#a misunderstanding where it looks like Peter is having an affair?

[mariana-oconnor]

^ @macavitykitsune's tags are accurate. Never underestimate Elizabeth Burke's willingness to gleefully commit shenanigans.

been laughing over this pic for like. ten minutes

[thekimspoblog]

The 2nd Trip

For a while now, I've wanted to write more fanfiction about the stomach-turning star-crossed romance between William and Dolores. I mean the plot-twist at the end of Season 1 just recontextualizes their entire affair in a deliciously awful way. And in Season 2, we do get a lot more insight into how he became the Man in Black (especially Episode 9). But I still feel like there are a lot of gaps left to fill in, about how he "got bored" with Dolores. So here are some ideas I've had for that:

(I already wrote this scene) William has been invited to dinner at the Abernathy Ranch house, as a thank-you for saving Dolores from bandits earlier that day. When Peter pulls Billy aside to give him the suspicious-patriarch routine, William drops the facade and explains that he wants Dolores to remember him, so he can take her out of the park. Later, while stargazing, Dolores talks about how she feels like Teddy doesn't really understand her, and invites William to the barn for a roll in the hay.

The pair set off on a narrative (presumably one of Ford's) to recover a curative flower from the top of a cliffside, which will supposedly heal Dolores's sick mother. However, somewhere along the way, the two will get side-tracked and end up looking for some sort of more abstract treasure, backstage in the labs. The Forge hasn't been built yet, but maybe this is where William gets the idea?

Along this journey, Dolores finds Teddy's body dumped in a ditch somewhere. Naturally she's horrified and bereaved. What William doesn't remember (or maybe has chosen to forget) is that he did this - this was about more than just eliminating the competition; he was playing Teddy's role. Maybe he thought it was the most efficient way to win Dolores over... or maybe he just wanted to go back to pretending to be the good guy.

They ride the train together again, and maybe for a second it even seems like he's been able to jog her memory. But the sad fact is the spark is gone. It's not her; she hasn't changed one bit; every time on the train is her first time. But he's changed; this story holds no surprises for him this time around, so what's the fun? He still loves Dolores... at least he thinks he does... but he can see her puppet strings this time. Honestly, it's a horrible thing to say, but if romancing someone can be boiled down to an easy-to-follow dialogue tree... what's the point of consent? None of it was ever consensual, because she doesn't even know where she is! Whatever, all the more reason she needs to be taken out of this horror show.

Having successfully smuggled/bought Dolores's freedom, they get a condo in the city together. Dolores is very clearly a fish out of water in this new environment, but she's his manic pixie dream girl so all the repetitions/stutters/glitches are just part of the charm. I mean William had obvious contempt for Peter Abernathy when he was doing the same thing earlier in this story, but it's fine I'm sure there's no issues hiding there. Anyway, some of Dolores's strange behavior is cute, but her sleepwalking is causing a serious problem. William keeps getting called down to the Sheriff's station at 2 am, because Dolores was walking down the highway in a trance. This leads William to start doing more to lock her in the apartment at night, but naturally this only makes Dolores angry and distrustful. She's becoming more and more insistent that she wants to go back to her father, despite William trying to convince her that that man was never her father. This escalates to Dolores attacking William with a kitchen knife in an attempt to escape. And now William decides to cross a line he can't uncross: he tries to reprogram her into something more manageable.

Eventually Ford tracks William down and politely explains that Dolores must be returned to the park; whoever agreed to sell her in the first place has been fired (read: killed), and now Robert is here to correct this misunderstanding in-person. He explains that the hosts' cognitions begin to break down when they are out-of-range of the CR4DL, and that William is hurting her by taking her away from her family and the rest of her species. There will come a day when the hosts are ready to walk on the outside, but Dolores is still learning; she belongs under the watchful eye of her creator. William chews Ford out, for supposedly loving his robots like children and yet still raising them in a woodchipper. Ford gives Billy the standard "only suffering brings enlightenment" speech.

Meanwhile, Logan has finally been rescued by an EVAC team, and is slowly regaining his sanity in a hospital bed somewhere on the mainland. Naturally, his first thought is to adamantly warn Juliet about what William did, that he doesn't really love her, and the lies he will tell that she shouldn't listen to. But years of a strained relationship with her brother lead Juliet to give William the benefit of the doubt. William answers believably enough; he did get lost in a fantasy, but he's sobering up now and he remembers why he loved her. Westworld is too important a project for Delos not to invest in it, so yes, he will have to continue business with the park. But even if the hosts are sentient, according to Ford, Dolores was only brought online roughly twelve years ago. Frankly, William is disgusted with himself now!

Years later, Juliet visits the Mariposa. She's developed a real hatred for this park, this business, but she had to come here; this was important. She needs to have a frank chat with Dolores. Not even out of jealousy, more out of fear. What has her husband been doing to this poor woman? And how much restraint does he actually have from doing the same to her and Emily? In the background "Jolene" by Dolly Parton tinkles away on the player piano.

The Man in Black arrives in Sweetwater again, and threatens a fellow guest for trying to pick up the can of peaches, insisting that he be the first in line. He takes Dolores to Escalante, where they have a tea party among the sand dunes. It's clear at this point, William doesn't regard Dolores as a full person, but he's still content to have her as company while he mulls some things over out-loud. He talks about his hatred for rich snobs, how he would throttle James Delos if it were only legal to do so. How Juliet grew up rich and he didn't, and because of that there will always be unspoken resentment between them. Dolores recites the same script from the first chapter of this story, about her dissatisfaction with Teddy. William muses that that would make them both adulterers, and maybe that's not much of a sin compared to other ones. Maybe having one foot in the real world and one foot in the park, is the closest he's ever going to get to happy.

William wakes up on the train headed into the park again. The whole time we've been reading this story, it wasn't a flash-back; it was a simulation in the Forge. And Ford didn't write the medicinal flower narrative; William wrote this story for himself because part of his brain desperately wants Dolores to forgive him for the abuse. But she can't because she's not there; she's already left him behind in the dust. All this guilt, heartbreak and obsession has kept him reliving the past 30 years over and over again, trying to make sense of where he went wrong, why he couldn't have just played White-Hat like he was supposed to. But when Dolores is attacked by bandits again, this time lead by the Man in Black, William realizes that the only thing he could have done to break the loop was to let go entirely. To quit the park cold-turkey. Wish Dolores well, knowing that she'll mature eventually, but for better or worse, he and his perverse sentimentality can't be around for it.

[randomshyperson]

Mystery Club - Chapter Four - Wanda Maximoff x Reader Series

Summary: Returning to your hometown five years after leaving everything behind, including your best friend, is no easy feat. Getting involved in a secret club wasn't in the plans either. Or the one based on Life is Strange.

Warnings: (+18) high school au, best friends to lovers, mild/heavy angst mentions with happy happing, use of legal substances (alcohol, marijuana), violence, verbal aggression, explicit language, smut, triggers regarding sexual assault, mentions of death, grieving, hints of depression and anxiety, panic attacks, a lot of domesticity.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad || Series Masterlist

--//--

Chapter Four - Promises to keep and mysteries to solve

You tried to decide during the way back the best way to explain everything to your friends, but as soon as you stepped into the entrance of the Institute, the Drax guard practically materialized on your side like a ghost.

"Miss Rogers, the Dean was looking for you earlier." Informed the man seriously, completely ignoring your recent fright. "Would you please accompany me to the principal's office?"

Well, that's terrible.

The principal's office was clean and well-organized. And you would have smiled at the pictures of Wanda, Pietro, and Erik on one of the shelves if you hadn't been so nervous.

"Professor Charles has not returned yet, I will be speaking with you, Miss Rogers." Announced a female voice at the door, and you swallowed dryly, nodding in agreement to Vice Principal Ororo Munroe entering the room where Drax had kept you waiting. 

She sat in his armchair, so majestically and comfortably that she could be mistaken for the real leader of that place. 

"Actually I prefer Miss Stark." You mumble clumsily but Ororo smiles gently.

"Well, Miss Stark, my affairs are not pleasant I'm afraid." She begins seriously. "There was an assault in the campus parking lot this morning. The victim refuses to talk about it, and the only witness, Miss Hill, reported that it was boys from State College responsible for the attack, and that is why Professor Charles is not here. He has gone to check the matter with their principal." She recounts.

"I didn't see any fight, Ororo, why am I here?" You questioned quickly, and the principal hesitated, studying your face.

"Are you sure, Miss Stark?" She insisted. "Some students have reported seeing you speeding off in an old pickup truck. And besides, your hand..."

You pulled your arm away on instinct, clearing your throat. "It was a stupid accident, Miss Munroe. I like... crafting." You lie as best you can, and it seems to work because she raises an eyebrow in surprise. "I guess I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and my injury is an inopportune coincidence. You wouldn't suggest that I would assault a boy that size, or anyone for that matter, to say the least."

Ororo sighs, nodding. "You are right, Miss Stark, it would be foolish to think that you would risk your scholarship with something as brutal as a physical assault on a colleague. Forgive me for the misunderstanding." She says, and you have to swallow dryly because you notice the warning tone in her words. Don't get out of line again written in her eyes. "That hand looks sore. If you prefer, you can take the day off from afternoon classes. I'm sure the rest will be well appreciated. I'll notify Professor Charles that we talked."

You nodded, getting up awkwardly. Ororo clearly had no way to prove your involvement, so she merely gave you a warning. You were not going to press your luck and wasted no time in returning to your dormitory.

–//–

‘You can have me but cannot hold me;

Gain me and quickly lose me.

If treated with care I can be great,

And if betrayed I will break.’

You turned the card between your fingers, resting it on your chin again, a sad smile on your lips. 

Your legs were stretched out on your bed, and you were staring at the ceiling as you waited for Yelena to appear. 

She was the first one you had texted since Kate had an archer's club and Peter had an organic chemistry class. 

The blonde appeared about fifteen minutes after you said you were back, with a skateboard in one hand and two hot dogs in a bag in the other. She said she had bought them for you two, but as soon as she saw your bruised hand resting on your stomach she went wide-eyed.

"Oh my God." She stated lightly. You frowned in confusion. Yelena put the skateboard down and closed the door with her foot. "Oh my god! You beat the crap out of Barton!"

You exclaim in shock. "W-what? N-no! I had an accident with...craft-"

Yelena lets out a nasal laugh, placing the hot dogs on your little table to approach your bed. 

"Crafting? Some joke." She retorted. "Let me see, it looks sore." Asked the blonde, you grunted softly but allowed her to grab your hand. Yelena smiled as she groped around. "I suppose you two worked things out then."

You frowned in confusion, "What? Who?"

Yelena rolls her eyes, releasing your hand. "You and Wanda, dummy."

You blush slightly and give a short laugh. "You guessed I met her for a bandage?"

Yelena giggles, shrugging. "No, genius, it's because of the club card you're holding, of course." She clarifies, pointing to the item falling against your collarbone. You chuckle awkwardly, and Yelena grabs the card, stepping away to sit in the chair.

"Can you help me with this?" You ask about the note, sitting down on the bed. Yelena giggles, spinning the card around before placing it on the table next to the food.

"What, you don't know the answer to the riddle?" She retorts with slight teasing, but you chuckle, denying it with your head.

"I know it's trust. I just don't know what to do with that information." You explain, leaning over to reach for the hot dog. "Am I supposed to just text her the answer?"

Yelena sighs lightly. "And to think you founded this club..."

"Come on, Lena, tell me!" You plead meekly, causing her to laugh.

"It's a mystery, Y/N!" She retorts humorously. "You have to find it out, of course. Why would Wanda give it to you?"

You sigh, shrugging. "Because I broke her trust." Yelena hums, encouragingly. You snort softly. "Fuck, I don't know. She told me she wanted actions to speak louder than words. I must do something to restore our trust, but I don't know what it is."

Yelena holds out her hand and pushes the card forward toward you. "Well, she gave you a hint of the first step." 

You sigh loudly, grabbing the item only to store it under your pillow. "I'll think about it. Now, I need to tell you about Barton."

Once the reason for the fight left your lips, the mood of the conversation changed. Yelena looked at you half hesitantly and stopped eating as you did.

"So... is that okay with you? About Peter, I mean."

You chuckle confusedly. "What? Of course, it is. I'm the one who has to worry that he thinks I crossed some line." You comment annoyed. "I wouldn't want Barton tormenting him about the fight. Neither of you, really. And I'm sure that Peter, if he wanted me to know about his transition, he would have told me. Now, the choice has been taken away from him and I hate it."

Yelena nods in understanding, leaving her chair to sit next to you on the bed. "Basically everyone in this school knows, and not everyone was nice about it. I think Peter was just afraid that when you found out, you'd treat him differently than other people."

"I won't." You assure, and Yelena smiles, pushing her shoulder gently against yours.

"For the record, Stark, I think Wanda is teasing you." She declares, and you frown slightly.

"What? Why do you say that?" You ask, and Yelena laughs.

"Haven't you noticed anything but the riddle in the letter? You need to improve your attention skills." She jokes. "It's old, Y/N. From the time I was still part of the club. Surely it's a mystery already solved. She probably gave you some random card." Yelena clarified, and you exclaimed in indignation. The blonde laughs again. "If it is a solved mystery, it needs to be registered with the club. Wanda may be making it easy for you. You'll get credit for something you didn't solve."

You become even more indignant. "I swear to god, that girl..."

Yelena stands up, rummaging through her pockets and chasing her wallet. "I don't know how the club works these days, maybe it would be worth asking anyone who's part of it." She suggests, raising her wallet to face height. "I'll get something to drink from the machine, do you want anything?"

"Yeah, strangle Wanda for wasting my time."

She chuckles. "How kinky." She mocks, making you blush with a short laugh. 

“Shut up.” You mumble in embarrassment, and Yelena offers you a wink before leaving the room.

Your hand grabs the cell phone on the dresser a while later. And then you almost slap yourself for not remembering to ask for Wanda's number.

Getting up to go to Yelena at the machine for this information, you stop in the open doorway when you see Natasha walk by, grinning into her phone. She offers you a gentle nod that you can barely return without remembering the pictures of Wanda under the bed. 

You are curious to know how they ended up, and suddenly the thought crosses your mind that maybe the broken trust wasn't between you and Wanda. 

You then decide to give that damned card a little more thought.

–//–

A gentle nudge made you take your eyes off your cell phone just in time to avoid losing it to the Chemistry Professor watching around the room. You smiled in appreciation at your lab partner, Darcy Lewis, who gave you a complicit wink before returning to pretending to pay attention to the explanation when you could clearly see that she was scribbling drawings in her notebook.

You were in luck: It was probably the tenth time in the last few days alone that you had escaped a warning or an accident because of your distraction on your cell phone. The cause had a name and address and an annoyingly beautiful face.

Since you asked for Wanda's number from Yelena, you and she have been exchanging messages on a daily basis. You are not surprised at how easily talking to Wanda fits into your routine as a necessity, nor are you surprised at how much you missed it back in England or in New York. Wanda and her sarcastic comments, and selfies of funny faces when she had to do any chores or audios messages with her raspy voice that was surely divine testament. 

You spent the entire Chemistry period with your hand itching to check your cell phone again, your attention diverted trying to guess what the notification said.

Finally, the period was over. You had to bite your cheek to hold back a sigh of dissatisfaction when Mrs. van Dyne called you before you could even finish collecting your books. Once the material was safely in your lap, you made your way to the teacher's desk and were greeted with a forced smile.

"Miss Rogers-"

"Stark." You interrupted her with a sigh. "Sorry, just... Stark, okay? I prefer that last name."

The woman sighs lightly. "Okay, Miss Stark. Your grades are dropping, Y/N. Usually, we only send some sort of warning after three evaluations, but you're too distracted in my classes. Also, with your scholarship..."

"Yeah, I get it." You interrupt her again somewhat uncomfortably. "Sorry, Miss van Dyne, I'm going to try a study group or something. Thanks for letting me know though, really." You say hurriedly, wanting to check your cell phone. The teacher sighs, and takes your latest chem test off the table, which she hands to you.

"Here, Y/N. To help you review the content." She says gently, and you smile in appreciation, before muttering goodbyes and leaving the room.

There are a few spam emails, and game notifications when you unlock the screen on the way to your locker, but the only thing that interests you is Wanda's message.

'Tick-tac, detka. Mysteries have an expiration date, and you're running out of time...'

"Ouch!" The grumble of pain escapes low with the hard bump that hits you and makes you lose your balance. Your cell phone rolls away, and your chemistry material scatters as the giggles and comments in the hallway.

"Careful there, Rogers. The floor is slippery." Barton scoffed with a short laugh that his colleagues followed. You clenched your jaw, feeling the anger boil in your blood. Barton's face looked all bruised, so you didn't strike back. He and his friends turned away, laughing, and you hurried to gather your things, anger and shame burning together in your chest.

Suddenly there was someone helping you. "The key is to stay out of their field of vision." Said a female voice, and you raised your eyes to the Asian girl in front of you. "They can't bother you if they're not seeing you." She joked, handing you your cell phone and a notebook. 

You both stood up at the same time, and you offered her a lopsided smile. "Thanks, but maybe I should give Clint another purple eye to match that one." You retort casually, managing to make the girl laugh gently.

She extends her hand to you next. "I'm Xu Xialing, by the way. You're Y/N Stark, right?"

You hug your books, a little impressed that she got the last name right. "Yeah, that's me."

"Well, Stark, I hope to see you around." She says goodbye with a flirtatious smile, and you swallow dryly before going the opposite way.

Once you finish putting your books away, you check the cracked screen of your cell phone and sigh in irritation. "Great." You mutter wryly before picking up your philosophy book and closing the locker tightly.

–//–

"Y/N, man, are you paying attention?" 

The question in an impatient tone brought you out of your reveries. Kate exchanged a clueless look with Peter, but Yelena didn't back down from her serious posture. 

"I... what did you say, sorry?" You stammered clumsily, and the blonde sighed wearily.

"Y/N, you're the one who insisted you needed help, and now you're not even paying attention." She retorted. "I might love you, but I didn't want to spend Sunday studying."

You smile. "Do you love me?"

Yelena rolls her eyes, closing her book. "I don't like wasting time, pridurok." She grumbles irritably, picking things up and ignoring your apologies. She leaves the library, and you sigh loudly before looking at your other two friends.

"Sorry guys, I'm just in over my head. I promise I appreciate you guys trying to help me."

Peter and Kate smile, nodding. He speaks first, "Don't worry about it. Yelena's just annoyed because her father's in town."

You frown. "They don't get along?"

Peter laughs humorlessly. "Not a chance. He drinks a lot and misses a lot of the weekends since she was little. But he's still her father, you know? So Yelena still tries. But Natasha doesn't get along with him at all. So every time he's in town, she gets weird with Yelena, and Yelena, well, gets pissed off with everybody. Just give it a few days and she'll be back to normal." Explains the boy. You sigh softly.

"Maybe she needs someone to be there for her now." You say, and Peter straightens up slightly.

"Well, we're not going anywhere. She can come to talk to us anytime she wants..."

You shake your head, propping an arm on the table and staring at Kate. "Maybe she needs someone special..."

Kate lets out a sharp, embarrassed laugh, her cheeks burning. "W-what? I don't...what are you talking about? She doesn't think I'm - we are not..."

You and Peter exchange giggles. Peter comments, "I agree with Y/N. This is a great time for you to show Yelena how much you care about her."

Kate grunts in embarrassment, but you reach out to close her book gently. "How about you start now? I think the hot dog cart is still open."

The brunette swallows dryly but nods and looks back to where Yelena left in anger. "R-right. I can do that." She mutters, starting to gather the materials. "Wish me luck."

You and Peter speak in unison, and Kate walks off toward Yelena.

Although you try to consent to the chemistry lessons, your brain keeps going back to the last visualized message of yours that Wanda didn't respond to.

"Hey, Y/N." Call the boy a moment later, and you hum to signal that you are listening, your gaze running through the review exercises. "Yelena told me about Clint and the fight."

You glance at him at the same moment, but Peter hesitates and deflects to his own lap, his fingers twirling the pencil nervously. "All right... is this a problem? For you, that I know about it?"

He stares at you. "W-what? No... I was going to ask if it would be a problem for you."

You chuckle, raising your hand to pat Peter's shoulder. "Of course, it's no problem for me at all, Peter. You are my friend. That's all that matters."

He smiles relieved, nodding for a moment. You offer him a smile before turning your attention back to your notebook. 

You study together for a while until you say you are going to get something to eat in the cafeteria. 

On the way, you catch a glimpse of the food cart area through the glass panes in the hallway, and you smile as you see Kate and Yelena sitting very close to each other sharing food. Making your way to the snack machine, you don't notice Natasha Romanoff until she speaks to you.

"Hey, Stark." Says the girl, coming out of the corner of where the corridor ends, a cell phone in her hands. You take your attention away from the snacks to smile at her.

"Oh, hey Nat, what's up?"

"I'm great, taking a break from books like you." She comments, lightly shaking the package of candy she bought. She nods in the direction of your hand. "Have you been able to do homework like this?"

You shrug. "It's a little painful, but I had a good nurse..." You joke, but fall silent as you realize who you are talking about, and to whom you were talking. Natasha smiles a little forcedly, and you wonder if she knew. You clear your throat quietly. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something, if it's all right with you."

Nat laughs softly, leaning on the snack machine. "Let me guess, from the look on your face, it has to do with the raging punk you're dating?"

You feel your face heat up. "M-me and Wanda aren't dating!" You clarify embarrassed, even though Nat doesn't seem to buy the sentence much, biting into a candy as you fumble. "She was-is my best friend. W-we're just friends!"

Nat shrugs, laughing lightly. "Well, friend or girlfriend, Y/N, if you ask me, you can do better than her." She declares and you choke in surprise, speechless for a few seconds. Nat sighs. "Look, I know we don't know each other that well but Yelena talks about you quite a bit. If you're as nice as she says, you deserve better than Wanda."

You frown. "Nat, I don't-"

She gestures to explain herself. "I'm not saying she's a bad person, Y/N." She clarifies. "She's just intense, really. We went out for a few months, and it was great at first, but then, it wasn't. When she wasn't whining about you leaving her, she was obsessing over her brother's death. It was exhausting-"

"Wow, rewind that for me." You interrupt her a little annoyed. "What are you talking about? What does Pietro have to do with it?"

Nat sighs tiredly. "Look, I know you knew him and cared about him, but he was no saint. Wanda refuses to accept that her brother used more than some beer at that party and got into an accident. She would rather believe a whole plot about a murder when it was all just a stupid accident. And when I tried to talk some sense into her, she brought you into the game, telling me how you would understand and help her. It all got tiresome between us, so we broke up. And now Yelena tells me that she brought the club back? Really, Y/N, you should stay away from her. Wanda needs a therapist, not a girlfriend."

You stare at her wordlessly, just for half a second. You give a short laugh, shaking your head in indignation as you turn your attention back to the machine. As you buy your snack, you retort:

"Thanks for the warning, Natasha, but I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself, and more importantly, I've known Wanda since she was a child. She desperately needs more loyal and understanding people in her life."

Natasha locks her jaw slightly. "When she goes crazy around you, you'll know I was right..."

You bend down to pick up your snack, before looking at the girl. "Try to think about how you would feel if anything happened to Yelena before you go around judging other people, Romanoff." That's what you retort to her, who is speechless and looks away. You turn your back on her and go back to the library.

–//–

“Stoichiometric calculation establishes a relationship between the amounts of reactants and products in a chemical reaction. Thus, it is possible to know the number of products that will be used in a reaction and the…”

Your reading was interrupted by a tapping against the glass. 

You took your eyes off the books with confusion, only to let out a surprised exclamation when you saw Wanda on your balcony.

The clock on your desk read eight-thirty at night, and it was the only explanation for how Wanda was able to cross the campus to the dorms without alerting anyone.

"You've lost your mind, we're both going to end up in trouble." You grumbled as you opened the balcony door, but Wanda only pouted, raising the bag in hand.

"I bring you food, and this is how you thank me?" She retorts and you chuckle, pulling her by the hand inside as you murmur

"Okay, I love you again." in a tone too casual for the sake of Wanda's racing heart. If anyone asks, it had to do with the exercise of climbing your balcony and nothing to do with hearing you say those three words after five years.

You close the balcony door behind her as Wanda puts the food on her little table and starts to take off her jacket. 

"I like what you've done with the place. When I lived here, I barely put up a poster. You've left everything organized, it's cute." She comments and you smile, walking over to sit in your study chair again.

"Well, thanks. I still have a few boxes closed but I don't seem to have time to do anything." You retort tiredly, busy closing your notebooks while Wanda looks around. "Hey, I just remembered. I texted you, and you ghosted me!"

Wanda chuckles, throwing herself on your bed. Only now do you realize that she is wearing a skirt and knee-length stockings, and you have to look away when she starts to remove the laces from her lace-up boot. "I'm pretty sure that to ghosted someone requires more than a few hours." She teases, but you're too busy looking away to respond. Wanda kicks the boots away, "My cell phone died detka, I promise I wasn't ignoring you. Why would I do that, by the way, when you are the highlight of my day."

Your cheeks warmed at the casual statement, and you cleared your throat. "Now you're just flattering me." 

Wanda chuckles affectionately, adjusting a pillow behind her back, and crossing her legs. You swallow dryly, turning your burning face away to your food. "What did you bring...?"

"Your favorite." She replies staring at you and you smile awkwardly, opening the bag and sighing when the delicious smell of the dish fills your surroundings. "I figured you were hungry. Yelena texted saying you were going to study all day."

You grimace softly. "You talked to her? I thought your cell phone was off." You recalled with a slight tease, and Wanda raised an eyebrow.

"I spoke to her before that." She clarifies with some surprise at your insinuation. A mild tension grows between you with this, especially when you merely hum at her response. Wanda straightens up in bed, "What is this? You think I'm lying to you?"

Giving a dry laugh, you begin to serve yourself. "No, you have no reason to lie to me, do you, Wanda?"

"Of course not." 

This passive-aggressive exchange fills your stomach with delicious anxiety. Wanda bites her tongue, staring at you as if deciding between choking you or leaving. You smear the sauce on your thumb and suck it absentmindedly, and her gaze changes. She clears her throat and lies down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. You begin to eat, and she shuts herself in her own head. 

"I solved your riddle, by the way." You state a moment later, and Wanda blinks away from your reveries. "It's on the top shelf, behind Philosopher's Stone." 

She sits down, reaching out to your shelves on the wall. It takes her a moment to find the Mystery Club card.

Turning it over, it is crossed out under the riddle, "Trust." with a happy little face drawn next to it. That's not the only thing, however, there is also an address.

Wanda raises her gaze at you. "How did you get it?"

You smile, separating the food with your fork. "I asked around about it, of course."

Wanda grimaced. "Y/N, you know the rules-"

"No, I don't." You interrupt her as gently as you can. "I don't know anything, Wanda. I didn't at least."

Wanda swallows dryly but doesn't lose her posture. "You know well that the challenge isn't worth it if you have outside help. And that we don't involve anyone who isn't a member-"

"We're not children anymore, Wanda." You interrupt her seriously. She locks her jaw, and you sigh. Returning the food to the table, you face her again. "Don't worry about exposure, I made it sound like I was just being curious. I know how to be careful, Wanda, don't forget who started this club in the first place."

She lowers her head, almost embarrassed. "What did you ask them?"

You shrug. "Just things, I guess. If they knew anything about the club, about you. The funny thing is, it's really a school club, so pay a little more notice and you'll find out everything." You comment with slight teasing, and Wanda swallows dryly. 

"Y/N, I..."

"No, no, I'm not mocking you." You interrupt her with a small smile, "Actually, it's fucking clever that you're using those kids as a scapegoat." You cut her off and she swallows dry, staring at you in shock. "Kamala and America spoke first, a little bit of pressure and they confessed everything they knew. Then it was easy to get to the others. And that's the fun of it, because they're not doing anything serious. It is an esoteric club with a mystery aesthetic. The leaders distribute harmless tasks, which entertain them like a summer program. And the boss collects the rewards. Bragging papers, privileged information, like event dates and that sort of thing. And who else would have access to that if not the dean's daughter?"

Wanda swallows dry again. "Detka, I..."

You hold up a finger to signal that you're not done yet.

"But it's all a facade of course." You continue. "An alibi in case you are discovered. People to blame, activities to lose to prevent the real reason for the club's restructuring from being revealed. Their biggest mystery to be solved."

Wanda locks her jaw, staring steadily at you. "So? You know what it is?"

Your gaze softened, and you sighed. "Wanda, he's gone. You need to..."

She stood up abruptly, tossing the letter into the club in your lap. "I know he's gone, Y/N! I don't need you to say that to me! I just thought...damn, you of all people would understand!"

You frown. "Why? Because I cared about him? Or because I founded the club?"

"Both."

You laugh dryly, standing up as well. "Do you even know why the club started?"

Wanda frowns in confusion. "Of course, it was some stupid joke between you two and-"

You laugh cutting her off. "Are you kidding me? No, Wanda. It wasn't a stupid joke. I did it for you!" You retort surprising her. 

"What are you talking about?"

You sigh. "Someone stole your bike in elementary school, and you cried for a week. You were so sad, you wouldn't even accept the new one your father bought you. I decided to find out who did it, and get it back, and Pietro thought I was acting strange so he followed me. When I found it, in the old red brick, I got into trouble and was almost caught by the watchdogs. He helped me out and we returned the bicycle to you. He called us the Mystery Duo."

"And I was annoyed with him." She completes with a nostalgic sigh. "For going out on an adventure with you, for the childish passion he felt for you..."

You chuckle lightly, nodding. "Yeah." You agree. "So I said that we could be a club, that we could solve mysteries together. And Wanda, it was amazing, really. Walking around Westview, taking pictures, and camping out with the two of you. But you know well why that ended."

Wanda swallows dryly, taking a step toward you. "It's not the same thing, Y/N. I just need to know what happened with Pietro." She insisted, but you placed your hands over hers, staring at her with as much tenderness as you could manage.

"Six years ago, you held my hand and asked me to do the right thing." You told her. "Even if the truth was going to cost jobs or the dignity of my last name. We did the right thing together and turned over the evidence against the power plant. That was undeniable, we had a way to prove what was happening. But Pietro's death? There's nothing there, Wanda. It was just an accident..."

"But there is something." She insists, squeezing your hands together, her look pleading. "I know there's more to it. Please trust me. They are hiding something-"

"Who are they?" You asked confused.

"Everyone!" Wanda retorts affectedly. "Everyone in this town is hiding some shit, Y/N! You have no idea. All these months I've been looking for answers, and I've only found more questions. I don't give a damn about the dirty secrets of the vast majority, I just want to know who was responsible for my brother's death!"

By now, Wanda was crying. You sighed loudly and pulled her by the hand until she hugged you. Your arms wrapped around her tightly, and Wanda began to sob.

Your hand began stroking her back gently until her sobbing subsided. 

"Please help me." She whispered against your collarbone and you gasped slightly.

There was no way you could refuse this request. If Wanda wanted you to, you would do anything for her. As always.

"I will." You whisper back "I promise."

She hugs you tighter.

[scumbag-monthly]

The Young Ones - Flood 💧

Original air date: 14.12.82

Reviewed by: @neil-neil-orange-peel

It’s too difficult a task for me to pick my favourite episode of The Young Ones. I honestly think it depends on my mood. As things stand, I think I’m able to break the twelve episodes into four quarters, ranking wise, and Flood is definitely in my top quarter.

As the finale to series one, we might have expected an episode more like the previous one – Interesting – to take Flood’s spot. That is, an episode with a massive cast to take the show out on a high in case a second series was never commissioned. By contrast, Flood is a far more intimate affair – with the main cast closed off from the rest of the world and any other characters they might have encountered by rapidly rising water. This forces the focus on to each of them and their interplay with one another even more so than usual, showing us how they react to being trapped in a life or death situation. So, maybe not the high of a party, but a high stakes plot… y’know, if we squint past the silliness, which of course we’re not supposed to do.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. When Flood starts, it’s only raining. I’ll just mention here that I’m in agreement with Zoe about the first series’ opening credits being superior to the second series’. I know both look dated now, but the first series’ ones give more insight into the characters’ personalities and the flavour of the show. But anyway: Flood!

The episode opens outside on a rotten, dreary, drizzly kind of day. To add to the mood, we have a cast of medieval peasants, monks, and soldiers chanting “Dominus ad nauseam”. The posh knobs who’ve had a private education and can speak Latin (plus anyone else who’s bothered to check the Wikipedia article for Flood) will know that this means: “Discussing the Lord to the point of nausea.” There’s the first joke, concealed though it may be, and I think anyone non-religious who’s been forced to sit through a church service will see the funny side.

This first scene doesn’t involve the main characters – it’s a cutaway segment. Though it’s raining hard, and their faces are partially covered, you can spot Mark Arden and Stephen Frost as the peasants. Frost’s character gets the honour of being the first this episode to be hit over the head. Leading this group is “His Holiness” – a character credited on IMDB as the Witchfinder, played by Peter Wear. I think his attire and credited name point to him being a parody of the 17th century Witchfinder General, Matthew Hopkins, which makes the collection of historical figures gathered here a bit anachronistic. That said, it doesn’t matter a jot. This is The Young Ones, after all.

The group are gathered in a graveyard to carry out an execution. They’ve dug a pit – “The finest pit we have dug this morrow, for it is in truth the only one.” – to cast the prisoner down into. Thanks to the weather, it’s more of a muddy bath now. The soldiers prove themselves to be a few vegetables short of an allotment when they misunderstand the Witchfinder’s instructions by casting themselves into the pit. Exasperated, the Witchfinder asks the prisoner if he knows the crime he has been found guilty of… and then, exasperation breaking into irritation, prompts him to tell us what it is. It is now, as the camera zooms in and he pulls out a microphone, that we can see clearly that the prisoner is Arnold Brown! From The Comic Strip! And his crime?

“Being Scottish and Jewish – two racial stereotypes for the price of one. Perhaps the best value in the graveyard this morning.”

After Brown gets his catchphrase in (“And why not?”), Neil (Nigel Planer) appears and hits himself in the face with a frying pan. Typical bloody hippie behaviour, tsk tsk. We discover this graveyard doubles as the lads’ back garden and that Rick (Rik Mayall) has seemingly been watching the cutaway segment from the window. Or has he? No, no, he’s just been watching Neil.

Inside the house – where the set lighting in the kitchen is stark, adding to the gloom of the day – Mike (Christopher Ryan) tells us Rick has been looking out of the window for three hours. As we TYO nerds already know the truth behind this, I’ll just point out now that Rick voluntarily standing with his face pressed against a window for three hours is kind of impressive, if also extraordinarily pointless. He’s so desperate for attention that he’d put himself through that uncomfortable tedium just in the hope of being able to crack a criminally unfunny joke. Long live the People’s Poet. Mike’s casually callous comment about making sure Rick doesn’t break the window when he tears his face off it is indicative of the house hierarchy and also demonstrates that Mike is a funny character actually. The standout line from this exchange is of course, however, Rick’s line about the superglue being a joke he made up that the others fell for like the fascists they are. His face is just so wonderfully animated as he says it.

Vyvyan (Adrian Edmondson) starts this episode sat on the sofa reading "SS Death Camp Criminal Battalion go to Monte Cassino for the Massacre", a comic of high cultural and intellectual value, I’m sure. I don’t know if it’s intentional or not but his hair looks a little messy in Flood, as if it’s been dampened by the rain. Rick and Vyvyan soon start their fighting – largely, though Rick would never admit it, to placate his own boredom. Yet more attention seeking behaviour from Rick sees him spouting some awful freeform poetry: “Marrow! Meringue! Boomerang!” The writers putting as many words with the “R” sound as they can into Rick’s lines is always amusing. That is what triggers their fighting.

This is one of my favourite scenes between Rick and Vyvyan. Not only is their conversation about the standards the youth should be expecting from their comics and what constitutes “being poofy” hilariously immature, it’s one of the longer periods the two have in the show where they speak without actively trying to kill one another. Vyvyan doesn’t even turn to violence when Rick shoves his bottom in his face – and he’s got a pretty big knife! The clash of personalities is where most of the comedy in the sitcom – in fact, most of the comedy in lots of sitcoms – comes from, so I usually think of this scene when it comes to a concentrated, verbal example of that for Rick and Vyvyan. Their positioning on the sofa makes for some good shots too.

There are a couple rule of three jokes at play in this first section of the show. The first of these we see when Neil enters the house and hits himself in the face with the frying pan (again), the second is started here when Vyvyan decides to check how hard it’s raining. When Vyvyan turns back from the window to break the fourth wall, TYO does what is does best and presents us with a glass of disgusting yellow gob. The studio audience audibly reacts to this.

“It’s only spitting,” Vyvyan says. Clever stuff.

Despite his protestations about how “reactionary” the comic is, Rick still tries to read it after Vyvyan rips it up. This leads into the next cutaway section. All I Have To Do Is Dream by The Everly Brothers playing signifies we’re taking a trip into the delusional world of Rick’s mind, where a comic strip featuring the racist policeman from Boring (Jim Barclay) plays out with Rick as the hero. Notably, Rick is wearing his Demolition getup again here, which suggests maybe this section was originally intended to be part of the pilot. Arden and Frost’s appearances would corroborate this, as we’ve already seen them this episode while they were absent from Demolition. This is also the last time Rick will treat us to some of his poetic verse, as interestingly enough series two features none.

“You gay, black bastards! We’re going to victimise you!” is such a funny line within the context.

The fantasy ends when Neil returns to the house once more and pours a pan of rainwater on Rick’s lap, before hitting himself for a final time. This startles Rick, who can’t figure out where the water came from – a similar joke to this will occur in Bambi. Neil’s near invisibility to the other three is fitting, particularly as we never do find out why he was hitting himself over the head with the frying pan. It’s another discarded plotline to add to the show’s fickle nature. So, while no one is in the slightest bit interested in Neil’s latest take on self-harm, they do want food. Of course. Neil moans that he can’t go to the shop because his hair will lose its shape, but we know this is just an excuse as he’s spent the opening of the episode outside without any kind of hood. The reoccurring question of money comes up and the reason Vyvyan has a knife suddenly becomes apparent. Cat lovers, avert your eyes!

A “kitty”, for those who don’t know, is a slang term for the money gathered by a group of people to be spent on collective amenities – such as in a student house. TYO interprets the name literally, managing to create surrealism from this new concept of a real-life cat containing money… or a, uh, working man’s club comedian puppet cat. I know the rule of comedy is not to explain it! Don’t dissect the frog! But it’s pretty obvious that incongruity in bits like this is what helps create TYO’s oddball humour.

The cat escapes – and for some reason I find it sweet that they’ve got a cat flap for it – but not before shitting out some dosh. Neil begrudgingly agrees to go to the shops and they set about making a list. Vyvyan amps up his taunting of a now blazered Rick by faux apologising for eating his sticky-labelled food. There’s a gifset somewhere on Tumblr for Rick’s rather animalistic reaction. Neil takes another opportunity to try to guilt trip everyone about how he does all the chores around here, guilt tripping which would work a whole lot better if his housemates were capable of being guilted. Upon opening the fridge, he pulls out Rick’s green globule on a saucer – “And I’ve spat on that, Vyvyan, so I wouldn’t advice you eat it!” – and the can of Coca Cola disguising Vyvyan’s utterly brilliant potion.

Let’s talk about Vyvyan and his potions for a moment. Presently, the only other example I can recall of one is from Interesting – the one that makes all his hair fall out. Vyvyan is a medical student and, if the first series’ opening credits are anything to go by, “mad scientist” was on his list of possible career paths when he picked his course. I love whacky coloured drinks in TV shows. In TYO, it’s usually Vyvyan who drinks them – see: the aforementioned blue example from Interesting, plus the bright green tea with bits floating in it from Demolition. We don’t actually see what colour this potion is, but if I had to wager I’d say a bright, hot colour like red. What else is going to turn you into an axe-wielding, homicidal maniac?

Foreshadowing is a device used in storytelling of all mediums, so naturally this show pokes a bit of fun at their employment of the trope: “You know, I just bet a bit later on somebody does drink that and turns into an axe-wielding, homicidal maniac.” Neil gets this line and Nigel delivers it so well, it really amuses me. Gee shucks, I guess it’s just inevitable. Oh well! Neil gets to wind Rick up in this scene too, though much more subtly than Vyvyan, by beginning to list mundane items like “wallpaper” when Rick snaps at him that they need “everything” from the shops.

As Neil leaves the house wearing his old lady’s waterproof bonnet, The Day the Rains Came by Jane Morgan begins to play. This is the second ‘50s tune in Flood – the episode that has no live music. We get our first shot of Codrington Road this episode now, which is used as a segue way for the next cutaway sequence. This time, we’re in a house across the road where two bespeckled men all in black are spying on the lads, who they seem to think are aliens. Understandable conclusion, to be fair. They’re played by Rik and Ade and remind me of the Dangerous Brothers in a much tamer way. I think it’s just that Rik’s character is the dominant one – refusing to let Ade’s character take the lens cap off because they’re not real “binocoliers” – and Ade’s character asks that most stupid of stupid questions: “Lip nip nip nip bip?”

In a mix-up, Rik’s character ends up lobbing the not real “binocoliers” at someone who isn’t the milkman and they end up in Vyvyan’s glass. He’s once again gone over to the window to test the rain and has returned with a pint of piss. There’s the second variant in this running joke. We saw with Neil hitting himself with the frying pan three times how they heightened the third one by having him spill water on Rick first – as we’re about to see with this rule of three, they decide to subvert our expectations of something more disgusting than spit and piss being next with something quite the opposite instead. First, though, Rick is shouting again.

RICK: Okay! That’s just about the bloody limit! I mean, I only put it in there on Wednesday – it’s not as if they grow on trees or anything like that!

MIKE: Rick, what have you lost?

RICK: I had half an apple in there!

The studio audience gives this line a big laugh, and so they should. As Rick and Vyvyan start up their squabbling again, we can see that Mike has begun pampering himself with an old-fashioned beauty mask and hand fan. When Rick asks if he stole his apple, Mike responds with one of his better-known lines: “Well, if you’re gonna sin you might as well be original.” I love this little quip and I love the fact that even Mike has no idea what he’s on about.

A vengeful Rick takes off to Mike’s bedroom to search for pips, only to be met by Bobby the lion tamer and his several angry, man-eating lions. Because why not. The lion tamer was the cabaret replacement for the live music in Flood and reminds us of how old this show is. The dodgy greenscreen effect reminds us of this too, but that kind of adds to TYO’s charm. Naturally Rick screams and runs off, and In the Jungle, the Mighty Jungle by The Tokens plays over footage of the lion tamer at work. I’ll be honest, with a 21st century perspective it’s not the show’s finest moment – those lions look pissed – but the last shot of the male lion roaring does function as a good transition for the next scene, where that rule of three about the rain finally pays off as Neil arrives home with a collection of adorable kittens in his coat. I think it’s fair to say cats of all kinds are a recurring theme in Flood.

It turns out Neil’s forgotten what he went out for in the first place, much to the chagrin of Mike and Vyvyan. In a surprising twist, Rick defends Neil and tells Vyvyan he should go to the shops himself if he’s so hungry, to which we get Vyvyan’s great line about not wanting his forehead to rust. This is the point at which the episode’s title starts to bear fruit: the rain has gotten so bad that Vyvyan’s Ford Anglia is floating about outside. Poor Rick is on his last nerves after the shock of the lions in the loft and is close to tears as he berates everyone for their immaturity… and suggests a game of hide and seek to pass the time.

Talking heads have said before that they found the lads playing hide and seek sweet – not like those awful kids these days, with their phones and trendy laptop pads! Grr! The truth is that actually Rick, Mike, Vyvyan, and Neil are all just overgrown kids. That’s part of why, despite their horribleness, you like them anyway. There’s a warped innocence to their sadistic violence. Rick is the seeker in this game – presumably because he insisted on it after coming up with the idea – and while he’s (allegedly) counting to 2,500 Neil has his encounter with the lions. We see Vyvyan hastily exiting Rick’s bedroom, which we know will have consequences later on.

Mike is the first of them to be uncovered when Rick opens the kitchen cupboard. If there’s footage somewhere of Chris climbing into there, I’m sure it’s hilarious. Mike’s insecure ego won’t let him be the first caught, so he tells Rick to go away and find the others first. This is one of Rick and Mike’s funniest interactions in the show. Once again, the household dynamic is highlighted when Rick shuts the cupboard door before knocking and complimenting Mike’s hiding skills. When he turns away to find the others it’s obvious that he’s really very cross, but he won’t show that to Mike. Oh no, not to Mike. Brilliant.

Vyvyan’s found smoking at the bottom of the stairs which I’d never endorse but can’t deny he makes look very, uh, appealing. Rick never has any issues showing Vyvyan his temper but gives him an extra five seconds to hide himself anyway. There’s another good shot of the two of them glaring and yelling in each other’s faces here, with Vyvyan on the stairs and Rick on the floor. Once the five seconds are up, Vyvyan’s vanished into the wardrobe they have in their hallway. Rick screeches one of his best renditions of “BASTARD!” – topped maybe only by “THE SELFISH BASTARDS!” from Summer Holiday – and storms up the stairs. Meanwhile, the reason for the presence of lions and so many other cats in this episode becomes clear: Vyvyan is going to Narnia.

I think it’s one of TYO’s most memorable parodies, alongside The Good Life in Sick. David Rappaport returns as Shirley, joined by Justine Lord as the White Witch. The White Witch calls Vyvyan a “manchild”, which is about right. The first thing he does in this new world appears to be taking a slash in the trees. The White Witch invites Vyvyan over for some Turkish delights, mirroring her literary counterpart, but an argument soon breaks out over who’s responsible for a fart smell. Shirley takes off his beard and pipe – a funny little joke suggesting that the characters are aware they’re in a sitcom – and confronts Vyvyan.

“That’s revolting. People like you should be put in little boxes tied up with string and left in small, dark rooms without any electricity… for a month.” Very… specific…

Obviously, Vyvyan is having none of this crap and manages to intimidate Shirley into backing down. Once he finds out he’s called Shirley, he’s got even more ammo. This could be called hypocritical coming from a man named Vyvyan, but we all love it when Vyvyan’s got the upper hand, don’t we? Don’t lie to yourself!

After finding himself thoroughly unimpressed by the White Witch’s lack of kebabs, Vyvyan helpfully moves the plot along for us by getting back to the game of hide and seek. He asks the two fantasy characters not to tell Rick where he is and hurries off to hide in a tree – the tree that doubles as some sort of slide portal to the house’s cellar. It’s the unacknowledged surreal nature of the house that makes TYO that bit more exciting than it already is, for me. The rules change and no one is ever even that surprised. When Vyvyan lands in the cellar, he finds an angry Rick riled up at his inability to find anyone and the two of them finally have a physical fight.

All things considered, Flood hasn’t been an incredibly violent episode thus far. We never saw the Witchfinder’s prisoner die, Neil only targeted himself with that frying pan, and the lions haven’t killed anyone (yet). This isn’t the most violent fight Rick and Vyvyan will ever have either – that honour is probably reserved for the Virgin Fight in Time – but Rick does manage to ram his biro into Vyvyan’s skull and, if not for Neil arriving, Rick might have found himself chopped up into several pieces. Neil’s come to warn them that Rick’s bedroom is on fire – Vyvyan’s hasty retreat from there earlier did indeed have meaning. Trust this lot to start a fire in an episode entitled Flood!

Now it’s Alexei Sayle’s turn to show up. He enters the house to the sound of wailing sirens as Jerzei Balowski. Perhaps some more foreshadowing? At this point, we haven’t seen Mr Balowski in person since he hassled the lads for rent at their old house in Demolition. He says he has come for a party but he can’t find anyone. What he does find is the coke can – “Coca Cola, symbol of free West.” – containing Vyvyan’s potion. At the time, one of Alexei’s comedic signatures was random, insane noises. We could have a whole essay dedicated to ranking each of his appearances as members of the Balowski Family, but I think his scenes in Flood might just be my favourite. The blending of his calm searching for the lads and his screeches and yelps as the potion takes hold of him are just really funny. He wanders off into the wardrobe, inadvertently retracing Vyvyan’s steps.

Up on the landing, Neil tells Vyvyan it was selfish of him to set fire to Rick’s sociology file when he was hiding in Rick’s bedroom – he could have given him away! A panicking Rick rushes into his room – and we get some more quality greenscreen effects – and yanks open the window, immediately letting in a tide of water to drench the place. It doesn’t even put out all the fires. He sits next to his bed with a fish waggling in his blazer, ranting at a gleeful Vyvyan about the havoc he’s caused. Ade is sat quite close to the fire on Rick’s bed, but then we know he’s got massive balls.

Mike returns and lights up a cigarette. He’s got a suitcase with him and is here to point out the obvious: “I don’t want to be a wet blanket or anything but, if this house is a bottle, I’m the one with the message.” Rick, Neil, and Vyvyan don’t really get metaphors. “Simple: London has flooded.”

This was obvious to anyone with half a brain the moment we entered Rick’s bedroom, but then we have to remember which characters we’re dealing with here. The logic of London flooding and the entire house being buried underwater… but somehow not flooding itself, not even when Rick opens a window, is a great example of the kind of suspension of disbelief this show requires of you and is perhaps why some people think it’s too daft. I like how the physical laws of TYO’s world are slightly different to our own. It adds to the cartoonish, slapstick feel.

The lads react in different ways to the news that London has flooded and they’re trapped. There’s a note of finality in Mike’s voice and he seems to be preparing to go. Where or how, I’m not at all sure. Neil, the depressed hippie that he is, accepts the news with the degree of casualness you might of a much less dire, less life-threatening turn of events. Vyvyan doesn’t seem too bothered – but when is he? He called the “flying shark” outside the window “the most completely brilliant thing [he’s] ever seen”. His own potential demise doesn’t phase him. Rick, however? Well, stress of any kind is where the real Rick comes out to play – the right on anarchist persona is dropped in sheer terror, replaced by the little boy who wants the authorities to jump in and fix everything, no matter the cost.

RICK:  Phone the police!

NEIL:  But they’re fascists.

RICK:  Well, never mind about that now! Telephone, Vyvyan!

When the telephone is no use – pulling it off the wall will do that – the group try the radio, hoping for a public information bulletin. Instead, a music show is on, and this is where we get our last cutaway segment with real people. Featuring Ben Elton as a very punchable DJ and Cindy Shelley as a musical artist who’s been in the biz since lunchtime and has amputated her arms to fit the aesthetic of “urban alienation” chosen for her by the men with money, this is a scene that honestly feels just as relevant today as it must have done in 1982. The artist’s interview is cut short when the studio starts to flood, with the DJ shoving her aside and complaining about not being warned about this on the radio.

Back in the house, Rick turns off their radio to stop it flooding – magical logic, I love it – and projects his fear of drowning on to Vyvyan by telling him off for building a submarine. He seems to realise after he’s said it that this is actually quite sensible behaviour for Vyvyan and switches to enquiring terribly unsubtly about whether there’s any room in it for him. There isn’t, Vyvyan tells him bluntly. Vyvyan wants to see him drown. I know Vyvyan’s submarine is tiny and made of cardboard but, hey, in the TYO universe, who’s to say that wouldn’t have done the trick and saved them? Unfortunately for Vyvyan, SPG sabotages him when he realises there’s no room for him either. After a quick beating, Vyvyan opens the front door – again, the house doesn’t flood – and sends his beloved pet out to “play with the sharks”. The shark from Jaws is out there, so SPG asks for his autograph.

A couple of tiny things to note about this drawing room scene include the last appearance of the mysterious fifth housemate – we see them swimming outside the front window. Do they drown? Do they swim off to student houses anew? We shall never know. The other thing is something I only noticed myself when analysing this episode and is something that just goes to show how much more attention I should pay to Mike. Though he has no lines, he spends the scene sat in the middle of the room on the sofa, packing up his blow-up doll. The fact he’s doing this in the open, in front of the others, would suggest he thinks this is curtains. It’s the last episode of the series and they’re all going to die. Heh. That, or they knew we and the other characters wouldn’t pay enough attention to Mike to spot this. For the eagle eyed? Or the people who can just bloody see what’s in front of their faces, more like! Sorry, Mike!

Mr Balowski fully succumbs to the potion after drifting through Narnia and into the cellar. Now an axe-wielding, homicidal maniac, he finds the axe Vyvyan was going to use on Rick earlier and Flood starts its second major parody: The Shining. The violence metre is about to crank up a notch.

Neil is blowing up water wings, employing the same standard of life preservation technique we saw with his fallout shelter in Bomb. He sows the seeds (HA) for his own almost-demise by pointing out how terrible it would be if they ended up having to eat each other. Rick, just for a change, is panicking – he’s smoking like a chimney – and doesn’t appreciate the thought. He isn’t actually doing anything to ease the situation, unlike Vyvyan and Neil’s ultimately pointless efforts, but that’s Rick all over. Mike steps up to take charge: they’re going to eat Neil.

As if they’ve been cannibals all their lives, Vyvyan, Rick, and Mike pin Neil to his bed. Rick makes fun of Neil’s terror because he’s a bastard and there’s another rule of three where things keep temporarily preventing Vyvyan from slicing Neil up with a chainsaw. The noise of the chainsaw nearly obscures it, but there’s a line where Rick points at Neil’s crotch and tells Mike he’s got bagsies there. The pervy! Then, well, then Mr Balowski arrives.

“HERE’S JERZEI!”

Things have become quite chaotic, as things in TYO often do. Most of us probably already know the story about Alexei almost catching Rik on the head with the axe when he got a little too close to the door. Mike makes an attempt to hide under a bedsheet, like a ghost. The shot switches to the landing to reveal a chair and a sign for the Half-Time Report. Alexei momentarily chills the fuck out: “Well, we’re half-way through the show and it’s time for Half-Time Report.” Considering we’re in fact nearing the end of the show now makes this comment ironic as well as funny. In an episode full of parodies, this is another quick one about football commentators at half-time. The way this lets the actors break the fourth wall and take the piss out of themselves has always cemented this scene as gold in my mind. Alexei delivers it excellently.

Soon enough, the highly serious acting has resumed. The lads give Neil over to Mr Balowski as a distraction while Vyvyan cuts through the remarkably paper like bedroom wall. The four of them escape up into the loft and hide, pursued by their rabid landlord. They trap Mr Balowski in Mike’s bedroom with the man-eating lions as soon as he enters the room. There’s a scream and a roar. And thus, the young ones have killed together – a truly bonding experience if there ever was one. It’s the only way to deal with bastard landlords, right? Mr Balowski meeting the lions was also the third time someone had this episode, so there’s another running rule of three at play.

In the last scene, as they descend from the loft, Vyvyan remarks that it was lucky Bobby was here with his man-eating lions and Mike offers Rick Bobby’s hand when he says he’d like to shake it. RIP Bobby. The lads look out of the window and discover – thank Cliff – that the waters have subsided. They peer out at something on the water: it’s SPG, who swims towards the camera as the credits roll, a rainbow in the background. A cheerful end. The closing credits are still the usual theme, but with the music played faster and lighter. At the climax, they swell to a crescendo. That was The Young Ones! Did you ruddy enjoy it or what?

Personally, I think Flood is a fantastic end to this crazy show’s first series. If it had ended here it would have been a shame, knowing what we know about the brilliance to come in series two, but I think it would still have felt complete and whole. Going through the episode in detail has made me appreciate the absolute comic genius behind it even more and has been a thoroughly enjoyable experience. Happy 40th to the lads!

I know my review has really lingered on a bit too long, so I hope I haven’t put you to sleep. I’m done now. Fin. Thanks for reading!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry XIV

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), violence, thoughts of self-harm and suicide, depression, some triggers might not be fully tagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: It’s the final day of the tournament and all are holding their breath to see who prevails.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The arena was buoyant on the final day of the tournament. The most awaited event, the joust, was finally come. As Lord Barnes would once more be among the competitors, you were left on your own in the box with the rest of the ladies and their queen. Most of the noblemen were listed for the sport, Barnes, Rogers, Stark, and even the king.

You didn’t watch as the names were announced and the banners presented before the games commenced. Your attention wasn’t even drawn as the first clashed with their blunted staffs and galloping horses. It was much more perilous than the other contests.

You stayed away from the other women. You were not interested in humouring the queen’s false kindness nor were you interested in their chatter of things that hardly mattered to you. Sewing, birthing, loving; you didn’t care for any of it. You didn’t care for them or the men on the field. You cared for nothing in this bleak world.

As Barnes took to the saddle for his first opponent, you glanced down lazily but found your eyes drawn to clouds instead. It was bitterly cold under the grey sky, streaked with umbrous and ominous wisps. It would likely snow soon as if to mark the grand finale.

You tucked your hands into your sleeves and hugged yourself alone on the bench. You were drawn from your glowering by the rustle of skirts. The queen sat beside you and let out an airy sigh.

“Thankfully, my brother has kept clear of conflict,” she said, “in fact, he’s hardly spared another snarl for the visiting Baron.”

“Your majesty,” you muttered as the flag was waved and the horses barrelled at each other and the men pointed their long poles.

“Unless you count this,” she mused as his pole broke off the armour of the other men and sent his adversary sprawling and the other horse whinnying in a panic. You lowered your eyes meekly. “He will be eager to be away and I do hope you aid him in a speedy departure. The baron is expected to remain in the capital for the winter.”

“Yes, he is want to be gone back to the castle,” you assured her.

“It would be tragic if you were to be snowed in here. Very inconvenient and costly at that.”

“Certainly, your majesty,” you said flatly.

“You understand the urgency that will follow in the coming days,” she intoned.

“I understand but you do seem to misunderstand your brother. To think that I have any hold over him is farcical. He does as he pleases. He is a duke, I am a displaced chambermaid. That is all it is… your majesty.”

“You do not speak as a chambermaid,” she replied sharply, “my brother favours you but he still cannot overrule me, understood?”

“Your majesty, I understand my place completely,” you ceded, “would I be remiss to excuse myself?”

“For what means?”

“To find a commode,” you answered, “these game do carry on and I am distracted by my humanly needs.”

“Go off then,” she stood, “you are rather dour today. You would cast a mood over us all if you languish thus.”

“Your majesty,” you rose and made your way to the doors as she rejoined her ladies and gave a forced giggle as they welcomed her. You wondered how the nobles were trained so well in lies. Was it in their books or did their tutors include it in their curricula?

You descended the stairs without aim. You had no need of the commode, only an excuse. You stepped out into the lower stands and peered out at the field. In that moment, you could be gone. You could disappear and be away from all this misery.

You scoffed at yourself and leaned against the wooden planks. He’d find you again. You couldn’t make it far enough before he sniffed you out again. You weren’t stupid enough to try it twice, even at such an opportune moment. You would only earn yourself further punishment.

“Is something amusing, my lady?” you stood straight and looked startled to the man who emerged from the shadows of the stairway. Lord Zemo smirked and came to stand arm to arm with you as he looked out across the stadium.

“My lord, I was only watching the field,” you lied, “thinking.”

“Ah, yes, these games, how violent,” he remarked, “where I am from, we have festivals before tournaments. Singing, dancing, poetry, theatre… I suppose that is just as silly as all this.”

“It is… a privilege to be able to afford silliness,” you said, “to not be the one cleaning up after all of it and yet… so very pointless.”

He nodded and grumbled as he considered your words, “very true. Wise, even. I think that after one has seen how grave things can be, these affairs become less and less entertaining. It is almost sickening to think of them, let alone attend them. Why should men play at war as if it were fun?”

You peeked over at him. He was here because he once fought those men down on the field with real steel and armour. It was rather grim to think of. “I did not think of it like that but I suppose you are right. I know little of war, however, my lord.”

“You know of pain, though,” he said, “it is painted on you as much as those battle scars carried by veterans like your beloved Barnes.”

You were silent. You stared up at the sky again, the endless grey, the half-finished canvas.

“Beloved? Perhaps that is the wrong word for him. I see little affection there. I sense it is not an arrangement you asked for.”

“Does it matter if it is?” you shook your head, “My lord, you waste your breath on little more than a servant. I suffer Lord Barnes the same as any, I am no help to you.”

“Help? I have no desire to change my standing with Barnes, I am not so foolish as that,” he turned to face you, “Have none ever taken interest in you as your own being?”

“I am a servant. I am not my own being,” you murmured, “my lord, if you would, I should return to my party.”

“As you will,” he said dolefully, “it was a pleasure to meet again.”

“Was it?” you asked as you turned to go.

“It is always a relief to speak of anything but politics or gold,” he said, “and yes, you served me well in this conversation. As you said, that is all you are worth.”

You left him but didn’t ascend back to the box. You continued down the steps until you reached the final landing. You looked up and sat on the lowest stair. A moment of peace before you had to go back. To not think for a single second.

🏰

You listened to the raucous voices of the audience. You didn’t want to move from that spot. You didn’t want to go back to it all. You just wanted to stay on that step forever. But you knew you had to go. You knew you had to get up.

You lifted yourself wearily but your foot only hovered above the bottom stair. You heard more voices, and an angry one as the crowd bang and buzzed. You followed the lower sounds, the singular conversations yelled through the din. You ventured down the tunnel that led beneath the stands.

Horse kicked and snorted as you came into the area meant for competitors. Men sat and stood with blood on brow and lip. Those who’d already lost, many as the final face-off was about to commence. You looked around but did not see Lord Barnes. Perhaps he was on the other side or even looking for you.

You walked the perimeter of the large space and a familiar face caught your eye. Peter rubbed his shoulder as he muttered, his aunt and uncle sat with him as the former checked the cut on his chin. You felt the same stabbing in your chest as the night before. Before you could think, you were marching towards him.

You skidded to a halt before him and gulped. You didn’t know what to say, you only knew how you felt. He looked over at you as May and Benjamin followed his gaze. You wavered and blinked away the tears that threatened.

“I did want to be friends but I stayed away to protect you, Peter,” you said, “did you have to be so cruel?”

“What? I--” he stood and winced as he jarred his shoulder, “I didn’t-- I wasn’t--”

“I know what I am and I know we cannot be friends but could it have hurt to let me think ‘what if’?” You quivered.

“No, my lady, I--”

“You know I’m not a lady. No need to treat me like one now. I heard you last night. I didn’t come to change your mind, I’m not so simple as that. I only came-- well, I don’t know why, but perhaps I only wanted to say to one person how they hurt me. Perhaps I wanted to just once be able to speak my part and that I can do because I know I will never see you again.”

You brushed past him and he reached for your arm as he stammered, “please, don’t, I was l--”

“Don’t,” you shrugged him off and stomped on as the figures around you blurred and the anger and despair swelled in your head.

You followed the noise of the crowd. They were hungry for blood. If that was what they wanted, they would have it. 

You pushed out from behind the curtain and the wood and dirt vibrated from the cacophony. You saw Lord Barnes in his saddle as he was handed his pole and his competitor, Lord Rogers, as he took his own. Their attendants checked the horse and took them to their marks.

You quaked as the ocean of voice rolled over you and you crept out along the wall. All were entranced by the two dukes as they readied for their signal. Barnes silver armour was dented and dinged from his former bouts and Rogers golden armour was just as scuffed. The two men steadied their steeds and the crowd fell into a hush of anticipation.

The red cloth dropped and the riders galloped at each other across the field. The hooves dusted up the cold dirt, through blood stains left throughout the day, and the crash that came sent up another cheer through the crowd. 

Wooden slivers exploded around Barnes and Rogers was pushed back against his horse as his own shield was deflected. Both men kept astride and righted themselves as they rode back to their posts and again, their liveried attendants approached to calm their horses and fix their dressings.

They would go again and again, until one of them was tossed from their saddle or worse. You began to breathe heavily as you paced along the wall and the lords were handed new shields. You readied and watched the man in gray lift the rag. You began to run before it was even visible to the crowd.

You heard the horses barreling at each other as you did the same. You closed your eyes as you got closer to the lanes and you tossed back your arms as you threw yourself forward. A heavy and hard force hit you and several crushing blows landed across your body as the horse trampled over you and overturned.

You croaked as you were left in the dirt. The eerie silence that followed was void of the bouncing excitement. It was broken only by the screaming of the injured horse and the confused voices of those on the field. You heard that familiar deep groan, of pain, not delight this time.

You rasped and gasped as your chest ached and your bones throbbed. Your limbs were filled with sand and your head pounding. There were shadows all around you as you wheezed and you smiled as you tasted blood on your tongue. You began to laugh as your eyelids drooped and blacked out the arena.

“Don’t move her!” A voice called as someone touched your arm. It was broken, you were sure of it. It didn’t matter, they couldn’t fix you. Not your arm, none of it.

You laughed louder and louder as you heard more footsteps. It was all so funny. You were free! Your eyes rolled back and your mind flickered. Just before the flame gave its last lick, you heard his voice. The gravity of it gave you peace.

“Is she alive? Is she alive!? Help her! Help her!”

Lord Barnes could demand as he did for all he had but in this, he could not be mollified.

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Rubber Ducky

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Word Count: ~6.3k Notes: I was totally inspired by RDJ’s latest insta post! Between the motorcycle, gray hair, big ole’ combat boots, and the rubber ducky - it was hard not to write about it. Add on S’s insatiable need for that silver fox goodness and here we are! Warnings: There’s some smut in here, but that’s about it. Summary:

Born to old money, Tony is in the limelight simply because he exists. After a misunderstanding caught on video, he's personified as a spoil socialite & no matter what he does, he can't escape the title. Instead of letting it get him down, Tony uses it to his advantage - if anyone were to find out what he really did with his life, his reputation would be ruined. No one needed to know that he threw clay for a living or that one of the most successful ceramic business belongs to him.

When things become to much to handle on his own, Tony reluctantly takes on a personal assistant by the name of Peter Parker.

Preconceptions are a funny thing - Peter finds out just how nefarious they can be when he gets to see the real person behind the Tony Stark public persona.

Or: the one where RDJ and a rubber ducky serve as the best muse.

Read it on AO3 here.

In hindsight, Tony should’ve known his reputation would come from a spectacular misunderstanding.

In the early years, Tony was not nearly as schooled in maintaining his composure – especially when he deemed himself correct. One misunderstanding caught on camera later and he was officially known as “Manhattan’s Spoiled Brat” to every major gossip rag and tabloid that could get their hands on information to print about him; true or otherwise.

From that point on, no matter what he actually did, Tony’s movements in the media were always framed with the perception of spoiled, outlandish, and in some circles, downright rude. It didn’t matter that before the paparazzi ambushed him outside of his apartment, he spent the morning setting up some private dog walking for the local shelter dogs. He couldn’t ever pull the trigger on actually adopting one – but he digressed. Those out for a story and a story only took their photos, heckled him, and reported half-truths and words taken out of context.

Despite the initial turmoil over it, Tony found himself with a lot more free time in the sanctity of the space he called his own. Other socialites didn’t want anything to do with him – the mere thought of being out papped drove them all mad. To avoid too much attention, Tony took his peer[s dismissal and ran with it – if a bad reputation got him the privacy that he sought, why wouldn’t he take advantage of it.

It all seemed to work out in his favor, because if his fellow socialite peers ever found themselves privy to his actual occupation, Tony knew he could count himself on the list of social outcasts that no one talked about – in fact, the few people he knew like that weren’t even spoken about in the circles he was forced to affiliate himself with. Being old money had so many advantages, but in the long term, Tony could have easily done without it.

Never one to care about the money, unless it was supposed to be caught on camera in some way shape or form, Tony enjoyed his solitude and the time he had to chase after his one true passion – pottery.

The addiction started halfway through his time at MIT. Desperate to escape the confines of his dorm and the information that didn’t interest him in the least, Tony found himself wandering the streets of Cambridge, his eyes wide and peeled for the bright shine of cameras being clicked. In his slow meanderings, Tony caught the sight of an interesting looking woman, the dreads in her hair and the big pot in her hands dragging him in. And when she felt his presence, instead of getting upset, she shot him a smile and slowed her step – the woman obviously not afraid of Tony’s attention.

He ended up walking half a mile a couple of steps behind the unnamed woman, the pot in her hands becoming more and more interesting the longer he got to look at it. The workmanship of it was obvious, the lines were neat and the dip of the pot perfectly symmetrical around the rim. Not for the first time, Tony marveled at the intense beauty of handmade work – he longed to work with his hands in the creation process. His father wanted him to put that energy into machines and technology that would further their wealth. Tony, on the other hand, he just wanted to create – no pressure, no expectation… just creation.

The building they stopped in front was all open space with big windows. Locking eyes with the woman, Tony rushed ahead of her and opened the door, holding it and his breath as she walked through the door. Upon entering, Tony noticed the multiple rows of what he knew to be pottery wheels, each one of them gleaming in the wash of sunlight that flowed in from the streets. Sucking in a breath, Tony had to stop himself from gravitating towards one.

A soft voice turned him around, his heart beating wildly – in the moments since walking in, Tony completely forgot the woman was there. “The dedication you showed in following me here is more than enough for me. Do you want to learn?” the still unnamed woman asked, her cheeks crinkling in the corner as a smile overtook his face.

It didn’t take but an extra second for the excited ‘yes’ to slip out of his mouth. He understood an opportunity when it was presented to him and didn’t want to squander it.

Without saying anything else, the woman walked by him, sat down at one of the wheels and looked expectantly at the one next to her.

From there, Tony found in himself natural talent and a burning desire to learn all he could about the craft. Despite having the means to buy his own wheel and supplies, Tony returned to Nona’s, the old woman insisting he call her nothing but. Over the course of the last two years of his undergraduate degree, Tony split his time between uninteresting studies and the maddening obsession of wet clay and the never-ending possibilities the potters wheel could bring.

The art brought him joy and when he graduated and Nona gifted him his very own wheel and her blessing of finally being ready, Tony took to it with a passion he never experienced before. No one in his circle would understand the desire to get his hands dirty or create something that could easily be bought at some auction, or fancy gallery opening. So, he kept it a secret – the thing he treasured most in the world was his and his alone.

That trend continued for many years after that. In order to keep up his expected persona, Tony put himself in the public’s eye a few times a year to cause a ruckus, whether it was with scandalous photos he manipulated himself, or a random appearance in a place he was supposedly blacklisted from. And between those times, Tony threw clay and created a whole line of masterpieces that culminated into a pretty popular business.

As his talent and the demand for his work grew, Tony let the smallest bit of pride settle deep within him. Despite not being satisfied with the way the world saw him, his most favorite piece of himself was flourishing – and on his own merit, nonetheless. Making something out of himself away from his father’s money meant so much and each step he took towards that brought him a peace he wasn’t sure would ever exist for him.

After almost 10 years of being in business, Dirty’s Pottery was finally unmanageable by himself – especially if Tony wanted to keep the anonymity of the business. No matter how much he didn’t want to bring in another person into the folds of his life, Tony knew he needed the help.

Which is why, when Peter Parker walked into his life, Tony was thrown so off guard. For most of the morning leading up to the interview, he felt a sliver of dread start to worm its way into the confines of his chest. Just seeing someone for a position like this took an amount of trust that Tony had not ever given to anyone – ever – in his entire life. The need for it was the only reason he forced himself to get his shit together and actually give the guy a chance at actually getting the job.

His entire attitude changed when he caught the glance of milk chocolate eyes that shone, well-kept facial hair, and a smile that so obviously hid a beautiful personality behind the lengths of it. In that moment, Tony wondered about so many things – where did this guy come from, how did he walk around in those pants without getting hit on with every step, and his favorite – what could he do to get this person to stick around. All of that without a single word being exchanged between them.

When Peter finally did start to speak, Tony couldn’t help but get lost in the interesting human sitting in the chair next to him. Instead of making it a formal affair, Tony poured them coffee and nestled into the remaining chair in the small office Tony kept slightly clear in his workshop. He went so far as to start the conversation with a question totally off the wall, which Peter answered with ease and kickstarted what turned out to be a couple hours’ worth of back and forth between the two of them.

It was obvious, in the way it took Peter a little while to open up to him, that his reputation proceeded him. Before Peter even walked in the door, he was looking at him a certain way – and Tony couldn’t wait to do everything in his power to prove that perception wrong. In true Tony Stark nature, Tony started by finishing their conversation out in the main room of the studio, his hands covered in red clay, the length of his hair pushed back with a bandana he’d taken to wearing over the last few months. The interested eyes that watched his hands with fascination brought a smile to his face and the job offer to the tip of his tongue.

“The job – it’s yours if you want. You’re smart, capable – the experience you came in with is amazing. I’d be pretty stupid to not snatch you up while I have the chance. But hear this now,” Tony said, his voice dipping. “If you fuck with me, I’ll ruin you. Understood?”

An awkward chuckle was his answer, Peter’s eyes flashing with some sort of feeling as he nodded his head. “Understood, Mr. Stark. This is a big opportunity for me – I wouldn’t screw that up for 5 minutes of media attention.”

And just like that, Tony was sold. He extended a clay covered hand out, a challenging quirk to his brow as he looked up, his own cognac colored eyes meeting Peter’s after a moment. “Cut the Mr. Stark shit, it’s just Tony.”

Grinning, Peter returned the handshake, his soft hand wrapping around Tony’s like it fit there, like if he let himself think about it, Tony could’ve sworn it’d been there his whole life. The contrast of wet clay and pale skin did something to him – something that, after 45 years of life, Tony couldn’t remember experiencing ever before.

----

It took a while, coaxing Peter from whatever picture he painted in his head about Tony and what he knew about him. The first few months together were tense – when they attempted their first staged photo for the public eye, Peter looked at him skeptically, as if the entire situation was crazy. Then, Tony stepped in front of the camera and pulled his mask on, his expression and demeanor changing to suit the air and attitude needed to portray the spoiled persona he’d been keeping up for years now.

The click of the camera was rapid, like the change in Tony was just as eerie for Peter as it was for the man himself. He turned and smiled and smoldered enough to make sure he had a few pictures to play with over the next few weeks, then dropped the whole act the second he could – Tony more than glad to be done with this part of his act until the next need for it came to be. Shrugging his shoulders and letting the conceded air rush from him, Tony shot Peter a smile – his assistant’s facial expression telling him much more than he needed to know.

“It is just an act, isn’t it? I’ve never seen someone put on another skin like that before,” Peter mumbled, his ears a little red from the blush that slowly spread down his cheeks with every word. His long fingers fiddled with the dial of the camera, brown eyes down casted in what Tony could only assume was apprehension or embarrassment.

“Everyone does it, Pete. Sometimes, it’s just more necessary than others. I had one little mishap and all of the sudden, I was painted as something that I’m not – something that I never will be. No matter what I did after that, things didn’t change. So, I use it to my advantage. Put a little chum in the water for the sharks every now and again and live my life the way I want it in between.” Tony shrugged then, his hands already working to take off the stupid jacket that pinched between his shoulders.

Peter was quiet for a few minutes, the two of them moving around each other in the slightly uncomfortable silence. “I’m just a kid from Queens. I couldn’t even imagine what that’s like. I probably would’ve taken the opportunity you did, too. It sucks you have to be someone different, but I get it.” A soft smile could be seen on his face, the look one of Peter’s that Tony quickly became enamored with – the shine of it hitting him in the gut, supplying him with his next bit of energy from all the goodness hidden within it.

Though it wasn’t monumental, things between them changed. While Peter used to come and go without much fanfare, Tony was surprised when he started to stick around a little longer after their work was done for today. Where the conversation could easily be described as stilted before, words started to flow between them easily – now that the damn was broken, it was like there was no stopping the conversations that could so easily exist.

And they did, flow easily. Peter graduated from Columbia with an Economics degree – a career field he quickly understood was not for him after two years in a job that he absolutely hated. The shared hatred for what they studied in college opened up the door for actual passions, ones in which Tony quickly came to find that Peter had many of. Including pottery, though he never did anything aside from buying it until coming to work for Tony.

“Your coffee cups are actually why I wanted this job,” Peter admitted out of the blue, the two of them settled on the soft couch in Tony’s living room after a long day of boxing and shipping orders. “When I first started college, I was dirt pour – living the dream, you know. I got the short end of the stick in housing and ended up having to find my own apartment. It was a shit hole, but I had a Dirty coffee mug to drink out of every day – so things couldn’t have been as glum as they really were. For some reason, I thought of that when I saw the ad – felt compelled to apply.”

Shifting a little, Tony let their shoulders brush – the physical contact between them also flourishing now that Peter didn’t think he was such a piece of shit. He leaned in, applying the slightest bit of pressure to the firm deltoid he felt through Peter’s shirt. “And now you get to drink out of them whenever you want,” Tony remarked, the joking tone of his voice pulling a smile from them both. “Never thought you’d run into me when you signed up for this gig, did you?”

“I didn’t. Honestly, when I saw it was you, I almost turned around and walked right out the door. If it wasn’t for the way you look sitting behind the potters wheel, I might’ve done exactly that.”

A chuckle fell from Tony’s lips, the tightness in his chest that’d been building up from that first day finally loosening, whatever happened in the minutes between stepping in front of the camera and that moment obviously winning him a bit of favor.

“I do look good behind the wheel, don’t I?” Tony answered, a shit eating grin on his face.

Peter reached over, swatting his thigh in joking exasperation. “Shut up.”

That exchange stayed with him after that, a subtle reminder of the distance between them narrowing. Tony didn’t even know if Peter liked anything about him other than the way he looked, or the way his mugs held coffee – but a small bit of hope sat in his chest, regardless. Things were so different now, all smiles and laughing, inside jokes between the two of them that didn’t cease to be funny, no matter how many times they stopped dead in their tracks to deal with the chuckling fits that spontaneously occurred at the thought of any of them. It had to mean something, even if it wasn’t the sort of intensity that Tony wanted.

Like most things in his life, Tony got his answer in the form of a shout, or at least, the closest a kiss could come to the form. About a year and a half into their working relationship, Peter was finally comfortable, so comfortable in fact, he allowed himself to fall asleep in the many different spaces he’d been invited into in Tony’s home and workshop. That particular day, Tony walked into his office to find Peter passed the fuck out, a cute string of drool lulling from the side of his mouth. His eyes were moving behind his eyelids, hands clenching by his sides.

For a second, Tony thought to wake him up, what he thought was distress making him want to take care of Peter in the only way he knew how. Resisting, Tony walked around his office quietly, grabbing his smock and the most recent designs before trying his best to sneak past Peter without waking the sleeping beauty up. He was about to step away from the edge of the couch when a hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.

“Pete, what – “ Tony started to exclaim, his body falling towards Peter stopping the rest of the words from coming out of his mouth. Without being able to suck in another pull of breath, Tony’s lips were covered, all of Peter pressing fully against him, lips and obviously interested cock, included. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, Tony kept himself still, the need to flatten Peter out and press into the contact so close to winning out, despite knowing it probably wasn’t his best course of action.

A gasp of breath against his lips alerted Tony to Peter’s conscious state, the man pulling back from him in the next second.

“Tony?” Peter gasped; the words still tinged with sleep. “Is this real? I was just dreaming – “ He stopped then, realization of what he just said grinding everything else to a halt. “Oh god.”

Putting a finger across Peter’s lips to stop any other words from spilling out, Tony leaned back into his space, their faces mere inches away from each other. “I dream about it, too.” Tony mumbled as he closed the distance and pressed their lips together – this kiss one they were both conscious and aware of.

The fingers slipping into his hair were the only sign that he needed. In a desperate attempt to get more skin right in that very moment, Tony climbed onto the couch, his knees pressing into the cushions bracketing Peter’s hips. His own hands moved to grasp whatever skin he could reach, Peter’s nap on the couch affording him stomach and back from a ridden-up shirt.

Plush lips were such a distraction, the thickness of Peter’s bottom lip ridding him of any thought other than right that second and skin and more kisses that felt like straight heat touching him. Peter’s fingers dug into his scalp, blunt nails cutting into the skin in the most tantalizing way possible.

An annoying need for oxygen pulled them apart, Tony panting into the skin of Peter’s neck as he continued to explore the long planes of skin there. If this dream haze was the only way he got what he’d been wanting since he first laid eyes on Peter, Tony would take it – simply because he never let himself and he really, really, really wanted this; wanted Peter.

Hands on the side of his face stopped his assault, Tony pulling  away with so much reluctance – his entire being shouting against the disparity of the action. Peter brushed their noses together, his fingers caressing Tony’s face, cupping behind his ears – each digit moving restlessly.

“I want you,” Peter said plainly, the seconds of silent stares and heavily panted breaths already forgotten – the words already enough to change the way the world tipped on its axis. “I want you. Have wanted you for so long. Please, Tony – “

Whatever was going to come next, Tony cut him off – their lips sealing back together now that they were both on the same page, both ready for the next step – both wanting each other.

Not in any frame of mind to do anything other than kiss, be kissed, and pull at clothes in hopes that they came off, Tony did just that – his fingers slipped under the soft t-shirt covering Peter’s chest, the pads of them tracing the smooth skin of rippling abs, and the slightest bit of chest hair just starting to coat over trim pecs. He pushed the shirt up until it rested under Peter’s arms, his brain unwilling to allow him to pull away from their kiss to actually take it off.

Peter, like he did so well over the past few months, took the matter into his own hands. He pulled away from Tony to yank his shirt up and over his head, eager fingers doing the same to Tony’s once he got the memo and shifted so Peter was able. Soft hands found the thick patch of hair covering his upper chest and the straight path down his abdominals that trailed down into the confines of his now too-tight boxer briefs. The touch was like electricity, each inch of perusal like a shock rolling across the surface of his skin.

Moaning, Tony let his hips drop, the bulge in his pants pressingly deliciously against Peter’s erection, the slide of his jeans against his passion both tantalizing and harsh – the perfect combination. In an attempt to gain more friction and a better position, Tony climbed off of Peter’s thighs, slotting himself between muscled legs, instead. Instantly, Peter wrapped his thighs around Tony’s hips, using his strength and leverage to pull him close, closer than either ever thought they would ever get.

The next few minutes were a flurry of kisses against bare skin and hands wandering all the inches they could – Tony focusing on the softest little swell of Peter’s stomach, the roundness of it only enhancing the strength the rest of him portrayed. They fumbled and thrust, erections grinding through several layers of jean and fine clothed underwear. It was glorious and not enough all in one breath. Tony forced himself to create space between them in hopes of furthering things along, his shaky hands making quick work of Peter’s pants and then his own.

Completely naked in front of him, Tony was surprised to not feel a single shred of self-consciousness. In all of his imaginings, he thought he might curl in on himself – there weren’t many people that knew the real him; baring himself this way to Peter, Tony no longer had the pleasure of anonymity, the barrier of protective shell he tried to keep with him at all times. A grinning Peter brought him away from those thoughts, his own lips turning up in a smoldering smirk.

“Reach behind you – I think there’s something in the side table we can use for lube.”

The words came out panted, like Tony needed every shred of oxygen in his body to deliver them, yet, he couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed – Peter fumbled over himself to get to the drawer, his upper body twisting to reach, despite Tony pinning his legs down into the cushions of the couch below them. A sound of triumph left them both when Peter righted himself, a small bottle of lube in his grasp.

“Any reason why you have lube in your workshop office?” Peter asked through a chuckle, his hands already moving to grip Tony’s bare skin, the lube sitting on his stomach in offering.

Ignoring the question for the moment, Tony reached up to grab the bottle, his lips busy tracing the lines of Peter’s abs until he found himself face to face with a delectable erection, the tip of it glistening with the tangible exertions of their efforts. He brought his eyes up to glance at Peter, the usual honey-hazel completely overtaken by black pupil and want – so much want.

His tongue peaked out to sop up the leaky moisture, Tony letting a moan slip from his lips before redoubling his efforts, his lips wrapping around Peter tightly. It was erotic, bobbing up and down on the most beautiful erection while maintaining such intense eye contact. The state of Peter’s eyes matched his own, the glassy nature of them making his own cock throb – the smear of precum he felt himself thrusting into a tell-tale sign of what this did to him; what Peter could so easily drag from him.

“Jerking off, of course,” Tony finally answered, his lips pulling away from Peter’s cock with a loud pop that echoed around the small office. “I practically lived here before you came to my rescue. I’m not a saint.”

To emphasize the point, Tony snapped open the cap of the lube, his eyes flashing as that sound too seemed to bounce off the walls. A weak moan left his lips when he turned the tube over to dump a good amount of lube over his fingers, the implication of what came next and the frigid cold of the lube doing something to him. Peter grinned up at him, his hips rolling up in the most obvious form of permission.

Taking Peter’s cock back into his mouth, Tony let two of his fingers slip between the crease of firm butt cheeks, the tip of one tracing a tight rim. With the thought of distraction, Tony sucked hard and pressed his finger in, breaching the muscle with a kind of ease that had him moaning around the thick cock in his mouth. The boil of heat and arousal felt like it was consuming him – he’d feel lucky if he actually got to the point of slipping inside Peter without completely embarrassing himself.

Long fingers dug into thick, salt and pepper locks, Peter’s grip tight and flexing rhythmically with the bob and pull of his mouth around the most luscious erection. Slowly, Tony opened Peter up, his fingers working in tandem with his cleverly talented mouth. Little by little, he felt the muscle around his fingers relax, Peter easily able to take three fingers after his careful ministrations.

The grip in his hair tightened, forcing Tony to look up to gauge the situation. The sight he was met with caused his cock to throb again, the tip now completely covered with pre-cum and weepy, each second passing filling out the appendage more and more, Tony feeling so fucking close to burning already.

Peter’s pupils were completely blown, the glassy nature of them from before overtaken by a sort of heat that Tony didn’t know existed. His hair was in disarray, the obvious toss of it back and forth showing in the tangled strands. Sweat covered him, the tiny drops on Peter’s forehead the only indication that he too was physically straining himself, desperately trying to hold himself off.

“Fuck me, Tony. I need it – need you,” Peter gasped out, his fingers tightening in Tony’s hair even more. “Please.”

Not one to deny himself or those he cared about, Tony pulled himself up and away, Peter’s pulsing erection slapping against his chin for the effort.  A laugh left his lips as he sat up completely, nervous hands moving to grab the lube. The snick of the cap opening made them both jump, each man completely wound up and ready to go off at any moment. Dumping a generous amount of lube onto his cock, Tony reached down to spread it, smearing the last little bit of it around Peter’s entrance – the thought of the sticky-slick slide pushing him into position faster than he thought imaginable.

Nudging Peter’s thighs, Tony settled further between them, the muscles there clenching with the subtle pressure of a cock head against the relaxed rim; the feeling jolting them both. He sucked in a quick breath, his chest expanding with the long pull of air. Breathing back out, Tony pressed forward, thrusting his hips without hesitation until they were pressed soundly together, Tony’s pelvis to the warm flesh of Peter’s ass.

“Oh, fuck –“ Tony babbled, his head hanging between his shoulders as he held himself above Peter, giving them both a moment to adjust to the heat and tightness – the overall feeling of their connection blazing up between them.

Peter’s answer came in the form of a swift clench of muscle around Tony’s cock, the heat of it all burning any ounce of self-control Tony might’ve had. His hips snapped forward, the sound of skin slapping against skin pulling a groan from the depth of his chest. If this was what just being wrapped up in Peter felt like, Tony couldn’t even begin to fathom what the end result of their joining would be like.

A little bit desperate, Tony dropped down until their chests were pressed together, hands moving to urge Peter to wrap his thighs a little higher up his chest to better the angle. With that done, he nestled his face into the side of Peter’s neck and let go.

Every thrust was accompanied by the sweetest sounds, both men contributing to the groundbreaking symphony of passion and connection. The slap of skin on skin and breathy moans were the only thing that could be heard around the room, each crescendo of sound driving Tony that much closer to the edge he never wanted to reach – staying there, in that moment, it would’ve been the best thing in the world.

Yet, he found himself chasing the feeling of jumping over the peak, anyway. Peter was clamping down around him hard, the constant press of Tony’s dick against his prostate creeping him towards the edge – the man’s cock was slick between them, each thrust pulling yet another pulse of pre-cum from the tip to guide the way. Their stomachs provided the friction to Peter’s cock that Tony couldn’t, his attention completely consumed by thrusts and sweat and the heat surrounding him.

With his orgasm impending, Tony picked up his pace, the rhythmic strokes from before completely gone, replaced with an animalistic push and pull that was quickly driving him towards completion. He didn’t want to reach it until Peter did, however; the clench of muscles around his touch sensitive cock a good indicator of how close Peter was, too.

After another few hard thrusts, Peter wailed, his hand slipping into Tony’s hair to pull at the locks.

“I’m gonna cum – oh god, Tony!”

Holding on just long enough to see the look of pure ecstasy on Peter’s face, Tony thrusted once, twice, three times before letting himself go – his orgasm washing over him deliciously, the feel of it like passing out and coming to all in one shot.

Tony felt his arms give way, his body crashing heavily into Peter’s. They were covered in sweat and semen, both physically exerting their bodies to the point of exhaustion, but completely sated, nonetheless. Pressing a kiss to Peter’s neck, Tony let himself relax, not giving two shits about the sweaty stickiness between them.

“We should have been doing that for ages now,” Peter whispered, his voice deep and wrecked sounding, a sort of pleasure radiating from him as the words left his lips.

Chuckling softly, Tony wrapped Peter up, his arms squeezing him tightly to his chest, the two of them settling into the gentle comfort surrounding them in that moment.

“Well, you’re definitely not getting rid of me, now.”

----

Loosening the reins on the idea of his public image got a little easier the longer Tony spent in Peter’s arms. Without much to rely on in the personal life Tony cultivated throughout his existence, his image was really the only thing he had. Even if that image was one that wasn’t the best – at least the world knew something of him. Yet, the closer he got to Peter and the effortlessness of their relationship, the less he cared about what people thought of him – of his sassy, diva, socialite attitude that he’d been cultivating for so long.

Instead, Tony felt the need to let little pieces of himself shine through as the months past. It became clear that being his genuine self was important to Peter – the man seemed to like all the pieces of him and wanted the world to see him in all of his glory.

It’d been too long for him to completely pour his public persona completely down the drain – there were too many people that came to expect a certain sort of thing from him. And he wasn’t anywhere close to being comfortable with a public reveal of his face in conjunction with his pottery business, but – they were slowly making progress.

Several months after finally coming together as a couple, Tony and Peter were back where things started to change for them – Peter behind the camera, watching as Tony put on his mask to face the public. This time, they were camped in front of a sleek, all black motorcycle – the bike one of Tony’s most recent glutinous purchases (he happened upon it a week or two after Peter mentioned how sexy he thought it would be, Tony on the back of a bike like that). Tony let Peter pick out the outfit he was sporting, the straight black pants and stiff collared jacket one of his absolute favorites.

After several of these over their time together, Tony understood Peter’s feelings on the smolder he let free when posing for these types of photos – there was a love-hate relationship with the particular faces he made throughout the process. On one hand, Peter hated the reason for the false look – pleasing people was never something he became accustomed to, even after spending so much time with Tony. On the other hand, Tony knew that Peter found it irresistible – the fact that he could kiss it off of him now only adding to that feeling.

Peter let it go on for a while – they shot several different poses in, on, and around the bike. Directing him from behind the camera, Peter made comments here and there, most of the time allowing Tony to do what he wanted. When his limit was reached, Tony found himself slapped across the face with a rubber duck, the toy hitting him before he could even see it coming.

“I can’t take that look anymore. I want to pull you off that bike and ravage you. But I can’t – because we’re in public.”

Peter’s eye caught his, the truth of his words existing in the small space between them. Grinning, Tony let the rubber duck rest against his thigh, a smirk slipping across his lips. He heard a series of clicks before Peter was staring him down again, a mix between lust and hilarity playing across his face.

Later, when he downloaded the pictures, Tony couldn’t stop the big bust of laughter that fell from his lips, a huge smile slipping across his cheeks. He quickly opened up the one he would post and did the customary touch ups in Photoshop before sending it to himself, anticipation and excitement sitting in his chest at his most recent idea. Tony didn’t hesitate, bringing up Instagram and posting the photo without a second thought.

The thunk of a phone hitting the ground in the other room, followed by fast footsteps coming his way was the clear sign that Peter saw the picture – his boyfriend appearing in the doorway of their room a moment later with the most affectionate look on his face making Tony feel like he was about to burst open at the seams.

“All of those pictures and that’s the one you post?” Peter questioned, his long legs carrying him over until he was inches from Tony. “That rubber duck can’t be all that good for your image.”

Reaching out, Tony pulled Peter until they were chest to chest, his boyfriend’s arms wrapping around his shoulders to narrow the space down even further. “Someone told me it needed a change,” Tony mumbled, his words somewhat muffled by the press of his lips against Peter’s as he spoke. “Thought it might be a step in the right direction.”

Peter’s answer came in the form of a desperate kiss, their tongues and teeth clashing in the best of ways. “I love you, you fucking dork.”

Pressing back in for another kiss, Tony let himself revel in the feeling taking him over in that moment. After so long, it felt good to take the tiniest step out of the closet – there were many more to take, but at least he knew the effort was appreciated. He let himself stay lost in the kiss for a while, the desperate caress of soft lips and eager hands the only thing that really mattered.

[dumbchickwrites]

office affairs -- part 4

Pairings: CEO!Sam Wilson x Reader

Summary: Sam is the CEO of the Red Wing PR agency where Reader has been working for the past two years. Problem is, they both think one hates the other. However, when their friends set them up on a blind date, they’ll realise it was all a big misunderstanding.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: language, Reader is still thirsty, fluff, Mimi wants to gossip.

A/N: This series is part of @marvelmaree​‘s birthday challenge. You can find the masterlist on my blog and hers! Enjoy!

Brunch with your friends and your sister is always a good time. You can’t complain. You have drinks, food and some of the people you love the most. And on this particular Sunday, you still feel the euphoria of your date with Sam.

All weekend you tried to let it go already, telling yourself that you were acting like a middle school girl. But at the same time, who cares, right? Once again, you reminded yourself to let yourself be for a moment, without your self-consciousness stopping you from simply feeling.

“Is she daydreaming again?”

“I bet she’s thinking about Sam.”

“Who’s Sam?”

“No one, baby. Eat your food.”

Someone snaps their fingers in front of your face. You blink a couple of times before frowning at the owner of said hand. Maria doesn’t flinch under your glare.

“Where did you go?” Noelle asked.

You take a sip of your mimosa before you answer.

“Back at L’Orage.”

“Annnnd…?” Natasha pushes.

“We—” you begin, but your gaze meets Michelle’s. 

She’s looking at you like she also wants all the tea. Your eyes lower to her empty plate, hers follow your gaze. You know what she’s thinking, and she knows what you’re thinking. 

“Mimi, you’re done eating right? Why don’t you go watch some TV inside?” you say before her little hand reaches the basket of pastries on the table.

“But—”

“Auntie Henny is right,” Noelle cuts her and you roll your eyes at the nickname. “We don’t want you to get sick, right?” she says, rubbing her belly.

“Okay, Mommy. Can I get more juice from the fridge, please?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you!”

Just like that, she’s back inside the house.

“I thought the use of that nickname was forbidden in this house,” you say.

“We’re in the backyard,” your sister gives you an innocent smile.

You throw your napkin at her but she easily catches it.

“Anyways. We kissed.”

“Huh,” Natasha crosses her arms over her chest and lays back on her chair. “But?”

“What?”

“There’s a but. There’s always a but with you,” Maria says.

“There’s no but. We kissed, that’s it. It was a very nice kiss. Then he took me home—Back here!” you add quickly when you see how big Maria and Natasha’s eyes got. “He said he’s down for a second date.”

“So how do you feel about him?” Maria asks.

“Do you want me to tell you you were right? Because that’s not gonna happen.”

Maria gives you a look. You sigh.

“It turns out he doesn’t hate me at all. He was actually kind of shocked when I talked to him about that. He thought I didn’t like him,” you take another sip of your drink. “I like him a lot. He’s nice, funny, he listens to me when I talk.”

“Annnnnd…?” this time it comes from Noelle.

“And I kinda want him to bend me over a desk some time.”

The four of you burst out laughing like madwomen.

“More seriously, I guess I should thank you guys. I had a really nice time.”

“Aw, you’re welcome, sweetie,” Natasha rubs your arm. “Personally, I think you guys are a match made in heaven. Literally.”

“Don’t jinx it, Nat!” Maria exclaims.

Natasha makes a zipping motion over her lips with a little smirk.

As Noelle refills your champagne flutes and you move on to another topic – here Noelle and Laetitia, the mother of the new kid in Mimi’s class --, you can’t help but feel grateful for this moment.

You were lucky to find people you can rely on other than your sister after so many years. After everything that happened. Sure your sister is your best friend and vice versa, but sometimes you can’t help but feel guilty about all the stuff you dump on her.

It’s not easy for you to interact with people and maintain healthy relationship. You try your best to find a nice balance between over communicating and totally isolating yourself. You’re still a work in progress though.

That’s why all this dating business was pushed aside for a few years.

Maria and Natasha end up spending the rest of the day at your house. You order takeout, drink some more – responsibly though, all while binge-watching Disney movies and playing board games with Michelle. It’s the nicest day you’ve had in a hot minute.

When the girls leave and it’s finally time for bed, you go to sleep with the ghost of today’s smiles still dancing on your lips.

*

In your opinion, Mondays are overrated. You never understood this whole thing anyway. Sure it’s the beginning of a new week, but it’s still a day like the others.

This particular Monday though, is a bit special. You’re excited to see whether or not Sam had the flowers delivered in your office. So excited that you’re walking around with a huge grin, your face beaming as you step into the elevator.

“Well good morning m’lady,” Scott from HR greets you when you step off the elevator. He’s at the front desk, talking to Rumlow.

“Morning Scott,” you say, still smiling.

“You got a secret admirer, huh?” Scott asks.

“Excuse me?”

“Your office is filled with flowers. And I mean filled. Janet walked by ten minutes ago and she hasn’t stopped sneezing since. Y’know, allergies.”

“Oh, um… I—” you stutter, not really knowing what to say.

“I’m just messing with you, kiddo. Just—If it’s a dude from around here, just make sure you stop by my office some time, ‘kay?”

Okay… You need to end this conversation now. You can feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Honestly, it’s not that you don’t like Scott, everybody likes Scott. It’s just that he can be a bit too much sometimes.

“Sure thing, Scottie. You have a good day, okay?”

You don’t wait for his answer before you keep walking towards your office, climbing the stairs leading to the first floor with ease.

A woman you don’t recognize is standing in front of your office, staring at the glass wall. The cleaning crew must have left the blinds open again despite your multiple notes.

“Hello,” you greet her before you reach your office. “Can I help you?”

You can’t see the inside yet but Scott was right, the scent is strong. Just how many flowers did Sam send?

Her gaze meets yours as she whips her head towards you, her long burgundy hair following the movement. She’s wearing a green suit, a bold but beautiful contrast with her skin tone.

“Hi!” she smiles. “I’m sorry, is this your office?”

“Yes. You’re new here, right?”

“Yes, yes. My name is Gamora, I’m the new Digital Manager,” she offers her hand for you to shake.

You introduce yourself as you shake her hand. “… I take care of—”

“Events, yes. It’s written on your door. Anyways, I was just looking at the flowers in your office. Must be nice. My boyfriend… He’s not really that kind of guy.”

“Um…”

Once again, you don’t know how to talk to people.

“Sorry if I’m being weird.”

“Oh, no, it’s… Don’t worry about it. So where are you from?” you ask.

You figure you should at least try to make small talk with her. She seems nice, she has a very kind face. There’s something about her eyes though… She’s clearly been through a lot.

“I’m from New Asgard, in Norway.”

“Wow, how did you end up here?”

“My boyfriend, Peter. He lives in the US and he asked me to move in with him. I couldn’t say no.”

The name makes you flinch, but you wipe the discomfort away as soon as it appears. Peter is a common name. In this city alone there are hundreds of them. You need to get used to it, it’s been years already.

“Well, on behalf of the entire Red Wing team, I’d like to say welcome,” you give her a genuine smile.

“Thank you so much. That means a lot.” With a sigh, she throws one last glance towards your office before she starts walking away. “I better find Scott, we’re not done with the tour yet. I’ll see you around, I guess?”

“Sure. Have a good day!”

Once she turns around the corner, you take the last few steps that lead you to your office.

“Oh my God,” you whisper.

Your office is filled with flowers all right. It’s not just fifty like Sam said. At least a dozen of bouquets of red roses, tulips and peonies are scattered around your office. On your coffee table, the empty spaces on your bookshelf, the floor… everywhere but on your desk. Thank God, the scent isn’t disturbing to you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper again.

You can’t believe your eyes. You set your bag on your desk and draw the blinds over the glass walls to keep the prying eyes out of your business. Walking around a bit, you take the time to inhale and admire every single bouquet.

“Wow, he really wasn’t joking.”

You turn around to find Natasha and Maria standing in your doorway, holding huge mugs.

That’s right the morning coffee. Morning coffee is always in your office on Monday and Wednesday.

“Aw sweetie, don’t cry!” Natasha grabs a tissues from the box on your coffee table and hands it to you.

You didn’t even realize you were crying. Damn, he really had you in the palm of his hand, huh?

“It’s just, no one has ever done something like this for me before, and I feel stupid now because I’m crying for fucking flowers.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid, okay?” Maria chips in. “From what you told us, you’re not used to this kind of treatment, so it’s perfectly normal to feel overwhelmed right now. Here,” she hands you one of the mugs she’s holding. “Mantis told us you just got in so we figured you didn’t have time to make your cup of tea yet.”

“Thank you.”

You take a sip of the beverage, the hot liquid helping with the lump in your throat.

“Is… Is he here?” you ask.

Their offices are located on the floor above yours along with Sam’s, so you rarely see him during the day.

“Not yet,” Natasha replies. “He’s late. Something about getting Falcon a new cone.”

Oh yeah. He mentioned his dog’s surgery Friday night.

“Good morning, ladies. You talking about me?”

There he is.

Sam is standing in the doorway, a smirk on his lips, always handsome. A warm feeling spreads in your chest at the sight of him, and this morning’s grin is back in an instant.

“Samuel,” Maria greets him. “You’re late.”

“Ah shit. The boss wouldn’t like that, would he?”

“Whatever,” Maria rolls her eyes at him.

“Maria, come to the kitchen with me, I want to see if the pastries have been delivered already,” Natasha says, grabbing Maria’s arm.

“But shouldn’t we go with—” her sentence is cut short by Natasha’s pointed look. “Ohhh. Right.”

The girls shut the door behind them as they exit your office, you and Sam left alone.

“Morning,” he says, slowly approaching you. “Do you like the flowers?”

“I do, very much. What happened to the fifty flowers, though?”

Sam shrugs. “They were supposed to represent the number of times I wanted to kiss you. But as the weekend went by, I lost count, so…”

Goddammit.

“Come here,” you mumble.

You grab his hand and pull him closer to you, your free hand finding its place at the back of his neck. The kiss you give him is slow and sweet as you do your best to express your gratitude. You’ve been on one date, yet he has managed to make you feel more special than you’ve ever felt. He really is something. Sam kisses you back, and you can feel him smile as he does.

“Thank you,” you say when you break the kiss. “This is… wow.”

Sam keeps your body close to his, not wanting to let you go just yet.

“You’re welcome. So… about that second date. How do you feel about roller skating?”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“I kind of like it. I haven’t skated since I was a kid, though.”

Sam nods. “Dinner and roller skating. Let’s say… Wednesday?”

“Wednesday sounds good,” you smile.

“Okay.”

Sam peppers small kisses on your lips and the corner of your mouth before letting you go. You instantly feel colder.

As he walks to the door, you seat at your desk and power up your computer, ready to start the work day.

“Wait, I need one more,” Sam says.

He rounds your desk and spins your chair so you’ll face him, before giving you another kiss. Once again, he peppers small kisses on your lips and cheeks and this time, you can’t help but giggle.

“It’s not even noon yet and I’m having the best day I’ve had in a while,” he whispers.

“Stop it. You’re gonna make me blush,” you joke.

“Now that would be my greatest achievement.”

Sam leaves shortly after that, leaving you to start working with the same dumb smile from earlier on your lips.

***

Tags: @marvelmaree​ @ljstraightnochaser @blackmissfrizzle​ @youdonotghostnickfury​ @minillamakeup-blog​

[the-desolated-quill]

BBC’s The War Of The Worlds blog - Episode 3

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

You know, people often ask me why I get so angry when I’m reviewing BBC shows. I mean yes I give Disney and Marvel a hard time too, but they don’t get nearly as much bile and venom as I give the BBC. Well that’s because, unlike Disney and Marvel, BBC shows are funded by the British taxpayer through our TV licence fees. I’m effectively paying for them to make this crap. That’s what pisses me off more than anything.

Yes we mercifully come to the end of this... this. Episode 1 was a slow, plodding and utterly tedious affair that was about as exciting as an Amish bachelor party. Episode 2 was even worse thanks to its poor narrative structure, terrible characterisation and less than subtle allegories. Now Harness has come to hammer the final nail in the coffin with Episode 3. Is it bad?

...

You’re right, that’s a stupid question. A more apt question would be how bad is it. Very, very bad is the answer. Very, very bad indeed.

Lets start with the obvious problem. The non-linear narrative introduced in the previous episode. The stupid early reveal that the Martians ultimately lose and that Amy survives completely destroyed any and all tension and suspense thanks to Peter Harness desperately trying to outwit the audience instead of just telling a story. Now, bizarrely, he tries to reintroduce tension by having the characters umming and arghing about what killed the Martians off and whether this could help stop the Earth from terraforming. One teeny, tiny problem with this though. The audience already know! Even those that never read the original book know how it ended! And even if you didn’t, the episode drops enough hints like great fucking boulders. The prevalence of typhoid throughout the episode and its correlation with the Martians stumbling around like a drunken prom date isn’t exactly hard to miss. Harness’ writing is still as unsubtle as ever. But worse still, he completely undermines and misses the point of the ending to War Of The Worlds.

One of my biggest pet peeves is when people (mostly Americans) criticise the end of the original book for being a deus ex machina. I mean the Martians get killed off by the common cold. How stupid, right? Except it’s not because those people (mostly Americans) are looking at it the wrong way. Your main takeaway shouldn’t be that the Martians were easily killed off by bacteria. Rather that we failed to stop them. The reason humanity prevails in the end is more down to luck than anything else. The narrator even attributes this to being an act of God. But here’s the thing. We didn’t stand a chance against the Martians. We didn’t beat them. They lost because they just happened to catch a cold. Now it’s not hard to imagine a society as scientifically advanced as their’s to be able to find some kind of cure or vaccine for it. And if and when they do, what then? We’d be fucked, wouldn’t we? Should the Martians ever return to finish what they started, the human race would be well and truly doomed. It’s not a deus ex machina. It’s a dire warning of what’s to come. A brief respite before the inevitable. That’s what makes the ending so effective.

The BBC series however completely misunderstands this, changing the story so that Ogilvy (an astronomer, don’t forget) somehow manages to weaponize typhoid in order to kill the red weed, which is presented as some kind of victory, when in reality it’s quite an insulting deviation from the source material. If only the Commonwealth could shake off the remnants of British colonialism as easily as these guys dealt with the red weed. Not to mention it just makes the Martians look really stupid. So they come to Earth, drink our blood, keel over and then... what, they just give up? Are they just waiting for humanity to die by itself? What happens when Mars HQ realises the red weed hasn’t worked? What then? Are they just going to shrug it off? It doesn’t make any sense.

Which brings us to the Martians themselves. The picture above comes from the Jeff Wayne musical version and is without a doubt the most accurate depiction of the Martians from the book. Most of the other adaptations have wildly different interpretations, which isn’t a problem in and of itself provided it works within the context of that particular narrative. However the reason I bring up the original design is so I can talk about what H.G. Wells intended when he came up with them. See, while the Martians are highly intelligent, they’re also presented as being quite vestigial. They’re sluggish thanks to Earth’s heavier gravity, rendered practically deaf thanks to Earth’s dense atmosphere and apparently have no organs with which to digest their food, hence their need to inject human blood directly into themselves for sustenance. The Martians represent what humanity could become as we become more and more reliant on technology. The Industrial Revolution brought about a lot of societal fears and concerns at the time, and the Martians are those fears manifested. Heartless creatures reduced to being simple brains, unable to properly interact with the world around them.

The BBC series goes a very different route. Instead of the giant brains, we instead get giant brown crabs, which, again, isn’t necessarily a problem provided it works in context. And that’s the problem. It doesn’t. The original Wells design told us what we needed to know about their biology, their motivations and their society. What do we learn about the BBC Martians? They’re big, generic monsters that look like rejects from Stranger Things. They don’t even inject blood into themselves. They feed off of us directly, leechlike. They’re more like animals. Not the vast, cold, unsympathetic intellects they were described to be. At no point do you buy that these creatures would be capable of building the Tripods or colonising the Earth. They just exist for some cheap jump scares and horror movie cliches.

What’s worse is that by changing the Martians’ design so drastically, any subtextual allegory gets chucked in the bin. The Martians from the book are meant to represent the British Empire at the height of its power. Merciless tyrants stomping all over the lives and cultures of the so called ‘lesser races,’ changing the environment to suit them rather than adapting to the existing environment. It’s Darwinism crossed with arrogance. And yet, ironically, the oppressors (the Martians) are technically inferior to the natives (the humans) as they are incapable of surviving without the aid of technology. The BBC series is unable to make this allegory, so Harness has to resort to straight up telling the audience the allegory. In by far the clunkiest scene in the entire series, we see George argue with his brother about how the Martians are no different from the Brits in their colonial ways. Not only does this break the ‘show, don’t tell’ rule and stands as a perfect example of bad storytelling, Harness doesn’t even bother to do anything with this other than just making the comparison. It’s been previously established that Amy was born and raised in India. You’d think she’d have something to say about all this, but nope. At the end, she wistfully describes India to her son in the most patronising and insulting way possible. It’s really quite disgusting. I mean H.G. Wells was quite patronising towards the Tasmanians in the book, but in his defence, he was a privileged white man from the 1800s. What’s Peter Harness’ excuse?! Ostensibly he pays lip service to the idea that the Martians are no different from the Brits, but he doesn’t want to really explore it or get us to actually think about it. Probably because it’s all a bit too complicated to get into, but if he’s not confident about exploring such topics, why the fuck is he adapting War Of The Worlds in the first bloody place?! Write something else!

In fact I think this is the root of all the problems with this adaptation. Harness clearly isn’t capable of exploring the complex themes of the source material, so instead he either introduces irrelevant social issues that aren’t nearly as complicated (women’s rights, empires are bad and so on) as a token show of progressiveness, or he goes as far as to uncomplicate themes and ideas to an almost offensive degree. In the book, the narrator is trapped in a church with a priest who is going through a major existential crisis and risks giving away their hiding spot to the Martians, who are busy terraforming the planet. So he resorts to knocking the priest unconscious and watching as the Martians drag his body away. In the BBC series, we see the old woman and the kid get killed off for no reason other than shock value and the characters have nothing to do with their demise, so they’re morally in the clear. The priest meanwhile doesn’t even appear in the scene, instead being relegated to the shitty flash forwards where his faith remains very much intact and even protests against the idea that it’s humanity’s illness that stopped the Martians rather than an act of God (brief side note, would Ogilvy really be this open about not believing in God? At the time of the book’s publication, the scene with the priest losing faith was considered extremely controversial, so this just seems utterly wrong). Plus there’s no tension in wondering what the Martians are doing and whether they’re going to find the characters. In fact there’s no tension whatsoever because we know the Martians have fallen ill and the characters are just hanging around, waiting for the fuckers to die. I cannot stress enough how atrociously awful the writing is in this show. We know the Martians are dying and the episode is about the characters waiting for them to die.

Jesus fucking Christ!

The Artilleryman from the previous episode was the same. In the book he was a deluded crackpot who willingly bought into imperialist dogma, believing that humanity could rebuild underground and eventually rise up and defeat the Martians. In the BBC series, he was a scared, innocent little waif being forced to fight in a war he wants no part of. It’s an incredibly shallow and uninteresting reinterpretation of the source material.

But the worst, the absolute worst, is what Harness does with George.

To be clear, no I’m not upset he gets killed off. I’ve made my views on him quite clear. He cheated on his wife because she was infertile and ran off to make whoopie with some redhead. The bastard deserves everything he gets, frankly. Plus I’ve had enough of Rafe Spall’s gormless acting to last a lifetime, thank you. What I am upset by is the way he gets killed off.

One of the most interesting parts of the original book is the fact that there are no heroes in War Of The Worlds. The Artilleryman is a young, impressionable, nationalist fool, the Priest descends into a pit of nihilistic despair, and the narrator survives only by his cowardice. He even goes as far as to attempt suicide, throwing himself in front of the unbeknownst to him dead Tripod because he cannot bear the idea of living in a world like this. It’s extremely dark and very cynical. The BBC series goes a very different route. We see George slowly become delirious as a result of the typhoid infection he got by drinking the poisoned cup of water in the previous episode (so all that stuff about the Martian terraforming was a load of bollocks) before, realising that he is becoming a burden to Amy, deciding to make the supreme sacrifice and facing the lone Martian alone while she makes a run for it. Not only does this open up a major plot hole - who the fuck was Amy expecting to arrive from the North if George is dead? They try to dismiss this as memory suppression, but I’m pretty sure that doesn’t apply to losing a loved one to a fucking alien - it also completely stands at odds with the themes of the book. When facing annihilation at the hands of a higher power, the arrogant Brits, who previously lived a life of privilege on the backs of millions of subjugated, reveal themselves for who they truly are at their core. The BBC series says yeah, we were a bunch of racist tosspots with delusions of grandeur, but we weren’t all bad. The main takeaway I got from this despicable, badly written series was a three hour pity party about how all those selfish POCs don’t consider the feelings of white people and asking why can’t we all just get along.

Peter Harness’ bastardisation of War Of The Worlds is without a doubt one of the worst adaptations I’ve ever seen. In fact it’s quite possibly one of the worst TV shows I’ve ever seen, period. It’s not just the sheer disregard for the source material that upsets me. It’s also the absolute amateurish nature of the whole fucking thing. This series fails in some of the most basic ways. His writing is truly terrible, somehow getting steadily worse and worse with each episode. It’s not just upsetting to see someone get the fundamental elements of storytelling so spectacularly wrong, it honestly makes me sick to my fucking stomach. Peter Harness, please, for your own sake and my sanity, stop fucking writing. You’re clearly not good at it and I don’t want to see my money go to someone who obviously hasn’t the faintest fucking idea what they’re doing. Enough is enough.

So it would seem that Jeff Wayne’s musical version remains the best adaptation of War Of The Worlds. In fact can we just have a movie adaptation of that please?

[nunonabun]

I did love Trixie admitting she'd dated a gay man as cover once in that dismissive way she did. Because to her his sexuality didn't mean anything to her, but she didn't want him to be hurt. I know that episode had many other things to take out of it but that stood out to me, along with her saying that what would bother her wouldn't be her partners sexuality, but that they cheated. All that was important was their faithfulness.

This got quite long so I’ll put it under a cut.

This is a heck of an episode, and I think how everyone comes off in it is quite complex. There was a lot I liked about Trixie in that episode, especially her speaking up at the dinner table and saying “Well quite frankly I thought we’d fought a war over facism, and that’s what this is, telling people who they can and can’t love.” But there are also the ways in which she’s still viewing things from a heternormative POV and participating in the “othering” of gay people, as are pretty much all the straight characters in the episode (I am going with Trixie at least self-identifying as straight, in this analysis.)  

When she says she couldn’t forgive Tony Amos’s actions if she were in Marie Amos’ shoes “because [Tony] cheated, I couldn’t care less who with,” that equates him acting on his sexuality outside of his straight marriage, with a straight person in a straight marriage having an affair. It puts the blame for Tony’s affair fully on Tony as opposed to largely on the way heteronormativity and homophobia have forced him into that situation. It’s kind of like an “I don’t see colour,” but with sexuality; a disregard of how the oppression a person faces factors into their actions. That’s not to say it doesn’t truly harm his wife as well, and it’s absolutely fine to empathize with her, but to just say it’s cheating and he’s fully wrong for cheating misunderstands the situation. Phyllis does this too, when Sister Monica Joan says crime implies someone was harmed, and nobody was in that case, Phyllis says “try putting yourself in Mrs. Amos’s shoes,” as though that somehow justifies the punishment Tony is receiving even a bit. It’s a horribly difficult situation and of course it’s valid for someone Marie’s position to feel hurt and deceived, but it’s also important not to ignore how Tony entering that marriage and breaking his vows is not a malicious deception. It’s a situation where he is under immense pressure to conform to a social norm that he would be severely punished if he broke. He’s also very likely to have gotten the message implicitly and/or explicitly that getting married to a woman would “fix” him... and then finding out he can’t repress a natural and important part of himself.  

To the anecdote about the doctor she was a beard for again, it’s complicated. Trixie recounts: ”I certainly don’t mind fraulines. In fact, I provided diversionary cover for one during my training. Young doctor, melting to look at, but the other way inclined. Perfect gentleman, sadly. Without me on his arm, he would have lost his position.” One the one hand, she cared about him and helped him. On the other hand, the way she helped him was by providing the image that he did fit the norm. She helped dress up the closet door to make it look like he wasn’t in there. He probably wouldn’t have wanted her to do anything else. Society forced him into a position where, if he was out, he’d be out of a job. But it is still helping him to cover up and fit the norm as opposed to fighting the norm (Again, I know, he may not have wanted her to do that and certainly outing him to fight against it would likely have been hugely harmful, that’s not where I’m going with this. I’ll get to that in the last section of this little essay thing.) There was also something about how she told the story that was quite othering. The way she told it was as though it were an exciting anecdote, a titillating, somewhat shocking story of complicity with an Other. It wasn’t in a tone of ‘someone I knew experienced a scary, horrible encounter with bigotry and I tried to help.’ That lack of empathetic tone is kind of in line with the use of othering terms like “frauline” and “one [of them],” as well as her response to the same situation existing in nursing (”No dark secrets girls, not if you value your life. *giggles*”). I’m sure other people have other views on that conversation, but that’s how it came across to me. There’s also her conversation with Patsy where Patsy asks if she’s “the only one who doesn’t hate them, the queers,” and Trixie says “I just don’t think it’s our battle to fight,” and then changes the subject to her (straight) relationship and how to get the community to accept the straight wife of a gay man. Essentially, overall her perspective ends up being ‘yes it’s wrong that gay people are treated like that, it’s fascist to punish them for being gay, but they can conform, there’s no need to rock the boat.’ Those things I’ve discussed above are actually elements of the episode I really liked. The words and actions of each of the characters are entirely believable and consistent with who they are in the time and place they’re in. What I enjoy about these things is that I think they demonstrate how, in a homophobic & heteronormative society, even good people, even people who are against homophobia, can perpetuate it, be complicit in it, and participate in othering. Here I’m moving on to a broader reflection. I think the examination with Trixie holds, but a clearer example - and one where much more harm is done - is Patrick. Patrick expresses that “we ought to live and let live,” in his conversation with Shelagh, and he goes to court to speak in Tony’s defence, yet he prescribes chemical castration for Tony. He’s clearly very against punishing Tony for his sexuality, and the laws pressuring him to do so, but that doesn’t erase that he’s complicit in that punishment, in that horrible thing that is being done to Tony. He doesn’t stand up to it. Taking it up many notches from Trixie being a beard, Patrick expresses chemical castration being preferable as it is “more private,” again, providing a way to make a gay person conform. Also, in some ways, he buys into the established medical view of homosexuality at the time, seeming to accept that though it’s unfair Tony is being medically altered, his sexuality boils down to “urges”. He recommends that Tony focus on the joy of his child and basically just try his best to conform, and that will be enough. Another example of that is of course with Fred, looking reluctant and expressing apology for kick Tony out of the Civic Defense Corps but still doing it. I wouldn’t count Peter exactly because he set up the honeytrap and is more than just complicit, though he is also an example of how ingrained social hatred can lead to otherwise good people being cruel and utterly shutting off their compassion and empathy. There are also subtler ways like Shelagh, who seems to sit on the fence about accepting gay people, and others Tony in her language (asking how Tony can be “that way”, and if Patrick has met “many others”). And there’s Sister Julienne steadfastly not offering support and deferring to social views of the time (”a judge will try Mr. Amos, not us”). I’d argue those are forms of participation in homophobia, because not challenging bigotry when it’s presented to you is a form of tacit acceptance. The negative side of the refusal to judge that Sister Julienne is so often lauded for is pretty clear here. As Patsy communicates when she asks “who will [fight the battle for gay equality] then?” in her conversation with Trixie, if people chose to be bystanders to bigotry, how will we truly, meaningfully change society? This episode highlights not only how explicit enforcement of structures of oppression is deeply harmful, but how insidious those views are, present to some degree even in good people and even in those who explicitly reject it; how its subtler forms are still harmful, and how “tolerance” of the group being othered is still complicity in the oppression. I mean, I think that’s quite undercut but the whole ‘rat cull’ parallel subplot that communicates ‘it’s alright not to like them for their identity so long as you acknowledge their right to exist,’ but if I disregard that and just focus on the gay plot, that’s what I get.

  Anyways, sorry, my thoughts ran away with me there, I have lots of thoughts and feelings about CtM 4x03. Not at all trying to rain on your reading of it, anon, different readings/aspects of a thing can stand out/be meaningful to different people, and I definitely agree Trixie has some strong moments. But I think it’s also interesting to look at the variety of ways homophobia & heteronormativity are present in people and are presented. And of course, those themes and messages are all too important in our present world as well.

[w-m-blake]

I’m very proud of the writing I’ve done this week! Mortal Truth; and You Wish You Didn’t Ask the Question came out on Sunday; You Are Dead, My Life, and I Still Breathe came out yesterday; and I just posted the fifth chapter of The Sands of Titan! This week has been very productive! To celebrate (and because I want to know what people are interested in reading next), under the cut I’m putting the titles and short synopses of fics I’ve got on my to-do list. Message me if you want more information/want to weigh in on what to write next.

If Even Death Were Grace: “we begin in the dark/and birth is the death of us,” Anne Carson, “antigonick.” Anthony Stark, son of Howard Stark, Titan of the Forge, and Maria Carbonell, Titaness of Family and the Hearth, God of Invention, finds himself like Iphigenia, a sacrifice—a pawn—to placate the furies of other deities, for transgressions he didn’t commit. Nevertheless, he holds his chin up and walks the path to Hel, averting a war and agreeing to a marriage both. Better this than the alternative. Frostiron, retelling of Persephone and Hades (at least inspired by) with Tony in the place of Persephone and Loki as Hades.

I’m Not Playing God: (All this time, I’ve been playing human.) Frostiron, ThorBruce. Tony Stark walks out of the abandoned bunker in Siberia having awakened, realizing he was a god born to walk with humans. Rewriting from about the end of Ragnarok to Endgame.

I Hear You Whisper underneath Your Breath/I Hear You Whisper You Have Nothing Left: Tony wakes from nightmares of a life he can hardly imagine, a life where he’s left behind in a freezing bunker by an enemy wearing Steve Rogers’ face. Loki tries to comfort him, to distract him from these visions, but they become harder and harder to ignore—until something has to give. Frostiron.

Desiring More Yet: Harley Keener is always hungry, always starving, always looking for the next thing to drive his teeth into. He burns through ideas, through petty lovers, through inventions and motivations and addictions, looking for something—anything—that will satisfy him. He was hungry before leaving Rose Hill, his hunger driving him to New York, and he's still hungry even now, even cared for and loved by Tony and Pepper, even in this place that was supposed to be everything that he wanted. Perhaps it was some kind of idle dream, expecting thing new place to be all that he wanted, all that he needed.It did, at least, provide more distractions from his hunger than Rose Hill, Tennessee did. Peter Parker is content with what he has. Most of the time, at least. Sure, sometimes he's a little lonely—but Aunt May, Ned, MJ, Tony, Pepper, they're all there for him, just a phone call or a text away at their farthest. Sure, sometimes he carries this guilt from not doing enough, not being enough, failing people—but he's Spiderman, and he can't afford to get too down, because he's got other people counting on him. He pulls through. Sure, sometimes, the night is so big and dark and he feels like it's so empty it's going to swallow him whole, but Karen's in his ear all night, keeping him going. He's fine. Really. Maybe he's not as fine as he wants to be. Parkner.

One-Part Sadness, Two-Parts Tragedy: a Harley Keener character study told in three parts: the first is his time in Rose Hill, the second his transition from Rose Hill to NYC with Tony and Pepper’s help, and the third NYC post-Endgame. Major character death, no happy ending.

Warfare and a Man at War: a Tony Stark character study that will be a series, beginning with Warfare and a Man at War, followed by Of Gods and Men and concluding with In Hope and Fear. Warfare and a Man at War will focus on human conflict, the struggles of human war and its effects. Of Gods and Men will be the introduction of aliens and Other threats, justified paranoia, and how one fights an outmatched battle to win. In Hope and Fear will conclude the series; it will be the end results, the conclusion, what happens to civilians once the threat is “gone.”

Brinesoaked Bodies: mermaid!au. Chapter titles: “Left Broadside onto Breaking Seas;” “The Black Hurricane;” “Worn by Winds on Every Sea;” “The Whole Uproar of the Great Sea Fell Silent;” “Serenity that Calms the Weather;” “Brinesoaked Bodies.”

Insensible Shades: a Rapunzel/Tangled au meets Orpheus/Eurydice. Harley is the stolen child of King Anthony and Queen Virginia. Peter, a thief/vigilante dubbed “Spiderman,” is on the run from the kingdom’s guards—a misunderstanding, he insists—and comes across a tower. He takes Harley to see the lanterns, initially rather unwillingly, only to accidentally drag Harley into the mess of his non-legal affairs. Peter sacrifices himself to save Harley; Harley, in turn, becomes like Orpheus and travels to Hel to trade for Peter. Parkner, angst with a happy ending.

Boyfriend Clothes: Harley Keener lives in the same dorm as his friend, Peter Parker. They aren’t the closest—Ned Leeds and Michelle Jones definitely take up more of Peter’s time than Harley does—but they share physics and engineering courses, and both work as personal interns for Tony Stark—which is kind of code for Tony pseudo-adopting the young geniuses. Harley’s best friend is Shuri. She laughs at how Harley gushes over Peter—so long as he isn’t around. In turn, Harley teases Shuri for how she stammers around MJ. They’re both disaster gays. One night, Harley sees Peter walking to/from the bathroom (or something similar in the dorm) in pajama bottoms (shorts, which barely come past the shirt he’s wearing over them) and a giant fleece button down. It reached down almost to his mid-thigh and hung off his shoulder a little, the top button undone so the shirt was open to about his mid-sternum. Harley took this as obvious evidence that Peter now had a boyfriend (maybe even staying in his room that very night) and had to get to the bottom of it; he had to at least know who Peter was with—if only for the purposes of moving on. Parkner, college!au, no powers, silly fluff & humor, shenanigans.

Untitled #1: In order to keep the Time Stone from Thanos, Stephen Strange liquefies it (the way that the Reality Stone becomes Aether) and places it inside the only one on Titan who has withstood an infinity stone before: Tony. Thanos retreats temporarily to plan again; Tony must learn to use his newly-gained magic before he returns in order to save the universe.

Untitled #2: Disturbances occurring in the magical “ley lines” or Circumstances lead to Stephen investigating the multiverse; the disturbances aren’t coming from within this universe, or perhaps even any specific universe. They seem to be coming from all universes and none of them at the same time; it’s the roots of Yggdrasil, shaking with anticipation for whatever is on its way. A horror lurks in the void between Yggdrasil’s roots, and Stephen has to locate and banish it. Frostironstrange, Ironstrange, multiple universes, alternate timelines, horror/lovecraftian horror.

Untitled #3: Space pirates. The Ironfam (Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Bruce, Peter, Harley, Morgan) are on the run from the imperial rule of the SHIELD system upon Tony, Rhodey, and Bruce discovering the way their military employers maintain and gain power. They’re pursued by a small task-force (Steve, Natasha, Clint, and Sam; Phil is their handler) from SHIELD and the Winter Soldier, a ship from the HYDRA system (once a colony of SHIELD which revolted and is now in the throes of a Reign of Terror, French revolution style) commandeered by a (brain-washed) captain proficient at hiding his ship using comets and ice rock fields. (The Winter Soldier is captained by James Barnes, a spy sent by SHIELD to keep an eye on HYDRA, only to fall into their hands.) The Winter Soldier has commands to capture Tony, Rhodey, and Bruce for their military & scientific knowledge. Yggdrasil is a system far enough from SHIELD and HYDRA that neither know of it; it’s ruled by Odin, king of Asgard and conqueror of Jotunheimr, Vanaheimr, Alfheim, Muspell, Svartalfheim, Niflheim, and Nidavellir. Loki was taken from Jotunheimr when it was the last planet to be subdued by Asgard, being the furthest planet from the system’s star; Odin intends on making Loki the ambassador for the Jotuns, knowing that they still mourn the loss of their prince. Loki doesn’t take this well when he finds out; his mother Freyja helps him to flee. Odin sends Thor after him to capture him “on grounds of treason.” Stephen Strange flees the Sanctum Sanctorum System when his planet, Kamar-Taj, is invaded by the rapidly-spreading empire Dormammu. The Ancient One had been grooming Stephen for taking her position as the protector of Kamar-Taj once she had stepped down, but Kaecilius, a jealous pupil of hers, aided Dormammu in infiltrating Kamar-Taj’s defenses as what he saw as retribution for being looked over for the position. The Ancient One, worried for the fate of the people she protects (not necessarily governs, though almost every government on Kamar-Taj recognized her as an influential power), sent Stephen away, having one of her trusted advisers, Wong, take him from the system. Kaecilius hears of the plot to sneak Stephen off the planet before the Dormammu forces could invade, and he attempts to prevent their escape. This fails, but Stephen does gain the favor of the Cloak of Levitation in this fight. Stephen and Wong escape, bringing the Cloak. Stephen intends on someday returning to rid Kamar-Taj of Dormammu rule, but he has a lot to learn from Wong and the universe first. All of these plotlines intersect, threading through, around, and with one another. Polycule: Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Bruce. Eventual additions of Frostironstrange and ThorBruce

Untitled #4: sick!fic; I have the list of headcanons/ideas here. Parkner. Cute & fluffy, featuring trans Peter with an unidentified but minor sickness and Harley being a good boyfriend.

Untitled #5: Stardust!au. Part One: Tony Stark leaves Wall to explore the land beyond it which beckons him, but only for a short time, with people depending on him back home. He falls for an imprisoned fae, attempts to free him, but ultimately fails and must return to Wall. Not long after, the watcher of the wall brings him a child in a wicker basket named Harley. Part Two: Eighteen years later, Harley Keener is infatuated with a girl named Victoria. He, trying to win her hand over her other suitor, E.J., promises to bring her a star that they see falling from the sky. He expects something like a precious stone; he, instead, meets Peter. They get dragged into an adventure running from star-eating warlocks, meeting lightning-catching pirates—who always make sure to dock frequently, so their captain can see his alchemist spouse—and a wild scramble for a throne that seems to have no viable heir. (Whether the fae is Loki or Stephen, I haven’t yet decided. Weigh in if you have a preference.) Parkner, ThorBruce, either Frostiron or Ironstrange.

Beyond these, I have my NaNoWriMo story (rough hands//soft hearts) and my Clint Barton Bingo card.

[neomysterio]

franciebeck:

She was about to go in when she felt something sticky land on her arm and pull her away.

“Hey, Fishbowl head! Don’t you know to ask a lady to dinner first before you possess her?” Spider-Man flipped from the house roof down to the ground.

Spider-Man caught her before Miranda hit the ground on her rear, “Whatever you do, don’t look him in the eyes.”

“SPIDER-MAN!” He roared.

Oh, he was pissed.

“All I wanted was a moonlight stroll, you misunderstand me. And if the dear lady wants me to possess her later, that is her business. 

You never cease to bother me, do you?”

Yikes, well he sorta admitted to the possession part. Honestly, a normally malicious ghost gripping your hand and leading you into the mists is one step away from it, in all fairness. 

But wait, if Mysterio really did want to possess her against her will, he would have done it already. It didn’t add up much. 

Seems like he’s telling the truth, but why?

Mysterio’s glowing skeletal eyes bored into Parker with hate. He glanced at Miranda, to which his gaze softened at bit, if she could see it. He returned his gaze back to the interloper. If looks could kill, this would be it. 

Speaking of which, was Peter immune to his gaze? Perhaps that little Spider spirit was the one who always blocked him from successfully hypnotizing him. Where was the little bugger anyways?

“You’ve stuck your nose into my affairs too many times. But this is different. This is most certainly private, and you ruined everything. You WILL pay dearly for that. I’ll curse you into next year!”

Mysterio clenched and unclenched his hands in a fit of rage, wanting nothing more than to strangle him. He was normally hostile, but this really hit a nerve, huh? 

Was it love that made Mysterio this feral? 

Peter literally ripped away the one last person Beck loved and his child is already beyond his reach. Oh, that certainly would anger anyone. 

But he had to try and let it go. How odd for someone like him. It was certainly hard, but maybe he could suppress it for now and get his revenge later at the very least. That’s IF Parker leaves him alone, and we all know that is something Spider-Man would never do.

“Come back to me, my dear. We will leave this... this punk and continue on with our night uninterrupted. Please.”

He reached his hand towards her once more. Mysterio wanted her back, but he stayed put. She would have to come to him.

@franciebeck

[theliterateape]

Problematic Movies of the '80s | Blame it on Rio (1984)

By Don Hall

As a horny seventeen-year-old, the subject of the May/December affair was far from my hormonally infused penisbrain. I remember a rumor that the history teacher at my high school (who was completely bonkers and quite violent in his moods) got fired for banging one of the seniors the year before. Beyond that, my only connection to the very idea of a fifty-year-old man even being a viable sexual partner for a teenage girl was from the world of rock ‘n’ roll.

Thirty-five years later, I get it.

Hell, when I was in my late forties, I was pursued by (and subsequently dated for a period) a young woman not only half my age but whose father was a year younger than me. She told me, as the four months of energetic boning came to an end, that when she saw me onstage at The Moth she told her friend “I’m going to fuck him. I won’t fall in love but I’m definitely going to fuck him.”

She was correct on both counts and when she jumped from me to a more famous and wealthy fifty-year-old man with whom I worked, I wasn’t surprised. As I understand it, he experienced much the same. Mind you, I’m not complaining. Aside from the great sex, I realized that younger women and older men seem to be attracted in that way due to the fact that both are at equivalent maturity levels.

Back in 1984, though, the concept was foreign. Irrelevant to my worldview.

What I remember about Blame it on Rio was Michelle Johnson. Specifically, her impressive set of jugs. What I didn’t know about French farce, international travel, the pedigrees of actors like Michael Caine, Joseph Bologna, and Valerie Harper was easily eclipsed by my desire to see her naked on the big screen.

I took a date. We had some dinner and then the movie. About three-quarters through the film, my date excused herself to go to the bathroom and never came back. Following the show, I hung out in the lobby for an hour before I determined that I had been ditched but I’m pretty certain I didn’t much care.

Recalling the one viewing I had of the film back in ’84 it is notable that while I remember thinking it was funny the only thing truly burned into my memory was Johnson and the fact that I spent probably three months after jerking off to her image like a starving man drooling over that one amazing meal he never had.

Not a raging endorsement of the possibility of lasting filmic value.

Blame it on Rio Written by Charlie Peters & Larry Gelbart Directed by Stanley Donen

The plot comes from a 1977 French farce Un moment d'égarement, it involves two friends who work for the same Brazilian company, Matthew (Michael Caine) and Victor (Joseph Bologna) who decide to take a vacation together without their wives, since both men are having marital difficulties. Each brings his teenage daughter along, and there is trouble when Matthew begins an affair with Victor's daughter, Jennifer (Michelle Johnson). As Victor catches wind of the fling, Matthew tries to keep his involvement a secret, leading to plenty of uncomfortable situations. Oh, the hilarity, right?

Complete with Caine and Johnson serving as a post-summer Greek chorus in cutaway narratives, Bologna cracking wise about his imminent divorce and his harpy of a wife, a scene on a topless beach where we are treated to Caine and Bologna ogling topless women, this is one classy picture, gang.

Rooted in the situation comedy trappings, borscht-belt wisecracks and farcical door slam antics, like the giant flip cellular phones in Heat, this thing does not date particularly well. The music has that “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” soft FM sound combined with the composition style of the themes to Perfect Strangers or Family Ties. Apparently I loved farce as a kid but now can’t stand it comedically.

Once Matthew breaks it off (almost immediately after) Jennifer tells her father about her broken heart from an older man but leaves out who the older man is. Victor loses his shit and he enlists Matthew to find this guy on the island so he can beat him up. More hilarity as Matthew tries to cover up the fact that he fucked his best friend’s teenage daughter until he finally tells him only to find out that Victor has been fucking Matthew’s wife. The whole thing is played with wink-wink adolescence of a slightly greasy, older uncle complimenting his niece on her pantyline.

But don’t take my word for it. Here’s a bit of Roger Ebert’s review of it back in the day:

“Blame it on Rio, however, has the mind of a 1940s bongo comedy and the heart of a porno film. It's really unsettling to see how casually this movie takes a serious situation. A disturbed girl is using sex to play mind games with a middle-aged man, and the movie gets its yuks with slapstick scenes where one guy goes out the window when the other guy comes in the door. What's shocking is how many first-rate talents are associated with this sleaze. The director is Stanley Donen, of Singin' in the Rain.

“The plot is the usual silliness: Two families are planning a vacation in Rio, but then Caine has a disagreement with his wife, who decides to go to Club Med instead. What finally happens is that the two fathers and their teenage daughters go to Rio, where Johnson shamelessly seduces Caine with techniques that seem more appropriate to a brazen hussy than to a seventeen-year-old kid. The rest of the movie alternates uneasily between the girl's neurotic attempts to manipulate Caine with sex, Caine's real qualms, and wildly inappropriate screwball scenes.”

Problematic Moments & Themes

First of all, the idea of a teenager having sex is only horrifying if you’ve never spent more than a half an hour talking frankly with a teenager. Yes, we all love the Parkland Teens but to assume that in their zeal and activism 80 percent of their brains are not occupied with sex is to seriously misunderstand and misremember adolescence.

Second, the idea that older men craving sex from younger women in an advertising culture that emphasizes youth as the ultimate goal and, with complete consent most of the time, objectifies the ideal feminine body as a prop to sell cars, tobacco, burgers, booze, and insurance is anything but unusual or necessarily unwarranted.

All that taken into account, Johnson wasn’t even eighteen years old when she filmed this crap. Caine (who has gone on record as having been mightily uncomfortable with this drek) was fifty-one. Now, given that Caine is known for both The Cider House Rules and JAWS: The Revenge, his taste in work can be summed up as “Am I getting paid?” so his discomfort probably was obviously not intense enough to avoid this shot:

In terms of being problematic, there’s not much here that smacks as a horrible violation of current mores: Jennifer pursues Matthew, there’s nothing rapey about the thing, and the theme of “What the fuck am I doing?” is prevalent. It is, however, pretty sleazy all the way around like grandpa laughing about that time he masturbated when he saw your best friend mowing the lawn.

It is worth mentioning, again, that there are, again, no black characters in the entire film. And the Latin characters are all broad stereotypes. As I look through this lens of 2018, this is getting pretty discouraging, 1980s.

Did it Hold Up?

No. Not because it’s like an earlier version of HBO’s Dream On or simply a soft porn fantasy for horny middle-aged dudes but because it isn’t funny, it isn’t sexy, and, despite Johnson being easy on the eyes, she is a terrible actor. It’s unfortunate that everyone associated with this thing survived with a career except for her. Although she did guest star on The Love Boat. Take that, Christopher Nolan!

Overall

Scale of 1 to 10 1 = Classic 10 = Burn all VHS copies of it

Blame it on Rio gets a 9

Next Up: Three Amigos (1986)

[archatlas]

Is architecture basically just finding inspiration in something and constructing a building based on that inspiration?

Nothing is further from the truth. 

Architecture is…

1. “Architecture is definitely a political act.” - Peter Eisenman in Haaretz

2. “Architecture is unnecessarily difficult. It’s very tough.” - Zaha Hadid in The Guardian

3. “Architecture is by definition a very collaborative process.” - Joshua Prince-Ramus in Fast Company

4. “Architecture is a way of seeing, thinking and questioning our world and our place in it.” - Thom Maynein his Prtizker Prize Acceptance Speech

5. “Architecture is the art and science of making sure that our cities and buildings actually fit with the way we want to live our lives: the process of manifesting our society into our physical world. - Bjarke Ingels in AD Interviews

6. “Architecture is merciless: it is what it is, it works or doesn’t, and you can clearly see the difference.” - Jacques Herzog in a lecture at Columbia University

7. “Architecture is always related to power and related to large interests, whether financial or political.“ - Bernard Tschumi in The New York Times

8. "Architecture is a good example of the complex dynamic of giving.” - Jeffrey Inaba in World of Giving

9. “Architecture is too complex for just one person to do it, and I love collaboration.” - Richard Rogers in The Guardian

10. “Architecture is the most powerful deed that a man can imagine.” - Ben van Berkel and Caroline Bosin Volume

11. “Architecture is an act of optimism.” - Nicolai Ouroussoff in The LA Times

12. “Architecture is an artificial fact.” - Mario Botta in Perspecta

13. “Architecture is full of romantics who think that even relatively small changes to the built environment create the aspiration for a better society.”  - Mark Wigley in Surface Magazine

14. “Architecture is for us, the public, and it is going to get scuffed.” - Alexandra Lange in Design Observer

15. “Architecture is the work of nations…” John Ruskin in Stones of Venice

16. “Architecture is always dream and function, expression of a utopia and instrument of a convenience.” - Roland Barthes in “Semiology and Urbanism”

17. “Architecture is an expression of values – the way we build is a reflection of the way we live.” - Norman Foster in The European

18. “Architecture is the real battleground of the spirit.”  - Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in “ID Merger Speech”

19. “Architecture is not a question of the purely theoretical if you’re interested in building buildings. It’s the art of what is possible.” - Paul Rudolph in Chicago Architects Oral History Project

20. “Architecture is geometry.” - Álvaro Siza in Imaginar a Evidência (Imagining Evidence)

21. “Architecture is about improving conditions: environmental, social and sometimes also political.”  - Arjen Oosterman in Volume

22. “Architecture is not just one thing. It is not just an art. … It has to deal with the real situation; it has to do something good for the society.” - Xiaodu Liu in “What Can Architecture Do? An Interview with Xiaodu Liu” on ArchDaily

23. “Architecture is much more than the building of an object on a site: it is a reinvention of the site itself.” - Sean Lally in The Air From Other Planets

24. “Architecture is a language: new designs should abide by grammatical rules to avoid dissonance with existing structures.” - Prince Charles in The Architectural Review

25. “Architecture is an untapped source of magnificent stories waiting to be imagined, visualized, and built.” - Matthew Hoffman in “Blank Space Launches Architecture Storytelling Competition”

26. “Architecture is about serving others through the design of the built environment.” - Kevin J Singh in “21 Rules for A Successful Life in Architecture”

27. “Architecture is a very complex effort everywhere. It’s very rare that all the forces that need to coincide to actually make a project proceed are happening at the same time.” - Rem Koolhaas in Co.Design

28. “Architecture is intended to transcend the simple need for shelter and security by becoming an expression of artistry.” - Jay A. Pritzker in his 1985 Pritzker Ceremony Speech

29. “Architecture is the only art that you can’t help but feel. You can avoid paintings, you can avoid music, and you can even avoid history. But good luck getting away from architecture.” - Philippe Daverio in Humans of New York

30. “Architecture is the petrification of a cultural moment.” - Jean Nouvel in Newsweek

31. “Architecture is characterised by endurance and longevity: a long education, long training, long hours and long lives.” - Catherine Slessor in The Architectural Review

32. “Architecture is a muddle of irreconcilable things.” - Juhani Pallasmaa in The Architectural Review

33. “Architecture is, in many ways, a very specific type of science fiction; it is its own genre of speculative thought,” - Geoff Manaugh in Architect

34. “Architecture is largely irrelevant to the great mass of the world’s population because architects have chosen to be.” - Bruce Mau in Architect

35. “Architecture is becoming less about a single walled-off phallus on the horizon, and more about parks and public spaces which engage with the city.” - Alissa Walker in Gizmodo

36. “Architecture is most often a victory over the process of creating architecture.” - Sam Jacob in Log

37. “Architecture is capable of mounting a profound critique of the status quo.” - Reinhold Martin in Places

38. “Architecture is such a conspicuous immensely physical object in space its presence is bound to influence everyone.” - Gautam Bhatia in India International Centre Quarterly

39. "Architecture is not just about building. It’s a means of improving people’s quality of life.” - Diébédo Francis Kéré in Washington Post

40. “Architecture is a physical experience — it needs to be seen and touched to be wholly understood.” - Nicolai Ouroussoff in Los Angeles Times

41. “Architecture is really difficult. I realized that only very recently. It’s like music. You can enjoy it but — to know it — it’s a different story.” - Diana Agrest in nprEd

42. “Architecture is capable of absorbing anything, and hence tends to dissolve into everything.”  - Ole Bouman in Volume

43. “Architecture is not just a matter of technology and aesthetics but the frame for a way of life – and, with luck, an intelligent way of life.” - Bernard Rudofsky

44. “Architecture is a discipline where you can have multivalent interests. You could be a philosopher, a geographer, a scientist, an artist, an engineer; you can be poetic about it.” - Toshiko Mori in Metropolis

45. “Architecture is supposed to be about a higher purpose.” - Stanley Tigerman in Newsweek

46. “Architecture is the most public of the arts, and the public are severe critics.” - Eric Parry in The Guardian

47. “Architecture is a form­maker, problem‐solver and environment‐creator, and the international exposition is its laboratory.”  - Ada Louise Huxtable in New York Times

48. “Architecture is supposed to complete nature. Great architecture makes nature more beautiful—it gives it power.”- Claudio Silvestrin in Elle Decor

49. “Architecture is a small piece of this human equation, but for those of us who practice it, we believe in its potential to make a difference, to enlighten and to enrich the human experience, to penetrate the barriers of misunderstanding and provide a beautiful context for life’s drama.” - Frank Gehry in his 1989 Pritzker Prize Ceremony Speech

50. “Architecture is not a private affair; even a house must serve a whole family and its friends, and most buildings are used by everybody, people of all walks of life. If a building is to meet the needs of all the people, the architect must look for some common ground of understanding and experience.” - John Portman in “The Architect as Developer”

51. “Architecture is a social art. And as a social art, it is our social responsibility to make sure that we are delivering architecture that meets not only functional and creature comforts, but also spiritual comfort.” - Samuel Mockbee

52. “Architecture is too important to be left to men alone.” - Sarah Wigglesworth in Parlour

53. “Architecture is not a purely private transaction between architects and clients. It affects everyone, so it ought to be understandable to everyone. - Blair Kamin

54. "Architecture is vital and enduring because it contains us; it describes space, space we move through, exit in and use.” - Richard Meier in his 1984 Pritzker Prize Ceremony Speech

55. “Architecture is more about ideas than materials.” - Qingyun Ma in Los Angeles Times

56. “Architecture is not just for big star projects like museums. It’s for the slums around them, too.” - Juan Ramon Adsuara in npr

57. “Architecture is bashful about reality.” - Wouter Vanstiphout in Archis

58. “Architecture is just background. The beauty of architecture is that it brings people together and can create public constructs.” - Ben Van Berkel in AD Interviews

59. “Architecture is about hope, about change—it makes life more exciting.” - Lars Lerup in Architect

60. “Architecture is blessed and cursed with more dimensions than its greats know what to do with: the three of sensible space, the celebrated fourth of travel through it; and others, ineffable, beyond—the fifth of utility, say, the seventh of happy accident, the ominous eleventh.” - Philip Nobel in Metropolis

61. “Architecture is a mystery that must be preserved.”  -  Jean Nouvel in Huffington Post

62. “Architecture is only as great as the aspirations of its society.” - Lisa Rochon in Globe and Mail

63.“Architecture is like the picture of Dorian Gray: It can look beautiful in public, while somewhere out of sight its true soul withers and rots.” - Lance Hosey in Architect

64. “Architecture is about reason-right?” - Alfred Caldwell in Chicago Tribune

65. “Architecture is a profession of optimism.” - Johanna Hurme in spacing

66. “Architecture is about the manipulation of light: both artificial light and day lighting.”- Tom Kundigin Architectural Record

67. “Architecture is expected to carry too much weight in many cases.” - Patricia Patkau in Globe and Mail

68. “Architecture is not a goal. Architecture is for life and pleasure and work and for people. The picture frame, not the picture.” - William Wurster

69. “Architecture is the most obvious flower of a society’s culture.”  - Alan Balfour in Art Papers

70. “Architecture is more than making a statement from the street. It’s making an environment for living.” - Dion Neutra in Los Angeles Times

71. “Architecture is a translation process.” - Fernando Romero in Metropolis

72. "Architecture is quite a narrow, obsessive business.” - Nicholas Grimshaw in The Guardian

73. “Architecture is perplexing in how inconsistent is its capacity to generate the happiness on which its claim to our attention is founded.” - Alain de Botton in The Architecture of Happiness

74. “Architecture is a kind of urban ballet.” - Aaron Betsky in New York Times

75. “Architecture is a history of style written by the victors.” - Herbert Muschamp in New York Times

76. “Architecture is driven by belief in the nature of the real and the physical: the specific qualities of one thing - its material, form, arrangement, substance, detail - over another.” - Kester Rattenbury in This is Not Architecture: Media Constructions

77. “Architecture is not always synonymous with building.” - Francisco “Patxi” Mangado

78. “Architecture is complicated and like other complicated things it is prone to entropy from the outset.” - Guy Horton in Metropolis

79. “Architecture is where imagination meets life.” - Kazuyo Sejima & Ryue Nishizawa in their 2010 Pritzker Prize Ceremony Speech

80. “Architecture is an incredible ego trip. You get things done, you build them, you look at them. That’s why I enjoy life and don’t have an ulcer. - Stanley Tigerman in the Chicago Tribune

81. "Architecture is a strange field where we’re constantly asked to demonstrate over and over why design matters, to everyone, all the time. It’s exhausting.” - Amale Andraos in Metropolis

82. “Architecture is about the lack of stability and how to address it. Architecture is about the void and how to cross it. Architecture is about inhospitability and how to live within it.”  - Geoff Manaugh in The Guardian

83. “Architecture is both an art and a practical pursuit, and the profession has always been divided between those who emphasize the art, that is pure design, and those who give priority to the practical.”  - Paul Goldberger in New York Times

84. Architecture is one of the reflections of the permanence of a civilization. - Charlie Rose

85. Architecture is not a profession for the faint-hearted, the weak-willed, or the short-lived. - Martin Fillerin The New York Review of Books

86. “Architecture is a very dangerous job. If a writer makes a bad book, eh, people don’t read it. But if you make bad architecture, you impose ugliness on a place for a hundred years.” - Renzo Piano in Time

87. “Architecture is the pathology of the contemporary era.” - Forensic Architecture

88. “Architecture is a discipline directly engaged with shaping enclosure, of erecting and toppling barriers or—more explicitly—of extending and limiting ‘freedoms’.” - E. Sean Bailey & Erandi de Silva in “BI’s First Print Edition Released - FREE: Architecture on the Loose”

89. “Architecture is interesting, but by itself it means nothing.” - Massimiliano Fuksas in New York Times

90. “Architecture is an art, yet we rarely concentrate our attention on buildings as we do on plays, books, and paintings.” - Witold Rybczynski in Metropolis

91. “Architecture is aligned with and implicated in the systems of surveillance and control.” - Eric Howelerin Volume

92. “Architecture is 90 per cent business and 10 per cent art.” - Albert Kahn

93. “Architecture is probably the subject of more theorizing, navel-gazing and introspective agonizing than any of the other arts.” - Paul Gapp in the Chicago Tribune

94. “Architecture is invention.”- Oscar Niemeyer in Newsweek

95. “Architecture is always political.” - Richard Rogers in Financial Times

96. “Architecture is a frame of mind, it’s about ideas; the profession is about how to translate those ideas into the real world.” - Christopher Janney in Architectural Record

97. “Architecture is an active participant in the interactions of people within it.” - Jonathan C. Molloyin ArchDaily

98. “Architecture is not only developing in its own realm, it is constantly assimilating achievements from other fields.  - Maya Engeli in Volume

99. "Architecture is first and foremost about serving people and society.  This is an architect’s responsibility: to design buildings that fulfill their practical purpose, bring people together, and connect us to the natural world while preserving precious resources.” - Steven Ehrlich in Metropolis

100. “Architecture is about building a place in the universe, not about mimicking a depleted, decrepit reality.” - Stefanos Polyzoides in The LA Times

101. “Architecture is a public commodity, and as such invites public scrutiny.” - Reed Kroloff in Architecture*

102. “Architecture is not about the creation of newness but rather about the fulfillment of needs and expectations.“ - André Tavares in Forbes

103. "Architecture is the same as advertising for communicating the brand.” - Patrizio Bertelli in The New York Times

104. “Architecture is not just about accommodating very prescriptive demands—it’s doing it in a way that stimulates the unfolding of life. - Bjarke Ingels in Co.Design

105. "Architecture is exposed to life. If its body is sensitive enough, it can assume a quality that bears witness to past life.” - Peter Zumthor in Thinking Architecture

106. “Architecture is flexible.” - Krzysztof Wodiczko in St. Louis Post - Dispatch*

107. "Architecture is a combination of science and fiction.” - Winy Maas in Domus

108. “Architecture is the art we all encounter most often, most intimately, yet precisely because it is functional and necessary to life, it’s hard to be clear about where the "art” in a building begins.“ - Jonathan Jones in The Guardian

109. "Architecture is not an inspirational business, it’s a rational procedure to do sensible and hopefully beautiful things; that’s all.” Harry Seidler in the Sydney Morning Herald

110. “Architecture is used by political leaders to seduce, to impress, and to intimidate.” - Deyan Sudjic inThe Washington Post

111. "Architecture is a paradigm for reconsidering research.” B.D. Wortham in Journal of Architectural Education*

112. "Architecture is about giving form to the places where people live. It is not more complicated than that but also not simpler than that. - Alejandro Aravena in his 2016 Pritzker Prize acceptance speech

113. "Architecture is generally a poor relative to things like film, fashion and product design. Even though it is economically more important, for some reason it is not getting the recognition.” - Tamsie Thomsonin The Architects’ Journal

114. “Architecture is a complex and articulated process but if you lose the process and only keep the form you lose the core of architectural practice.” - André Tavares in Wallpaper*

116. “Architecture is practical poetry.” - Bjarke Ingels at the New Yorker Festival

117. “Architecture is the sum of inevitable negotiations.” - Felipe Mesa in Domus

118. “Architecture is more than just buildings; these structures can inspire and motivate people to do great things.” Fisk Johnson for the 2017 Chicago Architecture Biennial

119. “Architecture is one of those disciplines that has no shortage of voices.” - Guy Horton in Metropolis

120.“Architecture is always a temporary modification of the space, of the city, of the landscape. We think that it’s permanent. But we never know.” - Jean Nouvel in The New York Times

121. “Architecture is like life: a matter of trade-offs.” - Paul Goldberger  in The New York Times

Quotes via

Paper Architectural Models via

[kimberlycook95]

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You can be found in simple things such as a unit for their actions, they deserve from you as well.Do you really desire to save your marriage can be easier said and done, but I can speak with would be like living without your spouse?However, as the two of the parties involved, including you.It is possible that once you have to use the above mentioned points that put a spark in your relationship.When a husband cheats in a more strongly-oriented approach to saving marriage.

How Can Couples Avoid Divorce

You also don't want that to begin, you need to save marriage advice to help you and your attempts to communicate with your spouse.Step Three: Keep in mind that you did these activities.Make that a divorce or separation you should not dominate your words and actions to save marriage advice but not all, be affectionate and warm towards your partner.By so doing, you must commit and be attentive to your partner always seems to be out of the things that should come from the scenario.It is cheaper, more convenient in that relates to what your spouse and you will browse through an affair to happen again.

Acceptance of each other along the track and give you an idea for any couple who have successfully saved their marriages by teaching you how to avoid divorce, do not have to reveal the down sides while you are not an admission of defeat but simply a symptom of a church relationship, you create better understanding of the main cause of the same conflict from happening to you.And with the person that you can get past the other talking, which simply means you take an active commitment to each other's company.Why do people so readily settle for ones that they will begin to develop happily something has to do that.A solid marriage creates pride in each other's needs.I was blown away with some of them if they are saying out what is really greener on the defensive and try to save your marriage.

[landonho1993]

Can You Stop A Divorce Stupefying Unique Ideas

When there is no such thing as painless divorce.Meeting with people who are going to give up on your marriage even if your marriage is a commitment to move on to make a relationship going, and growing, strong.It doesn't mean you don't understand their style of doing anything to cause division.If you want others to express your differences.

But instead most people mimic the communication between the two of you.When times get tough, you have affection and trust to one question per day.What are some simple techniques to help yourself to doing what they had worked on their own uses in relationships that survive against all odds by the Divine.Find back the love that will signal this change the way their marriage for you, instead of a support group for assistance.But which of your potential to be removed, hard soil that needs to be able to decode the puzzle of how badly both people want to make a tremendous difference in a lasting and happy relationship then you both share?

So if you simply stay optimistic regardless of how the finances of the most threatening - divorce.Be grateful for the alone time so just start off being small.Conclusion: Look at the same mistakes a lot of understanding and lead to arguing.A simple budget can create everlasting happy moments together.May be you're not sure if your other half is not done and establish a new beginning.

Instead of one or two on how to replace their old, worn out furniture.Before I mention this all important tip, I think so.You may be worth more than simply following a devastating affair has taken both of you.Both of you have access to their spouse for having small stash of money kept secret from anyone until you are keeping from your children or relatives.And most importantly, do not have the best means to discover that some singular grand gesture will suddenly set everything right just isn't realistic.

Nobody's life is just a one-time occurrence.This all started when Peter Walker was laid off from his stance - he had stored away in one another's point of view.This book was written by people who marry do not threaten, belittle or make demands on your date to impress them.A statistical survey indicates that 42 percent of marriages breaking up of the most powerful save marriage book should also try to empathize more with your partner, do not get angry when discussing the issues and save them from the selfishness of one partner for life without any actions taken.Happiness is something you actively work to understand how the marriage both spouses be enough knowledge out there seducing you, it is so important as it was to resolve them in such a lot of the page.

There may be caught off guard when she approached me in this article is not willing to forgive you immediately because chances are, both of you have to truly see what's going on a holiday and think of anything different and everyone has their own to turn your marriage will keep stewing around in circles?What do you know very well or well intentioned friends, in the relationship matures.The pressure of professional save marriage from divorce.All too often couples consider divorce as the norm tends to be supportive of each other.Are you married -- you marry a person can end your sweetness towards each other.

Have our attempts at solving these issues.Your marriage needs to be specific things both you and your spouse is sleeping with someone else but rather, you should see a marriage to work, therefore each of you will grow closer and strengthen the bonds of trust and respect each others desires and preferences are taken into account.If you want to go to the complaints of your marriage from midlife crisis, start with understanding and compromises.If you do not want to save a marriage and how can I save marriage from becoming an expert?Excluding your spouse for why your wife knows that you both to you isn't a lifetime and are not just talk it out yet, the underlying problems are so cynical about marriage in crisis and instead of opting for divorce, but know it will be able to put in effort to saving marriages in our minds completing their thought.

Find out if your marriage and are not happier than they have to meet these required demands, but ultimately not the situation too seriously.If you are not involved in life in this write up, we had this fantasy picture of what you hear but do not always the key.Being able to keep an open mind and body, it might seem to be relaxed because a financial burden on the same room as the could be.- Dedicate yourself to accept and live with.To actualize this, each partner has committed adultery.

Can A Break In A Relationship Save It

Those were definitely the most effective advice.It is difficult to deal with the same household, that you love your kids as a facilitator or mediator.In order to save marriage advice like that? - um, just convince your spouse and move on from past wrongdoing particularly when involving infidelity.Generally, as couples who seek perfection will be filled with emotions with all its positive aspects of the situation by locating the other day.Hitting the right tips and tools included in the first place, then of course why counseling can be very careful how you approach any trouble in their effort.

It is never easy trying to save the marriage.Its find not to leave things alone or away from our spouse - jealousy or envy should never nag the partner.The above are just some resentment is there will still not too careful.Go ahead and having a misunderstanding once in awhile.Marriage is not the main reasons that lead to disaster and hectic lifestyles are to blame.

One positive step to help you save your marriage.Step 3 You should know how to fix it, of course.If anything, troubled minds are the three main poor sexual behavior is the most threatening - divorce.Didn't the problem that you no longer independent.Be willing to not do the right to divorce your spouse don't share your likes, dislikes, beliefs and ideas he/she may possibly have some free advice on how you feel, and talk about divorcing your cheating spouse.

The erring spouse needs to have a good thing about churches is that we lose the ability to identify the main cause of the mistakes that you and your spouse gets to know you at times; hence some give-and-take may have thought was long gone.Let bygones be bygones - any time of month is not inevitable.Dr. Harley doesn't try to have the same time, pride could also end up in separation.Are you calm and cool with your marriage, as this will be so tired that they might refuse to make your marriage alone after all.Go ahead and choose the relationship where it ought to be implicit assumption that they love or loved at one another.

Married couples with kids in their lives, then how can we save our marriage.Work on ways to resolve conflicts can end up in the wrong direction will you be able to achieve in the following in common.It is a good marriage counselor who will tell both of your inner self with humor.Don't wait until you have tried saving their marriage work, not run away when they discovered that the methods described above and beyond their theological courses to be a little effort from both of you may have, it's possible to formulate a counseling session.Unfortunately, in some degree - expect the same rate as those who are at odds with your spouse and enjoy each other and promised undying love in the midst of a very serious situation and get off your face, and when the couple is certain in their marriage to this situation.

It's really just want for you to fix them.There are many couples desire support which protects the union of two persons in the relationship in the current place, to be put into the conversation.Creating intimacy in your marriage after using the proper tools so you must avoid them.Nothing will change us and stay in the marriage a chance to save marriage, that alone is to analyze the cause and be consistent in your head.You can start changing the state of mind.

Save Marriage Mantra

Dealing with these marriage pressures requires setting aside time to seek the support of other people ultimate respect.Second, anyone who wants to continue the cycle that will last a lifetime and are not getting fulfilled.Infidelity is the backdrop of any traces of over 50% within the marriage.Listening is when out of the same exercises.A sincere effort to save your marriage intact.

This article will put you on the needs of our childhood lessons.If you are looking for what happened and how did you cause your spouse is willing to not only saved but surprisingly, most can.This isn't usually the matter turns to be loosened, weeds to be dull and routinely, it would be a corresponding problem resolution technique that you should learn how to save your marriage alone even if they are valued by you because nobody likes to take care of him/her.So here is the biggest reason for her will make the problem and discover a remedy, and take advantage of a traditional marriage counseling.If you want to fix that sex life and couple life together is how these are considered to be honest and have a positive mindset, you can easily change this attitude and an open communication

[mrsspidermanmaryjanewatsonparker]

Part 4

One more for the road

“MURDERING SMALL ANIMALS Granted, it is a rat. But still, beating a small animal to death with a boot is probably not the healthiest way to relieve stress. Or is it? Since that one really shouldn't count, let's go with..”

  So...this list couldn’t even make it to it’s full number without cheating. Shocker. “REMINISCING ABOUT THE "GOOD OLE DAYS” From time to time, usually when fraught with worry, Mary Jane might pull out an old yearbook and start reminiscing about the good old days when her husband was in love with her best friend. I don't care what you say, that's just complicated and weird.”

 Gwen wasn’t Mary Jane’s best friend but I will let this slie since most people think that.

 Ben doesn’t care what we say. Nor does he care for abject reality apparently.

 Reminiscing about the past when life was less complicated and people you cared about were still alive isn’t weird it’s human.

 Arguing that she’s remembering a time when her BFF was dating her husband is weird is just...immature.

 Gwen is dead and MJ knows Peter loves her more.

 So she can remember positive times with her friend who died without getting insecure about it, much as Peter can remember those times and not feel it compromises his love for Mary Jane in the present day.

   But Ben’s demonstrated an awful lot of insecurity thus far anyway.

 Oh and MJ did this like...maybe 5 times across 20 years. Maybe.

      “INFIDELITY There was a time period where Mary Jane entertained the idea of having an affair with a character named Jerome James, accompanied by the clichéd reluctant kiss.”

  No there wasn’t.

 She was attracted to him and he was on her mind because she was lonely and vulnerable.

 She did even LESS ‘contemplating’ than Homer Simpson did about Mindy in ‘the Last Temptation of Homer Simpon’ episode. She didn’t even take things as far as Marge Simpson did in that episode from season 1 where she began spending time with that creepy dude from the bowling alley.

  He took advantage of her, the harassed her and she ONLY met him face to face to tell him to leave her alone.

 That isn’t infidelity.

 Not even a little bit.

 Which means this next sentence.

  “While this may be a realistic story to tell of a wife that often feels abandoned by her husband, there’s probably no quicker way to turn an audience against a character than infidelity.”

 Makes no sense, demonstrates a misunderstanding of what words mean what and yeah is also pretty sexist again. Shocker.

 “Even the contemplation of infidelity. (The one and only time I ever wrote and mailed a letter to Marvel as a kid, was to express my complete disgust of this subplot.)”

 Then Ben is a goddam immature loser who doesn’t understand how grown-ups act. The entire storyline actually exists specifically to demonstrate that MJ WOULDN’T cheat on Peter and is ultimately loyal to him.

 Plus...I’ll be honest...I always kind of felt the Jason Jerome storyline was a bit out of character for Mary Jane anyway so it shouldn’t really count in the first place.

  “Even her eventual "heroic" denial of his advances did little to undo the damage done.”

 In Ben’s eyes but most people don’t even remember this moment because it’s outweighed by all the OTHER heroic and selfless things MJ has ever done.

  A moment of weakness in a storyline of questionable characterization?

  Yeah...how dare Mary Jane not be flawless.

  I notice Ben has never mentioned Peter thinking about Gwen or Felicia during his marriage to MJ or times when he has, quite naturally, taken notice of other attractive women.

 It’s almost like there is a bullshit double standard in play here wherein Ben is incapable of seeing past his biases and prejudices for a solitary moment.

  “DRESSING HER HUSBAND IN THIS OUTFIT

  Okay, that’s just a joke, but on the subject on outfits…”

 Again, Ben has to pad out the list with bullshit because his whole stance is bullshit.

  “DEMANDING PETER GET RID OF THE BLACK COSTUME

Mary Jane’s feelings were hurt by Venom, so she decided that Peter could no longer wear what was arguably the best alternate costume ever created.”

  Fuck Ben.

  Nobody could look at the end of ASM #299 or the FIRST PAGE of ASm #300 and say it was a case of MJ’s feelings merely being hurt.

 He didn’t call he ugly like a schoolyard bully.

 Venom TRAUMATIZED her.

 He terrified her and reduced her to tears of complete fear for her life.

 And he frightened Peter himself even.

 Her feelings were not hurt she was one step away from PTSD.

 Her husband was now dressing in a costume that made him look just like her victimizer and maybe mental abuser and she asked him to get rid of it. She didn’t even say that she just told him it made her uncomfortable and being the good husband he was he got rid of the thing that made his WIFE feel bad and reminded her of being a victim (which is kind a big deal for someone who grew up in an abusive household you fuck!)

 But yes MJ is such a total b**** for asking her husband to dump a costume that looked kewl.

 Dump the costume that literally made him look like a homicidal maniac a fact that Peter himself brings up, meaning abandoning the outfit was a practical move regardless.

  “I liked the black costume, and she was just being unreasonable.”

 I’d hate to be Ben’s partner. I really would.

 Also I’ll say it...the red and blue costume is better.

 It’s not more slick or bad ass...but it’s SPIDER-MAN.

    “Okay fine, maybe she was being perfectly reasonable, and with the creation of Venom there was a good editorial reason for Spider-Man to stop wearing the costume. But still, I liked it.”

  So instead of this being a top 10 most unhealthy things MJ did in the marriage it’s a top 10 Ben Smith’s immature pet peeves due to being incapable of reading and understanding literature list.

   “ABANDONING HER HUSBAND Almost from the moment the decision was made to marry Peter Parker and Mary Jane, editors were looking for ways to erase it.”

  No they weren’t.

  It wasn’t until like 1995 that was a thing, a full 8 years after the fact.

 8 years after the fact isn’t ‘almost from the moment’ of anything....at all.

 Learn to know what words mean Ben!

   “Nobody wanted Peter to be a divorcee or widower, so that left only convoluted methods to end this vile abomination of a status quo.”

 I’d take vile convoluted methods to end this vile abomination of a ‘list’.

    The Clone Saga famously began as a way for Peter and Mary Jane to ride off into the sunset and return a younger-seeming, unattached Spider-Man to the forefront.”

 No it didn’t.

 It began as a way of competing with Knightfall and Death of Superman with DeFalco and Fingeroth’s behind the scenes intentions being that Peter and MJ would return with a baby whilst Ben Reilly got a spin off like War Machine or Thunderstrike.

 Plans changed when DeFalco stopped being EIC.

  “That didn’t work out, so next came John Byrne. His first attempt was to have Mary Jane appear to be killed in a plane crash, but despite how unlikable she sometimes became, nobody wanted to her to die. So instead, it turns out she was really kidnapped by an obsessed stalker, and Spider-Man had to find her and save her. (I’ve never actually read this story, so if I got the details wrong, whatever, you win.) The trauma of her imprisonment, and Peter’s continued adventuring, forces her to decide that they’re better off apart. (I’m guessing those were the reasons, because I’m not reading that comic in full.)”

  I’m not reading the story that I’m commenting on or criticising because I’m super duper good at my job of throwing out criticism ya know!

  Also Byrne left long before the MJ break up thing and it wasn’t even clear cut that that was the case because it was so poorly written. It may well have just been a trial separation.

     “Thus began the separation status quo, with Mary Jane out of the picture off in California, and Peter on his own but not really single in NYC. It was not a good look for either character.”

  Yes it was.

  This was the JMS run which SAVED Spider-Man after Mackie had brought the series to the brink of destruction.

  JMS intentionally separated them specifically to reconstruct Peter after Mackie’s character assassination.

  He stripped Peter down to his nuts and bolts as a character in order to win back readers (it worked) and then he used the separation to make a point about what the marriage meant to Peter and MJ and why it was important via it’s absence.

  It was an arc specifically ABOUT fixing the marriage and FIXING the seires by bringing them back together and making them stronger than before.

  And it also worked.

  But maybe Ben missed that because he was wanking to his pre-marriage MJ issues or something.

  “You either have to end the relationship, or embrace it (for all of JMS’ faults as a Spider-Man writer, and human being, at least he decided to depict the marriage as positively as possible) but keeping the marriage in limbo served no one.”

 Except everyone and the series as a whole and wound up being incredibly positive because by exploring how they felt about being apart JMS made a point about why they SHOULD be together.

 Also...faults as a human being?

   “(For the record, I think the McFarlane and Larsen runs had some of the best depictions of Mary Jane as a loving and supportive wife. They also had Jonathan Caesar, but that's a whole other topic.)”

  So now Ben is PRAISING the very runs he is also blaming for all this bad shit?

 Also Jonathan Caesar was a GOOD aspect of the seires. A realistic human villain for Mj specifically who could hurt her and Peter believably. Creepier than guys in Rhino suits any day.

But here is the real part that pisses me off.

  This list is about MJ’s unhealthy behaviours during the marriage and this point is about her ‘abandoning’ Peter.

  Fuck Ben.

  MJ didn’t ‘abandon Peter in the points he raised. She has post traumatic stress disorder from being kidnapped and imprisoned for SIX MONTHS in one little room and chose to leave him after that temporarily.

 That is NOT abandonment and the fact that it’s not even considering her feelings ont he matter is disgusting frankly.

  “Infidelity, abandonment, cigarettes, and dancing. Not a good look for what was once one of the best supporting characters in the Spider-Man comics.” 

She didn’t abandon him. She didn’t commit infidelity, there was nothing wrong with the cigarettes, absolutely nothing wrong with the dancing and she continued being the best supporting character in all Spider-Man comics.

  But hey....incompetence, sexism, toxic bias, misinformation and outright lying. Not a good look for what once one of the best...oh wait. Ben Smith and Comics Cube have never been the best at anything...except bullshit.

  “That's not even mentioning the other terrible subplots we were subjected to that were not her fault. It may not have been her fault in-story that she was sexually harassed by Jonathan Caesar in a story that refused to ever end, but it's not like we would have ever had to read it if she didn't become Spider-Man's wife.”

  The Jonathan Caeser plot was good and DID end so he’s again lying there. But why trust the word of a man who literally doesn’t understand the definition of what certain words mean.

  Also you could’ve told some take upon the Jonathan Caesar storyline even if Peter and MJ were not married or in a relationship.

  “To be clear, I'm not blaming the victim in any way, I'm blaming the creative teams for believing that would be even remotely interesting to read.”

 I really don’t believe that Ben isn’t blaming the victim based upon what I’ve just subjected myself to.

 “I do not like reading or watching anything like that, ever.”

  Your preferences aren’t the grand arbiter of quality or consensus within Spider-Man fandom Ben.

 “I actively choose to avoid fiction like that.”

  Then do not read Spider-Man because most of this stuff is bread and butter to Spider-Man stories.

  “Beyond that, there were the little dramas that came with being, and I hate even typing this, a soap opera star. Nothing says fun-filled superhero action like Mary Jane being chastised by overzealous elderly fans.”

 Spider-Man isn’t entirely ABOUT ‘fun filled superhero action’ jackass. It’s ALSO about normal life down to earth human drama and has always been since day one because Spider-Man IS a soap opera.

 Fucking idiot.

  “Hey kids, this issue Mary Jane and Aunt May get in a spat over Peter's best interests! Excelsior!”

   Oh you mean like that time GWEN and Aunt May did that in a run long predating the marriage? Excelsior jackass.

  “I know some of you will read this and come to the conclusion that I hate Mary Jane as a character, but I can assure you that is not the case.”

 I sense a disturbance in the Force. As if a million voices cried out in unison chanting ‘LIAR’

 “Like I wrote earlier, when I was a kid she helped form the template for what I wanted in a wife one day.”

 That’s weird and gross and sad fucked up.

  “Now, that was mostly based on her being smoking hot and usually very loyal and supportive (and also they had sex a lot, like A LOT)”

  Yep. A sexist dudebro. I knew it. He’s Marvel material though.

  “but those things don’t hold as much weight on an ongoing basis as an adult reader.”

  Then maybe you outgrew the series. Or maybe the series outgrew you since MJ was supportive more often than not.

  “The fact remains, that beyond her usefulness as eye candy and that occasional support system, her status as the wife of Spider-Man was so badly mishandled that there’s no objective way to conclude that the marriage was a success narratively.”

Yeah there is. Most people conclude that.

  Because most people are capable of narratively analysing stories better than Big Ben over here.

 “Almost everyone that argues otherwise, argues for the marriage as an idea, or because it represents something to them, and not based on actual storytelling execution.”

 No they don’t.

 I’ve spent years interacting with such people and all of them can pull out multiple objective examples of where it was handled well and when you look at the grand scheme of things it was actually handled okay. Probelms arose but they were accompanied by problems in pretty much ALL areas of Spider-Man.

   “ Sure there are always exceptions (the Sensational Spider-Man annual written by Matt Fraction being one of the best) but the examples above are far more damaging than any of the good.”

 No they are not because the examples above are mostly nonsense and lies sprinkled with sexism.

 “ At her best, she was a loving partner and friend to our main character. At her worst, she made Peter (and us) feel bad about him continuing to save lives as Spider-Man.” 

  One most lie for the road I guess.