the head of the media company’s hypocrisy regarding reporting the truth and ordered Sawson to retrieve the footage from Times’s office. He explained how he had taken the time to impersonate the admittedly very cool professor of Mr. Times’s law class and make up some emergency about alien boys and digital contracts (mocking him once again for actually believing such a ridiculous lie) to provide a window of time for Sawson to infiltrate the building.

 All of Sawson’s questions regarding the legality and ethical issues of the assignment were interrupted by the automated message stating, “This video message will now self-destruct in five seconds.” He took the allotted time to open his office window and chuck the tablet before it exploded. He was left staring at the remains of the tablet plummeting down the New York abyss as Timothy III’s dramatic laughter echoed from down the hall.

 And so, infiltrate the building he has.

 Sawson readies himself as he slowly descends to the floor. Now for the difficult part:

 Lasers.

 He straightens his body like an arrow and slips through a parallel pair of red sensors, but immediately arches his back, butt up in the air to avoid a lower level layer perpendicular to his body. As he twists and turns his body through the maze, he reminds himself to save a copy of the security footage before deleting it. He imagines the video will be just like the scene from Entrapment. 

 Sawson hopes he makes Catherine Zeta-Jones proud. 

 He finally makes it to Mr. Times’s desk. He grabs the edge of the table and turns on the computer. Keep it cool. Everything is going great. All he needs to do is grab the footage, and—

 "Hey, Mr. Times," a man drawls, pushing the office door open while double checking the contents of a folder in his hands. "I got those photos of a kid rolling down a ski slope during Andorra’s successful invasion of Spain you asked—"

 He looks up and immediately makes eye contact with Sawson, who is still dangling from the ceiling with a hand holding a very suspicious piece of tech. "For…uh, okay, those lasers definitely weren't here yesterday," he mutters, looking up and down the cable spanning the height of the, for some reason, very tall room.

 “Kyle?!” Sawson's free arm knocks into a stack of papers in shock. “Shit! I-I mean, I’m not here!” Still hanging from the ceiling, he turns himself upside down to reach the documents on the floor. “You can’t see me!” He only ends up successfully twirling in the air, unable to stay still enough to gather up all of the papers. 

 "Sawson, you know that doesn't work on me." Still spinning, Sawson can only get intermittent glimpses of Kyle, but Sawson assumes Kyle has his hands on his hips and is rolling his eyes. "Best friend immunities." 

 “Well.” Sawson attempts to glare at Kyle, but the spinning is making him nauseous. He starts again with his eyes closed. This time however, he crosses his arms to display his annoyance with the situation. “If you’re my best friend then, help me down!”

 Eyes still closed, all Sawson hears is a sigh before a pair of hands stabilize his levitating body. Now free from the danger of puking all over the floor of the New York Times head office, Sawson opens his eyes. He contorts his neck as far back as he can to watch Kyle. 

 It’s been years since he’s seen his best friend, and they haven't been able to make time to really meet up, what with their respective employments and newfound obligations. Well, it admittedly hasn't been the ten years they promised to meet at the top of the Empire State Building, but quite a few. Enough to forget the details of his original body. Sure, Sawson remembers the basics: his original hair color, the general shape of his face, etc. But with his pre-ancient-ritual body in front of him, he realizes he actually forgot the color of his eyes. Hell, he misses his short nine. 

 His musing is interrupted by Kyle’s very last-minute heads up. 

 “Fuck!” Sawson faceplants on the thankfully carpeted floor.

 “By the way…” Kyle brushes his hand through his hair and turns to help Sawson who’s still trying to untangle himself from his harness. “How’re those pics of Timothy III going?” 

 Well, that's one way to break the ice. Sawson shrugs as much as he can with the belts and buckles looped around him. "It's alright, I guess."

 Kyle raises his eyebrows. "Alright, you guess?"

 “Yeah, ol’ Timothy is actually kind of…” Sawson slaps Kyle’s hands away from his body. He got this, okay?

 “Eccentric?” Kyle’s voice rises unnaturally high at the end, so Sawson takes a brief glance at the other man as he fiddles with the harness. Sawson then watches his former eyes glaze over as Kyle stares deep in thought. 

 “That’s…” He thinks back to the exploding tablet. “A word.” Sawson yanks at the last buckle and the harness slips down to his feet. He picks up the harness and waves it in Kyle’s face with an "Aha!".

 "So," Kyle bats the harness out of his face before humming, clapping his hands together and pressing his lips into a thin line. "Are you going to explain why you're reenacting Mission Impossible in the middle of my boss' office?"

 Sawson not-so-inconspicuously kicks a few of the documents scattered on the floor under the desk and stutters. “Uhh…” 

 Kyle’s face goes deadpan and steps way too close for Sawson’s comfort. “Sawson...Sawson.”  

 Sawson smoothly doesn’t make eye contact with Kyle. Yes, smoothly. 

 It unfortunately does not deter Kyle. “Sawson...why were you hanging from the ceiling?”

 “Uh, I. I got—” Sawson tries to continue to avoid eye contact but Kyle just steps even closer. 

 “And don’t say ‘kids’. I’ve been taking care of Pawson for years now, and I’m pretty sure you’re still single.” 

 Sawson stomps his foot and points his finger at Kyle’s face. “Okay! First of all, I wasn’t going to say kids. So, there! And second, I-I could be with someone, have a new family in a big house with a pet dog.”

 Kyle just raises an eyebrow and looks at Sawson pointedly. Ugh, Kyle could at least pretend to believe him. 

 Sawson huffs and pushes his friend away to finally clean up the documents strewn on the floor. He drops them haphazardly on the office chair. “Fine. If you’re going to be here anyway, keep watch while I find your boss’s stupid TV show footage.” 

 “Wait, what? You mean Keeping Up With the Times?”

 “Is there any other reality show about the family of the head of a major mass media company based in New York?” Sawson plugs in the flash drive and immediately, a mini version of Timothy III’s AI takes control of the computer. Folder tabs open and close rapidly as the AI searches for the videos. 

 “All of the seasons are on Netflix, what’s up with the breaking and entering?”

 Sawson rolls his eyes, “If you must know, Timothy wants—”

 “The third. Timothy the Third.” A feminine monotone voice interrupts Sawson from the computer’s speakers. “When speaking of the Timothy the Third, head of sketch comedy show—”

 “Wait, I remember that voice.” Kyle shoulder checks Sawson out of the way and his eyes flick back and forth across the surface of the screen. “You were the voice automated system during my interview, weren’t you?”

 “I am an AI capable of many important tasks and services. I have the memory storage and processing power dedicated to solving the world’s greatest problems...of course, I remember both of your less than stellar interviews," states the AI, shutting down any further conversation. Sawson frowns at its comment. He doesn't think he did that poorly...

 A soft chime sounds. "Blackmail located."

 “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Kyle turns back to Sawson who busies himself with erasing any trace of his presence from the room. “Blackmail?!”

 “I don’t know if you remember, but Timothy considers—”

 “The third.”

 Sawson glares at the computer monitor, “Right, Timothy the Third considers Mr. Times his business and personal rival.” Finished cleaning up the rest of the papers, he lounges in the office chair and rests his feet on the shiny wooden surface of the desk. He deserves it, okay? It takes a lot of core strength to descend through lasers like a super spy.  

 "Yeah. But that doesn't explain why you're partaking in corporate espionage."

 Before Sawson can reiterate the bullshit his boss told him through a self-destructing tablet, the AI lets out another chime. Download completed.

 "Well, my friend," Sawson sighs, retrieving the flash drive and the incriminating files it carries, "it appears my work here is done. So if you'll excuse me…"

 "I will not excuse you." Kyle steps into Sawson's path. "We're going to sit here and talk about your questionable actions like the two healthy, functioning grown men we are. And besides," he gestures to the array of lights and the cable left swinging lightly in the breeze of the A/C above them, "how do you plan on getting back up there?"

 Sawson points a finger in the air and opens his mouth to reply, before promptly closing it. "I-I…um," he stammers, and averts his gaze, "I never actually considered...getting this far."

 Kyle pinches the bridge of his nose in between his thumb and index finger, “You’re telling me, you can slip through literal lasers and have an advanced AI system in the palm of your hand, and you didn’t make a plan to escape?” 

 Sawson shrugs, “I sort of thought I’d leave the same way I came in.” He then attempts to pull himself up the line of cord still hanging from the ceiling. He grunts as he actually makes a few feet of distance, before the part of the ceiling that he attached the harness’s hook to gives way and he falls. Again. 

 “Jesus Christ,” Kyle says as he pulls Sawson back up to a standing position. He keeps his hands around Sawson’s elbows as he reorients himself. “You’re an idiot.”

 Sawson shakes his head to clear his mind. He really needs to stop almost giving himself concussions. “Alrighty then...I admit I do need some help to get out of here.” He picks up the fallen cable and winds it around his arm. 

 Kyle crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, “Only if you show me what’s in the video and tell me why Timothy the Third wants them.”

 Sawson rolls his eyes and tosses his hands in the air in surrender, “Fine, alright, I will! So...please?” He flourishes his other arm in a fancy “go on with it” gesture. 

 Kyle removes his tote and stuffs the harness inside before telling Sawson to put the cord in also. He slips it back around his shoulder. “Come follow me, and act natural! Thank god you’re not wearing some dumbass jumpsuit or this'd be way more difficult.”

 Sawson responds with silence and awkwardly looks to the side. He decides to not think about his late-night Amazon window shopping.  

 Kyle's eyes widen in realization and he leans back to stare judgmentally at his friend's face. "No. Never do that. This compliments you so much better." He stiffly waves his hand in front of Sawson’s all-black turtleneck and fitness pants ensemble. "Well. Compliments me, I guess."

 “Just go already!” Sawson pushes Kyle ahead of him towards the door. After scanning the room one last time for any remaining evidence, he follows Kyle outside of the office. 

“Ah, yes! Newbie intern Saw—Ky—ARL, CARL. This is the office of our great MR. TIMES, the leader of our wonderful mass media company, the NEW YORK TIMES.” Kyle says in a much too loud voice while not-so-subtly looking around the hallway. 

 Sawson stares incredulously at his friend until Kyle elbows his side and tilts his head at an upcoming employee. Oh! “Yes, yes! Thank you very much, SAWSON! For this TOUR OF THE BUILDING. I am SO GLAD TO START MY WORK HERE SOON.” 

 The employee gives them an irritated look but otherwise ignores their existence as she walks on. The two best friends nod at each other in confidence. They've totally nailed this whole corporate espionage thing. 

 Kyle leads Sawson to the main elevator. “Okay, just take this and head straight down. I still have to do a bit more work before I can clock out. You want to meet at that one Italian place?” He gives Sawson his tote bag with his gear. 

 “The one with the really tasty meatballs?” The elevator dings and Sawson walks inside, holding his hand out to prevent the doors from shutting. 

 “Yeah, that one. I’ll text you when I’m almost there.” Kyle gives Sawson one last nod before the elevator doors close and Sawson descends. 

 ~O~

 His vision goes white.

 Sawson shuts his eyes, a hand pressing against his temples to soothe the searing pain in his head. His actions do nothing to defend himself from the sharp wave of nausea that hits him, and he's grateful he hasn't ordered anything yet because he's definitely sure he'd be throwing it all back up. Man, today is just showing no mercy to his poor stomach.

 "—think we should be dealing with this, Sawson?"

 The vertigo abruptly melting away is almost as disorienting as it being present, and it takes a couple seconds before he's finally able to register what was said.

 "...Sawson?"

 And what, or rather, who is in front of him.

 "Sawson, I am talking to you," Mr. Times looks unimpressed with the lack of response.

 "Y-yes, sir, I—" Sawson stutters, buying himself a few more seconds to confirm that yes, he is back in Times's office, hacked computer on top of the polished oak desk and all. "—D'uh, I…think…"

 Mr. Times "hmm"s for him to continue.

 "...we should," Sawson gulps, "m-make peace with the aliens?" He winces and tenses his shoulders, praying his answer is acceptable to the head of a reputable media company.

 His now (he supposes)-current-boss purses his lips and nods in contemplation. "Yes, offering an olive branch to foreign powers, even the extraterrestrial, is a wise first move." Holy shit, what— "But still, there's no telling whether they will respond positively, or we'll end up with a repeat of yesterday's lecture."

 The man trails off to think to himself before waving a hand as if to shoo that train of thought away. "No matter. Just a hypothetical question in the grand scheme of things, and the Times doesn't focus on hypotheticals. We focus on the now, isn't that right?"

 "Of course, sir," Sawson agrees. Finally, a question he knows the answer to.

 "Well, I've kept you here long enough. I'll ask you to entertain my philosophical musings tomorrow," and Mr. Times turns his attention to the monitor in front of him, giving Sawson the time to question how the hell he went from waiting for Kyle to meet him to dealing with New York Times Interview Anxiety Part 2: E.T. Go Home.

 Sawson walks out of Mr. Times’s office into the unknown. Upon checking that the hallway is bereft of any other employees, he first spends a few seconds outside of the closed door muffling his screams into his hands. 

 Alright, he feels better. Somewhat. Now to get out of here before anyone else tries to talk to him about the supernatural.

 He turns towards what he remembers to be the direction Kyle showed him earlier, but stops.

 Wait a minute, hold on!

 If he's in here, and here happens to be the New York Times, but he was just in the Italian restaurant's men's restroom, and he was Kyle, but now he's Sawson…then where was Kyle?

 Sawson's brain finally calculates the math, and he buries his face back into his hands.

 "...Fuck."

[elizas-writing]

Of the latest “controversial” opinions to rock social media, renowned director Martin Scorsese voiced his dislike of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU). To Scorsese, MCU films are more like an amusement park than cinema which is meant to “convey emotional, psychological experiences.” As you do, this sparked some outrage among fans and even a few filmmakers from MCU. Scorsese himself even wrote an op-ed for The New York Times to further explain himself when the backlash got out of control and specified he meant the whole comic book film genre.

On one hand, I understand not wanting to give in to an elitist ideal of what “cinema” is, and comic book films deserve to be on equal footing as any other genre. Not every film needs to be a grand masterpiece, and art is subjective and can come from anywhere, even in the MCU. Black Panther is an expertly crafted film of Afrofuturism and deserved all its awards nominations. Guardians of the Galaxy, despite being an inherently goofy franchise, delivers a strong, emotional, complex narrative of found family and overcoming trauma from a lifetime of abuse. MCU also gave a ton of publicity for more unknown actors and directors. And audiences steadily flocked to the rest of their work, and they look forward to what else they have to give besides superhero films; it’s one of the reasons why Taika Waititi is now a favorite director in my book. And give credit where it’s due, Marvel is the only successful cinematic universe so far to stay in the long run where others spectacularly failed. It’s not perfect, but all things considered on what could’ve gone wrong, it’s surprising to see the hard work pay off.

At the same time, despite being a longtime fan of MCU, I’m starting to feel fatigued with the superhero genre. And this began way before Scorsese said anything. With the release of Disney+, fans are expected to subscribe and watch these new shows which apparently will tie into future movies scheduled out until 2022. It’s also not much of a secret that Disney is morphing into a corporate monster and consuming all media it can grabs its hands on. And with more time to further reflect on some of these movies without the excess hype, I admit I was probably far too kind on my initial reviews. There are a lot of MCU films I can discuss in these regards, but as I drafted this up, I had far more to say on Spider-Man. So that will be my primary focus for this piece.

At the end of the day, Scorsese’s opinions are mainly on his personal film tastes— also, c’mon, the guy agreed to voice act in fucking Shark Tale of all things; no one’s twisting your arm to take his word as gospel—, and not everyone is gonna automatically like the superhero genre. I respect that it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, and I agree it feels like the film market is oversaturated with them. And there is still a lot to be said on recent filmmaking trends and if MCU can keep a steady momentum in the long run. It is possible to have too much of a good thing. After a while, you’ll want to leave the amusement park, but when will that point be? Well, I’m here to break down my biggest frustrations with MCU through Scorsese’s lens and a reevaluation of Spider-Man, both the character and the movie franchise.

I. Too Many Damn Franchises

In his op-ed, Scorsese worried about “franchise films [which] are now your primary choice” in major theaters, leaving little room for everyone else.  It isn’t much of a stretch that we don’t see a lot of original content which stands on its own between all the sequels and reboots which expect prior knowledge of its predecessors to understand what is going on. And of course, Disney is the largest perpetrator of this with all the properties they own and all the live action remakes/reimaginings of their original content which no one asked for (no, trust me, you didn’t ask for an origin story of Cruella de Vil; turn off the nostalgia goggles).

Yeah, there’s only like, one of these I want to see

Some of MCU’s individual franchises, particularly the earlier films, work well on their own without necessarily needing to watch every other film in the universe. Some are only connected with super minor details which can be picked up from context clues or dialogue referencing events of the previous films. Guardians of the Galaxy is the best example of this as their adventures are self-contained up until Avengers: Infinity War. But then you have Tom Holland’s Spider-Man which completely relies on fully understanding what’s happening in the universe as whole; what happens to him in Captain America: Civil War and the last two Avengers movies influences the plots of Spider-Man: Homecoming and Far from Home. It’s impossible for this iteration of Spider-Man to stand on its own without MCU context. And they can only spend so much time to recap the previous movies because they assume you already watched them; the recaps are just bare bones refreshers. Each new MCU film is further tied into the entire franchise, so now you have to watch a decade’s worth of movies to understand the individual franchises.

MCU is also one of many franchises dominating movie theaters, averaging at about 2-3 releases per year. It may not sound like a lot, but it’s overwhelming when they’re sandwiched between other franchises from D.C. Comics to Harry Potter to Star Wars and whatever 80s or 90s properties Hollywood finds worthy of a reboot/sequel. Movies are still pretty expensive, and we can’t be expected to see every movie as they release. So we end up having to pick and choose what to immediately see in theaters. And if you’re seeing a franchise film, chances are you’ll also have to backtrack on whatever predecessors are available to get the context of a new movie. When other movies, especially non-franchise films, don’t perform as well upon opening weekend, their showings are reduced, and you’ll be lucky if they’re still there a month later. And this is part of why directors like Scorsese turn to streaming services like Netflix, Hulu, or Amazon Prime to release their movies to not panic on box office numbers, “the primary delivery system” as he calls it.

While streaming services are convenient and far less expensive than movie tickets, viewers are still subject to content overload. With fluctuating availability of certain titles, you still have to pick and choose what you want to see first before it disappears for months or years. Do you want to watch this new Netflix original film that’s gonna be there forever, or do you want to watch re-runs of The Office before its contract expires? Sometimes if a service doesn’t see an immediate high viewership of certain original shows, they get cancelled and fade into obscurity. Now everyone and their mother wants to hop on the streaming bandwagon, and spread out their exclusive shows as thinly as possible, including Disney. The overall costs come close to cable or satellite television which goes against the whole point of streaming services.

Expanding the MCU to television isn’t a new concept. We still have Daredevil and Jessica Jones on Netflix, just to name a couple shows. Although they referenced the MCU films, their worlds were separated far enough that you could watch the shows without needing to see any movies. But then you also have something like Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D which is more dependent on seeing the movies to understand the show’s plot. If you didn’t see the latest MCU movie that weekend before the next episode, you’ll probably miss out on the context and be barraged with spoilers. Although the events of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D weren’t referenced in the MCU films, the fans still have a lot of work to keep up with the show’s story.

Also, I know y’all are worried about brand integrity, but you already own Hulu…??

Not only were all the Netflix shows cancelled in favor of Disney+, but the shows on the new platform are said to affect future films, including all the new characters to be introduced. We still don’t know to what extent the shows and films will tie in together, but it already sounds demanding to keep up with. And let’s be real, who asked for WandaVision, a show with two of the most boring MCU characters? Or Hawkeye after Jeremy Renner decided to make a raging asshole of himself? Do I really need to watch these shows to understand the movies going forward?

Again, it’s still too early to determine how much the shows will coincide with the movies. And given the success of a show like The Mandalorian, I hope I’m wrong on the quality of future Disney+ projects. But I can’t help notice that MCU started favoring quantity over quality since they know they can make bank regardless of the project. It aaaaalllllll comes back to money which brings me to the next big issue of MCU.

II. Business Over Art

Business and art is always at odds with each other in filmmaking, especially if you’re going into Hollywood, and it’s never easy to compromise on the two. You need to find a balance between getting a finished movie out to theaters and not wasting the production’s time and money. According to Scorsese, this used to be “a productive tension that gave us some of the greatest films ever made.” However, in recent years, this balance tipped in business’s favor “with absolute indifference to the very question of art.” As a result, we don’t get the full “unifying vision of an individual artist.” We just have “worldwide audiovisual entertainment” and cinema. “They still overlap from time to time, but that’s becoming increasingly rare. And [he] fear[s] that the financial dominance of one is being used to marginalize and even belittle the existence of the other.”

Okay, this is still fun no matter how many times I see it

Sadly, we see this financial dominance with Disney grabbing on as many properties as possible and launching their own streaming service with exclusive shows and films. This became most heated with the Spider-Man character rights debacle with Sony. Back in August 2019, Sony disagreed on Disney’s proposed 50-50 split of MCU Spider-Man movie profits. If a deal wasn’t made, Disney would lose the rights to Spider-Man, and the MCU wouldn’t get a third film for the character. And it took a month for the companies to reach a deal to keep Spider-Man in the MCU with the third film scheduled for July 2021, but the details of the new deal weren’t publicly disclosed. Fans were divided as to which company was in the right, and it’s a little bit of Column A and B.

On one hand, it’s annoying when studio executives get in the way of the art and think they know what will guarantee box office and critical success. And it’s especially irritating in this case when character rights bounce around and determine who will make the next movies and what stories to tell. Spider-Man already has not one, but two previous franchises cancelled before their full potentials were realized. Yeah, Sony kinda shot themselves in the foot with the crap quality of Spider–Man 3 and The Amazing Spider–Man 2, but I can’t help wonder how these stories could’ve gone if they were allowed to continue.

Still the superior Spider-Man movie, by the by

On the other hand, Sony was right to refuse Disney’s initial offer. You think after the tremendous success they had with Into the Spiderverse that they would settle on only half of the profits? Disney has more than enough monopoly on Hollywood that they’re nowhere near in danger of bankruptcy like they used to be. We still need studios which will put their foot down to greedy demands and will better unleash creativity in ways which even Disney is still too chicken to pursue. I’m still so glad we waited on Sony to make Miles Morales the star of his own movie, because MCU has a bad track record of keeping up with diverse representation that only within the past 2 years of a 12-year-old franchise did we finally get movies not led by cisgender white men. And there was a lot more genuine love to do this story and these characters right to show anyone can be a hero.

Between the tug-of-war on character rights and franchise overload, these business decisions greatly affect the movies, and some of these stories may not live up to their full potential (not to mention the actors’ contracts which dictate how much screentime their characters get). As this is Disney we’re talking about, we also run into my final major issue with their control on MCU.

III. Cultural Authority on Stories

I knew saving my books from the UC: Santa Cruz Walt Disney class would come in handy some day!

In her essay “Fantasia: Cultural Constructions of Disney’s ‘Masterpiece'”, media historian Moya Luckett discusses the concerns of Disney holding “cultural authority” on the images of famous stories. As Disney is a formidable part of most everyone’s childhood, they are usually the go-to images when we think of Cinderella, Pinocchio, Peter Pan, and dozens more. Disney is clearly doing something right if these films are enjoyed decades later. I still go to Disney when I first think of Robin Hood, and it’s just as great as when I watched it as a kid. Unfortunately, with Disney dominating family and children’s media, they don’t allow much room for other interpretations to shine.

For example, with Luckett’s focus on the 1940 film, Fantasia, music critics worried “that the power of Disney’s images would anchor the music,” so some audiences may immediately associate “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” with Mickey Mouse or “Pastoral Symphony” with centaurettes instead making their own interpretations¹. And those critics were definitely right to worry, and the concerns expanded beyond classical music. To this day, folks still react with shock when they read the original books or darker iterations of fairytales which these movies are based on. In some extreme cases, Disney’s images contribute to racial stereotypes and distorted perceptions of histories and cultures, and the company still hasn’t figured out how to properly express that while they were products of their time, they weren’t okay then and they’re certainly not okay now.

But anyway, what the fuck does this all have to do with MCU? Sadly, Disney’s cultural authority leaked into MCU too.

With an indefinite future and the inevitable MCU reboots of characters and groups like the Fantastic Four and the X-Men, it is probably going to be literal years before we see new versions of characters like Tony Stark or Steve Rogers, at least as far as live-action movies are concerned. We’ll always have the numerous cartoons and, of course, the original comics, but the live-action films are stuck until Disney reboots these franchises themselves, or they pass the rights along to another studio to do so. For some viewers, MCU may be the first go-to images of these heroes, and not every fan will be dedicated enough to seek out other adaptations on their own. And that’s not a good thing if a comic arc or character gets a shitty adaptation. One such example, which also ties into Spider-Man, is the Civil War storyline which was adapted to film with Captain America: Civil War in 2016.

The original comic, published from July 2006 to January 2007, was a mega Marvel crossover event in which after a superheroes and villains battle ended in over 600 civilian deaths, the U.S government quickly passed the Superhuman Registration Act. Any superpowered person— regardless how they obtained their abilities— was required to register with the government, publicly reveal their identities, and enlist with S.H.I.E.L.D. for training to serve as a hero. Many heroes split up into two factions: one led by Tony Stark, who helped pass the law, and Steve Rogers, who went rogue to create the Secret Avengers because he found the law violated civil liberties of freedom and privacy. Families and friendships were torn apart, and the fighting escalated so badly that it was no longer even about the law but about Tony and Steve’s massive egos on who was right, resulting in more damage than any villain could’ve done (I recommend watching Comicstorian’s overview of the story for more details since it there’s so much going on, and his video is nice and succinct).

MCU already put themselves in pickle trying to adapt one of the biggest comic stories ever as they couldn’t portray the same scale of conflict, emotional zeitgeist, or the multiple sideplots weaved in. Film is already an inherently limited medium of entertainment for time, so cuts are inevitable. And what do you do when you can’t bring in major players like the Fantastic Four or the X-men? Well, for Captain America: Civil War, the conflict was scaled down to the Sokovia Accords which gave control of Avengers activity to the United Nations since their more recent missions often did more damage than good. In theory, this isn’t necessarily a bad idea since it still ties into the themes of government control versus civil liberties and when heroes need to be accountable. And the two sides still align similarly to the original comic with Tony Stark in favor of the law after his screw-up with Ultron and Steve Rogers against it after S.H.E.I.L.D. turned out to be front for HYDRA just a couple years before.

Unfortunately, the conflict over the Sokovia Accords is too quickly sidelined over Bucky Barnes being framed for a terrorist attack and a severe misunderstanding of his brainwashing when he was the Winter Soldier. The characters’ motivations— most of which have nothing to do with the Accords at all— jump all over the place on why they side with Tony or Steve. The ultimate battle boils down to a bromance love triangle, and I don’t feel like the MCU Avengers are a cohesive enough unit to feel any emotional drama when they split apart. In the long run, the worst consequences that anyone faces for violating the Sokovia Accords are either going into hiding or being placed under house arrest. And the law really stops mattering to anyone once Thanos snaps half of the universe’s population out of existence, making most of the film inconsequential. And for all of MCU’s best efforts to cut and edit the story to fit to film language, it’s still underwhelming to not have the massive scale the comic had. I don’t know if Civil War could ever have a proper live-action film adaptation without splitting it into multiple parts, and let’s be honest, audiences only have so much attention spans before they want something new.

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One of the major sideplots of Civil War was, of course, Spider-Man’s involvement, which became a huge selling point in the film’s trailers. In the comic, Peter Parker was ambivalent towards the Superhuman Registration Act, because villains could use the heroes’ public identities to attack their friends and family. But he still had faith that Tony Stark had everything under control, and revealed his identity in a press event to publicly voice his support for the Act. However, after a fight against the Secret Avengers resulted in the gruesome death of Goliath, Peter questioned Tony’s motivations and switched over to Steve Rogers’s side in hopes to de-escalate the fighting so no more heroes would die. At this point, Tony and Peter were well-acquainted that the former supplied him with his own tech, particularly the Iron Spider suit, so the side-switching (including a one-on-one fight between the two) was a hell of a surprise for readers. And I was really looking forward to that dynamic to play out in MCU, especially with a younger version of Peter Parker.

“So, cool if I just dip out for like 3 months without explanation?”

But MCU decided to throw out that conflict in favor of Peter Parker giving unquestioning veneration to Tony Stark as his mentor when he honestly doesn’t deserve it– I covered some of this briefly in a previous post on Tony Stark’s character stagnation, so there is some repeat but also some update with Avengers: Endgame and Spider-Man: Far From Home in mind. Anyway, let’s break down Tony’s wonderful career as a mentor: manipulating Peter to join a fight against Captain America without the full details when it was already a huge misunderstanding; putting him on radio silence when black market weapons dealers were ready to steal his tech and just said he had it under control (spoiler: he didn’t, and Peter had to save the day himself and was nearly crushed by a whole building in the process); and trusting him with a pair of hi-tech glasses without instructions on how to not accidentally set off drones against his classmates.

This scene from Homecoming will always annoy the piss out of me. You can’t change my mind.

There’s a lot of confused framing and intentions to unpack here. Tony clearly doesn’t have certain situations under control, constantly struggles to come to terms with the fact he can’t save everyone, and lets anxiety overwhelm his better judgement in his deluded ideas to protect people. Despite his paranoia of saving everyone, Tony somehow doesn’t seem the least bit concerned with all the dangerous situations Peter, a 16-year-old, throws himself into while he’s on vacation. And Tony is still framed in the right on how he handles his problems, including punishing Peter for questioning his poor communication skills. Yeah, bold flex from a guy who waited until the last second to help save a boat full of civilians. Yes, we have to go through “with great power comes great responsibility” in a Spider-Man story, but Tony was well-aware how eager Peter was to prove himself, especially when he’s much more inexperienced and at a much younger age where he seeks validation from adult role models. Aside from giving Peter some nice tech, Tony didn’t actually teach him anything about heroism, and he certainly didn’t care to get to know him personally when he’s out of the suit which severely undermines the mentor-student route they attempted with these two characters. Tony gave Peter a lot of power, but didn’t guide him how to responsibly use it. 

Sweet moment; you gonna apologize for the part where you sat off to the side while he was almost crushed by a building?

I wanted to see that conflict between Peter and Tony like in the comics. It would’ve been fascinating to see the perspective of a teenager roped into the adult world of heroes. Perhaps he’d look back on his involvement in Civil War and wonder why the hell he was a part of that and what being a hero means to him. I didn��t want Peter to be punished for rightfully questioning Tony’s methods, and maybe, just once, Tony would get a come-to-Jesus moment and stop being a perpetual douchebag. The closest we get to those moments of actual love and mutual respect are the last two Avengers movies when Peter is snapped out of existence and Tony sacrifices himself to stop Thanos. The payoff is in the right mind, but MCU forgot the proper build-up to establish any genuine connection between Peter and Tony, let alone hold the latter accountable for his constant fuck-ups and neglectful mentoring. The lost potential in that bond and the Civil War arc only scratches at the surface in regards to why this adaptation of Spider-Man falls short.

Another gripe diehard MCU fans had on the character rights debacle was if Sony got back Spider-Man, how would they do the next movie without referencing Tony Stark? And this ties back again to the fact MCU Spider-Man cannot work as a standalone franchise. Peter Parker’s growth revolves too much on other MCU events and characters, especially Tony, and you don’t know who he is without those outside influences. Even the villains’ motivations are framed around Tony doing them wrong in some way. Yes, most viewers are familiar enough with Spider-Man that it’s redundant to show the origin story again; we know Uncle Ben is gonna die no matter what. But personal tragedy and family love were always Peter’s primary motivations to becoming a hero, and MCU barely references them. They can’t even get the dynamic between Peter and Aunt May right; their love is so lifeless and dull.

Iron Man Jr? Spider-Man? I don’t know anymore…

What makes Peter’s arc fascinating to watch isn’t him proving himself to Tony or some other surrogate father figure. It’s his relationship with what little family he has left, sacrificing his emotional needs to protect them, using his resourcefulness to build himself up as a hero, looking out for the underrepresented of New York City so they don’t have to go through what he did, and accepting that he can’t save everyone, even with all his best efforts. MCU shows snippets of that arc, but the development is still too focused on Tony to the point where Spider-Man feels more like an Iron Man Jr. It works well enough for the overall MCU, but not so much as an individual franchise when you compare the story and character relationships to the films made by Sam Raimi, Marc Webb or even Phil Lord and Rodney Rothman. Thank God that Spider-Man has so many adaptations for people to flock to, because if this was someone’s first and only introduction of the character in live-action film, they’d be hopelessly confused.

Sadly, that ends up being the case for so many MCU characters whose stories are also stuck with too much outside influences instead of being allowed to develop on their own. If I tried to cover every character potential wasted in MCU so far, we’d be here forever. As of late, MCU focuses on tying every event and character arc together and overloading on Easter eggs to build up to the next major plot conversion instead of creating stories with organic world-building which can stand on their own. This isn’t the case for every MCU movie, but it is the most common trend in their latest projects which will most likely continue to that next crossover event, whenever and whatever it is. The allusions to other films in the universe should be embellishments, not the entire story’s foundation.

Although I’m curious where they’ll take Peter Parker given the midcredits scene of Far From Home, I also wonder if they’ll tell his story with him front-and-center and without referencing Tony Stark every five minutes. But what’s done is done, and MCU’s Spider-Man relied too much on those allusions to the point where some fans forgot what made him a great hero to begin with. When you strip away his involvement with the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D., his arc is feeble compared to other adaptations. Sure, Tobey Maguire got goofy at times, and Andrew Garfiled’s drama was maybe too heavy-handed, but their Peter Parkers are at least well-rounded characters who figure out what being a hero means to their personal growth. Tom Holland does well with what he’s given, and I love seeing his emotional vulnerability, but I don’t know who his Peter Parker is without Avengers shenanigans.

I want to continue enjoying MCU as much as anyone else, but it’s hard to not see Scorsese’s point that most of these movies are mindless like amusement parks. At some point, we gotta turn off the hype goggles and see what else these stories have to offer besides how they relate to larger events in the cinematic universe. It’s not bad to indulge in mindless fun every now and then, and we still get fantastic movies out of MCU, but audiences will get tired of the obligation to watch dozens of shows and movies to keep up with the story. And with Disney controlling almost all of entertainment, we need to re-evaluate if they’re interested in telling engaging stories or in shooting out franchise after franchise to maintain steady profits and if these are even good-enough adaptations of such beloved comic characters we want to automatically go to when we think of them. As I said before, it is possible to have too much of a good thing, and you need to leave the amusement park eventually. Since we know so little of their next crossover events, I hope MCU finds the point where they can satisfyingly wrap up the story of this universe before we get exhausted by it all.

Luckett, M. “Fantasia: Cultural Constructions of Disney’s ‘Masterpiece.'” Disney Discourse, ed. E. Smoodin (New York City, NY: Routledge, 1994), 227.

Shout out to my darling friend, Kayla, who helped me through one of my rough drafts to help focus this piece!

As always, if you enjoyed this post and what I do here, consider buying me a ko-fi! Your support is much appreciated!

Martin Scorsese Isn't Totally Wrong: The Marvel Cinematic Universe, Overindulgence, and Re-evaluating Spider-Man's Arc #martinscorsese #mcu #marvel #spiderman Of the latest "controversial" opinions to rock social media, renowned director Martin Scorsese voiced his dislike of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU)

[callmeblake]

Kerrang Issue #1761

Magazine Release Date: February 20th, 2019

Issue Label: February 23rd, 2019

Photo Credit:  Jen Rosenstein

Illustrations: Brian Ewing

Partial Transcription (from pressreader.com) below:

Kerrang! (UK)

20 Feb 2019

words: emily carter illustrations: brian ewing

“MAKING MUSIC IS MORE FUN THESE DAYS…”

BREAKS HIS SILENCE

Since he was a kid, GERARD WAY has sought solitude in the world of graphic novels – first as a reader, and later, with the weight of the rock world on his shoulders, as a creator. But now, he explains exclusively to Kerrang!, working on the Netflix adaptation of his THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY series helped him reconnect with his love for making music, too…

Gerard Way keeps track of his personal goals using what he calls “the grown-up list”. One at a time, the 41-year-old will tick off these life objectives by means of self-care – a concept he’ll admit he hasn’t kept on top of lately.

“On the grown-up list are all these things that I have to do to start participating in life again,” he explains in a gentle, endearing New Jersey accent, dissecting a mysteriously methodical approach to his return to the public eye – though, it has to be said, still sounding very much like a big kid at heart.

For the past “two, three” years, Gerard feels as though he hasn’t been looking after himself while under the strain of his demanding career as a comic-book writer. And while his workload certainly isn’t slowing down any time soon – if anything, it’s on the increase with the reintroduction of music now, too – he is at least making his own positive changes little by little, “piece by piece”.

“Enough time goes by and you’re tired of feeling tired, and tired of feeling unhealthy, and tired of doing unhealthy things to yourself,” he admits. “I hit a point where I was like, ‘Enough’s enough. I gotta move my body and find a doctor.’ I hadn’t had a physical in I can’t remember how long. It was just time, you know?”

Undertaking this new journey, Gerard first started off by giving up smoking. He afforded himself just two weeks to ditch the cigarettes, before moving on to the next task. “You can’t do it all at once,” he explains thoughtfully. “I quit smoking before doing anything else – like change diet or going to see a doctor. I just take these things in steps. Even if I did have all the time in the world to attack the grown-up list, you have to take any major life change slowly and gradually.”

Had Gerard felt so inclined as to keep a similar grown-up list for professional targets when he first emerged as My Chemical Romance’s awe-inspiring leader in 2001, its trajectory would have accelerated significantly. Darting into the spotlight in 2004 with their astounding second record Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge, the frontman quickly became uncomfortable with the intrusive – and borderline paralysing – nature of their fame. It’s no wonder that, between 2006’s triple-platinum The Black Parade, and the festival-headlining status that came with fourth and final studio album Danger Days: The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys, Gerard recently labelled the group’s journey as “uncontrollable”. The band’s explosion was just as dramatic as their eventual breakup almost six years ago, and it took Gerard just over a year to then return into view. An excellent Britpop-inflected solo LP, Hesitant Alien, followed in September 2014, and even landed at spot number four in Kerrang!’s top 50 records of that year. No grown-up list – no matter how fool-proof – could accurately record or predict those kind of whirlwind peaks and troughs.

In his life as a comic-book writer, though, Gerard’s accomplishments have kept up a steadier, but no less impressive, incline. As a graduate of New York’s School of Visual Arts and a former intern at Cartoon Network, his imagination and visual creativity was harnessed long before his audio talents came to light. While his comic-book debut in 1993, On Raven’s Wings, was cancelled after just two issues, Gerard’s near 100 (and counting) writing credits have just about surpassed his contributions in music; he even ran his own imprint under the legendary DC Comics banner for two years, Young Animal. And while its status is currently listed as ‘inactive’, Gerard has emphasised that it’s “not the end” of that venture. Now, his prominence as a fullyfledged award-winning comic-book writer is a marvel (no, not that kind).

“The thing about doing comics is nobody asks you about your personal life, they don’t ask you about the drugs you used to take, they don’t ask you if you’re breaking up,” he told Kerrang! while still with My Chemical Romance in 2010, openly battling with the allure of a life buried in books. “They talk about the work. I wish people would talk about the work in music. In music, people want to know what makes you tick – in comics, people don’t care.”

Given the appeal of a more serene existence, it’s clear Gerard’s current primary occupation perfectly suits him. Just as he helped change the face of rock 15 years ago, however, he’s beginning to make similar strides in comics. Once again, he’s got the big guns knocking on his artistic doorstep.

“If anybody ever asks me for advice about being creative, it’s always just to make the things you want to see,” he shrugs, either oblivious to his skills or just strikingly modest. “Make something that doesn’t exist, that you wish existed – that you wanna read, or see, or listen to. That’s the one thing that I’ve applied to everything I’ve done: all the art I’ve made and the music I’ve made.”

Following this surprisingly simple mantra, Gerard now has a tremendous feat on his hands: his apocalyptic comic-book series, The Umbrella Academy, has snowballed into a 10-episode live-action show of the same name, and hit Netflix last Friday. By now, you’ll probably have already watched the lot. For the programme’s main brain, though, while he may have spent release day just ticking off another box on the grown-up list (“I had a physical that day with a doctor, so…”), this marks the beginning of his “participation” in life again. Gerard Way is back.

Gerard Way is obsessed with comics. Across the span of our interview with the author-turned-musicianturned-author again, he says the word “comic” no fewer than 28 times – each utterance more passionate than the last. Yet it wasn’t until 2008, while still active with My Chemical Romance, that he began to feel the effects of his written works’ potential. And not just in the field of comics, either; he was suddenly struck with the realisation that he could make this his full-time work instead. When he and illustrator Gabriel Bá – a man Gerard credits constantly and with great

“I’VE ALWAYS AIMED TO MAKE SOMETHING THAT DOESN’T EXIST, THAT I WISH EXISTED” GERARD WAY

respect when discussing the project – were awarded a prestigious Eisner Award for The Umbrella Academy’s first mini-series, it shook him to the core.

“It was scary at the time,” he mentioned in a Kerrang! cover feature at a later date, “because it was another thing that said to me, ‘Hey, you could go and do this. You won’t have a huge career, but you could make a living. There was a part of me thinking, ‘I don’t have to be a singer anymore.’”

Just days after receiving their Eisner, Gerard and Gabriel’s graphic novel was optioned by Universal Pictures. Plans for a potential movie were in development “for quite a while”, until it eventually fizzled out and came back to Umbrella Academy’s publisher, Dark Horse Comics. Then, the idea for a TV show was conceived – and Gerard was instantly sold. Not that it was ever something he’d ever considered when first penning his comics all those years prior.

“You know, I tend to be a visual thinker,” he begins. “When I was first starting out, I was told to embrace the medium of comics: just make a great comic. I think that that’s a common mistake that people make – they see a comic as a film, and they’ll just present it as a film. And there’s a lot of things you can do in comics, and it would almost short-change that. You need to embrace what a comic can do, and then you’ll make a really fantastic one. If you’re just trying to present it as a film, it doesn’t work as well, in my opinion. I still follow that advice to this day.”

Gerard loved the idea of giving his painstaking and deeply intricate world a new long-form narrative, and a way of going deeper into the story’s characters (all of whom are either a reflection of people he knows, or himself). Before taking various meetings – including with Netflix – both he and Gabriel sat down with Universal Cable Productions executive vice president of development, Dawn Olmstead, and discussed their aims.

“My goal was to give those guys the material to make a really great show,” Gerard explains. “That way, if they made a show and it’s successful, they always have material to go back to. That’s always been my goal: to tell a really good story that I have control over.”

Nine years later after its original plans fell through, it was eventually settled that Netflix would be the way to go. Joining forces with a company that had both “the highest production value” and that was also “artist-friendly” made the most sense to all involved. “We knew they would let the show be what it needed to be,” Gerard nods.

By this point, the series’ creator had slipped away from the limelight to create a 20-page blueprint for show-runner Steve Blackman. The Umbrella Academy thus far has three volumes – Apocalypse Suite, Dallas and Hotel Oblivion – but Gerard will eventually complete the story through eight graphic novels in total, many of which are still to be finished (“I have it all planned out, and I’ve just got to kind of write it now…”). In advance of the show’s development stages, though, he needed to let his new colleagues know the whole plot.

“There were talks early on about how much of my involvement there would be – if I wanted to be a co-show-runner, if I wanted to write scripts,” remembers Gerard. “And I really put the emphasis on making the source material and making the comics, so I had to let go of certain things. I weighed in on a lot of them, but ultimately it was Steve’s call to make. I liked letting go, though, because it allowed me to keep moving forward in the ways that I wanted to, which is with the comics or anything else I want to do.”

Working with Netflix became a daily job. From set pieces to wardrobe choices, both Gerard and Gabriel would give extensive notes in the 18 months it took to produce The Umbrella Academy, ensuring a happy climate was reached between their individual artistic palettes. It’s not a giant leap to compare the birth of Gerard’s latest project to My Chemical Romance’s studio swansong, Danger Days. While still in the throes of The Black Parade’s overwhelming success, the frontman had moved to LA from New Jersey in 2008 and was focused on comics – not just The Umbrella Academy, but also a bold, bright new sci-fi spectacular: The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys, a story of the aftermath of a battle against a tyrannical corporation. Having written and subsequently scrapped The Black Parade’s original follow-up, the frontman was then struck with inspiration on a family retreat in the wilderness, wracking his brains with what to do next.

“I had an epiphany, I had a vision,” he told Kerrang! back in October 2010, of how this new comic informed what would become My Chem’s fourth full-length. “I was writing all these crazy lyrics and they were fearless and fucking reckless. I had this vision in my head, and everything I had been working on in the comic – the masks, the laser guns, the cars, everything – started to swirl around in my head.”

So how does the creation of a comicinspired album measure up against bringing The Umbrella Academy to life on TV?

“You know, they’re both intense and stressful in their own ways,” Gerard smiles. “But one of the things I’ve learned as I get older is that being in the studio and making music isn’t nearly as stressful – it’s a lot more fun these days. Having said that, although things are a little more high-stakes on a film set, we had a lot of fun with that, too.”

Early last year, The Umbrella Academy’s primary architects headed to Toronto to oversee the first week of filming. They were there to “answer any questions and give a little direction”. Though their focus was undeniably on creating the best comic-to-screen transition

“AS I GET OLDER, MAKING MUSIC ISN’T NEARLY AS STRESSFUL – IT’S A LOT MORE FUN THESE DAYS” GERARD WAY

“I DON’T LIKE TO DWELL ON THINGS. I LIKE TO MOVE FORWARD” GERARD WAY

possible, Gerard also remembers the weather; it was snowing, a sight he hadn’t seen since touring Hesitant Alien three and a half years prior. Once more, his two worlds briefly reacquainted themselves.

While in Canada, he and Gabriel reviewed “dailies”. “It hit a point where it was like, ‘Alright, this train is going, they know what they’re doing,’ and I could divert my attention back to the comic,” Gerard says. “Then I was able to work on it remotely – most of the work from my end was done through email or phone conversations, so I could be anywhere in the world and I was still able to watch the footage on my laptop, or whatever computer I was at.”

Once that week was over, Gerard kept a distant watchful eye over filming, which carried on until July. Elsewhere, his time was split between writing more comics, drinking copious amounts of coffee, collecting vintage T-shirts and miniature painted figures, and watching his wife of 11 years, Lindsey – bassist of Mindless Self Indulgence – feed birds and squirrels at their family home.

Rather ironically, his days weren’t spent watching a great deal of television. Even now, he’ll partake in an episode or two of a binge-worthy programme if Lindsey wants him to check it out – but he’ll never consume the lot in one go. “I think that makes my opinion on what we’re making with Umbrella Academy, in a way, even more valid,” he suggests, “because I don’t watch all this stuff. I read a lot of books.”

Most exciting of all, though, is that almost every Friday, Gerard Way began to create music again.

Around 54 minutes into The Umbrella Academy’s fifth episode, there’s a mind-bending shoot-out featuring, among others, Mary J. Blige. While the action unfolds, a familiar voice quietly hits the eardrums. ‘ Imagine me and you, I do / I think about you day and night, it’s only right…’ croons Gerard Way alongside former My Chemical Romance bandmate and guitarist extraordinaire Ray Toro, in a cover of The Turtles’ hit Happy Together – both rich in personality, but also similarly honouring the original. It’s not the first time Gerard and Ray have teamed up in such a manner: last month, they unveiled another joint effort in the form of Hazy Shade Of Winter, originally by Simon & Garfunkel, for The Umbrella Academy’s official trailer. But this is arguably Gerard’s most epic comics-meets-music crossover yet.

Steve Blackman, says Gerard, “thought it would be really nice for the fans – both for fans of my work as a musician, and my work as a comic writer. He thought it would be really cool, and I thought it would be cool, too. It would be silly to not do a song for the show! We ended up doing a couple, which was really great. And I’m sure there will be more in the future.”

The music Gerard made each week last year wasn’t just for The Umbrella Academy – it was also for himself. Possibly over-ambitiously, the musician hoped to release these new sounds once a month, though his workload soon put paid to that. He does, however, now boast “quite the collection of demos”.

“Right now it’s just a stand-alone thing,” Gerard says, “but I think at some point – maybe for a vinyl or something – it would be nice to collect all these songs, just as a body of work for something that I did. With all the work and the show coming, it has been harder to try and do a song a month. And I knew that that would kind of happen back when I first mentioned the goal of trying to do that, just because of all the extra work that was coming. But we’re still making music every week.”

Gerard has enjoyed the process of juggling his own music and songs for Netflix enormously. His recent solo tracks – Baby You’re A Haunted House, Getting Down The Germs and a touching Christmas number featuring Lydia Night of The Regrettes called Dasher – have deliberately not been “overthought”, though music for The Umbrella Academy can be a little more laborious.

“It’s a bit more work, because it’s for something cinematic,” he explains. “It’s not that it has to reach a higher level, it’s just that it’s a different level. The solo stuff is just kind of up to me, and what I want that to convey, or what nature it has. Whereas with the show, everybody has to really be blown away by it. So maybe, in a way, it’s more a little bit of what Ray [Toro] and I and the guys in My Chem used to do; we apply a little bit more of that to what we do in these cover songs for Umbrella Academy.”

Is it a strange feeling to revisit that kind of creative process?

“It makes it really fresh and exciting,” Gerard grins. “It’s actually really nice to go back and do something like you once did it, because you have more experience and wisdom and knowledge. As you get older you bring all these things the way you used to do. It’s refreshing at times – especially if you’re doing a bunch of experimental things. It’s refreshing to go back to your core, and your roots, of what you used to do, and apply your new knowledge to that.”

Gerard Way’s musical future for now, then, will remain both blissfully free and totally spontaneous – a far-cry from his MCR days. But he couldn’t be happier about it.

“I like to move forward a lot,” he enthuses. “I don’t like to dwell on things very much. I don’t usually like to revisit them, either. I like to keep moving forward and putting out new things. I like to try new things and experiment.” Gerard repeats himself once more. “I really like doing that.” K!

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY IS AVAILABLE TO WATCH NOW ON NETFLIX

[master-sass-blast]

The Sleepover Fic

WELL, THIS ENDED DIFFERENTLY THAN I HAD PLANNED. GOOD LORD.

Summary: You enjoy a sleepover night with the X-Force at the X-Mansion --but partway through you get hit by a wall of depression. Fortunately, Piotr’s there to help you through it.

(Maybekindaprobablydefinitely inspired by the depressive episode I’ve had this week.)

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader and Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson (sorta).

Rating: T for language and depression.

@marvel-is-perfection

The idea, admittedly, is ridiculous. And that’s why you love it so much.

You’re camped out in the rec room with the rest of the X-Force, perched on the couch next to Piotr in your best set of pajamas --which, admittedly, were just a pair of pants that said ‘bacon makes everything better’ over and over and a random t-shirt. “Okay. So how does this sleepover thing work?”

The rec room’s been completely transformed, floor covered with various sleeping bags, cushions, air mattresses, blankets, and pillows. A pile of snacks covers every inch of the coffee table, along with a few soda bottles.

“Watch and learn, young padawan,” Wade says theatrically, waggling his nonexistent eyebrows for emphasis. As the self-appointed ‘party planner,’ he’d taken it upon himself to make sure that you and Russell checked off another box on the ‘well-rounded experiences’ list. “If you’re good, I might even let you try a little cocaine later.”

“No,” Piotr says automatically, acting as the self-appointed-but-also-kinda-volun-told adult of the night. “Absolutely not.”

“I was kidding, Russia’s Greatest Love Machine. Geez. I don’t share my coke with anyone.”

Yukio giggles while Neena --who’s only staying for a few hours, citing ‘having an actual life to get back to’ for why she’s leaving early--braids her hair. “So, what do you have planned, Wade?”

“Since when does Wade plan anything?” Ellie fires back, deadpan, while she continues beating Russell in Mario Kart.

“Well, I figured we’d hit all the sleepover staples,” Wade chirps. “A little Truth or Dare, some never have I ever, ooh, maybe some Seven Minutes in Heaven--”

“Several of us are minors, douchepool,” Ellie interjects, still deadpan.

“Okay, not that, then. And, when the night starts to wane, we’ll wrap everything up with a massive movie marathon. First person asleep gets pranked!”

“Nyet.”

“Oh, come on, you silver buzzkill! Pranking the first person to fall asleep is a fundamental part of any sleepover!”

“I would allow it if your pranks weren’t so destructive.”

“Okay, name one thing I’ve destroyed in the past twenty-four hours!”

“We’ll be here longer than a night if he does that, dipshit,” Nathan grumbles; he’s also only hanging around for a short period of time, but unlike Neena, his reason for leaving early amounts to ‘not sleeping in the same damn room as Wilson all night.’

Which, admittedly, given Wade’s tendencies to cuddle like an octopus, makes sense.

“Well, I think it sounds like a blast!” you say.

“Thank you!” Wade cheers. “Finally! You think I’d get more respect, considering this is my fucking franchise!”

You can’t help but laugh as Piotr cuts Wade off while Nathan presses his water bottle to his nose, looking endlessly annoyed. New experience or not, tonight was definitely promising to be a fantastic ride.

Truth or dare, as it turns out, is the best game ever to play with Wade Wilson.

First, he thinks of good parameters to keep things from getting boring; case in point, the first rule he establishes is that you can’t pick the same option three times in a row, thus keeping people from sticking to the --arguably safer--truth option for too long.

Second, he actually took the time to write down a bunch of suggestions from a website beforehand, thus preventing the inevitable ‘everyone’s run out of good ideas’ drudge.

Third, he mandates that all dare must be filmed for posterity’s sake. They can be deleted afterwards, but everything has to be caught on camera and reviewed by the group first.

Which is exactly how you find yourself watching a video of Piotr doing a traditional Cossack dance.

“This is amazing,” you giggle as you send the video to your email account.

Piotr simply shakes his head as he sits back down next to you. “If you say so.”

Things get better from there. You get to watch Ellie do a very flat rendition of ‘I’m a Little Teapot’ --which is funnier than it has any right to be--and watch Russell do a solidly decent lip sync to Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies.’

Funnier still is watching Wade try to bust Neena with truths and dares, only to somehow draw the most benign options from the bowls each time.

“How?” Wade screams when Neena does an effortless set of cartwheels. “I wrote these! There wasn’t even a cartwheel option in there! What sort of fourth wall, author interference bullshit is this?”

“Well, that’s another dare done for me,” Neena says, purposefully cheerful for the sake of pissing off Wade even more. “I guess it’s my turn. Cable --truth or dare?”

Nathan rolls his eyes, mutters something under his breath that is most definitely a string of profanities, and grumbles, “Dare.”

Neena fishes around in the dare bowl before selecting a piece of folded Hello Kitty stationary. “Ask a neighbor if they have a condom you can borrow.”

Ellie lets out a snort. “Do it to Scott. Ask Scott.”

Nathan’s face goes deadly blank --and then his techno-organic eye flares as the corner of his mouth turns up in a vicious grin. “Yeah. Wade, I need your help for this.”

“Hey, you have to ask--”

“I’m asking. I just need you to stand next to me while I do it.”

Ellie practically falls off her air mattress as she cackles. “Fuck yeah. Wait, I’m coming to watch.”

All of you wind up following Nathan to Scott’s room, standing in various positions in the hall while Nathan knocks on the door with his human hand.

(For the record, the look on Scott’s face when Nathan asks him for a condom while Wade waggles his fingers at the bespectacled man is absolutely priceless.)

After that, Truth or Dare is declared ‘done’ on account of the fact that nothing will ever top that moment.

Things detour to a Mario Kart tournament, in which Ellie proves that Neena’s lucky powers have limits.

“This is the best thing ever!” Wade cheers as Neena comes second to Ellie’s first --again. “I take back what I said about you, author! You’re amazing!”

You shoot a confused look at Piotr, and opt to settle back against his side when he shrugs, expression easily confused. “Hey, Wade, you’re good at Mario Kart, right?”

“Well, I don’t want to toot my horn, but my skills in Mario Kart come in second only to my skills at Skee-Ball.”

“Do you think you could beat Ellie?”

Wade’s eyes narrow when Ellie barks out a laugh. “Oh, you think you can win?” He swipes a controller off the coffee table and plops down next to her. “Bring it on, Negasonic Soon-To-Be Loser.”

The match is over sooner than you ever would’ve expected for two reasons.

First: Ellie and Wade decide to jump straight to the hardest option possible --Rainbow Road in Mirror Mode.

Second: No one has the stomach to watch anything on the TV afterwards.

(For the record, Ellie wins, and Wade isn’t happy about it).

Never Have I Ever doesn’t last long, either. Mostly because Wade’s done just about everything anyone can think of, or has had just about everything happen to him.

It does result in some awesome story-telling, though. After a certain point, the game completely tapers off in favor of telling stories entirely. Wade and Neena both have the best, hands down, but Piotr and Yukio come in at a close second thanks to their unique backgrounds and heritages.

You quickly realize, though, that you don’t really have anything worth contributing to the story-time session. There’s nothing from your childhood that’s really worth repeating, and your friends already know everything that’s happened to you here.

Suddenly, you feel completely detached from the room, from your friends, from everything. It’s like someone’s cut the cords keeping you tethered to the world and you’re drifting away from reality.

You get up abruptly, managing a smile and citing some sort of excuse about needing to use the bathroom, and get the fuck out of there.

The bathrooms at Xavier’s, unfortunately, aren’t designed for one person at a time. They’re built like locker room restrooms --albeit much cleaner--with multiple stalls and sinks.

You take the stall furthest from the entry, lock yourself in, tuck your legs up as you sit on the toilet lid, and hope that no one comes looking for you.

You aren’t sure if you want to cry. You can feel the sensation tugging at you --grief, rage, pain--but it seems just as distant as the rec room, numbed by your unwitting ejection from reality.

A larger part of you just wants to disappear for a bit. Slip upstairs, get in bed, hide in the darkness of your room.

They probably wouldn’t even notice I was gone, you think --even your internal voice seems dulled in the face of this sudden shut down. It’s not like I was really contributing anything anyway.

A different part of you doesn’t want to leave your friends, if only because you don’t want to have to explain what’s going on; fuck, you barely even understand it yourself.

That, and they’d probably come looking for you if you did head up to your room, and as much as you love them you just want to vanish right now and get away from the noise that’s always everywhere--

You let your forehead rest against your knees. Fuck. The fuck’s wrong with me?

By the time you manage to uncurl yourself and stand up --and it takes a while if the stiffness in your legs are anything to go by--you’ve made up your mind. I’ll just say I wasn’t feeling well and decided to go to bed if anyone asks tomorrow morning.

You don’t get too far with your plan, though, because Neena and Piotr are waiting for you just outside the bathroom door.

You flinch back, startled. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Neena says with a sunny smile. “I’m heading out for the night. Wanted to make sure I said good-bye.”

The ‘need to disappear’ feeling only gets worse, more grating and jarring, when she wraps her arms around you. Fuck. This is hell. You manage to eek out a ‘good night’ and let out a shaky breath as she walks away.

Because you’re not out of the woods yet. Piotr’s still here, watching you with gentle concern.

He brushes his fingers against your upper arm. “Are you alright, myshka?”

Your brain completely cuts out, leaving you adrift and barely able to stay upright. Talk. Say something, for fuck’s sake!

Instead, you just let out a breath and sag against him.

He kisses the top of your head and wraps his arms around your body. “How about we step outside, just for moment? I think fresh air would do you good.”

You let him steer you towards the front door, moving without thought. You suck in a breath when the cool night air hits you, rattling your brain a little from whatever’s come over you.

Piotr, to his credit, doesn’t leave you. He keeps his arms around you, rubs his hands up and down your back, kisses the top of your head, lets you lean against him like he’s the only thing in the world keeping you upright.

He kinda is, if you think about it.

He stays quiet, though, just letting you suck in breath after breath of fresh night air, letting your press your face against his chest and just breathe.

“You gonna ask me what’s wrong?” You ask after a while, voice a little too sharp, a little too acidic in the face of your unwelcome melancholy.

Piotr just kisses the top of your head. “Do you want me to?”

He’s gentle, not passive aggressive in the least, genuinely giving you an out if you don’t want to talk about it.

I don’t deserve him. “I just wanna disappear. Everything feels... like it’s too much.”

“Did not having happy stories from your childhood upset you?”

Bam. Right on the money. Whoever’s said that Piotr Rasputin is an idiot is dead wrong --blindly optimistic at times, yes, but never stupid.

“The fuck am I even contributing to the group?” You let out a bitter laugh. “Shit, I’m such a downer. Can’t enjoy everyone else’s happiness, can’t contribute my own.”

“Nights like these aren’t about equal contribution,” Piotr murmurs as he kisses your forehead. “And it’s okay to be sad that you don’t have similar tales. Besides, not everyone contributed equally. Cable was mostly silent as well, as was Russell.”

You let out a frustrated huff. “Yeah, but --I just-- Piotr, what’s the point of having me around if I can’t keep up with everyone? What’s the point of me being a part of the X-Force if I can’t contribute outside of fights? We’re supposed to be a team --a family.”

Piotr clasps your upper arms gently as he crouches in front of you so you can see his face in the dim light of the moon and the lights from inside the mansion. “Myshka, family means we take ups with downs. You do not have to be happy all the time --especially if something upsets you. And aside from your many valuable skills --and there are many--we keep you around because we want you with us. You, as you are, is enough.”

Your throat constricts at the thought, and you bury your face in his shoulder in an effort to hide your tears. “I just wanna be good enough.”

“You are,” Piotr croons gently in your ear. His arms wrap around you, shielding you from the chill of the night and bathing you in warmth and love. “You are more than good enough, myshka.”

When you finally come down from your grief --pain, anger, sorrow, everything--who knows how much time later, you find that your brain’s turned back on.

Not all the way. But just a little. Just enough.

You slump against Piotr’s shoulder and chest. “I dunno if I wanna go back to the group. I kinda just wanna go back to bed.”

“Do you think that’s what would be best for you?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Khorosho. That’s fine. How about this: come watch one movie with us. If you still want to go to bed after, you can. If not, you stay with group.”

You let out a shaky sigh and nod. “Okay. That works.”

You almost chicken out as you walk towards the rec room. You can feel everything shutting off again, and you don’t want to suck a night of enjoyment away from the group.

But Piotr’s hand is a comforting, solid presence on yours, a tether to reality that you can’t bear to let go off.

The warm light of the rec room almost seems too bright as you step over the threshold, and you grip Piotr’s hand tighter.

Yukio greets you with a bright, sunny smile and pulls you in for a hug. She doesn’t mention your red eyes or puffy cheeks or the fact that you were gone for so long. “We need someone to break a tie on the first movie choice.”

“Listen, Negasonic-My-Name-Won’t-Age-Well, ‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail’ is a literal, actual classic. It deserves to go first.”

“And ‘Get Out’ is both cutting edge and critically acclaimed. I still don’t see you making any points that actually tilt the argument in your favor.”

“Will someone just make a damn decision?” Nathan growls as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

You manage to smile, buoyed by your friends’ enthusiasm, as everyone looks at you. “‘Get Out’ first. I have a feeling we’ll need Monty Python to cheer us all up after.”

“Go to sleep, lyublyu.”

You blink wearily, the images of ‘Robin Hood: Men in Tights’ blurring before your eyes. You’d made it through the first three movies just fine, but you were barely holding on now. “I don’t wanna fall asleep first. Wade’s gonna prank me.”

Piotr lets out a gentle, quiet laugh and points surreptitiously across the room. “I do not think that will be problem.”

You manage to lift your head and clear your vision long enough to see that Wade’s long since passed out, slumped against an equally dead to the world Nathan. “They so like each other.”

Piotr chuckles and tugs you back down against his chest. “Da. Now rest, moya lyubov’. Everything will be fine.”

You lay your head down and finally let your eyes close.

You wake up on the couch alone, carefully tucked under a quilt and head propped up on a pillow.

It doesn’t take too long to figure out where Piotr went thanks to the sounds and smells coming from the kitchen --and the tone deaf humming; Piotr’s many things, but a naturally gifted singer is not one of them.

You sit up and stretch, rolling your shoulders and neck to work out the stiffness that came from not sleeping a proper bed with a proper pillow.

Nathan and Wade are nowhere to be seen; presumably, they’ve gone back to their rooms --or room if Wade managed to invite himself into Nathan’s bed without getting punched.

Ellie, Yukio, and Russell are still asleep on the floor, cushioned by air mattresses and blankets. Russell’s sprawled out like a starfish, and Ellie and Yukio are holding hands even though they’re sleeping on separate mattresses.

There’s a notification on your phone --a text from Neena.

Neener Wiener: Hope you’re feeling better this morning.

And you...

You are feeling better. Not completely, but a little.

It’s something.

You smile to yourself, just a little, and get up to join your boyfriend in the kitchen.

[latinalesbi]

IMDb says that Hayden is going to be in all 13 episodes of the spinoff

IMDB also said Noah was in it. IMDB can be wrong about those things.

Anonymous said:                                                                      A show about two lesbian moms raising a family… how did we get here now? A wonderful show reduced to mediocrity in the form of yet another genetic twenty smthg spinoff. Congrats Bradley, Peter and Joanna, you’ve done a wonderful job spreading the message. Middle aged women need not apply.

And you better not complain because you should be grateful  for what you got. Then according to Joanna, you better get on your knees, receive every bit of crap spewing from the producers and swallow it. IF YOU DO, then maybe if you beg a lot and lick their asses, you can get a family special. Oh that mama spin off shit we fed you fools, that was just fodder to get you to watch the last season. This family special now? That’s just to keep you idiots hanging on.

Anonymous said:                                                                      Couldn’t they let the Fosters end before pummelling is with their beloved spinoff? It’s sickening the way they’ve acted over it all. And now those two girls are exec producers too- wow being a sellout pays very well 💵 💰             

No, they’re users. They can’t let that shit stand on its own. They will use every single fosters fan whose heart is broken to keep earning them money. Fuck them. Don’t watch the finale live. Don’t watch it on DVR. Download illegally or watch the highlight videos on my channel. I’ll be real busy that week, but that’s my goal, won’t be able to answer questions, etc, but I will have the videos.

Anonymous said:                                                                      They lied about the moms spinoff. Now it’s maybe, possibly, if you watch our new show, you may get Fosters specials. They are con artists at this point. Don’t believe a word they say!! Hope the spinoff bombs. Prediction: The first one will get solid ratings, people will be intrigued, then it will die a death as people realise a show revolving around those two girls is mind numbingly boring.             

Yeah they lied and I said that a long time ago. I don’t understand how anyone can believe them at this point. They conned fans into fighting for a renewal so that they could sell their spin off and earn money off our fanaticism. Then they used people lying about a mom spin off, and now this vague “family special.” Shove it up your ass. Honestly, I am not sitting through the absolute worst of the fosters: i.e.: self-important, insufferable Callie, in order to get a tiny bit of family. No thanks.

Anonymous said:                                                                      If I’m the moms or the three boys I wouldn’t even accept any special appearances on the spinoff clearly they seem to matter less than the two girls when in reality it shouldn’t be that way            

Why the hell would they accept a gig that wont’ pay very much but is making double money for people who used to get paid the same. It makes no sense. I wouldn’t do it. I’d suddenly find myself to be too busy. Those two kids being executive producers is the ultimate slap in the face. I don’t even know what to say about that. Completely undeserved.

Anonymous said:                                                                      You thought they’d leave Callie going for her brothers alone but now her future brother in law is probably in the spin-off too lol this show has become a joke of what it once was             

lol, brother, adopted brother, foster brother, brother in-law same difference to Callie.

Anonymous said:                                                                      Did you see Joanna's tweet about tuning into the spinoff so that we can be rewarded with Fosters specials or another writer saying that this own be the last you see of the moms and the kids. What a joke they're already trying to cover the fact that this show is gonna flop nobody watched because of Callie and Mariana if anything those two might be the most hated characters             

Dude, fuck them. I am sure mistofer was assuring us Hayden would be on the show. Honestly, he and noah are the only ones who wouldn’t be lowering themselves by making that appearance.

Anonymous said:                                                                      They have made them EP’s?!?!?! Jesus Christ!!! The two most annoying characters in the whole show. I never got the appeal. Fcuked their fellow cast, get their own show and are eps. What a world. 🤬🤬             

This is proof that this world is neither fair, nor right. The most talented actors have been kicked to the side, the lack of respect for the two women who made the show special is unbelievable.

Anonymous said:                                                                      Tv shows end but I’ll always be pissed at how the Fosters was handled. All the negotiations behind the backs of the other cast members. Sherri and Teri were the leads, they deserved so much better. I don’t really care who made the decision to cancel the show the creators who have been with the cast for five seasons should have treated the dumped cast members with far more respect. Selfish personal motivations, hope it all falls flat on its face.             

Here’s what the producers knew. Freeform sucks, no matter how badly this show tanks, and IT WILL, they will renew it for season 2. So they sold out a season 6 for 2 seasons of shit. It’s hit and it was the wrong thing to do.

Anonymous said:                                                                      Lol! It’s gone from Bradley and Joanna bullshitting the fans with the hope for a mom’s spin off to now Fosters specials if the ratings are high enough! They’re so transparent, we’re not going to watch your terrible spinoff. You made the wrong choice, your not going to retain the audience that was their for the fam. Sorry!!!!!

Fuck your show. We ain’t watching. I’d rather have a teri/sherri produced product than anything these lying assholes have to offer. You wanted this spin off, you got it, live with it. Live with the fans left, live with the shit you wanted. Leave us the fuck alone.

Anonymous said:                                                                      Joanna Johnson asking everyone to watch the three summer specials so we get Fosters specials in the future. My personal opinion, Teri won’t work with any of them again. That’s my hope anyway. Rise above those that would sell their mothers for their own benefit!

Yeah, I wouldn’t blame her if she did but I really hope she doesn’t. And I trust that Sherri will honor Stef and Lena. I think it’s best if they stayed busy elsewhere. Yes, rise above those who sold their mothers.

Anonymous said:                                                                      And everyone is mad all over again. Can’t believe they made those two exec producers too. Dear god!! They were never the stars of the Fosters. This is all due to their social media presence. Freeform et al think that equals ratings. It doesn’t, look at Famous in Love with Bella Thorne- flop!! If this only last one season that will make me even more angry as it will justify the idea that a season 6 should’ve happened instead. Good Trouble - what a crap name!! 

Yeah, they think their social media numbers will translate into an audience. It won’t. They can’t sell shit and maia’s acting has only gotten worse. Freeform has nothing. Even if it has a .01 rating it will get renewed. I just hope it bottom feeds on the channel of the worst ratings on cable.

[hollowg1rl]

Cat Fur

Antonin has been interested in his neighbor, Hermione, for quite some time now. He also knew her cat was overly fond of wool. When things go to slow, get the cat involved. Maybe if she’s distracted she’ll manage to agree to a date?

Part 1 rated T, with very slight mention of illegal activities. Part 2 possible M with tags/warnings to be decided.

Genre: Fiction, Muggle AU

Prompt 7-Character B has asked A out, but A was too distracted by the puppy/cat/other animal nearby to properly pay attention

@ash-castle

Living in the just a floor below a Miss Hermione Granger was testing Antonin Dolohov’s restraint.

The English woman was a delight to carry on conversations with, when their schedules matched enough to run into each other getting their mail, or on the stairs. However, that did nothing for the fact every single time the Russian built up enough resolve to ask the pretty woman out for dinner or a drink, her cat got in the way. Much like he was now.

“Crookshanks!” she was scolding the hideous tom and trying to get the cat to detach itself from Antonin’s brand new wool coat. A coat he had bought because it made him look more like he belonged here in England and because he was aware how the cat hated him and loved wool. A bit of catnip in the pockets didn't hurt either.

“You know, Hermione, I was just about to inquire,” he started, trying not to sneer at the cat clinging to the wide and starting a slow climb toward Antonin’s arm where the coat was draped. Though before he could finish the woman he desired was inside his personal space and grabbing the cat with one arm and using her free hand to unlatch the razor sharp claws from the wool.

Swallowing a bit, she was almost never this close to him unless they were using the lift on market day together, he attempted to finish even as she was muttering to Crookshanks.

“Seeing as my intentions were thwarted in the way I wished to ask you, perhaps you would be willing to accompany me to dinner this evening, seeing as your cat saw fit to attack my coat?” He was playing dirty, but given his true line of work it was little wonder.

“Yes, of course, I'm so sorry Antonin!” Clutching Crookshanks to her chest, and looking up at him with her big brown eyes, Hermione didn't fully hear the request, she was far to ashamed that her cat was attacking her neighbor she had been harboring a crush on for months now.

“Perfect, say, half seven? Until then, krasivaya.” With a swift bow, he turned on his heel and left their building.

Hermione was left flustered and uncertain just what he had agreed to now.

“Crooks, just what have you done?”

.:’:.’ :. :’. :’ :.

At seven that evening, Antonin was putting the final touches of his outfit for the evening together. This was the first time he succeeded in getting Hermione to go out with him, even if it was done under handedly. A designer cable knit jumper, dark wash jeans and a pair of sturdy dark boots. He wanted to make the best first date impression as possible, so much so he even brushed his dark hair back, trimmed his beard and did his best not to scowl as to show off what he considered his best feature, his evening blue eyes.

He just hoped he wasn't going to overdo this, but he so wanted this to work. He wanted more dates with the bookish young woman was so much lighter in self than he was. Between his dark past and questionable present, he wanted some good in his life.

At five minutes till, he grabbed his now cat fur free wool coat and keys before locking up his flat and started up the stairs toward his lady’s flat to pick her up. Arriving a minute before, he took a deep breath and gathered his wits about himself before knocking.

“Just a moment!” He heard through the door, sounding a bit frazzled and then a muffled curse followed by a crash.

Raising a thick dark brow, Antonin quickly smoothed his face when Hermione opened the door to him. The first thing he saw was a messy curled bun on top of her head, looking both fashionable and casual all at once. Then, the natural makeup that had her brown eyes glowing tawny in the low light of the hall. Finally, the little black dress with thick tights covered in bright orange fur that ended in little kitten heels.

Holding back a chuckle at the state of the young woman, Antonin inclined his head and grinned at her flustered invitation inside. Entering the flat, he took in the piles of books and random assortment of cat toys littering the wood floors.

“So sorry I'm taking so long getting ready, Crookshanks decided to be unhelpful and I had to lock him in the loo.” As though realizing what she just said, she blushed and quickly moved further into her flat, brushing the fur from her clothes and picking up her own wool peacoat to wear in the chilly February weather.

Being a weekend before Valentine's day meant it had been too late to get reservations at a restaurant like he wanted to, but he was still able to get a table at a nice one. He just hoped they had something Hermione would like. He recalled several days in the past three months where she and her friends would eat Chinese take out. This wasn't a take out place but it was still Chinese and nice.

“So sorry I wasn't ready right away, Antonin!” Hermione was quickly returning, fur free and cheeks flushed.

“It is perfectly fine, krasivaya, we are in no rush. We're not due until eight. I know I did not give you long to prepare,” grinning, Antonin stood to help her into her coat before they left, trying to keep the nearly predatory gleam from his eyes since it had taken far too long to get her to agree to begin with.

Flushing, Hermione uttered a soft ‘thank you’ as she locked up her flat and followed her handsome neighbor down the stairs and out the door onto the cold London street.

Offering her his arm, Antonin led her down a few streets before pausing in front of the Chinese restaurant, it wasn't gaudy like most, and the soft music filtering out through the open door was more instrumental than anything else.

“I hope this is alright,” he offered, slowly leading her inside.

“Oh! This is perfect, Antonin, thank you! I've always wanted to stop in here, but my friends…” Here she paused. Her friends were wonderful, but they were all still more childlike than she herself was.

“I understand, at least this way, we have something for ourselves, da?” Grinning at her, he gave his name and they were led to their table, with a comment of their server being with them momentarily. “If you see something you wish to try, order it.” He was already glancing over the menu, finding a dish he wished to try and then looking over the edge of the menu to look at his date. He might have finally been invite her out, even if done sneakily while she wasn't paying complete attention to him, but he found it hard to believe.

Hermione blushed again, hiding behind the menu after deciding on jasmine tea to drink with their meal. Tea was a safe bet, and that way she wouldn't be at risk of getting drunk. Nervous sipping could prove a bad habit if involving any form of liquor after all.

When their server appeared, Antonin went with the same drink without Hermione even mentioning what she was going to order, as well as going with shrimp lo mein with a side of crab puffs, also the same as what Hermione had decided upon.

Once their server was out of hearing range. Hermione couldn't help but giggle a bit, earning a raised brow from her date.

“No, no, I'm not laughing at you! I didn't expect us to order the exact same meal was all.” Smiling, she thanked the server when their tea was sat down, taking a bracing sip after it was poured and they left. Antonin did the same, watching the young woman across from him as he took a drink.

The low light highlighted her hair and face, causing a bit of discomfort in his trousers and making him subtly shift in his seat. Normally he wasn't around her quite long enough to become uncomfortable in his trousers, but getting to sit with her in such a setting was very different.

“I don't believe I've ever inquired, but what is it you do, Antonin?” It was a nice, innocent enough question, but it brought to mind vans and guns and…

“I work in security,” it was a truthful enough answer at least. She didn't need to know exactly what he really did. “What of yourself, Hermione?”

“Oh! I'm in research, I even have several articles published on the history of cultural relations and their impact on current trends, both political and economical. I've even published an article regarding their impact of pop culture in recent years.” Watching her start in on her career made her glow, and Antonin had to hide behind his tea to keep the grin hidden. It wouldn't do to make her believe he was mocking her, or simply indulging her.

“Truly? That is fascinating. Tell me, if you don't mind, how…” With those words, the night flew by and before they knew it, the restaurant was closing and they were stepping out into the much colder February air.

Turning to speak to the wonderful woman beside him, Antonin noticed her shivering. With a frown, he removed his coat and draped it across her shoulders to help keep her warm.

“Antonin, thank you, but won't you be cold?” Even as she asked she was clutching it tighter about her body.

“I spent over half my life in Russia, I will be fine, krasivaya. You, however, look to be freezing.” It was said in a slightly scolding tone, even as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they made their way back to their respective flats.

“I had a wonderful time tonight, Antonin, thank you.” Hermione reluctantly returned his warm coat once they were inside their building and in front of her door.

“I did as well, krasivaya, thank you for agreeing to go out with me tonight. Perhaps we can do this again, da?” Grinning, Antonin was reluctant to leave her for the night, but knew better than to press his luck. While he might very much wish to be warming her bed this cold night, it was still to early for such things.

“I would like that very much, though perhaps with a bit more warning than a handful of hours before?” It was said with a teasing grin that Antonin couldn't help but smile in response to.

“Of course, krasivaya, I shall do so. Perhaps next week? What night works best for you?” He was already plotting things for the next outing, and could barely wait when they could do this again.

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

The Red Pill is a Placebo

October 11th 2020

Stephen Jay Morris

©Scientific Morality

The media has a purpose and one purpose only:  To make money. Trump says the media is the enemy of the people.  However, he left out one adjective:  The media is an enemy of the rich people. One thing that the ruling class cares about is getting your money or your vote. Everyday, you are bombarded with advertisements and lies. Television used to be free until it found a way to make you pay for it. Even if you only watch sports or movies, there are more commercials broadcast than there were on analog television during the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s and 80’s!  Eventually, the industry left city folk no choice but to pay for T.V. via cable or satellite.

People, you don’t realize that you don’t have to rely on mainstream media to get your news. The primary value of corporate news is to give you the lowdown during an earthquake, hurricane or other natural disaster.  Also, they report the weather. Local news is about crime and celebrity gossip. National news promotes the capitalist system and consumerism, portraying America as a giant corporation, not a sovereign nation. As such, you are not getting objective information, but subjective propaganda disguised as objective news.

Where do I get my news? Over a digital media player like Roku which provides access to Internet streaming platforms.  I find nonprofit, progressive news programs like “Democracy Now.” as well as numerous, progressive programs on YouTube.  Programs like “The David Parkman Show,” “The Young Turks.,” “Ring of Fire,” and “The Majority Report.” The only time I watch network TV or cable is for local weather and baseball scores. I like CNN talk shows like those hosted by Chris Cuomo and Don Lemon.” Fox News is completely unwatchable. I’d rather read the “National Enquirer” while taking a dump on the toilet! Fox requires its female anchors to look like fashion models, while their white, male broadcasters are out of shape slobs.

One thing I’ve been successful in is avoiding being ripped off.  I have learned who to trust and who to befriend. There is a lot of value in using descretion. Being judgmental has saved me a lot of money and self-respect.

Life is like a tightrope walk. Lean too much to the left and you will fall. Lean too far right, and the same will happen. It’s all about equilibrium and keen judgment. Your ego is your tool, not your god. Logic tamed my ego. Higher consciousness is not a 1960s’ trait; it is what saves Humanity. Just know that, to me, everybody is a liar until they prove themselves to be honest. That is my survival mechanism in capitalist America.

When you wear a metaphorical mask, you will never swallow the proverbial red pill.

[tsaritsa]

the cables burnt and lines flare

this fic can also be found on ff.net and ao3.

An undercover mission to stop a child trafficker goes horribly wrong for Team Mustang.

inspired by the new plot points coming out of the live action! i’m a slut for the tropes involved and i’m looking forward to the movie when it premieres in dec!!!!! it looks to be a fun romp and this fic is just one of those too – i just took a few creative liberties ahah.  riza’s dress is based upon the wonderful drawing done by abstractmouse, which you can find here.

my thanks to the four gin and tonics that helped me write this. ur contribution to terrible spelling and grammar was invaluable. (and to @the-flame-and-hawks-eye, who yelled at me in a very positive way to write this).

It wasn’t meant to go this way – they had spent weeks going over every eventuality, planning out exactly how this operation was supposed to go down. Their perp – Francis Buchannan-Kenly – had been involved in multiple cases of child trafficking into the northern Aerugean region, and this gala was their best chance to ensure that he wouldn’t slip beyond their jurisdiction once more. It had been an operation months in the making, and the entire team had spent many long nights rehearsing their roles – Jean and Kain as ‘intoxicated’ guests; Heymans and Vato ensuring that both the staff and guest list didn’t allow for any of Francis’ associates to slip in undetected; and herself posing as a ditzy socialite. Roy was technically there as himself: as a young and arrogant colonel with money to throw around, and one of Madame Christmas’ girls if Riza didn’t take as bait.

Of all eventualities, they weren’t expecting a loaded and cocked pistol, and Riza certainly wasn’t expecting to be on the receiving end of it.

The night had started off so well:  she had been given a dark cocktail dress by Roy that by all accounts she would have never worn under any other circumstances, but after trying it on and seeing his, well, reaction, she had bit her smirk down and agreed that this would certainly do the job of getting Francis’ attention. It was a beautiful dress, made from dark satin and gold thread embellishing that glinted in the warm light of the ballroom. Surprisingly, it did a good job of covering up the majority of her tattoo; but what Riza loved most of all about the dress was how short it was. Even without the heels that made Roy stare for a bit longer than strictly – and that she would admit gave her more pleasure than she really should have – the dress was a real piece of art. Short styles like these, even with the gauzy peplum that framed her calves, would be seen as practically scandalous for the annual Blackburn Charity Gala – and it was this hope that Francis wouldn’t be able to resist a – what had Jean called her?

A hot piece of sin.

It had certainly worked. Francis had made a beeline for her as soon as she had entered the ballroom, already reeking of brandy and general sleaziness. He had swept her up in at least four dances – and Riza would hand it to him, the man knew how to dance. What was less enjoyable were the daggers she knew were being stared into Francis’ back: every time she glanced over to where Roy was with Carla, he had an ugly expression marring the usually confident smirk he relied on for these kinds of events. It was wholly unprofessional; but then, both their behaviours’ leading up to this event had certainly been left wanting. Roy had been in a foul mood in the weeks before the operation was set to take place, and Riza couldn’t put her finger on why.

She had managed to extract herself from the man’s clammy grip long enough to signal to Fuery that somebody needed to check in on their superior before he had grabbed her once again, his hand drifting low on her dress and skimming the skin just under the hemline. She had swallowed her bile and disgust and smiled instead, girlishly laughing and swatting teasingly at his hands. It was surprisingly easy to compartmentalise her revulsion as he led her into another dance – this time a slow waltz that Riza knew would bring more wandering fingers and stale breath down her neck. She ducked her head as best she could against his sweating body – he no longer smelled like overpowering aftershave, it instead had mellowed into something far more sickly and saccharine.

“What’s a naughty girl like you doing in a respectable place like this?” he had asked, gripping her fingers tightly within her own.

She laughed lightly, a well-practiced smile gracing her lips that bared her teeth just so. “Oh, you know,” she began, making sure to inflect enough breathiness into her tone. “I just adore seeing all the wives’ reactions.”

He laughed loudly, twirling her out before pulling her back in even closer than before. “And do you always tart up like this, or did you know I was coming?”

Riza looked up at him through her eyelashes and swallowed. “Call it a happy coincidence Mr. Buchannan-Kenly.” She inclined her head towards the bar. “Would you care for a drink?”

It had happened so quickly – one moment she was laughing prettily with a flute of sparkling wine and batting her heavily made up eyes at Francis – the next she was facing the familiar barrel of a pistol and the screams of the gala attendees around them. Riza was a little ashamed to admit that she paused for longer than necessary – not out of fear, but rather shock that this had slipped by them – how could they have been so stupid? – before she felt herself being tackled to the ground as a shot rang out in the ballroom, followed by shattering glass and even more screams.

Francis had fled in the confusion, and she saw Jean and Kain immediately take off towards the back of the ballroom, shouting for the other undercover officers to follow them. The gunshot was still ringing in her ears as she tried to shift underneath the man who had tackled her – and with growing dread Riza realised just who that man was, the blood already beginning to pool on the varnished wood beneath them.

“You fucking idiot,” she breathed, sitting up as quickly as she could manage without moving him. She couldn’t tell where the wound was yet – why did he have to wear a black tuxedo? Why couldn’t he be his ostentatious self for once? – only that the pool was growing steadily bigger and he was thankfully still breathing. First aid training began to filter through her jumbled thoughts. Find the wound. Stanch the bleeding. Elevate. Get to a doctor.

“Sir,” she said softly, ducking her head down to his, brushing away his hair that had fallen out of its slicked-back hairstyle. His forehead felt unnaturally warm and clammy. “Where’s the wound?”

“Leg,” he groaned back, rolling over onto his back with some difficulty and hissing as his head hit the floor. “Didn’t realise getting shot would hurt this much,” he managed as she carefully parted the tear in his fabric and sucked in her breath harshly. The wound was not as terrible as she had imagined – the bleeding wasn’t constant enough to have hit a vein, but the sluggish rate that it was managing was worrying her.

“I need a tourniquet,” Riza murmured, her hands hovering over the injury, only trembling slightly. Her heart was racing and she knew she had minutes at best before his blood loss would become critical, but she was finding it hard to concentrate between the ringing in her ears and his laboured breaths. How had this gone so fucking wrong?

“My jacket-” he began, but she cut him off, shaking her head.

“Too thick, won’t be able to apply enough pressure.” She looked wildly around the now deserted ballroom, vaguely aware of the screams from outside and the familiar wail of police sirens in the distance. The gauze of her peplum brushed against her legs as she sat up properly and she felt near to sobbing as she gripped the thin fabric and pulled harshly against the stitching.

“You’re an impossible man, I hope you know,” she managed as she continued to rip at the peplum harshly, rolling it up into a single length of fabric. She tested its strength, before nodding and shifting to sit directly in front on the wound, his blood uncomfortably warm and sticky against her bare legs.

He coughed, and then groaned. “And you’re the rudest nurse I’ve ever had. Has anybody told you off about your bedside manner?”

“Plenty of times, sir. Are you able to lift your leg, or should I?”

He shook his head slightly, rubbing at his eyes with his hands. “You better do it. I’ll just injure myself further and – FUCKING HELL RIZA!”

She ignored him, adjusting the position of the makeshift tourniquet before tying it as tightly as she could on his upper thigh. She lifted his leg against to secure the tautness of the knot and he hissed once more, muttering darkly under his breath. She glanced back to where his wound was on his lower thigh – it looked like the blood was stemming, but she couldn’t be sure. The sirens of the military police were growing louder. She had to get them out of here – their involvement in this operation had been extremely under the table and any time spent explaining why the Flame Alchemist had been shot in the leg was time that could otherwise be used getting him to a doctor. The military police were fine men and woman, but Riza didn’t have time to hold their hand and patiently explain everything to them. She bit her lip, thinking. The others would already be reconvening at the safe house, hopefully finding a doctor along the way – at the very least Jean would be watching for their exit.

She had to act fast. In a matter of minutes this place would be crawling with well-to-do but meddling officers. The closest entrance that would arouse the least suspicion was a small exit used by the staff – all the way across the room. The screams and cacophony outside was growing louder. They had to leave now.

“You won’t be able to walk, will you?” she asked quickly, shifting behind him to help him sit up. He shook his head.

“Not as fast as we’ll need to be. Let’s hope one of the boys is close by.”

“We’ll manage,” she replied shortly, moving to squat down in front of him, breathing deeply as he wound his arms tightly around her neck. They had one chance to get this lift right – otherwise it would be a disaster.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“I trust you Riza,” he murmured and she snorted.

“That’s Lieutenant Hawkeye to you, sir. You’re not dying on me yet.”

He had grumbled and groused the entire time she carried him out of the building, whining that she was jostling him too harshly, but Riza didn’t care. So long as he kept talking – and talking like himself, the big baby – she could let herself relax a little. They were going to make it out of this. Roy would survive to live (and complain) another day.

It had been less fun ducking from the police. The block where the gala had been held had almost been completely cordoned off by the time she had made it outside, and it was only through sheer determination that she was never going to be asked why she was piggy-backing a full grown man through the alleyways of East City covered in blood that she was able to powerwalk onto the lesser known roads. Fuery’s safe house was only a couple more blocks away – the district they were in wasn’t the worst that East City had to offer, but it certainly wasn’t the cleanest either. Riza supposed she might actually fit in here, what with her torn and ruined dress, and blood congealing and flaking on her calves.

“We’re a right sight, sir,” she said as she waited for a lone car to pass them by before stepping out onto the street.

“Are we?” he murmured, his breath warm on her neck. “I thought you looked rather pretty tonight.”

“You did pick out the dress sir,” she replied dryly, looking down to make sure to see where the curb was. “I thought the peplum was a bit much, to be honest.”

“And yet it saved my life. I’m always thinking ahead Lieutenant.”

“Were you intending to get shot?” she reproached, ducking down another dark alleyway. There was a crash from a rubbish bin further up and Riza stopped in her tracks, fingers unconsciously reaching for a gun that wasn’t there.

“Probably just a stray cat,” Roy said quietly after a moment of tense silence, tightening his hold around her neck as she swayed slightly under their combined weight. “The only people who will be looking for us are the ones we want to find us.”

“What about Francis?” she spat out, slowly starting to move once more. “We’ve got no idea if the officers we stationed outside did their fucking jobs-”

“I’m sure they did,” he soothed, pressing his lips against the taut muscles of her neck softly. “Just as you did your job brilliantly as well.”

She laughed bitterly. “You got shot. I think I’ve failed as your bodyguard if I can’t even protect you from a greasy old man with an even older revolver.”

Roy sighed in frustration. “You know as well as I do that that was not your fault in the slightest-”

She rounded the corner and stumbled slightly as she saw the familiar entrance to Fuery’s safe house. Jean was waiting by the entrance, smoking a cigarette and watching the smoke drift above him in lazy patterns.

“Hello Jacqueline,” she called out.

He jerked his head to where she stood, and quickly stubbed the cigarette out. “Old Frankie got caught out by the police that Heymans had stationed out by the kitchen entrance – you were right, he had a car waiting for him to take him over the border.” He smiled brightly at the two of them. “You guys get out okay?”

Riza nodded wearily, adjusting her arms slightly. Roy huffed in annoyance. “They’ve got the documents?” he asked.

Jean nodded, grinning broadly. “Every fuckin’ incriminating one. He’s going away for a long time Chief.”

Roy nodded, resting his chin on her shoulder, awkwardly trying to manoeuvre around the ruffled fabric adornment that jutted out from her right shoulder. “You got a doctor for me Havoc?” he asked grumpily. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get this bullet out of me.”

Jean nodded hastily, quickly running down the steps to meet them at the bottom. “My car is just down the road, you’re okay to keep carrying him?”

Riza sighed and shook her head. “What’s a few more metres?”

The ride to the clinic had been quick – Jean drove like a madman at the best of times, and with the streets practically deserted at the late hour meant that Roy was quickly passed along to a doctor who muttered darkly about kids these days while accepting a thick sealed envelope from Riza.

“You did a good job,” the doctor said to Riza, not even blinking at the sight she must have made in the harsh light of the clinic. “If you hadn’t made a tourniquet for him I’m not sure I could’ve helped you.”

Riza nodded, her shoulders sagging slightly as she felt the exhaustion from the night’s events start to kick in. “Thank you, doctor. Please don’t take his whining to heart.”

The doctor gave a toothy grin.

Jean paused. “I just realised. You carried him to Fuery’s in heels from the hotel. In heels?”

Riza opened her mouth to respond, and shut it, shaking her head in bewilderment. “Would adrenaline be a good enough excuse?” she asked, running a hand through what remained of the small braids Roy had done earlier that afternoon. “I honestly wasn’t thinking about anything other than getting us away from the police.”

Jean let out a low whistle. “We’re getting married after this Elizabeth,” he said as they watched the doctor begin to cut up Roy’s trousers. “We’ll get a little shack out in the country where I can watch you running after sheep in your magnificent heels for the rest of our lives.” His arm slung around her shoulders loosely and she felt his hand squeeze her shoulder reassuringly.

Roy snorted.

She let out a watery chuckle, and suddenly she found herself being pulled properly into the taller man’s chest, vaguely aware of Roy protesting behind her. “She’s fine, chief,” she heard Jean say, his hands warm on her back, careful not to shift her hair. “You worry about yourself – we’ll go get some fresh air and clean ourselves up.”

He guided her firmly out of the small clinic, forcing her to sit down on the wooden bench outside. His face looked tired in the light bleeding in from the clinic, highlighting the deep lines of worry. He kneeled in front of her, his hands resting on her bloodied knees. “Don’t go blaming yourself for this, Riza – none of us-”

“We should’ve-” she began, but he shook his head.

“Nobody could anticipate a gun. It’s certainly not his M.O.” Jean sighed, grasping her bloodied hands in his own. “We’ll debrief tomorrow, look at where we went wrong, and learn from our mistakes. You’re in shock right now, and I need to get you clean. Is it just his blood?”

Riza bit her lip and nodded.

Jean sighed deeply. “I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t move.”

She felt the warmth from his body wash over him as he walked back into the clinic. No matter how Jean tried to frame it, this wasn’t a victory. Roy had been needlessly shot – she had allowed herself to be put in danger and it had nearly jeopardised the entire operation. Months had been sunk into catching this monster and it had almost unravelled for reasons she couldn’t yet understand. Why had Francis pulled the gun on her? She thought she had played her part well of the stumbling, ditzy socialite – where had she failed? It didn’t make sense.

It was hard to breathe. Hard to see – when the door to the clinic opened again she could only see blurred shapes through her tears. Jean’s hands were soft on her face as he tried to calm her down, thumbs rubbing at her cheekbones. She hated feeling weak like this – feeling useless. She could have died in that ballroom, brain matter and blood splattered around her head like some kind of unholy crown. He could have died.

Jean slowly went about cleaning her palms of the sticky, congealing blood, the small towel quickly turning an awful salmon colour. Her legs came next, Jean scrubbing them down as best he could. She sat there, and tried her best not to sob.

Jean sat down next to her on the bench and grasped her hands tightly in his own, murmuring about how none of this was any of their faults, and Francis had been caught with the evidence they needed to lock him up. She didn’t know how long they sat there, Jean rubbing her hands and continually talking in low tones. She focused on the faint sounds of traffic in the distance, trained her eyes to the haze that was the East City CBD. She focused on her breathing. In. Out. In. Out

The doctor poked his head out the door. “Your man is all finished. He has some medication for pain but otherwise will heal fine. Bring him back in a week so I can check on the stitches, but so long as he doesn’t do any exercise he’ll be okay.”

“Thank you doctor,” Jean replied, standing up and shaking the doctor’s hand. “We’re very grateful to you.”

The doctor raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure you are. Now bugger off, I’ve got a warm bed I want to return to.”

They helped Roy back into the car, and Jean quickly made his way through the deserted city to Roy’s apartment. The street was deserted as they helped him up the steps, and Riza mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the blond man as Roy unlocked his front door, extending a hand for Riza to grasp.

It was quiet in his apartment as they shuffled around in the dark, trying their best not to wake Hayate who was asleep on the couch. It didn’t matter – the dog immediately perked his head up when they walked past but instead remained on the couch, watching the two of them slowly divest their clothes. Roy disappeared down the hall to his bedroom and Riza made herself a cup of tea, curling up on the couch and absently rubbing Hayate’s head. She was about ready to drop dead on her feet – quite literally, she wasn’t looking forward to the blisters that would undoubtedly appear on her feet tomorrow. Tomorrow would present its own challenges: finding out exactly what went wrong in their reconnaissance to grossly miscalculate a fucking gun. Riza sighed, and placed the still-warm mug on the coffee table, careful not to topple any of the paperwork piled up on the small table. Dropping a soft kiss on her dog’s head, she padded her way down to Roy’s bedroom, and began to undo the zip on what remained of the dress – most of it was certainly beyond repair now. She draped it over the chair next to the dresser, and quickly threw her bra onto the ground.

“Don’t bother with a shower,” Roy said lowly, already hogging most of the blankets on the bed. “I already smell like a hospital. We’ll even each other out.”

Riza snorted, taking off her earrings and placing them on the overcrowded dresser. “And the girls say you’re nothing but charm,” she teased, grabbing an old t-shirt from his laundry pile and putting it on. She sat next to him on the bed and started to undo what was left of the intricate hairstyle she had begun with that evening: her fringe was already beginning to kink in the worst ways as she took out the pins and untangled the knots left behind.

“I don’t care about what the girls say,” he replied, pulling at the edge of her shirt. She slid into bed next to him and she nestled her head in the crook of his neck, breathing deeply as his hands drew lazy patterns over her hips. “I have you,” he murmured quietly, kissing her head softly.

fin

[master-sass-blast]

Authority Issues

Well, well, well. What do we have here?

(AN: I’m not abandoning Strong as Stone. This was just my entertainment for the day.)

Long story short: I had a dream with Piotr Rasputin/Colossus in it last night. It was glorious. I might’ve kissed him.

Like I said. Glorious.

And thus, after kissing the dream Colossus, I woke up inspired to write some fanfiction loosely inspired by my dream.

So, essentially, welcome to my latest hyperfixation.

For the record, I haven’t seen the Deadpool movies. I haven’t read the X-Men Comics. I haven’t seen the X-Men movies.

Yes, you got that right, this is undoubtedly the crackiest fic you’ll ever read.

Or maybe not. I’ll let you be the judge.

So, loosely based in the Deadpool Movieverse/X-Men universe, I present you this: a self insert pic with Colossus.

You’re welcome.

Also, @colossus-and-cable, I blame you for suckering me into this hyperfixation! Because of your brilliant writing, I can’t get enough Colossus content!

Well, they say create the content you want to see.

Rating: M for kidnapping, mentions of abuse, sexual assault, sequences of terrifying action (nightmares), and stong language.

Pairing: Reader x Piotr Rasputin.

Alright, so, it wasn’t your fault. Technically.

Remember that ‘technically.’ It’ll come in handy later.

For context: you are the latest trainee/recruit/refugee at the Mutant Mansion a la Professor Xavier is really stinking rich to afford the utilities bills for this group.

You’d seen the X-Mansion briefly, two years ago, on a newscast that your mother had turned off as soon as she’d seen you watching it, then forced you up to your room to ‘pray for protection against the ungodly lures of the outside world.’

Ah, the joys of growing up in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere --zero tolerance of the queers, people of color, and mutants.

You’d read about the X-mansion’s purpose --taking in and training mutants to control their powers--in a newspaper article a few months later --well after your parents had decided that TV was ‘too great a portal to temptation’ for someone of your ‘unnatural, hedonistic tendencies.’

You’d been shocked. You hadn’t known that there was an actual group out there that was willing to take in mutants, much less train them.

Your father had ripped the paper out of your hands a few moments later and tossed it into the burning fire, stating that the X-Men were nothing more than heathens upsetting the natural order of God’s holy creation.

Perhaps with some great amount of foresight, your parents had decided to lock you into your room that night. Not that it mattered; the lock on your bedroom door had always been easy to pick.

No one ever said that foresight and practical wisdom were the same things.

You’d packed a bag of everything that mattered --clothes, toiletries, a stuffed bear, your state ID--then crept downstairs and broken into the family safe. You’d taken all of your paperwork --birth certificate, social security card--and all the cash that your parents had kept in there, and left.

Looking back on it, you were incredibly lucky the universe had gifted you with the powers to control air and wind. Instead of having to plot out a route via bus and train routes --thus risking being caught by the authorities and shipped back home--you could simply fly to the X-Mansion, stopping to buy food and rest as needed. Within a couple days, you’d found the X-Mansion, dropped yourself on their doorstep, knocked, and asked if you could stay.

Which, apparently, they were used to, because they’d just said ‘sure’ and let you in.

Two years later and look at you now!

A --still, technically--trainee on account of your difficulty controlling your powers and hot, hot issues with authority, under the tutelage of the X-Men. Free room, personal bathroom, three hot meals a day, and the fastest WiFi the world has ever seen.

And, well... a boyfriend, too.

Piotr Rasputin, code name Colossus, with the real secret to his identity being that he was a massive marshmallow with a heart of gold. He’d wooed you in his own sweet, subtle way as he’d helped you adjust to your new life at Xavier’s, taking your poor impulse control and hot, hot issues with authority in his patient, gentle stride.

It had been a good two years. The best two years of your life.

Which wasn’t to say that everything was perfect...

Right, so this is where the ‘technically’ comes in. And, as with ninety percent of your ‘technically’s, Wade Wilson is along for the ride.

You and Wade get along like a house on fire --compatible in all the wrong ways and usually resulting in some sort of damage to persons and/or property.

Wade, also known as Deadpool, also known as the Merc’ with a Mouth, also known as ‘the Obnoxious Red Dildo,’ has widely known and accepted authority issues, zero impulse control, and a daddy kink a mile wide that he likes to remind everyone of at any given moment --which is all of them.

You, the formerly repressed and abused mutant who has had their first taste of freedom and are itching for more, are --unfortunately--all too willing to help Wade execute any sort of prank, joke, or hijink, because for fuck’s sake, people, live a little!!!

Cue today’s incident.

It had started with a bet. Wade had bet you that there was no way in hell you could use your powers just right to launch a lit firework into Scott Summer’s --aka Cyclops’s--room.

The man had given you kitchen duty for being fifteen minutes late to morning training. The loser had to buy the winner pizza. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up!

You're just about to light the firework when something lifts Wade off the ground and hefts him to the side. A large shadow falls over you, and you look up with a cheesy grin. “Hi, babe.”

Piotr stares down at you, arms across his chest. He’s in defense mode, which means he isn’t here on the friendliest of terms. “What are you doing, myshka?”

You look down at the firework in one hand, the lighter in the other, then up at Scott’s open window. “Uh...” You look back up at Piotr and give him the most convincing look you can muster. “Arts and crafts?”

He isn’t convinced. “Professor Xavier sensed your plan.”

Ah. Well. That would do it.

“Hey! Russia’s Greatest Love Machine!” Wade interrupts, madder than a hornet and a little more crooked than the human body usually looks. “Stop fucking throwing me everywhere, you giant metal dildo!”

“Wade, watch your language, please.”

“Suck a cock!”

“In my defense,” You interject before Piotr can go off on his usual spiel about rules and ‘appropriate language,’ “it was Wade’s idea.”

“Hey!”

Piotr is still unmoved. “You are capable of making your own choices, dorogoy. Wade did not force you.”

“He was going to buy me a pizza, Colossus! How do you expect me to refuse?”

“Hey, that was only if I lost!”

“Yeah, well, you were gonna lose!”

Piotr sighs, shakes his head, then extends a hand to help you off the ground. Even when he’s busting you for misbehavior, he still treats you with the utmost respect and courtesy. “Come. We need to talk to Professor.”

You sigh and trail after him. This is gonna suck.

It does, in fact, suck. Talking to Xavier --again--sucks like a vacuum cleaner gone prostitute that’s hellbent on sucking its client’s dick off.

The professor, as always, is patient with you in talking about rules and your struggles with following them.

Scott Summers, who must have a serious anal kink considering how far he has a pole wedged up is ass, is not. “I’ve just about had enough of your acting out! Either act your age or--”

“Or what?” You interrupt with a roll of your eyes. “You’ll kick me out?”

“No,” Professor Xavier interjects firmly before Scott can speak. “You will always have a safe place at the Institute, Y/N.”

Scott scoffs. “Safe for her and no one else.”

You narrow your eyes at Scott. “Says the guy who has to wear glorified sunglasses all the time or he’ll blow a hole through the wall. You look like a tool, by the way.”

“Your destructive tendencies are way out of hand!” Scott snaps.

“My destructive tendencies? Logan goes through four phones a month and cut your bike in half because you drank one of his beers! How come he always gets away with it?”

“We’re not talking about that right now!”

You sit back and your chair and nod, feigning amicability. “Ah, I see. You’re a misogynist.”

“Y/N--”

“No wonder Jean’s always looking at Logan the way she does. You must be a pain in the--”

Scott’s hand smacks down on Xavier’s desk, cutting you off. “Are you looking for extra kitchen duty? Because I’ll be happy to provide it for you.”

You refocus on Xavier. “Okay, I have an administrative question. Why’d you make the actual tyrant in charge of punishment duty?”

“I run a fair and understanding system!”

“You gave me three nights of kitchen duty after I was late for morning training! By fifteen minutes!” You look back at Colossus, who is standing post in the back of the room. “Does that seem fair to you?”

Piotr flounders. “Well... being on time is important...”

Your jaw drops. “You’re not honestly siding with him.”

“I think things have gotten out of hand,” Xavier says, reasserting control over the room. “And I think I need some time to speak with Mr. Summers about his ‘system.’”

Scott recoils. “What?”

You pump your fist in the air. “Ha! Suck it, dickhead!”

“In the meantime,” Xavier added with a stern, if somewhat amused look in your direction. “Mr. Rasputin, I’m discharging Y/N into your care. I’d like to keep her separated from Mr. Wilson until she and I have had a chance to talk about the root of her rebellion.”

Your mouth falls open at the Professor’s orders, and your shock only mounts as Piotr actually accepts. You’re so shocked that you let yourself be ushered out by the metal man himself --ever gentle and respectful of your space--into the hall and away from Xavier’s office.

It isn’t until you’re halfway down the hall that it hits.

Rage. Red hot and burning. Rage at being chastised by Scott, rage at Piotr’s refusal to defend you, rage at being unfairly separated from your best friend. You were an adult, for fuck’s sake! You could make your own decisions!

You storm ahead of Piotr, ignoring his concerned calls, and march to your room.

Like the exposition said: hot, hot issues with authority.

You manage to grab the essentials --bag, wallet, ID, phone--and make it halfway to the front door before he catches you.

Technically, he’s already waiting there for you, in his human form.

Well, that would explain how he beat you there and why you didn’t hear him.

Piotr looks up at you, expression patient if somewhat admonishing. “And where I are you going, dorogaya moya?”

“Out,” You say. No point in denying the obvious.

Piotr sighs and shakes his head. “I do not think that would be wise.”

You shrug. “Arguable. I just need some time to blow off some steam.”

Piotr presses his lips into a firm line. “Y/N.”

Uh-oh. You recognize that tone --the ‘we need to talk as serious adults about serious things in a serious manner.’

Right now, it’s just seriously annoying.

“This is fifth incident in as many weeks.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, can the record please note that Wade and I have been trying to scale back our ‘escapades?’ The car blowing up was a complete accident, not that Scott cared --oh, by the way, thanks for sticking up for me back there.”

That one lands hard, you can tell by the way his shoulders tense. “This behavior is irresponsible.”

“What, exactly, is with the vendetta against having fun?”

“Throwing firework into someone’s room is dangerous, myshka. Someone could have been hurt.”

You roll your eyes again. “It was a smoke bomb, Piotr. Not a 4th of July finale piece! Remember was I said about ‘scaling back?’” You finish descending the stairs and reach for the door handle.

Piotr reaches out --not much of a reach, he’s still a giant in his human form--and places his hand against the door. “No, myshka. You stay here.”

You bristle as you glare up at him. “I don’t remember for asking for you permission.”

Piotr exhales through his nose, the first sign that he’s actually getting frustrated with you. “The Professor--”

“Is not my dad.”

“--has asked me to watch you.”

“Well, I mean, if you want to come with me, I wouldn’t mine.” You grin up at him. “It could be a date.”

“I have things to do here.”

“Of course. Well, in that case...” You yank at the door, but Piotr is unmovable. “Look, Piotr, I’m an adult. I can make my own choices.”

“My instructions are to look after you. I cannot do that if you are not here.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “And how are you going to keep me here? Lock me in my room like my parents did?”

The comparison hurts him, you can tell by the way his blue eyes flash, but it’s enough of a distraction to suit your purposes.

While he’s still reeling from your words, you rip the door open and dart onto the front lawn. You can hear Piotr pursuing you, shouting your name, but outrunning him is easy, even when he’s in his human form. You simply manipulate the air around you to propel you forward. Before he’s even taken three strides, you’re over the wall and out of sight.

You grin as your feet hit the ground outside the wall that borders the grounds of the mansion and run towards the city.

Freedom.

The first thing you do is find a diner and order a heaping plate of food. A massive, greasy cheeseburger with extra bacon, a small mountain of fries, fresh out of the fryer, and a thick, sugary chocolate milkshake that comes in a glass bigger than your head.

It tastes like heaven. Junk food is in rare supply at the mansion, what with Piotr’s obsession with proper nutrition. You love him for it, but you miss your guilty pleasures.

The next thing you do is find that arcade Wade took you to for your birthday. You still have the credit card he bought for you, and you spend the day switching from game to game as you please.

It’s early evening when you leave, and it occurs to you that Piotr is going to be absolutely --you’d use the word furious, but you’re not sure if that’s even genetically possible for him--upset with you when you get back to the mansion, so you stop by the chocolate shop he took you to on your first date and pick up some fudge for him. He rarely treats himself, but you know it’s a favorite.

As you start walking the path back to the mansion, you get the eerie sensation that you’re being watched. Maybe it’s just the unfamiliarity of the city after growing up in a small town, maybe it’s just being a woman in an unfamiliar place while the sun is setting, but--

You look behind you, trying to find anything out of the ordinary.

A man, wearing a black sweatshirt, quickly turns to look in one of the store fronts.

You watch him, anxiety churning in your stomach. You catch his eye, he nods, and starts walking in the opposite direction.

You sigh in relief, and resume your progress back to the mansion. False alarm.

A few blocks later, and that creeping sensation on the back of your neck is back with a vengeance. You turn around again, unable to shake the suspicion that was curling in your chest.

The man in the black sweatshirt was back, standing about twenty feet behind you.

You grit your teeth as you pick up your pace. You focus on trying to find a place where you can duck out of sight and use your powers to run back home, back to the safety of the X-mansion, back to Piotr’s waiting arms --because even when you’ve been an ass, he’ll still oblige you with buckets of affection.

You spot an alley ahead --not ideal, but out of sight enough that you should be able to levitate yourself to a roof top, then hide there until the guy goes away and fly home.

You glance over your shoulder to check the pace of the guy following you and nearly have a coronary.

He’s now five feet behind you. 

How did he catch up that fast? You break off into a run, desperate to reach the alley before the guy reaches you.

A man steps out of the alley, grinning malevolently at you. “Going somewhere, doll?”

You barely have time to skitter to a stop before something hits you in the back of your head, knocking you to the ground.

Your last thought before you lose consciousness is how bizarrely empty the streets are.

“Hey there, doll. Open those pretty eyes for me.”

You come to in some sort of basement, dirty and littered with crumpled beer cans and other garbage. You’re tied to a chair, arms tied to the arms and legs to the legs, with another thick rope tying your waist to back of the chair. There’s a gag in your mouth and odd weight hanging around your neck.

The man that jumped out at you is sitting in a chair in front of you, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. “You’ve been difficult to track down. Lucky us, you decided to step outside your precious fortress for the day.”

You’d smirk at the man if you weren’t gagged. Apparently, for all their efforts to find you, they didn’t research your powers very well. You flick your fingers, ready to send the man flying across the room with a gust of wind.

Nothing happens.

You try again, then again, stomach sinking with dread as the man’s grin grows.

Nothing.

The man leans forward and taps at the weight on your neck, a soft metallic sound resulting from the press of his fingernails. “Suppression collar. No powers for you.”

Shit.

Left with nothing else, you try to yank yourself out of your restraints. You thrash and struggle to no avail --no amount of training was going to make you as strong as Piotr, even in his human form.

“They told me you were feisty. Apparently, you tried to run away from home several times before finding the X-Men.” The man leans forward, watching you with a lurid gaze as you struggle.

You growl at him through the gag. Just wait, motherfucker. I’ll get out of these ropes, and then I’m going to beat your ass stupid.

“Not gonna lie. It’s pretty hot.”

You try to flinch away as he reaches towards your face, but are ultimately subjected to the unpleasant sensation of his fingers caressing your cheek.

His touch is nothing like Piotr’s --it’s too rough, too forceful, and nowhere near loving enough.

“Now, we’re supposed to just take you back home--”

Your eyes widen at the mention of home --the small town you grew up in--and you start your struggle to free yourself anew.

“--but maybe we should have some fun first. After all, we’re not in any hurry.”

You stiffen and stare at him as your mind puts together what ‘fun’ might mean, then thrash around violently, almost knocking yourself over in the process.

The man reaches out and grabs the chair, forcing it back into its normal position. “Of course, I’d have to untie you for that, and I don’t want to risk you running away...” He turns to look at the other man --the one that had been wearing the hoodie. “Go get me the paralytics.”

You watch, horrified and on the verge of tears as the other man walks away and up the stairs, and let out a muffled scream.

“Oh, it’s alright,” the man said, leaning in to run his tongue over the shell of your ear. “You’ll be doing a lot of that later, and you’ll be loving it.”

You’re about to headbutt him, but are distracted by the sound of several heavy thuds on the floor above you.

You and the man look up in unison, both trying to discern the source of the noises.

Then, there were several brief bursts of gunfire, accompanied by several metallic pings.

Silence follows.

The man growls under his breath and pulls a gun out of his jacket. He points it at your head. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You watch him ascend the stairs, then start trying to work yourself free. In your efforts, you cant the chair sideways and fall on your side, back to the stairs. You wince at the impact --your arm’s going to be bruised as shit later.

You flinch at the sound of another gunshot.

Everything’s silent for a minute, and then there are footsteps on the stairs again.

You start crying, tears streaming down your cheeks, and you try anything to wiggle your way free.

Then, there are a pair of hands on your shoulders, pulling you up and turning you around, and--

Piotr kneels in front of you, resplendent even in his human form, smiling reassuringly. “It’s alright, moya lyubov’. I’ve got you.”

You draw in a sharp breath and moan at him through the gag.

“Hang on.” He pulls the gag out of your mouth --carefully, the man is always careful--and lifts it over your head.

A cry bubbles out your mouth, followed by a breathless apology. “Piotr-- I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry--”

His thumbs are already wiping the tears off your cheeks while his lips press sweet, gentle kisses along your hairline. “It’s okay, myshka, I’ve got you. You’re safe.” He leans back and flashes you a crooked grin. “Let’s get you out of here, da?”

You nod, already itching to be out of the chair and in his arms. “Da. Yes. Si. Now, please.”

He chuckles and pulls a knife off his belt. “I need you to hold very, very still, moya lyubov’. Can you do that for me?”

You nod again and focus on holding still while he works at the ropes holding you in place. “How did you find me?”

“Tracker on your phone. Men forgot to turn it off.”

You manage a weak, half-hearted giggle. “Idiots.”

He chuckles back, mostly because it’s clear that’s the response you wanted. “So, what did you get up to before all this happened?”

“Oh, you know.” You tip your head back to try and hold back the tears that are threatening to reappear. “Got a bite to eat, smashed Wade’s highscore in Pac-Man at the arcade.” You manage a wavery smile as you tip your head forward to look at him. “I stopped by that chocolate shop you took me to on our first date, got you some fudge.”

“That was very sweet of you, dorogoy.” He’s done with your legs and waist and already halfway through the ropes on your left arm.

Your laugh comes out less as amused and more as hysterical. “Yeah, well, I figured it’d pay to have a bribe.”

“Bribe?”

“To get back in your good graces after being an ass.”

He smiles at you, soft and sweet, as he tosses away the rope that had been holding your left arm in place. “You don’t have to earn my ‘good graces,’ Y/N. You’ll always have them.”

It’s serendipitous timing that he finishes freeing your right arm in that moment, because you want nothing more than to be in his arms after that comment. You launch yourself at him, winding your arms around his neck. You sob, the weight of what could’ve happened hitting you full force, and press your face against his chest.

Piotr is forced to temporarily abandon his knife, tossing it off to the side so he can wrap his arms around you. He’s massive, exceedingly so, and it’s easy for him to curl himself around your --much smaller--body. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m so, so sorry, Piotr! I shouldn’t have run off, and I shouldn’t have said those things, and--”

“It’s okay, dorogaya moya, it’s fine.” He presses his lips against your forehead. “Let’s get you out of here, then we talk. But first.” His hands turn to the solid steel you know so well, and he presses his fingers against the suppression collar. “Hold still.”

You keep yourself still as he tears the collar off of you, then let out a relieved breath, sending a gust of wind throughout the dusty basement.

“Much better,” Piotr murmurs as he rubs his hand up and down your back.

You press against him, trying to close every tiny gap between you and him. You’re shaking like a leaf in a gale, body trembling with adrenaline and relief. You let out a tiny squeak as he lifts you into his arms and wind your arms around his neck as he starts carrying you up the wooden stairs. “I half expected you to come down in full metal.”

“House is very old,” Piotr grunts as he navigates the rickety steps with ease. “I am surprised I did not fall through floor.” He pauses halfway up the steps to look at you. “You may want to close your eyes.”

You oblige him and lean your head against his shoulder. “A grisly scene, unfit for the eyes of a lady?”

A puff of laughter ghosts over your cheek. “There was struggle.”

You can’t resist the temptation to peek at the scene as he carries you through the house. You open your eyes and gasp at the sight of bodies crisscrossing the floor, riddled with bullet holes.

“I thought I told you to close eyes.”

“You should know by now I’m not good at listening.”

That finagles a chuckle out of him. “Stubborn girl.”

“Well, duh.” You peer at the bullet holes --some in the bodies, some in the walls--then check Piotr over for any sign of injury. “How’d you survive the shooting?”

“I came in defense mode. I was not sure stairs would hold me, so I changed.”

“They should’ve thought about the ricochet.”

“Da.”

The sun is almost done setting as he carries you outside to the awaiting jet.

You wince as your eyes adjust to the fading natural light, then blink as you realize you couldn’t have been captured for more than a few hours. “How did you know to come looking for me in the first place?”

“Professor Xavier got letter from intelligence operative. Said your parents had hired bounty hunters to find you and to keep you at X-Mansion until coast was clear.” He clears his throat and ducks his head, looking sheepish. “My... over-protective instincts got the better of me.”

You can’t help but tremble in his arms at the mention of your parents or the fact that they hired a fucking bounty hunter, good God. Your stomach churns as the memory of the hired man threatening to rape you and asking for paralytics, and you cling tighter to him. “Well, I’m glad they did.”

“So am I, moya lyubov’. So am I.” He carries you onto the jet and sets you on one of the seats. “Stay here. I will come back when we are in stable flight pattern.”

You try to stay in the seat as he starts the take off process, but you can’t help but stumble up to the cockpit after him.

“Yes, I found her.” Piotr looks up at you as you press yourself against his arm, and pauses to kiss your forehead. “She is alright, a little shaky.” He pauses again as he pilots the jet high enough to clear the top of the trees and surrounding buildings, then nods as the voice in the pilot’s headset speaks. “Da. We are on our way back now.” A few more exchanges between him and the voice in the headset, and then he’s setting the jet on autopilot and taking the headset off. He turns to face you, flashing you a crooked grin. “I thought I told you to wait.”

You try to reciprocate, you really do, but the past few hours as catching up with you. You lower lip starts trembling, and you slump against Piotr, crying quietly.

He wraps his arms around you and presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Come on, dorogaya moya. Let’s get you checked out.” He carries you back into the main bay of the jet and --with a gentleness that completely belies his sheer size--deposits you on one of the seats. “How did they capture you?”

You lift your hand to the back of the head, wincing as your fingers brush against a small lump. “They hit me. Knocked me out.”

Piotr’s lips are set into a tense line as he pulls a flashlight out of his suit pocket. “Look at my nose, myshka.”

You stare straight ahead as he checks your pupil response to the light. “Piotr... I’m really sorry for being such an ass at the mansion.”

He chuckles. “It is alright, dorogoy. I need you to follow light with your eyes now.”

“And...” You add quietly as you track his light with your eyes. “...I’m sorry I compared you to my parents. That was... royally unfair of me.”

“It is okay, Y/N. I forgive you.” He clicks off the light and turns his attention to the nice, ugly bruise forming on your left forearm. “How did you get this?”

“I knocked myself over trying to escape.”

Piotr chuckles as he carefully prods the bruise. “That’s my girl. My fierce myshka.”

“Getting herself bruised,” you mutter with a wince. “That sounds about right.”

“Am I hurting you?”

“Well, it’s a bruise and you’re poking it. What do you think?”

“I am trying to ascertain if it is broken.”

You shake your head. “I’ve broken my arm before. It just feels like a bruise.”

He stops prodding at your forearm in favor of encapsulating your hands with his massive ones. “Did anything else happen? Anything you can remember?”

“No, I was out for most of it.”

“What happened when you came to?”

“I tried to use my powers to throw them across the room.”

Piotr snorts --actually snorts. “I suppose, for them, it was good thing they had collar. You would have kicked their asses otherwise.”

“Good for them, pain in the ass for me,” you mumble, annoyed. “He pointed out the collar, so I tried to yank my arms free.”

“I figured. You have rope burns on your wrists.”

You have to stop to force down the bile creeping up your throat before you can go on. “He said I was feisty. Said it was hot.”

Piotr’s hands tighten around yours. “Anything else?”

You start shaking again. “He said that he had to take me back home... but that he didn’t have to rush. He... asked for some paralytics... said he was going to make me scream.”

Piotr’s jaw clenches, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly.

You giggle hysterically against his chest. “You came in the nick of time. He’d just sent the guy up for the paralytics when you crashed in.”

“Bozhe moi, I am grateful. I am grateful I found you when I did.”

“Me too.”

He presses his forehead against yours, taking deep, shaky breaths. “Was there anything else that happened, lyublyu?”

You frown. “Yeah. He touched my cheek and licked my ear.” You rub your cheek, then your ear. “God, that was gross.”

Piotr is quiet for a moment. Then, he lifts his hand to your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your soft, supple skin. “Like this?”

You lean into his touch, smiling weakly. “Yeah. Yours is better, though.”

“I would hope so.” He’s quiet for another moment, then leans forward.

A shiver runs down your spine as he presses a soft kiss against your ear. “Piotr,” you sigh.

He presses the side of his face against the side of yours. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

And, oddly enough, it is. It was as though Piotr’s touch erased the traces of the bounty hunter’s harassment. Sure, you could remember it happening, but you couldn’t quite remember how it felt. All you could feel was Piotr’s loving, tender touches and the affection he so willingly lavished upon you.

You turn your head towards him and press your lips against his.

He kisses you back for a moment the way he always does --with a tenderness that never fails to make you weak in the knees--and then pulls back. “I must apologize for my behavior earlier. I was too controlling. You are an adult, and I need to respect that.”

“Eh, I think I need to talk to Xavier about that one more than I do you.”

“Still, I am sorry--”

“I forgive you, Piotr. Stop beating yourself up.”

He ducks his head, smiling sheepishly. “Khorosho. I also want to apologize for not defending you in front of Scott. He was out of line.”

“It’s alright. I’m just glad to be with you right now.”

“As am I, myshka. As am I.”

After one of the resident medics gives you a thorough check over and a blood test to ensure you hadn’t been injected with anything while you were knocked out --at Piotr’s worried insistence, and you were too worn out to put up too much of a fight--you're given a clean bill of health and instructions to rest for a few days.

Piotr escorts you to the living space side of the mansion, his hand a warm and soothing presence on your shoulder.

The two of you are met by Professor Xavier and one very pissed off looking Scott Summers.

“It’s about time,” Scott snaps. “We have jobs to do, you know. We can’t just waste our time keeping up with your outbursts.”

You roll your eyes. “Geez, Scott, who rusted the pole up your ass?”

Before he can retort, Piotr steps in between the two of you. “Enough,” he says, voice deep and hard. “She has had long day. She needs rest.”

“Yes,” Professor Xavier agrees. “We’re glad to see you back safely, Y/N. Rest for now. We can resume our discussion when you feel more recovered.”

You nod and let Piotr escort you to your room.

“The medic cleared you for concussion, so you can sleep on your own tonight.”

You bite back a frown. You would rather stay with him --in general, yes, but especially tonight, given the circumstances. Dammit. Why couldn’t I have a concussion? “Okay.”

Piotr cups your face in his massive hands. “If you need anything, come wake me up. Time does not matter, okay?”

You nod, then roll up onto your toes to kiss him. When he tries to break away once, you grab onto his shirt and cling to him.

He humors you for a few moments longer before disentangling your hands from the material of his shirt. He kisses both of your hands. “Sleep well, myshka.”

You manage a smile for him, but it dissipates as soon as he turns away.

You’re not sure sleep will come easy tonight.

You’re not sure it’ll come at all.

The needle glints in the glaring overhead lights of the basement, sinister and clinical.

You wrench at your restraints, but you’re stuck, frozen in place.

The man in the hoodie holds you still while the man from the alley stabs the needle into your arm, slowly injecting you with its malevolent contents.

You try to fight, try to free yourself, but you can feel yourself quickly becoming sluggish. Your limbs are heavy, stiff from the dose of the paralytic.

You can only watch, frozen, as they cut your ropes away. Tears trickle down your cheeks, but you can’t so much as flick a finger.

You’re helpless. Completely at their mercy.

You’re laid out on the dirty stone floor without any decency or preamble.

The man from the alley laughs as he cuts your pants away from you, laughing at your tears and the sight of your shame. He leans towards you, close enough that you can smell the beer he drank while waiting for the paralytic. “You’re going to love this, doll.”

You stare at the ceiling, crying as you try to will your useless limbs to move --to fight.

You jerk upright, breathing hard.

You’re in your room, lonely and terrified in your bed. The darkness around you feels oppressive, like it’s choking you.

You try to calm yourself, to still the tremors in your hands. You use your powers to draw more air into your lungs, to try and quiet your nerves.

You can still smell the beer on his breath...

You can still feel your limbs going numb...

You bolt out of your bed and fling open the door --screw anyone who complains about the noise. You dart down the hall, skidding to a stop in front of Piotr’s bedroom door. You rap your knuckles at the door, trying to stay upright while your knees knock together. “Piotr! Piotr!”

A light flicks on his room, the glow creeping out from around the edges of the door. There’s the thud of footsteps --too light for him to be in defense mode--and the door swings open to reveal Piotr’s confused, sleepy face. “Zdravstvuyte? Hello?” You must look worse than you thought, because the exhaustion drains from his face in seconds. “Myshka, what is it?”

“I had a nightmare,” you whimper.

Piotr ushers you into his room, closes the door behind him, and kneels in front of you. “It’s okay. You’re safe. They can’t reach you here.”

You sniff and slump against him. “I dreamed that you didn’t get there in time, and that they injected me with the paralytics, and--”

Piotr wraps his arms around you and holds you against his chest. “Sh, lyublyu, it’s alright. You’re safe, I’m here.”

You wipe your eyes with the back of your arm. “Can I stay with you tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

You hadn’t asked earlier to avoid making him feel awkward. Piotr was such a stickler for rules and ‘appropriate behavior,’ and you had no doubts that he would consider sleeping in the same bed --especially since your relationship was still fairly young--to be inappropriate, to say the least.

However, he doesn’t so much as hesitate when you ask. He simply presses a kiss to the top of your head and whispers, “Of course, dorogoy. All you had to do was ask.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and let him carry you to --and set you on--the bed.

There’s bit of shuffling as Piotr finds a pillow for you, and then he shuts his bedside lamp off and lays down next to you.

You wiggle across the bed until you’re pressed up against him.

Rather than mind the invasion of his space, he simply winds his arms around you, holding you against his large, muscular body. “I would’ve have offered earlier, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You can’t help but smile at his sweetness. “Well, I would’ve asked earlier, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Politeness gets you nowhere.”

He huffs out a soft laugh and runs his fingers through your hair. “You don’t mean that.”

No. You really don’t.

Rather than admit defeat, you opt to trace your fingers over his chest. He’s wearing a loose t-shirt, exposing his collarbone and the tops of his pecs. His skin is warm and soft under your fingertips.

Something in the back of your mind registers satisfaction at the shuddering gasp you pull out of him when your fingers graze over his collarbone, but you’re too tired to let the thought manifest past that.

By all means, it’s really soothing. Piotr’s fingers playing with your hair, his comforting embrace and warmth, the way his skin feels under your fingers. It’s almost enough to lull you into sleep, save for one nagging thought--

You tilt your head back to peer up at him. Piotr’s face is near indiscernible in the dark, but you can make out the shadowy outline of his features and the soft glint of his eyes. “What happens if I have another nightmare?”

“I will wake you up and comfort you.”

That --the promise that you won’t be left to suffer alone--is enough to finish calming you down. You close your eyes, lay your head on his chest, and let yourself fall back asleep.

You wake up --but not in the place you fell asleep in.

You’re in your room --not the one at Xavier’s, but in your old room, back in the middle of nowhere.

You bolt out of bed and race to the door. You yank and pull on the handle, but it doesn’t budge.

You try the windows next. You rip the curtains away, only to find that you’ve been sealed in. The windows are boarded over; not even a trace sunlight peeks into your room --your cell.

You pound your fists against the walls, desperate to find a way out. “Help me! Please, help me!”

A bright light floods the room, seemingly from nowhere. Someone grabs your shoulders--

“Y/N!”

You jolt awake, mid-scream.

Piotr is holding you by your shoulders, expression pinched.

Oh. That’s right. You’re in Piotr’s room. Not at home.

The relief hits you like a brick to the chest, and you start crying.

“Oh, myshka, what happened?”

“I dreamed was back home, trapped in my room.”

His arms slid underneath you and lift you off the bed. “It’s alright, love. I’ve got you.”

You draw in shaky, uneven breaths as you press your forehead against his shoulder. “I know. I’m just happy that I’m here, instead of stuck back there.”

“So am I, lyublyu. So am I.”

You sit at one of the many window seats, staring out at the cool, rainy day. Normally, a view like this --gray skies and damp grass--would leave you in a foul mood. Today, however, you were simply grateful to be seeing it.

It was horrifying to think that if Piotr hadn’t started looking for you, or if you had left your phone at the mansion, or if the bounty hunters had turned it off, or --a thousand other things, who knows. Point stands, you would be on your way back to your parents, never to see Piotr or the other X-Men again.

Or, maybe you wouldn’t have been underway to see your parents by now. Maybe the bounty hunters would’ve kept you in the basement, torturing you however they pleased.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t hear Piotr sneak up behind you. You shriek as he lifts you off the seat and spins you in a circle.

“ Zdravstvuyte, myshka.”

You can’t help but smile at him as he settles you into his arms, bridal style. He’s in defense mode, which makes things a little uncomfortable, but you don’t mind. “Hey, yourself. I didn’t heart you coming.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I was lost in thought.”

“Good thoughts, I hope?”

Your smile fades. “Not really, no. I was just thinking... what would’ve happened if I hadn’t had my phone on me...”

Piotr’s grip on you tightens. “Easy, dorogoy. There isn’t much to be gained by those thoughts.”

“I know. It’s just kind of horrifying.”

He kisses you gently, then carefully sets you on your feet. “You need distraction. Have you had lunch yet?”

“No.” You intertwine your fingers with his --a near impossible task when he’s in defense mode, but you manage. “But, I can think of a couple other things if you really want to distract me.”

He ducks his head and chuckles. “Perhaps another time, myshka. Skipping meals is not healthy.”

You smile and let him lead you out of the library and in the direction of the kitchen. “Of course. Heaven forbid we mess up our meals.”