#also the fact that tony has heart problems did Not concern me in this dream of mine. i support ill advised medical decisions from thor <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[tyrannuspitch]

why did i misremember the scene where tony looks very dead then wakes up as including thor using mjolnir as a defibrillator lol. does thor do that at any point. i'm SURE he's done that in canon :( (<- lying 2 myself)

[mcufox123]

The Best Part of You

This is part 2 of “The Worst of You.”

Summary: what happens after time apart for both of you to grow? Will your relationship with wanda survive?

A/N: This part is kind of rushed. I had a storyline for it but decided to go in another direction instead. This is sort of so we all have closure from the first part. Also this is loosely based on Noah Cyrus and P.J. Hardings “The Best Part of You.”

Warnings: Recovery? 

I DON'T OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS 

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

Getting better proved to be harder than you thought. After you had agreed that you needed help the hard conversation started. All of Earth’s mightiest hero’s voicing their concerns about you and that they wanted to help. There was not a minute in the conversation that you had a dry eye, feeling so guilty for all the pain and worry you caused.  The one thing that you tried to avoid, being a burden to everyone, ended up being the one thing you were doing. They were worried about your drinking, they were worried about how closed off you were, they were worried about your powers, they were worried about everything about you.

“Y/N we love you and we are here for you.” Were the final words of the conversation from Steve.

After the initial conversation you sat down with Bruce to make a plan. You both decided that therapy was the first step. You would wake up in the morning and start your day with a run with Steve. Then, every morning, you would have a therapy session with Dr. Raynor. Then you would go to the training facility with Natasha and Bruce to work with your powers and learn more about them. Natasha also helped you train in hand-to-hand combat. You both were evenly matched.  The fact that it was after therapy was great because you got out all of your frustrations from the session. After that you would usually grab lunch and then meditate with Bucky, most the time complaining about Dr. Raynor. After hanging out with Bucky, you would talk with Bruce about your anger and how you could manage it better. Then came your time with Tony in the lab, just tinkering away, sometimes doing reckless stuff like flying around in Iron Man suits. After that was dinner, everyone usually ate together, besides Tony who went home. After dinner you would write Wanda a letter and read the one Nat usually gave you from her.

That was always your favorite part of the day. Hearing about her adventures wherever she was. The team, of course, didn’t tell you. They kept her location hidden so that you could both heal. At first it was rough. You tried so hard to get in contact with her and go where she was. The team was strong though and wouldn’t let you out of the compound. In the beginning they put an ankle monitor on you, so you had to stay in the house. It was torture.

Along with all of the work you were putting in, they also helped with your alcoholism. They didn’t try to completely cut you off though. They let you drink; they would just watch and moderate you. You were allowed one glass of whisky a night, two on weeknights. They kept the rest locked up. Soon you only drank the ones on the weekends opting not to drink during the weeknights.

It took you days to start to accept the help. It took weeks for you to start to get into a rhythm and start to feel a little bit better. It took months before you felt a little lighter. And at just about a year, you felt a complete sense of calm. You were lighter. You could have fun like you used to without blacking out. You learned how to control your powers with both ice and fire. You leaned on your team when you needed them, and you could finally be there for them again. You pushed yourself hard to get better, putting in the work.

Wanda had taken the year to be at peace with her life. She took trips to Wakanda often and they helped her work through her grief. When she wasn’t in Wakanda she joined the teams on their missions, being grateful for still being able to see them. She also was loving her domestic life helping Pepper with Morgan, especially since the Starks were expecting a new addition to the family. Wanda often imagined what life would be like with you when you got better. She wanted to marry you, to have a family with you, to grow old with you. She knew it would take time, but she was willing to wait.

A few months before you had come up on a year of healing Natasha went to visit Wanda.

“She’s doing much better Wanda. She seems like herself, the drinking isn’t a problem anymore and her powers are incredible.” Natasha gushed about you. Wanda felt a sense of pride well in her at hearing your progress. A pang of guilt also washed over her because she couldn’t be there for you to help you. Natasha caught it “You did the right thing giving her space, you both are going to see in the end.” She gave the witch a sad smile.

“When can I see her? If she’s doing better, can’t I come home?” Wanda felt stupid but she missed you so much.

“Soon Wanda, I promise soon.” And they sat on the dock watching the sky change colors.

The week that had been your one year of getting help, you were taking a walk with Bucky around the compound.

“You’re doing great Y/N. You should really be proud of yourself.” Bucky said while patting your back. “How do you feel?”

“I feel good. I feel light, like some weight has just been lifted off ya know.” You say, reflecting on the past year, “You know it was rough at the start. I hated all of you.” You say with a chuckle. “But looking at where I was then, and where I am now. It’s just I am so grateful for everything, and everyone. How’s Wanda?” Bucky was visiting her yesterday and you were eager to hear about the woman who was the only thing you couldn’t keep off your mind.

“She’s doing amazing! She learned to control her powers more. She seems free, but she never fails to ask me about you. She’s proud of you.” You smiled as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

After that there was a comfortable silence all the way back to the compound. You had time now after Bucky because your anger was under control and you didn’t have to meet with Bruce anymore.

You decided to take a short nap in your room. You deserved a nap. You laid in bed not even taking in your surroundings, closed your eyes, and fell into a deep sleeping dreaming about a specific pair of emerald eyes.

While you were napping Wanda was in the compound cooking up your favorite dinner. She had moved all of her stuff back into your room which you didn’t notice. She was back now, for good and she made a promise to herself to never leave you again no matter how bad she was herself. She felt amazing being home and cooking, but she couldn’t keep her nerves at bay. When she saw you in the room sleeping, she couldn’t stop staring. You looked so peaceful, just as you had all those months ago. This time, however, your face was glowing, and your hair was in a loose messy bun, and Wanda knew you were better. She wanted to crawl right into bed next to you and snuggle close, breathing you in. But she didn’t know that she would’ve rather surprised you.

Natasha was the first to come in the kitchen. She was the one who called Wanda about a week ago and told her it was time to come home.

“Hey Wanda!” she said as she gave her friend a welcome home hug. “I am so happy you’re back I missed you, and you’re cooking so much!”

“Thanks, I missed you guys too!” she said as she rolled her eyes. Natasha and Wanda entered into conversations about coming home and how excited they were to see your reaction. Soon enough the rest of the group started to enter the kitchen, even Thor. It would be the first time you were all under the same roof since Tony’s party last year. The kitchen was bustling, and everyone was so happy to be together. Wanda kept her eyes peeled for the hallway waiting for you to enter.

You opened your eyes to noise coming from the kitchen. You walked to the kitchen smelling your favorite dish cooking. Only one person knew how to cook your favorite meal. Your pace started to quicken your pace, trying to confirm your suspicions faster. You walked in to be disappointed however by just seeing the team. You walked over to the counter to see what was cooking and saw that it was indeed your favorite meal. Your heart started to beat faster because you knew she was here.

“What’s the matter Y/N?” Nat asked you with a smile on her face, you didn’t notice however because your eyes were trying to find the pair that had been in your dreams for over a year. You didn’t even answer Nat. You were losing hope when all of a sudden, arms snaked around your waist. You felt your whole being just relax at the touch.

“Oh, how I missed you, my love.” You heard a soft Sokovian voice say behind you. You turned around so fast in her arms and held her so tight. You buried your face in her neck, taking in her scent. You finally looked at her after a few minutes to see that her eyes had glazed over, threating to shed tears. You quickly brought your hands up to her cheek, caressing them with your thumbs to make sure she was really there.

“Hi,” was the only word you were able to get out.

“Hi,” Wanda whispered back to you. You weren’t sure what else to say or do you were in shock. There was so much you had to say, that you had to apologize for. You had talked many times with Dr. Raynor about what would happen when you saw her again, but no amount of preparation could help you in this moment. She still shined with her beautiful smile, and she still looked at you with such admiration, but you had hurt her. You had worked through all of the guilt and resentment you had for yourself but seeing her again brought it all back.

She could sense your internal battle, instead of making you think more or say anything else, she took you over to the stove and made your try the pasta sauce to make sure it was ok. It felt like normal, like before the blip, before your spiral. You were grateful that she didn’t press for more at the moment.

You helped her get the rest of dinner ready, often your hands would brush past the other, or you would be so close that it was hard to leave her proximity. You enjoyed the time, and you enjoyed everyone else being there too. The conversations were so light and happy. It felt like it was back to normal.

Dinner went by with the light atmosphere. Tony could not stop gushing about your new project that you had both been working on. He was trying to make a spaceship to go back and explore space and this afternoon you figured out how the oxygen in the spacecraft would be recycled so you could be in space for an extended period of time. Thor was having fun making fun of the fact that guys that you had never visited another planet.

The whole time Wanda’s hand was placed gently on your leg with your hand over hers.

“Would anyone like a round in celebration?” Thor asked while getting up and walking to the bar. Everyone raised their hands including you. You could feel Wanda physically tense besides you, fearing the person you once were. You gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand.

“It’s ok, I’m ok.” You leaned over and whispered in her ear. She seems to relax the smallest bit, still feeling tense, however. You scoot your chair closer to her and wrap your arm around her back. She leans into you like old times.

Thor passes everyone their drinks and Tony raises his glass, “I would like to make a toast, to these great people in front of me. These past few years have been tumultuous to say the least, with the big three, people disappearing, health deteriorating, friendships lost, and the world falling apart. We got through it though. We are stubborn though, every single one of us, no exceptions, and we are all still here. We leaned on each other and took the time we needed. We should all be proud of ourselves.” He said this while looking directly at you. “So, without further ado, to the Avengers! May we always have the peace and family that we have here right now” he finished while raising his glass and toasting everyone.

You raised your glass and instead of gulping it all down like you used to do, Wanda was happy to see you sipping the beverage, putting the glass down so it could last you the whole night.

The night carried on with stories, games, and singing old songs. Towards the end of the night, you took Wanda’s hand and led her outside, away from everyone. You both walked on in a comfortable silence before coming to the gazebo Steve had built by the lake.

“I’m proud of you.” Were the first words that were said by Wanda. You felt a sharp pain hit you however, and the words were not comforting at all. Not till you at least said your part.

“Please not yet.” You whispered bowing your head in embarrassment. She gave you a few moments to gather yourself before she took your face in her hands making you look at her. She was beautiful. “I am so sorry for what I did to you. The pushing you away, the drinking, the keeping you out on how I felt. I was so numb and lost. It was hard even just being me.” You saw her flinch at your last sentence, but you pushed on wanting to tell her everything. “When the blip happened, I tried so hard to get you back and when I couldn’t I fell apart. I didn’t live much then. I shut everyone out and I hardened myself. When I saw you back at the battle, I felt so happy but so much guilt, like I didn’t deserve you because I had given up. I hated myself. I couldn’t be around you without feeling like the worst person alive.” Tears now streamed freely down both your faces.

“I’m ok now Wanda. I'm still working but I am so much better. I am so sorry for all of the pain and hurt that I put you through. I love you so much, and I didn’t show you before. If you gave me another chance, I am going to work every day to make it up to you.” You said while taking her face in your hands.

“I love you Y/N. I forgive you for all of it. These experiences that we went through are something no one should have to. But we do, we save the day, and everyone loves us. They don’t recognize the toll that it takes on us afterwards. I’ll say it again because I am so proud of you. You have made so many strides and are an amazing person. I love you, all the worst parts of you which are few, and all of the best parts.” She says gazing into your eyes.

“The best parts of me are just the pieces of you.” You tell her smiling. She laughs and you love her laugh, you love that you are the one who made her laugh. You can’t hold it back any longer and you kiss her. A long-awaited kiss, that isn’t needy. You know that you both will always have each other now. You pull back putting your foreheads together.

The both of you walked back and went to bed in the comfort in each other’s embrace that night, never spending another night by yourself.

[ironmandeficiency]

falcon, falcon, goose!

pairing: sam wilson / reader

word count: 3547

summary: there were reports of geese leading people to their soulmates spanning centuries, and it seemed like a cool concept, but why did it have to coincide with you coming out of your writing slump?

warnings: cursing, geese, dumbassery, implied happy au where the avengers get along, iw and endgame who?

a/n: this is an older piece i wrote a couple years ago, decided to brush it up and repost it. and the reader works for snl bc why the hell not? keep in mind that the original was written before everything went to shit w iw & endgame. posted from mobile yet again yall what is wrong w me

it was a sunny day outside, and deciding that you had been cooped up for far too long, you brought your laptop to the park a couple blocks from your studio apartment.

being a writer for saturday night live wasn't always so peachy, what with the lack of a social life outside of your co-workers and constantly explaining your job to confused relatives. you had been in a slump for the past couple weeks, the fact most of your sketch ideas not making the cut for the next episode continuing to throw you off your rhythm.

this week, you were going to change that. Your headphones were playing your concentration playlist full volume and you were hyped to the max. with your laptop on the picnic table in front of you and a warm cup of tea beside it, you were ready to blow the producers away with your next idea.

"honk! honk!"

you felt something nudge your leg, but you were too engrossed into what you were typing to care. after getting through a few more lines, it happened again.

"honk! honk! honk!"

you couldn't hear the sound but the feeling on your leg got a little bit rougher, more demanding. you moved your headphones to the side for a minute and took a moment to look around you. there was no kid running to get their ball back or any squirrels nearby that dropped a nut.

strange.

but you put your headphones back on, trying to keep your groove alive while hoping the interruptions are finished.

"HONK! HONK! HONK!" the goose honked louder, pecking at your leg harder than it had earlier.

you were getting frustrated and a little pissed. the creativity was flowing through your veins for the first time in what felt like ages and this — whatever it was — decided that today was the best day to annoy you.

you kicked your legs out with a strange flail and when you came into contact with something large and solid you nearly screamed.

"ow! motherf- oh my god!"

standing on the ground beside your table was a goose. it honked yet again with impatience (geese could do that?) and nipped lightly at your thigh closest to it. looking to the pond nearby, it was nearly an entire gaggle of the damned things.

so here was this goose honking at you and nipping at you like you were supposed to know what the hell it wanted from you.

"i don't have any bread, dumbass. go find someone else to bother." thinking it would leave if you ignored it, you turned away and continued your work.

"HONK! HONK!" it continued to honk and decided to peck you before flapping its wings, landing itself on the table next to your computer.

"get outta here, ya damn goose!" while you were trying to shop it away, it expertly evaded you. "go! shoo! leave me alone!"

it just stayed over on the bench, expertly dodging your attempts to get it to leave.

a few people nearby had heard your altercation with the infernal bird. one of them was an older gentleman that laughed as he sat across from you, the mirth in his eyes glinting as you give him a sarcastic side eye while trying to deal with the current issue.

"that bird won't leave you alone, you know." At his voice, the goose calmed down and waddled a few feet away from your arm's reach.

that was the first time the thing had been seemingly calm since he showed up at your little table.

"what do you mean he won't leave me alone?"

he pauses, part of him enjoying the irritation in your tone. he remembers someone talking to him like he was to you many years ago, and it made his heart smile at the idea of repaying the favor. "have you ever read about soulmate geese?"

"hey we're gonna go for a run, wanna join?" steve’s offer was given with a smirk. ever since reuniting with bucky, the two supersoldiers found so much humor in doing laps around sam every time they went out jogging.

it annoyed the shit out of him, the "on your left" comments from steve and the newer "on your right" jabs from bucky, but it also pushed Sam to work harder during his runs. ultimately he knew his non-enhanced body didn't stand much of a chance beating them, but he enjoyed when he was able to close the gap between their times just a little bit.

"sure, just gimme a few to eat breakfast and I'll join you guys." the blond nodded and turned back to the elevator, having woken up far earlier than sam and therefore already ate.

he hummed otis redding as he laid the bacon flat into the pan, shoulders moving along with his created rhythm while changing the grounds in the coffee filter. this was how he spent most of his mornings, barring the occasional hangovers and missions where he couldn't afford the distraction.

he ate, got dressed, and told FRIDAY to let bucky and steve know he was ready to go. h had his water bottle in hand, giving his body a pep talk in preparation for the run. they met in the common room and soon, the trio was off.

"on your left!"

"on your right!"

"oh, come on!"

he knew it was gonna happen, but for some reason it felt like it happened sooner than normal. either they were trying really hard to mess with him today, or he was off his game. but regardless, he pushed his body harder than he probably should have because when there was something obstructing his path, he didn't pause. no, he charged it straight on through and fell hard.

steve and bucky had seen this from a distance and immediately rushed to get to their friend.

sam rolled onto his back, exhausted and now in terrible pain from the fall. he closed his eyes and just let it all sink in. when he opened his eyes at the sudden foul smell flooding his nostrils, he could feel the palpitations, thinking he was about to have a heart attack.

"holy shit!" sam sat up like a rocket despite the way his body was throbbing from the fall.

the goose stared at him curiously and turned its head toward the pounding footsteps from the approaching brooklynites.

"sam! What happened?" steve was concerned, inspecting sam while bucky noticed the bird. The brunet bent down to meet the goose eye-level and was somewhat surprised that it didn't run away at the close proximity.

"did you trip the dumbass? was it your fault sam landed on his face? Huh, little guy?"

"honk! honk!"

"i thought so. good job, man." bucky pats the animal on the head gently before turning to help steve get sam off the ground.

"nothing’s broken but there's probably a sprain, can't really be sure until we get to cho." sam and bucky lift their friend from the pavement and they have no problem supporting his weight.

they began the walk back to the tower in silence. well, almost silence. there was a faint pitter-patter of tiny, webbed feet behind them that sam and bucky weren't paying attention to.

steve noticed the goose slowly waddling behind the trio and looked at sam with a smile. sam responded to steve’s happy face with a glare, not enjoying any of the situation he found himself in.

"look behind us, guys."

both men took turns looking behind them and see the goose waddling behind them patiently. sam wasn't particularly happy about the culprit from moments before trailing behind him, but bucky thought it was hilarious.

"do you know what this means?"

sam rolled his eyes because he thought the blond was about to make some sort of poetic comment about one thing for another.

bucky had paused to think about the implications of a random goose for a moment before gasping. "dude," bucky nudged sam softly, being conscious of his friend's injuries. "you’re gonna meet your soulmate, man!"

"a soulmate goose. man come on, are you out of your mind?"

"steve got his goose back during the war, i think we know enough about it."

sam had only heard vague reports of soulmate geese throughout his life, but now that he thought about it, it did make sense. the goose showed up randomly in the middle of his routine, completely throwing him off, and was now refusing to leave him alone.

"well if this is my soulmate goose, then somebody’s gotta tell tony about our newest avenger." they laughed at the implication, viciously eager to witness tony’s reaction to the newest resident of avengers hq.

it has been three days of dealing with your goose, and you were now teased at work as “bird brain”, walking into your office to see several loaves of bread covering the desk. your goose, that you had named piper once you got home, was excited at the prospect of more food, but you planned on donating most of the bread to local shelters, only keeping a couple loaves for the house.

the guest host that week was mick jagger, and he had emerged into the room “i dream of jeanie” style, startling both you and piper, who honked at him in irritation.

it was time for you to work on the song for your little sketch with him, and you had only two more days before performance night (it was thursday) to finish writing it. after settling down and getting into the right mindset, the writing process had begun.

"alright let's see," mick murmured. "let’s all go to the picnic, let's all have a drink. what rhymes with 'drink'?"

you thought for a moment and said quietly, "think?"

you weren't prepared for the absurd response you received from the man, his accent making him round mean as he barked out a loud "NO!" with an unnecessary hand gesture.

piper just about lost it. she was honking and flapping around your office in a tizzy (but staying away from mick because the man was seen as a stranger she wasn't comfortable with).

you racked your brain for another solution, something else to rhyme with 'drink' and you eventually found it: "sink?"

mick thought about it for a moment before replying with a much lighter "yes!" also paired with unwarranted pointing.

‘motherfucker, is this how you write songs?!'

thursday and friday came and went, and soon it was time for your piece to be performed by mick. du to an accidental ankle twist someone else suffered, you were forced to perform a skit live for the first time in your career. it would have been great, but there was one teensy problem: piper blatantly refused to leave your side when it was time to perform, and she would honk and bite anyone that tried to keep her from you onstage.

even poor bobby, who she had grown fond of, was taking the brunt of it. she was not allowing you to be more than a couple feet away from her, and it was almost endearing if you weren't being broadcast on national television.

apparently, piper would also be making her debut appearance on saturday night live tonight as well.

saturday had arrived, and it was sam’s day of rest. he spent the day doing the bare minimum, eating junk food and watching almost everything on netflix he could find.

he didn't stray too far from tradition, not really. it was just that now he had a goose accompanying him the entire time, honking at this and that and eating occasional pieces of popcorn that sam didn't want to share.

he didn't mind his feathered companion, he was actually quite fond of his goose at this point. whitewing (not to be confused with redwing) was the most calm goose any of them had seen, no biting or nipping and especially no honking at ungodly hours of the night.

steve was perplexed. "Are you sure whitewing hasn't done anything bad? no waking you up at night or bites when you don't feed him soon enough?"

sam would chuckle and shake his head, proud to have such a calm goose. "why are you so keen to see him misbehave? aren’t all soulmate geese like this?"

"for lack of a better word, most geese are assholes. i don't know how whitewing is so well behaved," steve balked at the very idea of all geese being so mellow and decided it was story time.

steve’s goose from the century before was the most rambunctious animal anyone had ever seen. he recounted the first and several occasions following where his soulmate goose, jimmy, fended off the blond man's alleyway attackers.

sam was extremely grateful that whitewing had less feral and goose-like tendencies. whitewing was extremely well behaved and had an almost human way about him, the way he honked in reply to sam or the rest of the team when they talked to him.

it was late in the evening when clint decided to plop down onto the couch and flick the channel to nbc, where tonight's host was mick jagger.

"why are we watching this?" sam was enjoying his sitcoms before the other bird man had showed up.

"i haven't watched it in ages, plus mick jagger is on tonight."

"alright, whatever you want."

the intro played like usual, and whitewing was perfectly complacent. they laughed in the right places with the occasional honking from the bird, and everything was great.

"hey man, look!" clint interrupted, keeping sam from being able to hear the punchline. "i think that's a goose!"

"why is there a goose? The skit has nothing to with-"

sam and clint seemed to come to the same realization at the same time as whitewing, the goose beginning to honk incessantly. he was going absolutely berserk, flapping his wings and hopping off of sam’s lap and onto the coffee table, occasionally pecking at the tv where he saw the other goose.

he was going absolutely bonkers.

"whitewing! whitewing, no! calm down!" sam scrambled to calm down his goose, but he was having none of it. the whole entire skit, whitewing was honking and flapping and being a general nuisance.

he found his soulmate.

whitewing kept at it until the screen went to a commercial, his soulmate off of the screen.

"y’know," clint spoke around a slice of pizza. when did he get pizza? "if you hurry, you could go to the studio and meet your soulmate. the show is about halfway over."

before sam could think over the proposition, tony’s voice was heard from the corridor. "somebody shut that damned bird up before I pay ramsay to cook it!"

"i’m taking care of it!"

with that, sam heads to the armory with whitewing on his tail to get his wings. once he's equipped, sam heads to the window and jumps, immediately setting his course for studio 8h and his soulmate.

you’re released to go back to your office once you finish the skit alongside mick and piper, the show almost over. you’re gathering your things lazily, knowing that you have no other responsibilities for the night.

just as you lock your office and piper is waddling beside you without a care in the world, you see kyle running towards you with a look of fear in his eyes. that fear seems to only triple when his eyes land on piper beside you.

"kyle! what’s-"

"there’s another goose on the set! no one is safe!"

wait, was he bleeding?!

you were going to try and help your friend but one look at piper sent him off the rails, the lanky man nearly falling on his ass in an attempt to skid the corner. you hoped that someone would help calm your panicked friend, seeing as you were literally the worst person for the job at the moment.

without further incident, you are able to say goodbye to cecily and mikey before you're stopped in your tracks by michael, who gives piper a funny look.

"wait, so the goose that attacked kyle wasn't piper?" You shake your head in confusion. "dude, your soulmate must have come to the set!"

piper must have either understood what your co-worker had said or she could sense a change in the studio, but she began to honk erratically and run away from you. the last thing new york needed was two feral geese running around attacking people, so you did what anyone would do and ran after her.

"piper! piper, come back!" michael laughed as you chased after your goose. while you were running, you nearly died when you heard a honk that you knew wasn't from your piper. hers were carved into your brain, and you were positive that you could pick hers out of an entire gaggle of geese, so there was indeed a second goose in the studio.

to your dismay, piper did not stop and wait, she just kept on honking and flapping and scaring people in pursuit of the other goose, poor old you having to chase her.

there was another voice you assumed was yelling at his goose since you didn't know of anyone naming their kid whitewing. your eyes were not looking straight ahead when you suddenly bumped into someone, immediately stumbling a bit before regaining your balance.

piper had stopped her honking and that scared you. did someone hurt her? was she-

her and another goose were making muted honks to each other. they sounded like affectionate honks, which is one of the weirdest sentences you ever constructed in your head. but it was true! they were cuddling close to each other and making really quiet honking noises at each other, and if that wasn’t affectionate then you didn’t know what would be.

so if piper found her soulmate, that means yours was-

"i hope comin' to your job was okay. whitewing wasn't gonna give up until I left, so here we are." your eyes were dragged from the touching scene of piper and her special goose to a pair of dark brown irises that radiated warmth and a promise of happy days.

you were absolutely dumbstruck. your mouth was unable to form coherent words, so you decided to take in the appearance of your soulmate. he was wearing a soft grey tee and sweatpants, and socks without shoes. did he realize how unsanitary the streets of new york were?

but upon further investigation, you realize that he probably didn't walk to the studio. on his back was what you would normally call a jetpack, but when you recognize the face your mind completes the puzzle: your soulmate is sam wilson, otherwise known as the falcon. holy shit.

"uh yeah of course, i guess you flew here? no sane person in new york would walk around barefoot in the street." did you really just say that?!

sam nodded and then remembered that he was in his pajamas in front of his soulmate without any shoes. "yeah, he wasn't gonna stop attacking the tv once he saw uh…"

you realized he was asking for your goose’s name, and so you hastily gave it to him.

"yeah, once he saw piper, he went wild. caused more chaos in five minutes than he did in five days!"

you laugh, the nervousness falling away as you recount the story of you first meeting with piper.

people are staring at the pajama-clad avenger and his soulmate, their geese finally satisfied. after all, it wasn't every day so many people were able to watch soulmate geese (and their people) meet for the first time.

sam gently took your hand, his thumb smoothing the skin on the back of it, just listening to you talk. you asked him a question about whitewing and he was in the middle of telling you when he cut himself off. "i just realized i don't even know your name!"

in most scenarios you’d be slightly put off by this, but you didn't have an issue because of the specific circumstances. if he weren't an avenger you wouldn't have known his either, and plus, no one really pays attention to the little rat writers. you give him your name and smile when he introduces himself, his voice even helping show off the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.

with impeccable goose timing, piper and whitewing honk at you to hurry your introductions and leave the studio.

"do you want to fly back to your place , or can I drive you?" it was a risk to ask him such a question, but you were genuinely concerned. you hoped he wouldn't think you were trying to jump his bones only minutes after meeting him so you used (terrible) humor to show your intentions. "you shouldn't fly so late at night without headlights, no matter how high up you get."

sam’s laughter was infectious and soon you joined him, your geese about to get more irritated with their humans.

"yeah, I'd like that. lead the way, soulmate." piper and whitewing honk as the two of you head to the lobby hand in hand, the birds waddling behind you just as happy as soulmate geese could be.

[the-hidden-writer]

I’ll Remember You This Way

Chapter 1: 2,857 words Read on AO3! (check reblog for link)

The story of one unsuspecting man named Edwin Jarvis and how his life and legacy are carried throughout the universe.

Edwin Jarvis -> JARVIS -> Vision

Snippets of that legacy include Tony Stark carrying his butler's words in his heart for his entire life and Wanda Maximoff sensing an unfamiliar presence in Vision's mind.

Chapter 1 : sun is shining in the sky 

There’s something quite unnerving about the night sky.

The chill of the night is brisk, and he knows that, logically, he should head inside to avoid catching a cold (and consequently facing his wife’s wrath)... but he can’t find it in himself to move.

Edwin has been intrigued by the stars as of late. His employer tells him to, as Mr Stark so eloquently put, “get his head out of the clouds and focus on Earth's problems”. And, once again, this should logically make Edwin lose interest and obey. Deep down, however, he knows there is more. So much more. But it probably won’t be discovered in his lifetime.

Ms Carter has told him of her missions working alongside Captain Rogers, and their discovery of the mysterious glowing cube that had fallen into the hands of Hydra which was most likely of extraterrestrial origin. Edwin felt it was quite the honour for her to trust him enough to tell him (what he thought were) rather classified details- that was actually what prompted him to impulsively ask her what exactly she thought of him. Ms Carter had not hesitated in labelling him as her best friend.

She had then burst into quite an uncharacteristic bout of laughter at the expense of his own embarrassment, and at the time Edwin had felt very much like they were school children giggling over a fellow classmate’s mishaps.

Who could have predicted that it would become quite an accurate description when a rather scandalous newspaper article was released the following day regarding the rumour of an affair between the esteemed Agent Carter and Howard Stark’s butler. For the benefit of both Mr Carter’s reputation and his and Ana’s own privacy, the pair had decided to keep their friendship as "their little secret” and maintain formalities when in public. But even with that and Mr Stark himself publicly denying any truth behind the rumour, it still took a few weeks for it to dispel.

Ana had teased the two of them for many more weeks after that.

As for the cube itself, there is something Edwin finds very strange about it. Mr Stark had been studying it relentlessly since it fell into his hands. Edwin had assisted as per usual and nothing was out of the ordinary, sans perhaps the secret behind its origins and abilities.

No, the strangeness began when Mr Stark asked him to continue studying it alone after Edwin had forced him to rest after over 24 hours of working in the lab. Howard had only agreed to do so if Edwin (who had the sense to stay well-rested) continued to work on it. So he did just that.

Mere moments after Mr Stark had left, Edwin felt himself being... drawn towards the enigmatic object. It was an extremely odd sensation. Though he knows it is impossible, it was almost like it was… beckoning him. Beckoning to come closer. To touch it. To hold it.

To break it.

Now Edwin had the sense to ignore whatever otherworldly temptations the cube was attempting to inflict on him and had simply continued to work as instructed. Yet despite that bizarre event, the thing that unsettled him the most was when Mr Stark denied having ever experienced such a feeling apart from the natural curiosity of an inventor to learn more.

They have worked on the cube many times since then, and every time Edwin would sense that strange calling only when he was alone. He’d worried at first that it was some form of hypnosis but Ana had assured him that he hadn’t changed in the slightest.

However he now found himself enthralled by the night sky, and what unquestionably lies beyond it.

Planets, stars, galaxies, life. The infinite possibilities of space.

And he is just one insignificant man within it all.

“Edwin?”

He is pulled out of his thoughts by Ana calling him from behind. Her face is stern but her eyes are concerned as she approaches him, wrapping her soft burgundy shawl tighter around her shoulders. Edwin immediately feels guilty for causing her to venture outside in such cold weather.

“You need to come inside now, dear. The stars will still be here tomorrow.”

He shoots her an apologetic smile and his heart melts at the way her pink lips part slightly as she lets out the smallest of laughs. She was probably waiting for him to come to bed as evidenced by the fact that her divine red hair is loose and flowing behind her in the wind.

It truly amazes him how beautiful his wife looks even in the most unflattering of situations.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he truly means it, “I was lost in my thoughts.”

Ana tilts her head up towards the sky. “I know they are beautiful, but surely your wife is too?” she teases, and Edwin finds heat rushing into his cheeks.

Smiling, she untangles one arm from within her shawl and offers it to him, but the second his hand touches hers she lets out a small gasp.

“Your skin is freezing!” She exclaims. “Buta emberem, come inside before you catch a cold.”

He wordlessly allows her to usher him inside as she mumbles in her own tongue about how her husband puts others too far before himself.

Ana was right. Ana was always right. She was more beautiful than any star could ever dream of being and he was well aware that he was blessed to be her husband and to have her in his life.

And yet… that night he still found himself dreaming of the stars.

~-.-~

“Am I doing the right thing, Jarvis?”

Howard’s words startle him just as he is about to leave the workshop.

Confused, he turns to face his employer. “What do you mean, Sir?”

Howard’s hands clench into fists at his side as he struggles to find the right words. “I don’t know, I just-” he sighs and looks up at Edwin almost desperately. “I climbed up from practically nothing to get here… what if settling down screws all that up? Screws up the company?”

Ah, Edwin understands now. He knew that Maria was different from the second she scolded Mr Stark without hesitation. She is so different from all the other women, and though Edwin knows that she would never use him he can also understand why his friend is worried. He does have a legacy, company and reputation to maintain, and tying the knot with the wrong person could hypothetically ruin all that.

But Edwin trusts Maria, and Maria loves Mr Stark.

“I think,” he begins, uncomfortably aware that Howard is clinging on to his every word, “that you should follow your heart. Maria is a lovely woman and everyone can see that she makes you happy.” He notes how Mr Stark smiles at the thought of his girlfriend. “But I’m not sure if you should be asking me for this sort of advice, Sir.” He adds.

“Are you kidding?” Howard scoffs. “You and Ana have the best thing going that I’ve ever seen. The two of you are so sweet it makes me sick.”

Having perfected the art of not taking offence at Mr Stark’s offhand remarks, Edwin just brushes the comment aside and speaks to his employer slowly and calmly. “If I know you, Sir, that’s not the sort of relationship you’re looking for.”

Howard Stark has been involved with woman after woman, scandal after scandal, leaving his poor butler to deal with the aftermath of each one. So yes, Edwin knows all too well that the man would struggle with the commitment of marriage and the tower of responsibilities that comes with it.

“See, that’s my point!” Howard exclaims, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I don’t know if I can do it!”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, a small smirk tugs at Edwin’s lips. “Oh, I was under the impression that the great Howard Stark could do anything.”

It was astounding to watch as pompous a man as Howard Stark, with an ego as large as the sun, crumble with insecurity. It was an extremely rare sight to behold and Edwin has the feeling that he is the only person to whom Howard would reveal his inner vulnerabilities.

“You think so?” He asks.

Edwin’s snarky smirk is replaced by a genuine expression of reassurance. “That’s what people say, but I have to say that the man I know personally isn’t perfect. But I also know that Maria makes him whole, and that he needs someone to anchor him before he loses sight of what’s truly important.”

“Steve-”

“Yes, I know Captain Rogers is important,” he interrupts, “but you need to live in the present. He was in the past. I think that Maria could be your future.”

Mr Stark looks up at him for a few moments, presumably allowing his words to sink in. Then all of a sudden his eyes harden with an all-too-familiar determination.

“You’re right!” He cries. “I’m great- I can do this! What’s another challenge to me, right?”

Edwin resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Follow my heart? Well in that case it’s settled. I’ll propose to her tomorrow!”

“Wh- tomorrow?!” Edwin splutters, his calmness shattering with the shock of the preposterous statement.

Howard snorts and holds his hands up in surrender. “Just messing with you. Sometimes your advice is so good that I gotta make sure you’re not a robot or something.”

Edwin chuckles nervously.

“But seriously,” Mr Stark continues, closing the gap between them, “thanks, Jarvis.” He wraps his arms around Edwin’s torso (it’s an odd, childish position but it’s what suits their height difference the best) and squeezes him in a tight hug. Then his playful voice drops into a smaller, more serious tone. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He then pulls back and both men take a moment to adjust their clothing.

“You’re gonna be my best man, right?”

“Perhaps you should propose to her first before you get ahead of yourself, Sir. Take things slow.” Edwin decides to neglect mentioning how improper it would look for Howard Stark’s butler to act as best man and, as utterly flattered as he is, promises to himself to argue the point at a later date.

Mr Stark proceeds to practically hop back to his worktop to continue tinkering with his latest invention. It is a remote control of some sort and thankfully not that blasted cube. However, Edwin knows him well enough that his mind is elsewhere and is practically swimming with proposal ideas- which he will, eventually, end up asking for his help about too.

He doesn’t mind. Edwin just feels happy to help.

~-.-~

Edwin nearly jumps out of his skin as a slender hand taps him on the shoulder.

“Oh! I’m sorry to startle you, Mr Jarvis. I just… I was wondering if I could pull you aside for a minute. In private.”

Mrs Stark’s eyes are wide and alert, and she looks up at him with an air of emergency she’d never admit to having.

Being the ideal butler, Edwin obviously agrees. “Of course. Where would you like to..?”

“Our bedroom,” she supplies all too quickly, “if that’s alright with you.”

It’s not a question. All Edwin can do is nod politely, set his feather duster down, and follow Maria through the hallway and up the elegant main staircase of Stark manor.

Luckily, they don’t pass any of the staff on the way up. And since Howard was away on another of his business endeavours (which had become more frequent) there was no worry of bumping into him, either. Not that Edwin has any clue why Maria was being so insistent on secrecy.

Still, he would try his best to keep it. For her sake.

Once they had reached the large, extravagantly-decorated room and Edwin had locked the door firmly behind him, Maria let out a long, shaky sigh.

It’s only when Edwin turns to look at her does his worry start to sink in.

Her eyes are tired and her glorious brown hair is ever-so-slightly tousled. She still looks like a model, of course, but the fact that any imperfection is noticeable means that something must be terribly wrong.

“Is everything alright?” Edwin asks quietly once he realises that she won’t speak first.

Maria nods unsurely. “I… I don’t know.” She says, and Edwin can hear the lilt of her original Italian accent clipping her words- an occurrence that happened only when she was very stressed.

Unsure how to prompt her for more information without seeming rude, Edwin smiles comfortingly. “Is there anything I can do for you, Ma’am?”

“Edwin-” the use of his first name surprises him so much that it wipes the smile off his face- “you know Howard well, don’t you?”

Edwin is too busy worrying about where the conversation is heading to consider the question too deeply. “W-Well, yes, I suppose I do.” He stutters. “More than any of the staff, most definitely.”

Maria sighs again and moves to sit down on the bed. Edwin, having no idea if he is welcome to do the same, just stands awkwardly on the spot.

She twists the magnificent ring on her finger as she speaks, not looking Edwin in the eye. “…Do you know whether he wants children?”

“W-Well, I- um, i-if, erm-” Edwin stammers incoherently.

Maria holds up her ringed hand to silence him and finally meets his panicked gaze.

“I am pregnant.”

For a moment, Edwin believes he heard incorrectly. His expression doesn’t change as he waits for Maria to repeat herself. When she doesn’t, and the truth finally settles in, he feels the biggest, most-unprofessional grin slip onto his face.

“Oh Maria,” he says, forgoing all formalities as he quickly moves to sit beside her on the bed, “that’s absolutely wonderful!”

Rather than be offended, she seems to appreciate the use of her first name. She smiles in relief at Edwin’s positive reaction. “I only found out a few hours ago, you’re the first to know.”

“That’s amazing!” Edwin’s smile falters slightly. “Is it..?”

“Yes, it belongs to Howard.” Maria assures. Not that he had any doubt, of course, he simply just had to make sure in case she needed any support.

And, just to be extra sure, he cautiously asks another sensitive question.

“…Are you happy?”

Maria tenses for a moment, her eyes frantically scanning over Edwin’s face for… something. When she presumably does or doesn’t find what she’s looking for, she relaxes again.

“I’m overjoyed,” she says, her voice barely a whisper as she idly rubs her stomach, “but Howard-”

“Don’t worry about Howard.” Edwin cuts off firmly. “He is a grown man who adores you, he won’t run off when he hears- I’ll make sure of that. And though I can’t be certain what his initial reaction will be like, I can be certain that he will be every bit as happy as you are.” He smiles a little sadly. “I can only presume fatherhood does that to you.”

The fear doesn’t leave her eyes. “But how do I-”

“I can tell him, if you’d like, but I think he’d much rather prefer to hear it from you.” He interrupts again, reading her mind. “And I think it would be wise to wait until he returns tomorrow, otherwise he’ll grumble about unfinished work.”

Maria lets out a small, dainty laugh. It doesn’t sound entirely natural which does mean that she’s feeling more like herself. Then they fall into a comfortable silence, Maria twisting her ring absentmindedly as Edwin tries to settle his own giddiness from the wonderful news.

He truly feels ecstatic and over the moon for Mr and Mrs Stark. They are going to have a child! A small part of him can't help but feel jealous that he can never have that for himself.

He hates Whitney Frost with every fibre of his being.

But he and Ana have come to terms with the fact that they won't be able to have children, so instead he tries to channel all of his sadness into joy for his dear friends. Besides, he is sure that Mr Stark will let him babysit the child with Ana on occasion. The pair of them would do it for free without a second thought.

Suddenly, Maria shifts her position on the bed to face him before clasping his hand with hers.

“Thank you, Edwin.”

It is said with such sincerity that the use of his first name doesn’t make him even bat an eye this time. In that moment, it wasn’t a wealthy lady thanking her husband’s butler. No, it was an anxious woman thanking her friend.

“My pleasure.” He replies on instinct when she releases his hand.

“I’m sorry for keeping you.” She adds, and Edwin knows that’s his cue to leave. So, with one final smile of reassurance and glee, he leaves her to her own devices.

It isn’t until late that night, as he lies awake in bed with his wife beside him, that it occurs to him as odd that Mrs Stark told him first.

[livinginsuncity]

And I get the feelin’ that you’ll never need me again

I got the paper Monday morning, I haven't gotten around to sign them because every time I sit down to do it my eyes fill with tears and our memories together fill my mind.

Is now Friday.

    I have been sitting down for an hour, just staring at the papers in front of and waiting for them to disappear.

    The clock ticks away another minute and I get up from the desk, walk to the kitchen and grab a glass, filling it with water. Before bringing the glass to my lips a thought crosses my mind and makes me stagger.

“I want a drink.”

    Grabbing the edge of the counter I let my head fall. The thought of wanting a drink is now a recurring thought. This is the 50th time it has crossed my mind today. The 50th time I have thought about how easy it would be to simply walk to my cabinet and get a bottle, not even bothering with a glass, anything to satiate the thirst building inside of me.

    I return to the desk and sit down, the clock ticks again and I wish the glass in my hand was filled with liquor instead of water.

    I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Everything is quiet for a minute. The clock ticks again and I squeeze my eyes wondering the damage I would make if I were to throw the glass against the wall.

    Sighing I open my eyes and my sight falls to the papers in front of me. They laugh when I grab my pen.

My signature.

    That is the thing they are laughing about. I just need to sign them, and they will disappear, but I cannot muster the courage to do it. I set my pen down.

    My eyes wander across my desk, looking for something, anything to distract me from the papers laughing and insulting me from the corner of my eyes. My gaze falls upon a picture frame and the laughing faces in it.

    I grab it before really thinking about it and bring it close to me. I run my fingers along the engraved frame. Memories fill my mind and I put the picture down, not wanting it to end up like the one in the living room. Or the one in the bedroom. Or in the office.

    My eyes return to the papers, they have quieted down. I stretch my arm across the desk and grab a clean sheet of paper. I lift my pen and begin writing.

Dearly beloved

Right.

Dearest Steve

No.

Deares-

Dear Steven

Steve,

I love-

I don’t think I know how to-

I feel like my life has been meaningless since-

I will never stop lov-

I crumble the paper in my hand and start again.

Steve,

    I have received the papers you sent; I’ll send them back as soon as possible. I hope you read this first and that it finds you well.

    I have been thinking about us, about how everything went down, and I think everything started going south around two years ago. Do you remember the last time we traveled to the beach? When I picked you up from work and drove us to the beach for a surprise picnic I had prepared? It was after the first talk we had when we thought, or at least I did, that we could salvage everything. The drive to the beach was one of the best memories I have of us spending time together, we laughed, we sang, we fooled around, everything was perfect. When we arrived at the beach, I made you cover your eyes, didn’t want you to see the surprise before time. The sun was setting when I uncovered your eyes, and your sight fell to the picnic I had people helped me prepare before time, everything was perfect; you threw your head back and laughed out loud, you took me by the waist and hugged me, said I was full of surprises. We were happy. When you let me go, I looked into your eyes and said that I was happy to be with you, that I loved you; as soon as those words escaped my lips your eyes dimmed and you seemed lost for a moment, staring at something above my head, as I started to get concerned you said it back.

    Our last week together was so bad, I remember crying every day wishing you had the courage to talk to me. You kept me out, that whole week. I don’t know what went on inside your mind, or how you reached the point that you did, but you were hurting me, and all of “our” friends expected me to know why you suddenly were so mean towards them.

    When I finally got you to sit down and talk you left me speechless. Jealousy. That was the problem. You were jealous, but you refused to tell me of who. You swore up and down that it was a personal problem, and that you were going to try to get better, that we should just act like that horrible week didn’t exist and continue as if nothing had happened. I accepted.

    After that talk everything seemed to get better. It was the week of the picnic, we were happy. But that happiness didn’t last long, right?

    You started to act all weird again, this time even more distant than before. Ignoring me, insulting and dismissing me in front of our “friends” when I asked what was wrong. I was reaching my breaking point.

    I sat you down, again. I made you talk, again. You repeated the same thing, you were jealous, but this time you did give a name. Bucky. You started going off about how I spent a lot of time with Bucky, how I never included you, about how I was cheating on you. I couldn’t believe it. After you said that anything that I said fell into closed ears. I exploded. I said things to hurt you, I was harsh, I wanted you to feel like I had been feeling. You simply sat down and took it, even seemed pleased at the fact that I was so angry.

Two years later, I wonder who you were jealous of.

    My life was surrounded by your presence, even before dating. Every person that knew us though that we were childhood friends by how well we complemented each other. Living in our own little world. When we started dating nobody batted an eye, and my thoughts became infested with you, your laugh, your voice, your touches. You were my first and last thought of the day, my dreams were filled with expectations for our future. I didn’t, and still don’t, know how to live without you in my life.

    When you started putting up a wall between us, I became lost. You were my because and you had stopped answering my questions. The hatred that you were suddenly holding against me made me hate myself. I tried talking to you and you dismissed me. I hope you never do to Bucky what you did to me. Nobody deserves to be belittled by the person they love. Everything I felt for you went into the back of my mind, and a veil lifted from my eyes. I saw the person you had become, and I hated you.

    During those first months, there was nothing for you but hate. Anything related to you I burned, and I was happy, glad to be out of that relationship. Until I started missing you, your laugh, your voice, your 3 am conversations, and everything I had pushed back came barreling down to the front of my mind.

    I hope your life with Bucky is good. That you’re happy and feel loved, that nothing makes you feel like I once felt. I will continue to look for something to numb the pain.

    I will always love you and hold you dear to my heart, I don’t know how to stop doing it, but I take comfort in knowing that I will hate you for the rest of my days. Those two feeling walk hand in hand when it comes to you now.

    Attached is the only remaining photo of the two of us, as well as my ring. You can do with them as you please.

With all my love, Tony Stark.

    I fold the letter and grab the photo; I take it out of the frame and put both in an envelope. I write his new address.

    Feeling courageous, I grab the papers and sign them before thinking more about it, let my lawyers figure out who gets what, I don’t care.

    I stand up from the desk and grab everything on my way out, I turn off the lights and take a big breath as I close for the last time the door that once directed me to our house, no point in having an empty place in a city I never plan to visit again.

     Next month, Steve will be getting married and I will be drowning my misery on the other side of the world.

Thank you for reading if you did! You can also read it here

[notgoing]

mother-baby-art-monster reader

I look at pictures of myself before I became a mother -- all slouch boots and absent of worry lines -- and wonder who I was? Wonder what the fuck I think I was doing? Wonder where my children are? How did my former self become so genuinely unrecognisable to my mother self? How did I write back then? What did I do with all that ‘free’ time? How did I have the audacity to think my pen mattered on any page? Without my children? As they are the ones who have given me this monstrous courage! To assert myself creatively! I understand that their dreams are valid and conclude that by osmosis mine must be also! They reassure me that I am clean hearted enough to be in possession of this much ambition!

I once wore my son while I wrote a paragraph about Daniel Day-Lewis. Letting him nap in his sling on my body -- his sweet breath whispering on my chin -- was the only way I was going to get the time and space to put those words down. It ended up being a very good paragraph, I believe the warm demand of the 17-month-old, him pressing into me, it being that bit more difficult to reach the keyboard, made me work harder, faster, sharper, stronger.

Can a mother be a writer? is a question that leads to gross debate that can get nasty and rapidly prescriptive. I feel incredibly defensive about the possibility of it all. Also, the necessity! We need to hear from mothers! They are in and of this world! Their art has stuff to tell us! So I have collected things that inspire me, console me, provoke me, into dwelling on the hows, whys, and shoulds of motherhood and creativity. 

Here is my mother-baby-art-monster reader [to be frequently updated]:

HOW MOTHERHOOD AFFECTS CREATIVITY // Erika Hayasaki “Diaper changes might cut into the time spent on creative work, but they don’t cut out the drive to do it.“

THE THREAD: ART MONSTERS // Marissa Korbel

“Children, not women, define motherhood. Our cultural obsession with raising perfect children has eclipsed our interest in women as a class, and mothers in particular.”

A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS A YOUNG MOM: IS DOMESTIC LIFE THE ENEMY OF CREATIVE WORK? // Kim Brooks

“…it feels like the kids gave me that by remaking me.”

ZADIE SMITH

Comment left under an article by Lauren Sandell. One that is so cynical about how a mother should be if she wishes to write that I do not want to link to it.

“I am Zadie Smith, another writer. I have two children. Dickens had ten — I think Tolstoy did, too. Did anyone for one moment worry that those men were becoming too father-ish to be writer-esque? Does the fact that Heidi Julavitz, Nikita Lalwani, Nicole Krauss, Jhumpa Lahiri, Vendela Vida, Curtis Sittenfeld, Marilynne Robinson, Toni Morrison and so on and so forth (i could really go on all day with that list) have multiple children make them lesser writers? Are four children a problem for the writer Michael Chabon — or just for his wife the writer Ayelet Waldman? The idea that motherhood is inherently somehow a threat to creativity is just absurd. What IS a threat to all women’s freedoms is the issue of time, which is the same problem whether you are a writer, factory worker or nurse. We need decent public daycare services, partners who do their share, affordable childcare and/or a supportive community of friends and family. As for the issue of singles versus multiples verses none at all, each to their own! But as the parent of multiples I can assure Ms Sandler that two kids entertaining each other in one room gives their mother in another room a surprising amount of free time she would not have otherwise.”

A WOMAN’S GREATEST ENEMY? A LACK OF TIME TO HERSELF // Brigid Schulte

“It’s not that women haven’t had the talent to make their mark in the world of ideas and art. They’ve never had the time.”

IT IS BOTH CREATIVELY AND POLITICALLY NECESSARY FOR WOMEN TO BE ALONE // Rosin Agnew

“Aloneness in a woman’s life is more important and enriching than it is in a man’s life because she is naturally inclined not to offer herself the luxury of it – socially and culturally women are conditioned to not engage in the narcissistic and selfish behaviours that are often necessary for work to flourish, develop, and for careers to advance.”

WHO HAS THE RIGHT TO BE A WRITER? // Stewart Sinclair  

“It is not a system that rewards artists, or writers, or even mothers or caregivers or social workers or anyone else who forewent the maxim of optimal fiduciary efficiency because they saw a higher value in a calling of lower profitability—i.e., a labor of love.”

DEPARTMENT OF SPECULATION // Jenny Offill

A novel. The novel! Foundational text. Part of what kicked off the recent round of CAN A MOTHER WRITE!!1!!111!!!? articles. Offill is responsible for the glorious/terrifying term ‘art monster’ thus understood:

“My plan was to never get married. I was going to be an art monster instead. Women almost never become art monsters because art monsters only concern themselves with art, never mundane things.”

TONI MORRISON PROVED THERE’S NO TIME LIMIT FOR SUCCESS // Janelle Harris Dixon

“She told an interviewer that once, as she was working, her toddler threw up on the page and instead of interrupting the flow of an inspired sentence, she just kept on writing right around it”

Morrison’s exact words: “I mean every woman knows, that you know, they spit up all the time. That I could take care of. But I might not get that sentence again.”

[ceealaina]

He’s Got a Secret

Square: TSB T3-Day in the Life, WinterIron O5-Domesticity Rating: T Warnings: None Pairing: Tony/Bucky Link: AO3 Summary: Based on that post about Steve’s birthday not actually being July 4, and Steve being in too deep to admit the truth. And of course Tony and Bucky put it together. Just fluff and nonsense.

It was a lazy, rainy, November morning, and somehow, miraculously, neither Bucky nor Tony had anything immediately pressing to get to. They were taking full advantage, snuggling up in bed and just enjoying each other's company before facing the day.  

Tony was sprawled on his back, nestled into a mountain of pillows, with Bucky pushed up on his metal elbow, leaning over him to press gentle kisses over his neck and shoulders. Tony hummed, his eyes fluttering shut as he combed his fingers through Bucky’s hair, tangling their legs together.

“This is nice,” he mumbled, inhaling sharply at the faint drag of teeth over his collarbone. “Mmm… This is… this is really nice.” 

He could feel Bucky’s lips curl into a smile over his skin and he grinned in return, rubbing over Bucky’s scalp until the other man was practically purring. Tony opened his eyes again, feeling all warm and melty inside at the loving look that Bucky was giving him. 

“Hey baby,” Bucky purred, tilting his head to kiss the palm of Tony’s hand. Tony shivered a little at that, and Bucky waggled his eyebrows at him before letting his elbow drop again, snuggling into the pillows beside Tony. Tony beamed, rolling onto his side to face him. 

“Hey yourself,” he said, curling his hand over Bucky’s cheek and kissing him properly. 

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed against his lips, pulling back to stroke his fingers up and down Tony’s arm until he was shivering. “I love mornings like this.”

“You and me both,” Tony told him. He yawned widely and abandoned kissing in favour of snuggling into Bucky’s chest, grinning when Bucky wrapped his arms around him and rolled on to his back, taking Tony with him. Tony yawned again, tracing aimless patterns over Bucky’s bare chest, teasing around his nipple just to hear Bucky’s slight hiss. “What are your plans today, Bucky Bear?” 

Bucky grinned at the nickname, pressing a kiss to the top of Tony’s head. "Nothing major,” he admitted. “Promised Steve I’d spar with him this evening, although I’m looking for any excuse to get out of that. Sam’s moving his sister into a new apartment this afternoon, and he roped me into helping.”

He was grumbling and Tony laughed softly, placing a kiss over his heart. “You say that like you didn’t immediately volunteer, you big softie.”

Bucky shrugged. “I like his sister, she makes fun of Sam with me. Plus she makes real good cookies, so sue me.” He grinned, tightening his arms around Tony. “What about you, sweetheart. Anything exciting?” 

“I’ve got a conference call with Hong Kong,” Tony said with a sigh. “But then I’m gonna be in the lab most of the day. The thrusters in my left boot were a little off yesterday, and I’ve been meaning to get to an upgrade on Clint’s arrows for like, three weeks, and Pepper’s been bugging me about a problem with the StarkPhone UI that R&D apparently can’t handle. So that’ll be me.” He leaned up enough to kiss the bottom of Bucky’s chin. “Want to get dinner tonight?” 

“Absolutely,” Bucky declared. “Lorenzo’s? At seven? It’ll give me an excuse to skip my sparring session,” he added cheerfully, making Tony laugh. 

“Seven it is,” he agreed. “Tell Steve he can spar with Natasha instead,”  he added, giggling when Bucky winced a little at the thought. He leaned up, kissing him softly on the lips. 

“Oh, Steve,” Bucky said when he pulled back again, making Tony blink. He shifted up on his arms so he could fix Bucky with an arched brow. 

“Not exactly the name I was hoping to hear, babe.” 

“Shut up,” Bucky drawled, and Tony squawked as he poked him between his ribs, right in a ticklish spot. Bucky grinned as Tony spluttered and collapsed against his chest again. 

“You’re the worst,” Tony told him, biting at his pec in retaliation. Bucky shifted a little at the feeling but folded an arm behind his head, just looking at Tony smugly. 

“That’s not what you said earlier,” Bucky reminded him, grinning wider when Tony just rolled his eyes. “In fact, as I recall, it was something more along the lines of ‘oh god, yes, Bucky, Bucky, I love you so fucking much, Bucky,’” he added in a fair imitation of Tony’s voice.  

Tony just huffed, biting him harder, and Bucky grunted a little, sliding his hand down to palm Tony’s ass. 

“Hey you wanna go again, we can go right ahead,” he offered, feeling Tony squirm as he stroked a finger down the cleft of his ass. “I’m good whenever.”

For just a minute Tony pushed up into his touch, moaning softly against Bucky’s skin. But then he heaved a sigh, rolling to his side to give Bucky a glare. “It’s hasn’t even been an hour, asshole. You know I can’t go again yet.” 

Bucky just laughed, pulling Tony in against his chest again to places kisses in his hair. 

“Fucking super soldiers and their fucking refractory periods,” Tony grumbled into Bucky’s neck before looking up so suddenly he almost smacked the back of his head into Bucky’s chin. “Oh yeah, so why exactly were you bringing Steve into our sex life?” 

“Gross,” Bucky said, wrinkling his nose a little at the thought. “I wasn’t. I was just gonna say, we should start planning for his birthday? Maybe we could brainstorm over dinner. He hates making a big deal outta it, so obviously we have to go completely over the top.”

Tony nodded, humming as metal fingers rubbed at his shoulders. “Yeah, sounds good,” he agreed, and then paused. “Wait, what?” he asked, leaning up to look at Bucky again. “I mean, I guess, but you’re getting a bit of an early start there, aren’t you?” 

Bucky frowned at him. “Well… we’ve got a bit of time, but not if we wanna get a good reservation somewhere or something.” 

Tony snorted. “Are you planning to rent out the Met? I mean, I’m not saying no, the look on his face would be hilarious. But otherwise, I think we can probably make whatever you want to do work with less lead time. We’ve got almost eight months, and I am very, very rich.” 

Bucky stopped rubbing Tony’s shoulder, ignoring his faint noise of protest. “Eight months?” he repeated. “What are you talking about?” 

Tony frowned at him. “It’s November.”

“Yeah.” 

“Steve’s birthday is in July.” 

“Steve’s birthday is when now?” 

“July. July fourth.”

Bucky blinked at him for a minute and then he burst out laughing. Tony sat up on in the bed, watching in concern as Bucky laughed until he was crying, wondering if his boyfriend had finally lost it entirely. Bucky laughed and laughed until he wasn’t even breathing, tears streaming down his cheeks as he clutched at his middle, trying to get control of himself. 

“Oh my god,” he finally managed to choke out, still holding onto his stomach with his eyes closed. “Oh man, I definitely don’t need to spar now,” he added, still snickering under his breath. 

“Okay, that’s good,” Tony told him. “And also, what the hell was that?” 

Bucky opened his eyes, and started laughing again when he saw Tony’s face, although fortunately he got himself mostly under control again after a minute. 

“Steve…” he snickered a little. “Tell me again when you think Steve’s birthday is?” 

“July fourth,” Tony repeated. “Everyone knows that. It’s like he was meant to be Captain America, from the day he was born. He’s every tour guide’s wet dream.” Tony stared as Bucky burst out laughing again, wiping at the tears streaming from his eyes. “Bucky, what?” 

“Steve’s birthday is not July fourth,” Bucky managed to choke out before snorting again, shoving his face into the pillow until he could get himself under control again. 

Tony blinked at him. “I’m sorry. What?” 

“Steve’s birthday isn’t July fourth,” Bucky repeated, this time managing to say it with a more or less straight face. “Not even close. He was born on December 3.”

Tony blinked again, his mind trying to connect the facts he already knew with what Bucky was now telling him. “That… That can’t be right.” 

Bucky grinned at him. “Trust me, doll. I’ve known that punk since we were little kids. Used to join he and his ma to celebrate Steve’s birthday, and it would always snow. It was definitely not July.” 

Tony just shook his head. “But… we’ve thrown him birthday parties! Every year we have a barbeque, and we all watch the fireworks from the roof of the tower, and make jokes about how there are fireworks for him, not America. One year I even paid to get a firework done like his shield, and I thought he was going to jump in the pool. He never said anything!”

Bucky’s eyes were sparkling now, looking like it was his birthday. “Probably because he knew he’d never hear the end of it from all of you. Tony, honey, this is the best. Do you know what we can do with this?”

“What is even happening right now?” Tony breathed softly, still trying to process this new information. There were certain things that were just facts, and one of those things was that Steve Rogers had the most American birthday possible. “I don’t… How?” 

“Probably some propaganda thing they came up with when he was doing those USO tours. ‘Captain America is so patriotic, he was born on the fourth of July. Be patriotic like Cap. Fight for your country.’ That kind of thing.”

Tony snickered a little, finally catching up. “So it somehow made it onto his SSR file, and when SHIELD found him… And it’s Steve, so of course he wouldn’t have said anything.” He started to laugh, and Bucky beamed now that Tony had caught up. “He probably spends the month of June in absolute terror that we’ll figure it out. This is the most Steve Rogers thing that has ever happened.” He shook his head at Bucky. “How did we not figure this out earlier?” 

“We missed Steve’s birthday last year, remember?” Bucky reminded him. “That hell mission? We were gone like three weeks. And then before that, I wasn’t really paying attention to birthdays.” He flapped a hand impatiently. “Doesn’t matter. Tony, how are we gonna tell him?” 

Tony grinned wider. “I’m thinking surprise party?” he asked. “Do you think he’ll faint when he walks in and realizes that we all know?” 

“Yes,” Bucky agreed, nodding definitively. “Absolutely. But please let me tease him a bit first.” A wicked look crossed his face, and Tony couldn’t decide if he was terrified, or turned on. “I want to see his face when he realizes I can ruin everything with one word.” 

“Only if you promise to record it so I can see too.” 

***

Steve had had a pretty much perfect morning. He’d woken in the dark to go for a run. The air was cool, and crisp, and by the time he was headed back to the tower, the sun was up, promising to be one of those gorgeous, unseasonably warm, late fall days. Now he was freshly showered, and enjoying a second cup of coffee while he flipped through a newspaper.

And then Bucky walked in. 

“Hey Stevie,” he drawled, making his way over to the coffee maker, and Steve glanced up at him over the top of his paper. Bucky had a bounce to his step and was humming under his breath; today was obviously a good day, and Steve grinned at him. 

“Hey Buck,” he said, eyeing Bucky a moment longer before turning back to his paper. He didn’t actually have any particular preference for print newpapers, except for the horrified look Tony got whenever he saw him reading one, but really, what other reason did he need? He and Bucky fell into a comfortable silence, interrupted only by the occasional flick of paper as Steve turned to next page and the easy, domestic sounds of Bucky moving around the kitchen, making himself some breakfast. 

“Hey, Steve?” Bucky asked suddenly, jolting Steve out of the daze he’d let himself sink into. He blinked a couple times before looking up to find Bucky frowning out the window, looking more perplexed than upset. 

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Am I…” Bucky trailed off, looking like he was counting in his head. He laughed softly at himself. “This is gonna sounds nuts, but… Am I missing a holiday?” 

Steve arched an eyebrow at him. “You mean Thanksgiving? You were here for Thanksgiving.” 

“No…” Bucky rolled his eyes at him. “I remember Thanksgiving, punk. It was just last week…” He trailed off again, chewing at his lip as he thought. Steve took an encouraging sip of his coffee. “But isn’t there something else? It feels like we used to celebrate something extra special this time of year.” 

Steve inhaled his coffee, choking and spluttering and sending liquid spraying everywhere. Bucky came over and pounded him not-at-all-helpfully on the back as Steve tried to catch his breath. 

“What?” he gasped when he could breathe again, a little grateful that the choked sound of his voice would maybe hide the fact that he couldn’t lie for shit. “I think you’re thinking of Christmas, Buck?” 

“Definitely not Christmas,” Bucky told him, apparently believing Steve. He grinned fondly. “I definitely remember our Christmasses growing up. You and your ma would come over for dinner, and you, me, and Becca would have a snowball fight outside.” He shook his head again. “This was something else. Something… more special. Seemed like you, me and your ma would always celebrate together, although that can’t be quite right, can it?” 

Steve stared intently at his coffee mug. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. 

Bucky didn’t seem phased, shrugging instead. “That’s okay,” he said, apparently misinterpreting Steve’s quietness as feeling maudlin about Bucky’s messed up brain. He patted Steve on the shoulder before collecting the plates he’d made up for himself and Tony. “See ya later,” he said, before hesitating in the doorway. “Don’t worry, Stevie,” he added reassuringly, and if Steve hadn’t been staring at his coffee so that his face didn’t give anything away, he might have noticed the glint in Bucky’s eyes. “I’m sure it’ll come back to me.” 

As soon as the elevator had dinged, Steve collapsed against the table with a faint moan. Somehow, in all the time that Bucky had been back, it hadn’t actually occurred to him that of course his real birthday would be buried somewhere in his psyche. He was glad that Bucky was recovering more and more of his memories, of course he was. Just… Did it have to be this memory in particular? 

***

Upstairs, Bucky rushed into the bedroom where Tony was sprawled across the bed, watching the live feed of the common area kitchen that JARVIS was projecting on the wall. “What’s he doing?” he asked, bouncing on the bed and leaning over to kiss the top of Tony’s head, beaming when Tony pressed into the touch a few seconds longer than necessary. “Anything good?” 

Tony tilted his head as he eyed the stream, lips twitching into a grin. “He’s just been lying there with his face squished into the table,” he said. “I think he might be muttering ‘why me?’ over and over.” He giggled, making grabby hands for the plate of food. “I’d almost feel bad for him, if it wasn’t so hysterical,” he added around a mouthful of bacon. 

“Don’t,” Bucky told him cheerfully. “Steve deserves this. One time for his birthday, he decided he absolutely had to try gin for the first time. Long story short, we nearly ended up in prison because of that little punk. He deserves this.”

Tony blinked at him. “Okay, no. You can’t ‘long story short’ that. How even?” 

Bucky just shook his head. “Trust me, babe. You do not want to know.”

“If you say so,” he said with a shrug, stealing a slice of bacon from Bucky’s plate this time. 

“Hey!” Bucky protested, trying to grab it back and missing when Tony shoved the entire slice in his mouth at once, stuffing his cheeks like a chipmunk. “Whatcha stealin’ my bacon for? You’ve got a whole plate of your own.” 

“I know,” Tony answered, voice muffled as he crunched. He carefully slid his own plate to his far side, in case Bucky felt the need for retaliation. ���But I’m gonna eat all mine, and yours might be gone by then, so I figured I’d eat yours first!” He smiled cheekily at Bucky, like that was actual logic, and Bucky had no choice but to tackle him to the mattress, pinning him down so he could ruck his shirt up and blow a raspberry above his belly button. “Oh my god,” Tony shrieked, giggling at the sensation. “What the fuck’s the matter with you? Are you six?” 

“That’s what you get for stealing my bacon,” Bucky retorted, letting Tony up because he was actually hungry. 

“Yeah, I’d like to steal your bacon,” Tony muttered, in a voice that implied it was supposed to be an innuendo, but Bucky just snorted into his scrambled eggs. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he informed him. 

“Yeah,” Tony admitted cheerfully, digging in. “But I’m your ridiculous.” 

It didn’t make any goddamn sense at all, but Bucky couldn’t help beaming at him anyway, nudging up close against him until their shoulders were brushing. “Yeah, baby. You are.” 

***

A few days later, Tony stepped off the elevator into the penthouse to find Bucky sprawled across the couch, watching a random action movie on the television. Tony beamed at the sight him, his smile growing even larger when Bucky spotted him and returned it in kind. 

“Hey honey.” Tony yawned and then scrunched up his face, brushing a hand through his hair to shake the snow out of it. “‘s snowing,” he added unnecessarily. 

Bucky huffed out a laugh. “I can see that.” He watched as Tony peeled off his suit jacket, revealing the band t-shirt underneath before he moved over to the couch, flopping down with his head on Bucky’s lap. Bucky settled his hands on Tony’s head, carding his fingers through the thick curls until Tony was humming. “Long morning, baby?” 

“Dumb morning,” Tony grumbled. “I hate paperwork.” He stretched his legs out on the couch, kicking his shoes off. Despite being a billionaire, he had a hole in his sock, and Bucky snorted at the sight of his big toe sticking out through the black cotton. “You laughin at me?” Tony asked Bucky’s thigh. “So rude. What a terrible boyfriend.” 

Bucky could hear the smile in his voice and rolled his eyes, watching Tony’s toes curl as he scratched over a particularly good spot. “Yup, life is really hard for you, huh? You should probably leave me.” 

“Never,” Tony declared, rolling onto his back so he could look up at Bucky, giving him a dopey smile. “You still going to the movies with Steve tonight?”

Bucky nodded, brushing a stray curl back from Tony’s forehead. “Yep. He’s pickin’ me up here around six.” He grinned then, eyes sparking. “‘s been a few days since I mentioned my missing holiday, so I think I’m gonna be in the mood to bake a cake.” 

“Niiice,” Tony crowed. “I like it.” 

“How about you, baby? Still got that thing this afternoon?”

“I mean... technically yes, but it is snowing...” Tony yawned again, snuggling in tighter against him. “Might be safer to stay home, you know, just in case.” 

Bucky could have made fun of him for Iron Man being afraid of some snow, but instead he just cheered. “Yeahhh. Snow day, sweetheart. Stay here all cozy with me, we can watch this dumb movie together, and then I’ll make us some lunch.”

“Well...” Tony snuggled in closer to Bucky, all but purring when the other man grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and covered him up in it. “If you insist.” 

By the time Steve arrived to pick up Bucky, they had eaten and shared a nap and a very distracting shower. Steve stepped off the elevator to the familiar sounds of their good-natured bickering, which he followed to the kitchen. He found Bucky in boxer briefs and an apron, baking while Tony lounged in a kitchen chair, balancing it on two feet with his feet up on the table and offering completely unhelpful suggestions. 

“Oh, hey Cap,” he drawled when Steve wandered into the room, eyeing him with a slightly mischievous glint to his eyes. “Fancy meeting you here. Come on in, have a drink.” 

Bucky jolted at the sound of Steve’s name, spinning to stare at him and then blinking back and forth between Steve and the clock on the stove. 

“Shit!” he said, wiping a streak of flour across his cheek. “Is that the time already?” He tossed a tea towel at Tony, the fabric landing perfectly over his face. “Tony! You were supposed to tell me when it was time for me to stop and get ready!” 

“I know, honey, but you just looked so happy there cooking up a storm.” Tony blinked at him, all faux wide-eyed innocence. “Plus your ass looks real cute in that apron. I couldn’t stand to interrupt you.”

Steve snorted at him. “It’s no big deal,” he promised, helping himself to a glass of water before settling into the seat opposite Tony. “We can always catch the late movie.” 

“Ohoho,” Tony said, winking at him. “I’m on to you, Rogers. You’re just hoping Bucky Bear here’ll share.” 

“I mean...” Steve shrugged unashamedly, grinning back at him. “I certainly wouldn’t turn it down. Whatcha making anyway, Buck?” 

“Umm.” Bucky paused them, staring down at the mixing bowl with a slightly vacant expression, and if Steve had been looking, he would have noticed Tony’s lips twitching before he was suddenly fascinated by something on his tablet. “A cake?” he offered, and Steve tilted his head in confusion. 

“You don’t know what you’re making?” 

Bucky shrugged, apparently not bothered. “I dunno. Something about the snow, and the wind, and New York this time of year got me in a certain mood, and I just started throwing ingredients together.” He started mixing again, humming some big band music under his breath. “It’s got oranges in it,” he added, after a minute. 

Tony, watching Steve surreptitiously over the top of his tablet, noticed the way he went completely still. “Oranges?” he repeated, just a touch too casually. “That sounds good.” 

“Yup,” Bucky agreed, popping the p. “Some kind of orange cake.” He stopped then, turning to face Steve. “Hey, wait! That sounds familiar. Did we used to have this when we were kids?” 

“Uhh...” 

Tony had to drop his tablet under the table so that Steve wouldn’t see him laughing; dear lord, he was a terrible liar. 

“We didn’t have oranges a lot growing up, Buck,” Steve pointed out, not quite answering the question. 

“No, no, that’s right. I know,” Bucky waved him off, and Steve relaxed a little. “Oh, but was it a special occasion cake?” Bucky burst out, just as Steve was taking a sip of his water. “For a party or somethin’?”

Steve choked on his water, spluttering and coughing, and Tony crawled out from under the table to smack him on the back a couple times. 

“Jeez, Stevie,” Bucky drawled when he’d caught his breath again. “You alright?” 

“Yup,” Steve choked out, voice a little hoarse. “Yup, I’m fine. But, uh... I just remembered. The late movie is... sold out. Yup. So we should probably get going if we want to get tickets for tonight.” 

Bucky glanced at the cake mix and shrugged, tugging off his apron and sticking the mixing bowl into the fridge. “Cake’ll keep, I guess.” He pointed at Tony with his mixing spoon. “Don’t eat all the batter before I get back,” he threatened, busting into a smile when Tony just fluttered his eyelashes at him in his best ‘who, me?’ expression. 

Tony just waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got to go downstairs and finish some stuff for Pep anyway,” he promised, giving Bucky a kiss on the cheek. “Have fun tonight, and stay out of trouble.” He paused on his way to the elevator, watching Bucky root around for his wallet and keys. “And don’t forget to put on pants, baby!” 

***

The closer they came to the day of his actual birthday, the more twitchy Steve got. He was constantly on edge, waiting for the moment when everything would come back to Bucky in a rush when he would make a big birthday announcement and give him away to everyone. But that moment never came, and Bucky stopped mentioning things about missing holidays. 

He was two days out from his actual birthday, and just beginning to relax a little. He was sprawled across a couch in the common room, watching a movie with Nat and Sam, when Bucky came into the room. 

“Oh, hey Stevie! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Steve looked over at him expectantly, and his eyes widened when he saw the envelope he was brandishing in his hand, the size and shape of a birthday card. Bucky waved it in the air. 

“This is-”

Steve panicked completely, and before Bucky could get more than two words out Steve was launching himself at him with a terrifyingly accurate rendition of an Asgardian battle cry. Bucky yelped in surprise as Steve flew through the air at him, knocking him to the ground. 

“Stevie, what the fuck?” Bucky managed to get out, planting his feet firmly against Steve’s chest to kick him off. 

Not to be deterred, Steve jumped on him again, wrestling Bucky right out of the room and not stopping until they were a safe distance from Nat and Sam. Bucky gave as good as he got, and they were both breathing hard when he let up. 

“Hey Stevie?” Bucky asked, leaning against the wall, hand against his chest as he caught his breath. “Full offence, but what the actual fuck?” 

“Umm...” Steve gave him a hopeful smile. “What’s in the envelope, Buck?” 

“There’s something wrong with you,” Bucky muttered, which Steve had to admit was probably fair. He shoved the envelope at him. “Here. Tony asked me to drop that off. It’s the specs for the new tac gear you two were talking about.” 

Steve blinked at the envelope. “It’s not a card?” he asked blankly, and Bucky stared at him like he had three heads. 

“What the fuck would I be giving you a card for, you dumb punk?” He hauled himself to his feet. “Freak,” he muttered, limping his way toward the elevator. Steve winced; that thigh kick had probably been unnecessarily hard. 

***

Tony was waiting for Bucky when he stepped off the elevator onto the penthouse, and he burst out laughing at the sight of him. “Oh my god, honey, that was perfect,” Tony told him, wiping tears from his eyes. “JARVIS showed me the whole thing. I think he would have thrown you out the window to keep you from giving him a birthday card in front of Nat and Sam.” He beamed at Bucky. “I liked the limp on your way out, by the way. That was a nice touch.” 

Bucky winced, rubbing at his leg. “Not an act,” he bit out. “Wasn’t an act. Fuck that idiot can kick hard.” 

“Oh shit,” Tony’s smile dropped, mirroring Bucky’s wince as he moved over to him. “You alright?” 

“I think he broke my thigh bone,” Bucky grumped. “Nah, I’m alright. It hurts like a bitch, but give it an hour or two and I’ll be fine.” He was still frowning though. “We got any frozen peas or somethin?”

Tony gave him a dry look. “Do I like like the kind of person who keeps frozen peas on hand?” he asked, huffing out a soft laugh at Bucky’s pout. “Luckily, I do have plenty of ice for my fully stocked wet bar,” he told him with an unnecessarily ridiculous wink. “Here, you go get comfy on the bed, I’ll bring you some ice for your leg.”

Bucky nodded and headed off, yelping when Tony gave him a swat on the ass on his way by. “You gonna stay with me?” he asked hopefully. 

“I suppose that can be arranged,” Tony called after him. “I’ve gotta make a call to Tokyo in a few hours, but nothing urgent before then. I can hang around till then. See if I can’t help you... feel better.” 

Bucky grinned, pleased, as he stripped down to his boxer briefs. There was a huge bruise on his outer thigh, a sick looking dark purple, and he examined it in the mirror, pressing on it a couple times and wincing at the pain. 

“Don’t poke it!” Tony protested, coming in behind him. “Honestly, what’s wrong with you?” He gave Bucky a shove that was mostly ineffective, but was enough to get Bucky to crawl carefully onto the bed, stretching out on his back with a low groan. Tony tossed him the ice pack, and Bucky applied it to the bruise, hissing at the touch of cold. 

“Such a baby,” Tony told him affectionately, stripping out of his own clothes to join Bucky on the bed. “Hey, you know what I’ve heard is the best cure for super solider-induced bruises?”

Bucky rolled his head to face him with an arched brow. “What’s that?”

Tony smirked at him. “Orgasms.” 

*** 

Though he’d caught a couple strange looks from him, Bucky thankfully hadn’t mentioned the Incident again. There’d also been no further hints of Bucky suddenly remembering that Steve was the biggest fraud in the universe. Steve had spent the next couple days feeling sheepish (Bucky was his oldest friend. He should be grateful he was getting his memory back) before accepting that this particular memory had fluttered away from him, and Steve was probably safe - at least until the next fourth of July, but that was future Steve’s problem. 

On the day of his actual birthday, Steve woke with a now familiar pit of anxiety in the bottom of his stomach, which he quickly shoved aside. Everything was fine, Bucky hadn’t remembered, and he wasn’t going to get caught out. And, provided there were no last minute supervillain attacks, he could spend the day like he always spent his birthday: a little quieter than usual, and with no recognition beyond the little cake he’d bought himself (already sitting in the fridge) and the couple of hours he’d carve out by himself (usually accompanied by masturbation jokes from Clint and Tony, but that was fine) to think back on the last year and everything he’d accomplished and how he could do better. 

And then, because that sounded sad and lonely enough to make Steve wince even in his head, movie night with hopefully everyone, but at the very least Tony and Bucky and Sam. A little quiet, but all-in-all a pretty perfect day. 

Which was why he couldn’t help being disappointed when Tony tracked him down to the library later that morning, apologies written all over his face. “Hey, Cap. Do you mind if we rain check movie night?” 

Steve blinked at him a minute before forcing a (he hoped) somewhat natural smile to his face. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he said. “Of course. Anything I should know about?” 

Tony waved a hand, looking like his mind was somewhere else entirely. “Just the usual comedy of fucking errors. Sam’s feeling under the weather, I guess, and Buckster won tickets to a show or something on a radio contest, of all things. I know,” he added, apparently misinterpreting the look on Steve’s face. “Who the fuck even listens to radio these days, and what’s he doing trying to win radio contests when I could just buy him tickets to whatever he wants to see.” 

“That’s not actually what I was going to say,” Steve said, smiling despite himself. Tony just shrugged and winked at him. 

“Anyway. Next week work for you?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve assured him, turning back to his book. “Have fun at your thing tonight. Try not to get caught fooling around in the bathroom this time.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at him. “That was one time!” he protested, eyes crinkling as he laughed. He headed for the door and then paused, looking back over his shoulder at him. “Hey, you’re sure you don’t mind?” he asked, more serious now. 

“Yes,” Steve told him. “It’s totally fine, I promise.” 

And it was fine, really. There were certainly far worse ways to spend his birthday. He’d spent a good seventy plus birthdays in a frozen ice coma, for instance. Those had probably been way less fun than hanging around here. (Although he couldn’t actually remember, so who knew? Maybe some polar bears had shown up with party hats.) At any rate, this was certainly better than the alternative of having them figure out he’d been lying about his birthday for the past few years. 

And so maybe there was a tiny part of Steve that couldn’t help wishing Bucky had remembered because even if it would be embarrassing as hell, it would be nice to have someone know what today was. Sure, he got to celebrate on the fourth of July, and in the end it was just a day and it didn’t really matter. But the fourth of July was a big day for everyone, and his birthday always got tied in with that until he didn’t even really know which part they were actually celebrating, and maybe it was just from his mother always telling him that his birthday was a special day just for him, but celebrating on the fourth always felt just a little empty.

***

Bucky hummed to himself as he moved through the aisles of the party store, blatantly ignoring the huffy sighs that were coming from behind him at regular intervals.

“Remind me again why I’m here helping you shop for party supplies?” Sam finally said when Bucky continued to ignore his attempts at telegraphing how unimpressed he was.

“Because Tony’s doing the food and cake,” Bucky replied, like it was obvious. He was considering two different sets of balloons, and didn’t see the way Sam threw up his hands because that meant nothing to him. 

“I’m s’posed to be eating pizza and watching movies right now,” he groused. “Why am I cancelling on Steve?” 

“He thinks you’re sick.”

Sam blinked at the back of Bucky’s head. “Why does he think I’m sick?” 

“Because that’s what we told him.” Bucky turned abruptly with a pleasant smile, apparently not at all surprised to find Sam three inches from the back of his head, and thrust a package of balloons at him. “Here. See if you can find more of these in the next aisle.”

Sam sighed wearily. “And why are we buying orange balloons for a party in early December?” he asked, not looking like he expected an answer that made any sense. 

“Because that’s Steve’s favourite colour.” 

“Oh, right. Of course,” Sam grumbled, following along behind him as Bucky headed for the streamers. “Wait, I thought Steve’s favourite colour was red.” 

Bucky gave him a shit-eating grin. “Nah. That’s just what the powers that be want you to think. ‘s more patriotic. But he couldn’t even see red growing up. His favourite colour is orange.” 

Sam didn’t bother asking why the balloons had to be in Steve’s favourite colour. 

***

“Okay, but really,” Sam said as he took the bowls of chips Bucky had handed him and set them out on the table. He glanced around the common area, messily decorated in orange and silver streamers and balloons with a Captain America piñata that clashed horribly with everything else. “Why am I cancelling on Steve? I’m right here!” 

Bucky was saved answering by the arrival of all the other avengers (minus Steve) in the elevator, Tony herding them into the room like an over-excited border collie, a maniacal grin on his face. 

“That’s not concerning at all,” Clint mumbled on his way by, Bruce snorting in agreement. 

Tony sidled up to Bucky, beaming as he eyed the decorations. They may have gotten a little over enthusiastic with the balloons. “Nice job, babe,” he preened, giving Bucky a kiss that earned them groans and protests and threats of leaving from the other avengers. “No, no, don’t go!” Tony said, pulling himself free of his boyfriend. “We’ve gathered you all here for a very special announcement.” He looked to Bucky. “Honey, would you like to do the honours?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes at Tony’s dramatics, even while he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “We’re, uh... pranking Steve. So you know... Everybody duck, and when Steve comes in we’ll all yell ‘surprise!’”

Everyone blinked at them. 

“Uhhh... You know I love a good prank as much as anybody,” Clint started. “But this seems a little weak.”

“Seriously?” Sam added. “This is what you had me skipping movie night and going shopping for?”  

Bucky grinned at him. “Trust me. It’s worth it.”

The response was lukewarm, and met with a fair share of grumbling, but there was cake on offer, so they managed to get everyone hidden around the room. Bucky and Tony claimed a spot behind one of the couches, crouching down behind the cushy fabric, Tony giggling as they waited for Jarvis to send Steve down. 

“Shhh,” Bucky whispered, pulling Tony in and kissing his temple because how could he resist. “You’re gonna give us away.” 

“Sorry,” Tony whispered back, smothering another giggle into his sleeve. “I’m just picturing the look on Steve’s face.” 

At that moment the elevator dinged, door opening and emptying Steve into the room. “Um,” he said, footsteps a little tentative as he took in the dark space. “Nat? Jarvis said you needed me for something?” He heaved a sigh, scratching at the back of his head. “Said it was urgent?” 

Their execution was less than perfect, with Tony jumping up a split second before anybody else and the word ‘surprise’ coming out as more of a question from everyone, and the lights turning on somewhere in the middle of all the noise. But Steve didn’t seem to notice. He stared at them all, jaw dropping open and face going so white that Bucky was briefly concerned that he might actually pass out. His mouth opened and shut a few times, unable to actually form words, and then,

“Oh, fuck me.”  

The maniacal grin on Tony’s face faltered slightly, and Bucky shifted a half step toward him. “Stevie? Buddy? You okay?” 

Steve waved him off, collapsing into a chair with a groan and hiding his face in his hands. “How long’ve you known?” he asked wearily, rolling his eyes when their grins returned full force. 

“Couple weeks,” Tony told him cheerily. “Since Bucky casually mentioned that we should get started on planning something for the day.” 

“Okay, wait,” Clint said, looking back and forth between the three of them. “What the hell is going on right now?” 

He seemed to be speaking for the group and Steve stared at them with wide eyes before whipping his head back around to Tony and Bucky. “You didn’t tell them??” 

“Tell us what?” Sam asked as Bucky’s grin turned a little evil. 

“We thought we’d leave the honours up to you, punk.”

Steve glared at the two of them, but Bucky just beamed back, wrapping an arm around Tony’s shoulder and whispering something into his ear that had Tony laughing. He rolled his eyes before figuring what the fuck and turning to everyone else. 

“Today is my birthday,” he announced, before being met with blank stares all around. He sighed and threw up his arms. “My birthday’s not the fourth of July. Never was. So. Surprise back, I guess?” 

Bucky snorted loudly at that, and Steve rolled his eyes at him.

“Okay,” Sam said, looking back and forth between Steve and Bucky. “Lemme get this straight. You’re saying that your birthday is today?” 

“Yep.”

“And all these years we’ve been celebrating on the fourth of July instead?”

“Yep.”

“I... How?” 

Steve shrugged helplessly. “Propaganda, I guess?” 

Sam stared at him, the corners of his lips starting to twitch. “And all this time, you just let us go on thinking the the fourth really was your birthday?” 

“Also yep.” 

He wasn’t sure who started it, but then the entire team was laughing at him, and surprisingly... It wasn’t as bad as Steve had expected. It was all good-natured ribbing, and instead of feeling humiliated, he couldn’t help feeling accepted instead - especially when Sam cuffed him on the shoulder with an affectionate “only you, man.” Steve couldn’t help laughing too, after that, because really the entire situation was ridiculous. 

And after, when everyone had calmed down, there was his favourite cake, and his favourite snacks, and his favourite soda, and balloons in his favourite colour. Everyone was having a good time, and there were stupid party games that nobody won because they kept ending laughing too hard to finish, and he got to crack a poorly rendered piñata of himself in half which was weirdly cathartic. And best of all, it was just them. No fireworks, no extravagance, just his best friends - his team - and everything that he would have asked for from a birthday party. 

And when he apologized for letting them go all out for his parties in the past, and Tony told him not to be ridiculous, that they’d still be having those parties, but from now on the fourth of July was Cap’s birthday, and the third of December was reserved solely for Steve? Well, Steve felt warm right through. 

... Didn’t mean Bucky and Tony weren’t gonna get payback in the worst way though.

@tonystarkbingo @winterironbingo

[scarlettswxtch]

You Feel Like Home | 1/2

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Description: You’re a therapist with a tragic past and Bucky’s your new bedmate. You try to deny your feelings for him but he keeps working himself into your heart...and your bed. Will you fall for his charms or keep him at bay?

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Little bit of angst. All my fics are intended for 18+ readers: this mini series will contain + death.

A/N: I wrote this in a plane, on my way home from Easter holidays so I’m v sorry for any spelling mistakes! :) This was written for an anon - I kinda slightly changed your request up a bit, hope that’s okay ! hope this is (kinda) what you were looking for x Also Jesus Christ I can’t do one shots I just write a fuck ton. Lol. I’m posting part 2 tomorrow!! :)

MASTERLIST

You were in a grocery store when you first realised you were in love with him. He wanted ice cream even though it was cold outside - the wind was biting, chilling and New York was covered in perfect snow. He couldn’t decide what flavour of ice cream he wanted and you teased him about his indecision. “Why don’t we buy every flavour?”

He laughed - soft, innocent laughter in the air like glitter. The kind of laugh you could listen to forever. “You’re silly,” he said, green eyes sparkling with adoration and he kissed you.

You’ll never forget that kiss. Breath pale against the numbing air, you blinked thoughtfully as the frost patiently kissed his face and you were captivated by the soft, dusty illusions of light that sat heavy on his eyelashes. In that moment, you knew you loved him more than anyone, a once in a lifetime.

***

2 years later

“Talk to me,” you whispered to no one, sitting alone in the very early morning of crisp November. It was cold outside but, you didn’t care. It was snowing again, thick and deep and freezing cold. There were a few clouds but the moon shone bright and gilded you in silver but, you didn’t notice it. You saw nothing and heard nothing.

You’d been up here countless times before their deaths. His death - etched in your memory like it was yesterday.

It happened so fast. You were wrapped in his arms; laughing, kissing, telling each other sweet nothings. His lips tipped up and he looked at you like you were sunshine. You’ll never forget that look - how moments later it filled with horror and panic.

A figure appeared out of a bright, blinding red light; an ominous warning of what would come. It was a woman - beautiful, slender, with eyes uncanny to his; round, green as new-born leaves. She had his eyes but she didn’t look at you with adoration. No. Her eyes slithered on your form like it was insulting, gaze almost red with resentment. When she spoke it was melodic yet she spat her words with hot-red fury. “I have to kill you,” she said and when you asked her why your heart wanted to leap out of its chest. Your daughter. His daughter. Our daughter. “HYDRA’s orders,” she spat and he pulled you behind him without a second thought, sacrificing his life for yours, blood marring the dirt as his form became nothing but a corpse.

You stared at the ground - snow once blood stained long washed away or mingled with dirt. You didn’t know why you kept coming here. You wanted to hear his voice, see his face, replace that final look of fear and tell him everything would be ok. Instead, you sat there, dominated by a profound sadness, fatigue engraved on your worn face. No longer could you see see that inquisitiveness, that desire, that fire in your eyes. All that remained was the deceiving hollow soul. You were just a shell of a person.

***

3 months later

“Would it kill you to come to dinner?,”

You drew absentminded doodles on the piece of paper in front of you as your lips pursed in discomfort. Yes, yes it would kill you to go to dinner at Jane’s house.

“Jane,” you said into the phone “like I told you, I’m really busy,”

“But I thought you said you’d have some free time coming up?,”

Your eyes closed over in exasperation. Jane was your dead boyfriend’s sister and there truly was nothing worse than being around his family. “I was but things got busy. Very busy. I can’t make dinner this week,”

“How about next week?,” she pushed.

“Janey...”

“I’m worried about you, I haven’t seen you in months! I mean, who’s taking care of you?,”

“Jane honey, I’m a grown woman.”

“But I worry about you. Ever since you took that job I haven’t seen you,” she whispered, this time sad and concerned and, because you loved her, it killed you. You knew she was worried. You and Jane had been the best of friends before his passing, attached to the hip like sisters. When he died, you couldn’t bare her presence - she looked so much like him it physically hurt you. Jane was flighty, sensitive and nervous by nature. Therefore, she constantly checked up on you despite your excuses to avoid her. That, and, you now lived in New York with hero’s that needed your constant attention.

“Don’t worry,” you assure her quietly “I’m fine. Just busy.”

“Pardon me, Miss, but Mr.Barnes is requesting your presence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y says from above you and your pen comes to a halt.

“Jane I gotta go,” you say quickly.

“But-“ she began.

“Somethings just came up, honey. Really, gotta go. I’ll call you back later,” that was a lie.

You heard her sigh then, “Okay, I’ll be waiting for that call.”

“Love you Jane, bye.” you hear her say goodbye but vaguely.

“Send him in,” you say to F.R.I.D.A.Y, fingers now tapping nervously on your mahogany desk. Being a therapist for the Avengers has its perks and downsides - on one hand, you were generously paid (courtesy of Stark himself, of course) but on the other, you were on call 24/7. Not that that was an issue for you, no - not at all. Helping other people with their problems had helped your own inner conflict and you did it rather readily.

The problem was Bucky Barnes. He's not usually the kind of guy you fantasise about. For starters, he's brunette and you’ve always liked blondes. Dreamy men with bright blue eyes who were emotionally stable, preferably. Until you met Bucky. He’s someone with his own issues, issues that made your own seem totally minuscule. Life taken by Hydra, experimented on endlessly. He‘s emotionally volatile, prone to aggression and...drop dead beautiful in every way.

There was also the fact that you were sleeping with him. Non-stop. Like two damn bunny rabbits. It was insane. He’s the only healthy drug there is, the one that puts your mind into a frenzy of sparks. Makes you...forget. When you’re with him, your past life seems like a dream - something that never happened. The simple touch of his hand leads you into moving in ways you never learnt but know so well. In those moments, you are only alive in the present, all thoughts of past and future melted away. You weren’t sure if that was good or bad but, the guilt you felt over it was overwhelming.

The elevator opens directly into your office and you watch him step in, phone to ear, he hasn't looked at you yet so you gaze freely. “Yeah yeah, Steve I got it,” he says into the phone. There's something about him, a slight confidence and inflated ego, that has you muddling your words and blushing uncontrollably whenever he's around. He looks up at you and smiles a dazzling smile, making his way to your desk. “I’ll see you later punk, I got a woman that needs my attention.” he says, eyes still on you and you can hear Steve’s hearty laugh through the phone before he hangs up.

“Hey darlin’,” his voice is smooth as silk as he leans over, placing a kiss on your warm cheek. He’s holding a coffee cup that he places in front of you and he sits down on the velvet green chair opposite your desk - looking all handsome and comfortable. You suddenly felt small in your own office - his energy completely enveloped the room. It was always like this with Bucky. He was an intense guy who commanded everyone’s attention - it was completely impossible for him to walk into a room unnoticed.

You eyed the coffee cup, smiling “That for me?”

“Got your name on it, doll,” He said lazily, head bent as he tapped away on his phone. You took it giddily, bringing it up to your face and smelling the hint of hazelnut. You smiled to yourself - you only ever ordered coffee with him once and ever since, he’s remembered exactly how you like it: a little milk, 2 pumps of hazelnut syrup and no sugar. It was a small thoughtful thing but, so very heartwarming.

“Hmm, what’s the occasion?”

“Consider that a gift,” he said, sliding his phone back in his pocket.

You raised a brow, scanning your memory for anything you’d done to solicit a gift and you came up blank “What for?” you were frowning now as you sip your coffee.

He kept a straight face, he was looking at you with those gorgeous, irresistible icy blue eyes that could make the whole of the Arctic melt in seconds. “For you coming to Tony’s event with me.” That almost made you choke. Bucky and you were many things but explicitly public was not one of them.

Your eyes turn round as you abruptly placed the coffee cup on the table, a little warm droplet spilled on your hand and you unconsciously wiped it on your skirt. Well, say hello to a stain now, idiot. “What?”

“You and me, Tony’s charity gala,” he said simply, completely un-phased.

“What? Bucky I never agreed to that”

“Don’t need you to agree doll, I’m telling you,”

You stared at him speechlessly. Bucky was a dominant guy - you knew that the second he first walked into your room and sat his ass down on your chair like he owned the place. The only vulnerability he ever showed was during your therapy sessions, when you’d both speak about Hydra and his past with Steve. Other than that, you could be damn well sure Bucky Barnes would dominate you in every way possible and damn if it wasn’t hot. Sometimes, only sometimes, you felt like you could see some of that softness when he was in your bed but, he never let you see it for long enough. You didn’t blame him - you pushed him away a lot.

He raised a brow at your quietness and you realised you hadn’t said anything for about a full minute now. “Uhh,” you began, damn him and his tongue-tying effects! “Bucky I’m not so sure that is professional considering I’m your therapist-,”

“Darlin’ I think we’re way past professionalism,” he interrupted, leaning closer to you - he was looking at you with heat in his eyes as his gaze lazily flickered from your desk to your eyes “Whole of New York heard you scream my name when I took you on that desk,” he muttered, loud enough for you to hear.

You swallowed, heat flushing your face as a sudden tingling sensation took over your stomach. “Bucky I cant - I...it’s different for the public to know. You’re not exactly lowkey.” It’s true. He isn’t. The Avengers are all high profile people constantly all over the news - from dating to getting a coffee cup across the street, you could be sure their faces would be somewhere on the front page. You experienced that first hand when you were spotted out with Steve. Headlines covered both newspapers and magazines in bold red letters: AMERICA’S SWEETHEART? They read - totally ridiculous considering you were only getting coffee but apparently, the public obsessed over Steve’s love life. Jane had called you asking if you were dating and you panicked so much you vowed to never step foot outside with any of them again. Except for Tony and Barton who were happily married.

Bucky stood up, face flashing with something that faded too quick for you to spot “Doll seriously, I’m tired of you denying that we have something here. It started off as just sex,” he leaned into the desk, face dangerously close to yours “we both know it’s a lot more,” he whispered and your heart started beating irregularly fast. He wasn’t wrong. It was...more. He made you feel good in ways no one else ever has - not even him. Bucky made you forget him. That made you feel incredibly guilty because he was supposed to be your soulmate - he still is in some ways. Yet Bucky got this response from you, a different kind of response - like necessity - as if your soul yearned to knit itself to his and it killed you. So much so it hurt to ignore it.

“I-I I can’t,”

“Why?”

“I have...I just can’t do that to him, Bucky,” your eyes lowered as you looked away from him “I still love him,” you said, jaw tight “please, let it go.”

You were met with silence and you peered up at him. He was staring at you with that hardness in his eyes - the same hardness you saw each night when you asked him to leave your room. His jaw twitched in what you could only guess was impatience, frustration, annoyance...perhaps all three?

“The more you hold onto the past the more it haunts you,” he mutters and his eyes search your face - voice lowering, almost soft. “Don’t think I don’t see the way you look at me across the room, sugar” his hand curls around your neck, squeezing it and your body shivers at the contact. “I know that look,” he whispers - gaze so raw you could only squirm beneath it. “I’m here right now, in the present. I won’t wait for you forever.”

You swallowed as your heart clenched “Bucky let go,” you said, so quietly that if he hadn’t been so close to you it would’ve been inaudible.

But Bucky Barnes was not done. You’d know this when he was not across the table but in your space. So far in your space, you were now standing and your soft body was pressed against the length of his, his hand curled around the back of your neck, demanding, putting pressure to bend your neck up as your lips connected. You put your hands to his shoulders to push him away, your mind filled with how you could do that as gently as possible when his tongue came out and the tip touched your lips. And at that, your body and mouth made another decision before your mind could catch up. This being your arms closing around him tight, his mouth opening yours, his tongue spiking out, pushing yours back into your mouth and then he kissed you, very hard, very wet and very, very deep. He tasted like mint - sweet and fresh and fucking fantastic.

You kept one of your hands locked tight around his bicep while you slid the other hand up his spine, his neck and into his hair. He bent forward slightly, arching over his arm, forcing your body deeper into his and you moaned a sweet, soft moan against his tongue. It was the best thing you’d ever tasted in your life until he pulled away.

You looked up at him, breathless and outraged at the same time - smugness was written across his features as he stepped away from you. He was smirking now as if you’d just told him what he needed to know “I’ll wait for that RSVP,” he said and finally strolled out of your office.

***

3 hours later

Nat was looking at you from across the table, face totally impassive. You told her everything to the minutest detail that happened between Bucky and you. And it was fair to say you remembered the minutest detail.

Through this, she listened.

When you were done, you asked quietly, “Well?”

She simply stared at you, eyebrow raised and book in hand, “Was there a question?”

You looked at her incredulously “Yes! What do you think I should do?” You slumped back into your chair, hand covering your face as you grumbled: “God Nat I’m so torn, he makes me feel good but-“

“All I’m hearing is excuses,” she interrupted suddenly and you peeked at her from behind your fingers. She was looking at you with her judge-y jade green eyes.

“Nat he freaks me out!” You exclaimed and she suddenly took your hand in hers. She was staring at you with an unusual softness and you felt incredibly lucky at that moment. You knew this caring side was something Natasha rarely showed to people - it was something she had only gifted you twice in your time of knowing each other and each time, you took that look of hers and locked it away in your heart to keep forever.

“I get that,” she says softly “I also get why. You’re scared of moving on, feeling guilty because of what happened. I’ll tell you this though, nothing good comes of dwelling on the past,” she echoed Bucky’s earlier words and your heart clenched because you knew she was right. “You should know that - you’re the therapist here. Follow your own advice. Besides, from what you told me, who you were with was not a selfish person. He would’ve wanted you to be happy - not be a nun and never find love again. I think we both know that...you’re just having trouble accepting it.” She let go of your hand and leaned back in her chair, face turned up to the February sun.

“God I hate it when you’re right,” you grumbled, fingers massaging your temples in contemplation.

“I’m always right,” she says without looking at you. “You already know Barnes. He’s got a lot of demons, but he’s good around you - we all see that he’s been better ever since you.”

You closed your eyes “Oh God-“

“What we gossiping about here?” A voice said from the kitchen door and you squealed at the unexpected interruption. It was Tony.

Nat was about to say something before you quickly interrupted her with wide eyes. “Nothing!,” you said, and Tony’s eyes assess you in thought but (thankfully) chose to say nothing of what he was thinking.

“Right...” he drawled before he distractedly began pressing at the advanced looking gadget on his hand.

“Need you in the office, sweet cheeks, ASAP.” He said, waving at you to follow him and you promptly got up from your chair.

“Right away boss,” you said and followed him. You turned around quickly to face Nat “Thank you,” you mouthed to her. She only nodded in response and went back to reading her book.

As you followed Tony, something told you you’d have a very, very difficult time trying to get Bucky Barnes out of your head and the truth is...you weren’t even sure you wanted to.

[wintersxsoul]

Ancient Love (4)

Summary: Loki never thought he would fall in love with a mortal, but much less that he would lose you as fast as he did. But…did he really lose you?

Pairing: Loki x Female Viking!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k 

Warnings: None i think

A/N: So this is where i wrap this up. I hope this has the ending you expected and enjoy <3

Loki sat in the black leather couch of the waiting room, scanning the place in awe. The person that owned that part of the floor had an exquisite taste, he would even venture to say they had a regal and unique taste. Tony Stark was an eccentric and so was everything he owned, but this place felt different. The floors were of a rare white marble, the walls were painted in a very subtle grey decorated with paintings. The room had a really familiar smell but he couldn’t quite place it, it was a mix of sandalwood and jasmine he thought. The soft piano music that was playing lulled his nerves, letting his mind run free for a second and regretting it immediately.

Loki knew therapy was a good idea to help him deal with his traumas, but he also wasn’t sure about it at all, since he had centuries of pent up emotions. The fact that someone was going to look inside his mind, again, trying to manipulate him even if it was positively, terrified him. He looked at his shaky hands and sighed heavily, throwing his head back closing his eyes but he gathered himself rapidly, standing up and straightening his clothes. He placed his hands on his back, clasping them together trying to make them stop shaking, and paced around the room studying the paintings. The landscapes were mesmerizing, painted with such a delicate stroke and impeccable technique, the painter surely poured a lot of emotions to the works of art. He had never been to this part of the tower since it was the medical bay, and he could cure his exterior wounds himself, so he didn’t know who the therapist was, also Tony told him that they moved in recently. He moved closer to the office door, noticing himself in the mirror reflection, a tired face stared back at him. He was wearing high waisted grey jeans with a black turtleneck, his hair pulled back in a braid and his converse.

Loki’s head snapped towards the door when the knob clicked, his eyes averting whoever was standing there.

“You are next, right?” A low feminine voice spoke to him, one of the agent’s that the Avengers were training. He nodded and walked past her, entering the cozy room. It had large windows, white walls and burgundy carpeted floor. The desk and the rest of the furniture were white, giving the space a relaxed vibe.

On top of the desk there were a few files, notebooks and a mug full with pens of all colors and sizes. Something inside him flipped when he saw the name on the thin golden plate. Amarantha Enginn. She was looking for a book on a shelf, too focused to notice Loki at all. He looked at her, a smile forming on his lips when he realized she was wearing black cargo pants, a gun and a knife on her leg holsters and a plain black shirt tucked in. She had black short hair and what seemed to be a strong body complexion. She could strangle him in a heartbeat if he let her.

Loki cleared his throat and Amarantha turned around smiling, leaving him breathless.

“Hello, you must be the infamous Loki. I am Amarantha, nice to meet you.” She extended her hand for him to shake it, but all he could do was stare at her. Stare at you. Was it really you? You sounded, moved and were as he remembered but this couldn’t be possible. You had died.

“Excuse me, I can’t.” Loki said turning around, leaving you confused and alone on your office.

-

“Is this some kind of twisted joke, brother?” Loki barged in Thor’s room, startling the thunderer and Steve, who was discussing something with him right before Loki entered. Agitated and wounded, he approached Thor already carrying his two daggers ready to stab his brother, again.

“Woah woah woah, what’s going on Loki?” Steve stepped in between Loki and Thor, his hands up in surrender. Loki hid his knives and fell to the floor, his aching heart weightning him down, his emotions drowning him.

“She...how? Her memory?” Loki started saying between sobs, the two blondes looking at each other confused and worried.

“Loki, what’s going on?” Thor kneeled in front of his brother, trying to stay calmed but failing miserably, not knowing what to say or do to ease Loki’s pain. He had never seen his like this, not even when Frigga died. Steve silently left the room, leaving the two Asgardians some space and trying to find out what had happened.

Once he was in his room, he asked FRIDAY to show footage of Loki’s doings in the past few hours. Steve couldn’t find nothing strange in the god’s behavior, he could see the nervousness before his appointment with Amarantha. He frowned when he saw Loki runnin out of the office. What the hell happened in one minute for him to be so afflicted? Steve needed answers to help his friend, so he made his way to the medical bay.

Two knocks and she already knew who it was. She answered with her usual sweet tone of voice and smiled when she saw Steve.

“Your appointment is next week, is everything alright? Is Bucky okay?” Steve smiled back at her, his heart swelling at the honest concern she always showed for the super soldier couple.

“Everything’s perfect between Buck and I. I just need to ask some questions, Mara.”

“Go ahead then, honey.”

Steve explain what he had witnessed and she explained what had happened. Everyone knew she was kinda immortal, so they both thought that maybe Loki must’ve encountered her at some point in their lives and that’s why he freaked out.

“It’s her Thor, I promise on mother’s name. Amarantha is Y/n.” Thor didn’t know what was going on, but he knew something was up since Loki brought up your name, the forbidden name. He knew all the story of how his brother fell in love with a mortal, how they lived happy surrounded just by nature and how she was ripped off Loki so soon. Everything clicked at that moment. Only Odin could grant immortality and it was not a secret that Mara was as old as the two gods. Could his father really do that? Break Loki’s heart without a purpose?

But, oh boy, everything the Allfather did had a purpose and a meaning, a reason to be. He remembers well how he treated Jane when he took her to Asgard, the way he spoke about her and how disappointed he was that his son fell in love with a mortal. Jane was not the problem, it was history repeating itself.

Thor stood up and helped Loki stand as well, holding his hand to drag him out of the room and onto the medical bay so they could finally solve all this mess.

To say Loki was an emotional mess the moment he saw you again was an understatement. The heartache he felt was indescriptible, all the centuries of longing and missing you almost forgotten.

“So, I think we need you two to sort things out, because this will be chaotic if it’s not taken care of.” And like that, Steve and Thor left you and Loki alone with whatever the issue was.

Loki approached you slowly and asked you in a low tone if you remembered him, but you shook your head, answering a no, a strong wave of sadness washing over Loki’s features. He was sitting down in the small sofa you had in your office and you sat next to him, trying to bring some comfort to the man that claimed to know you.

“You need to remember, please. I need you to remember.” He begged you, hot tears running down his cheeks. You ignored the strong feeling of familiarity and comfort you felt at the exact moment his hand brushed against yours, but your mind had other plans.

Suddenly, images of you ran wild through your mind, flashbacks of that beautiful lake you painted over and over again when you couldn’t sleep, the feeling of soft lips against yours, a smooth laughter, a cackling fire. Everything started to piece together in your mind, the shattered dreams you’ve had for centuries were memories of your human life, memories of a brighter time.

You looked at your hands and held Loki’s, you filled your lungs with as much air as you could and exhaled. You were shuddering and crying, finally you could understand a lot of things. Your obsession with people’s psyches was because you couldn’t understand your own, you always felt incomplete and now you understood why. You finally knew who you were, your family, your origins, your first and only love.

“Y/n?” Loki broke the silence whispering your name like it was a prayer, but scared to face the fact that you may never recognize him.

“I loved you.” You simply answered, your eyes still fixed on your intertwined fingers. “I still do.” You finally gathered the courage to look at him and the intensity of his gaze, the pure, raw love and adoration that his green eyes held just for you was magnetizing. You let go of his hand to place yours on his cheek, caressing the cold familiar skin. For you it was like time hadn’t passed but for him, for him it was centuries of pain and mourning your empty casket. You leaned in and placed your lips tentatively on his, savouring every moment. How your lips just fit perfectly together, how your body reacted to his touch and his to yours. Everything else could wait, every explanation, every reason, all could wait.

After centuries, two ancient souls found themselves once again, reviving their ancient love.

[twobitmulder]

On Spider-Man, Reboots, and the Future of the X-Men

A while ago I made a post called “Thoughts on MCU Peter Parker and Reboots” which ended up being mostly an examination (or rant) on why MCU Peter doesn’t work for me and was kind of soft on the analysis of reboots. Now, with the announcement that Sony and Marvel’s Spidey deal has fallen through, I thought I’d take another crack as examining why reboots lead to less than stellar versions of characters, and why it’s got me scarred for the X-Men to join the MCU.

Now, right off the bat I feel I should say that I’m not against reboots and re-imaginings. I think The Incredible Hulk is broadly better than the Ang Lee Hulk. I think the 1999 Mummy is better than the 1932 classic. Reboots can be a radical re-imagining, a second draft, or even an examination of different facets of the character (like how Lettier’s Hulk focused more on the lonely wanderer in search of a cure, while Lee’s focused on the father issues). This works especially for long running characters who have a lot of material to work with.

I think my problem with MCU Spidey starts with the way that Sony and Marvel approached the idea of the reboot. The Amazing Spider-Man with Andrew Garfield felt the need to be radically different from the Rami films. The Rami films played all the silver age comic book tropes gleefully straight. An old fashioned news room, his start in wrestling, and the campy villains. It exists in a sort of anachronism stew to borrow the TVTropes term, much like Burton’s Batman.

Webb’s films tried to find their own voice by pushing Peter back into high school and making them a little more deliberately modern. They used a more modern incarnation of Peter as opposed to the good natured Silver Age doofus that Tobey Maguire played. Garfield’s Peter is probably my favorite, and the one who feels closest to my ideal comics Peter, but that’s not really the point here. The point is, he HAD to be different otherwise people would accuse it of being the same thing over again.

So there we were with (in my opinion) someone who acted a little more like the Peter I knew growing up, who occupied a more familiar world, but we also had to gloss over his rivalry with Osborne because it had already been done. This was a criminal waste of Chris Cooper and Dane Dehaan, who were fantastic choices for those characters, but more to the point, it shows how this could not just be a second draft. It had to be different, which meant that even if it fixed some things that Raimi might not have hit the mark on, it also got rid of things that he had done right. The Osborne’s, the Bugle, and Mary Jane (well, he didn’t quite to MJ right, but the fact that she had already been used probably spurred the switch to Gwen).

Then when those flopped Peter joined the MCU. I remember reading that in my dorm room my first year of undergrad and whooping with joy. I thought about his relationship with Daredevil, who we knew was coming, and Captain America. Having Osborne be an Avengers level threat who battles Peter on the lawn of the White House while the Sinister SIx hold the Avengers at bay (Bendis’ Ultimate Spider-Man was the saving grace of the Ultimate Universe). Feige promised Peter would have a “non-stop wit.” It was all coming together.

Civil War came out and he seemed a little tacked on but it didn’t matter because he was there. Sure Stark gave him his suit, but he had designed the prototype and there was no way they’d make Peter the science genius dependent on Tony Stark.

“Weary sigh.”

I want to like the MCU Spider-Man so bad, Everyone else likes him. I feel like I’m taking crazy pills. I already went over why I don’t care for him, so I’ll skip that*. Once again, the point is, this one HAD to be different. Because he was back with Marvel we had been given the implicit promise of a fully realized comic accurate Spider-Man, fixing everything Webb and Raimi (read Sony) had gotten wrong.

The problem was that Webb and Raimi had gotten a lot right. So MCU Spidey glossed over Uncle Ben “because it had been done before.” He never clashed with Oscorpe or the Goblins “because it had already been done before.” There was no selling pictures to the Bugle “because it had already been done before”*. 

He didn’t make quips because everyone else was funny and he had to be the wide eyed kid, played younger and less mature than Garfield or Maguire. And (okay a little bit of whining from me) he had to rely on Tony Stark because we had to be reminded that now he was part of the MCU. 

The MCU Spidey got a lot right and some of their updates worked for the better. I love that Peter and May live in a small apartment instead of a house because they’re poor and New York is expensive. I like that his school feels like a real high school, with kids who basically act like kids. I like that he has a confidant (Ned Leeds was a weird choice, I’d have gone with Hobie Brown, Deb Whitman, or Kenny Kong, but I like the character anyway). I love love love their takes on Vulture and my favorite Spidey Rogue Mysterio. But, in their drive to be different from the past iterations they changed the character a little too drastically. It wasn’t a third draft to get Spider-Man right, it was a bottom up reimagining that (my opinion only) jettisoned a lot of what makes the character compelling.

Now he’s apparently gone from the future of the MCU and honestly, personally, I’m kind of relieved. I’m glad he’s indelibly a full fledged part of the MCU narrative, and he got to see the Infinity Saga through to the end, but I don’t think I could have taken another movie of Peter becoming Stark’s Robin just to be different from what came before.

This all brings us to the X-Men. I love the X-Men. I love Gambit, Nightcrawler, Rogue, Kitty Pryde, Iceman, Cyclops and all the rest (but them first and foremost). I love the place Mutants have in the Marvel Universe and the potential for clashes with other heroes and compelling stories to be told about the nature of marginalization and identity. The problem is, the previous X-Men movies covered those bases from a lot of different angles and my fear is that when they join the MCU they’ll be so concerned with being different that they’ll forget what makes them the X-Men*.

In the end, we still have years of comics and alternate universes, cartoons and canon that we can pick and choose from. It’s just so frustrating because we were so close to a perfect unified cinematic universe like we’d only ever dreamed of. We all have different bits of it that we wish had been done better, but I suppose the mere fact that it exists in any form is pretty damn cool.

*Except to say that, as Gail Simone so eloquently put it in an otherwise positive review of Far From Home, Holland’s Spider-Man isn’t the everyman who mocks the rich and powerful, he worships them and wants to be their friend.

*While I was happy to see the Jameson, Simmons, and the Daily Bugle return, and while I can’t deny that turning him into a lunatic pundit makes sense for the character as he’s portrayed in Spider-Man, I think that modern superhero stories have a problem with the old school journalist characters. Yes in real life print journalism isn’t what it used to be, but if we can accept superpowers, alien warlords, and good hearted billionaires surely we can accept the fantasy of a newspaper that still functions like they used to.

*I don’t have this worry for Fantastic Four (my first favorite superheroes) because while the Tim Story movies were close (and Trank’s reboot is emblematic of this whole issue on a massive scale) they haven’t been in the public consciousness and had a continued presence like Spidey and the X-Men so there’s less need to “be different” and more opportunity to actually get to the core of the FF the way they did with Captain America and Thor.

[broken-hearts-lives-among-us]

Pretending (Part 3) Jughead J. x Reader

Summary: Drama in Riverdale seems to never end, your home-life was a mess, your past was still hunting you, yet, breaking up with your boyfriend was the last straw that broke the camel’s back. How are you supposed to go through all the chaos that was coming? Are you going to keep pretending to be the normal nice girl? Or his your heart willing to reveal it’s true skin?

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Jughead Jones x reader

Words: 3048

Note: English isn’t my first language, I deeply apologize for any mistake.

The news of who killed Jason Blossom didn’t took long to get to your ears, having the pleasure of being notify by Sheriff Keller himself, the fact that Clifford Blossom murdered his own son was a sour event for the town with pep.

Although that wasn’t the end of the path and the suicide of the Blossom father didn’t made things easier, the responsible was no longer in this life to pay for his actions, and Riverdale’s Master of Justice wouldn’t be happy until someone got the check, that’s why FP was now facing a court about how many damn years it will take to pay the debt.

For you, things were just slightly better, after the video of the fatidic homicide was released to the forces involved, your lie wasn’t substantial enough to keep the image of being part of Jason’s death, but, you’re still being judge as an accomplice for giving a false statement at your confession and hiding the truth.

Yet, Kevin was keeping you updated about the information he eavesdropped from his father, he even heard Josie begging his mother to sneak a hand and help you not going to jail, that melted your heart away, you knew Josie was fond with you since you’ve always help the Pussycats with their outfits and stuff, but the fact that she was that worried about you was just the cutest thing ever.

Things seemed like they were just moving forward.

Maybe the sun was raising again in Riverdale

Maybe finally all this nightmare was ending.

Oh, how wrong you are.

“Hey.” Said that low-deep voice that still haunted you in your dreams.

“Hey.” You muttered without shifting your position, siting in the floor leaning your back against the cell bars, you felt him mirroring your position leaning his back against yours, the only thing forbidding the touch were those rusty iron bars.

Your heart started pounding at three hundred miles per second, this was the first conversation with Jughead since you practically told him to“Left you alone and fuck off” and lately all your talks ended up being a mess, the depth between you were just growing bigger and bigger.

“My father might be facing 20-40 years… They offered him a deal, he could spill out some names of the Serpents and that could low the sentence…”

“FP wouldn’t accept that. He’s just to stubborn and loyal…” you said closing your eyes, analyzing the new information cautiously.

“I know… I just, everything is so wrong you know…?” He sighed making your heart to swell, you slipped a hand between the bars to hold his, you squeezed it slightly as you two entangled fingers.

It was such and innocent and subtle touch, yet it made the whole world feel safe.

“How is your case?” he asked slowly, enjoying the little lazily whispering chats he has missed so much.

“I honestly don’t know… I had heard a lot of things I’m not sure what to believe, I think that in the best situation I’ll be set free with some community service job.”

“That’s great!” he cheered silently, a sincere smirk twitching at his face. “The social services were at Archie’s home today…” he added when you nodded.

“Oh, so you too.” You said quietly surprised, it wasn’t something you expected to happen, you thought that everything was okay with the Andrews taking care of him.

“What do you mean by “me too”? Did they come to see you?” he asked turning his head, facing your back.

“Oh no, no, no, they came for Tobias.” You said tightening the grip in his hand involuntary.

“Wait, what?” he said surprise turning his hole body to face you.

“Yeah, the day my house burned down.” You added casually, the more you said it out loud, the more realistic it became.

“Excuse me?” he said amused making you roll your eyes.

“Do I have to repeated it or what?”

“Actually, that would be pretty helpful, you’re welcomed to tell me everything from the beginning.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You grunted.

“No, that’s not the point, the point is why we haven’t talk about that? Why you didn’t come to me?” he sounded hurt, and truly concerned, maybe you were being a little too hard…

You shifted, locking eyes with him. “It happened the same day FP got arrested.” You sighed. “My aunt accidentally, well I want to believe it was an accident, she threw a lightning match onto the floor and I didn’t notice until the fire started, and then the police took her and then the social services came, and Tobias was gone and… and I basically lost my home and my family in a matter of hours.” You said as quickly and summarized as you could.

You never broke the eye contact as you admired his shocked features, even in awe he was so freaking handsome, like the way his iconic lock of hair in front of his eyes contrasted with the lovely blue-icy orbs, and his slightly parted lips looked so plumb and tempting.

“You should have told me all of this before.” You read his lips rather than listening to his voice.

“Why?” you asked raising your eyes to meet his. “I’m not your deal anymore, your charity cause is over, now you have a girlfriend to take care of.” There was resentment in your heart, yet not in your statement, the words you said just leaved your mouth cold and numb, as if it wasn’t meant to mean something.

He cut your staring contest, looking down at his clenching fits. “What I said that day… I didn’t really mean it, I didn’t want things to ended like it did.”

“But it did… And it hurt, and at some point, I truly believed you meant it, Jughead…” you broke the hold on his hand, missing the feeling of your finger intertwined. “You have Betty now… And she has you, and I believe everything is okay with that.”

“I don’t really know… Like, today she wrote an article defending the Southside, and she was called “Serpent Slut”. I don’t want to be a burden to her, she’s pretty awesome…” he confessed resting his face against the cell.

“Yeah, that’s pretty cool and reckless.” You comment looking out of the window.

‘I mean, I give an illegal false statement to give your family the chance to be together again, and I might be facing jail because I wanted to protect your father, but yeah, a news article it’s pretty cool too.’ You couldn’t help but think with jealously, rolling your eyes at him.

“What?” he said snapping you out of your world.

“What, what?”

“You just rolled your eyes at me.”

“No, I didn’t.” you said restraining a blush to creep from your cheeks.

Suddenly a smug smirk appeared in his face.

“What?” you said frowning, kind of anticipating his answer.

“Are you jealous, Y/N?”

You looked at him in disbelieve, did he really say that?

You stood up at the same time that him, ready to smack that idiotic beautiful smile out of his dumb face. Yet, Sheriff Keller appeared to save the situation, well, he just saved Jughead’s ass, maybe he came to cut your head off already.

“Y/N Y/L/N, it’s time for you to face the court.” He said opening the cell, you nodded silently locking eyes with Jug as you walked out of the cage.

Keller leaded the way and you followed him silently, sharing a last with Jughead before disappearing from his visual camp.

How was fate going to treat after all this years? Would it smile at you for once, or kick you in the guts again?

~

The white soft blanked of snow was embracing the path that the loner boy and the perfect next-door-girl were walking through as they talked, leaving their foot marks behind.

“I just said Betts, that it’s like if the whole universe was telling me I don’t belong here, that everything is better without me being here… Even you, the school idiots would let you alone and in peace if it wasn’t because of me…” he said to her thinking about the events of the day, the decision between staying and going was actually killing his mind.

“I don’t believe in that Juggy… Riverdale is your home as much as mine, and here you have us, we can take care of you… In the Southside you would be all by your own, and that worries me…” the blonde said hugging his boyfriend’s arm, he smirked at her caring speech, thinking all her words one by one.

“I would have Y/N.” he mentioned trying to cheer her up, yet, it felt like it had the reversed effect as she tensed up.

“Honestly Juggy… We don’t really know if she’s going to get free from what she did…” she stopped their tracks caressing his cheek.

“I’ve the feeling she will… She didn’t really do anything bad, I mean, she didn’t know she was defending Clifford Blossom, she just tried to help.”

“She lied to a cop, that’s illegal Juggy.” She argued with a sighed, insecurity traveling to her eyes.

“Hey…” The boy’s factions softened noticing the problem in the girl between his arms. “It doesn’t matter what happens… I’m sure it won’t change anything between us.” He assured her kissing her lips smoothly, trying to ease the problems from her mind, even though, deep inside of him he wasn’t completely sure about his words.

For the first time it was the loner boy who was being fight by two precious hearts, and it scared him like nothing more.

~

Jughead’s Pov.

At Riverdale you had the jogs, the nerds, the artists, the popular elite, and pretty much everything a normal cliché High School poses, the Southside wasn’t more different, aside from the fact that instead of dealing with bully jogs, we have the Ghoulies, who are drug dealers, yay.

The poor state of the building also leaves much to desire, and what about all the security protocol? Yeah sure, the reputation of the south was nothing near good, but I don’t really like to be check by a security guard every morning.

I was currently being dragged by this Toni Topaz Southside Serpent girl who was giving me the tour around the school’s hallways, sharing with me some facts, or more like, warnings about what to do or no to in order to survive.

As I spaced out vaguely hearing her words I couldn’t help but think about Y/N, I haven’t heard of her since Sheriff Keller took her that day, and besides that, how was she dealing with a place like this?

“Hey.” I said turning my face to Toni, apparently interrupting something she was saying. “Do you know Y/N?”

She laughed as soon as my words left my mouth. “Everybody knows her Jones, after what she did for your father… Woah, seriously she has like the massive respect from the Serpents now.”

I blinked twice, portraying her like this kind of Serpent Queen which made me feel something bittersweet.

“But I knew her even before that, I went to her house when it burnt, tragic day, I can still hear her cry in my mind.” She sighed, I could tell she was picturing the image in her eyes.

I didn’t say a think, feeling lost at his words, feeling sick at the picture of she crying, in front of the flames, seeing all her life crashing down, and, where was I? In some fancy dinner at the Cooper’s, in a ridiculous suit enjoying that sort of manipulated trap made by Alice?

I felt the regret and the impotence building up my chest, and it didn’t leave me through the rest of the lessons, apparently no one has listen from Y/N, I couldn’t concentrate as the doubts stared to ring in my mind.

What if I never saw her again?

What if she passes the rest of her young life in jail?

What if she feels alone?

And if her jail mates don’t treat her well?

What if she doesn’t like the food?

Oh god, what if she’s never able to try a burger from Pop’s again?

What if she managed to scape from the justice and now she’s a run-away criminal?

‘Okay Jughead, stop it. Overthinking is an asshole and you know that, screw it up already.’ I sigh trying to calm myself as I seated alone at the canteen ready to read my book and ignore everyone else.

Surprised was my faced when a bunch of people took a sit at my table, and they didn’t hit me, or mocked at me, they just talk to me.

They even laugh at my sardonic humor rather than see me as an emotionless human being.

It was kind of refreshing.

I smiled as I saw them laugh, but it didn’t distract me from the sudden presence behind me.

Y/N?

I turned, being welcomed by the awe, and the slightly disappointment, of being faced by Betty, Archie and Veronica. What the hell were they doing at the Southside?

I ended up with the crew at the outsiders of the high school, talking with Betty about my decision of voluntarily moving to the rotten side of the apple.

“Betty come on… This place, I feel like here were I got wanted, they seem to need and, and they respect me! I kind of fit in here…” I said caressing her arms, trying to explain her that I did feel some sort of comfortability at this the place.

“And what about us Jughead? What about me? I need you too.” She crossed her arms looking at me with concern? Disapproval? Confusion? I didn’t quite know, too many emotions.

Though I could feel her sad demeaner as I embraced her tightly. “I promise you I’ll be there for you, even if I’m here.” I soothed, catching with the glimpse of and eye the eager staring of a ginger haired as I kissed my girlfriend’s hands.

Yet our moment didn’t last longer as the raven-haired girl of the group read her message, whose words froze our blood as we ran to save Riverdale’s Blossom princess before she drowned in despair.

~

“The whole town is going crazy Dad, I mean, Cheryl just tried to committed suicide in the same place her twin died, it feels surreal…” the beanie boy whispered uneasy, facing the glowing moon through the jail’s window.

“That’s why I need to stick with the ones that have my back, Jughead. I’m not giving any names to Sheriff Keller or Major McCoy.” He looked at me, decision glowing at his eyes. “Just like Y/N did to protect me, it was a dumb decision, but I appreciated it.”

“I don’t know where she is, no one knows… Dad, what if we don’t see her again?”

“Do you care?” FP asked raising an eyebrow, yet he knew he knew the answer.

“Of course, I do, I miss her.” Jughead confessed. “I have missed her all this months and… I thought I could handle being without her because it was just temporally, until she was okay with me again, but if it’s permanent, if her absence becomes permanent… I don’t know what I’ll do…” Jughead confessed overwhelmed by everything that was happening in his life so suddenly.

“Why do you care for her so much son?”

“well, she’s Y/N… She has always been there, she’s important to me, my best friend!”

FP chuckled softly. “You’re brilliant Jug, except when it comes to women and love.”

“Oh, and you’re an expert dad? Wanna teach me something?”

“Oh no, son.” He smiled a me halfhearted. “You’re going to be okay…”

They shared a glance, a sort of confident, heartwarming son-father connection. “Yeah, I’m gonna be okay… A foster family is taking me away. They are nice.” he added rolling my eyes, a smile leaving my lips.

“What about Southside High?” FP stand up walking towards his son, never leaving his eyes.

“It’s a high school.” Jughead looked at his dad pointing the obvious. “It’s got the jocks, and the burnouts, and the nerds, and all of that.” He sighed. “I’ll survive.” He reassured, a cocky grin in his face.

FP chuckled at that. “You just might.” His demeanor went serious as he nodded. “Jughead, listen to me. I’m more innocent than I am guilty, but I’ve done some stupid things, some bad things, and come what may, I have to answer for my part of it, you understand? I don’t know what’s gonna happen when this goes to trial, but you need to be there for your mom, for Jellybean.”

“I’ll do my best.” The beanie boy promised.

“Not a doubt in my mind.” Said the Serpent’s boss as he watched at his son we a smile before the chat finished, before he walked away.

To go and meet his friends are the Jubilee.

So, they could go to Pop’s and have a lot of milkshakes.

And just like that, for a moment, the kids were just being kids.

The world, for a while, became safe again.

And then, overwhelmed by the situation, the beanie boy took his blonde girlfriend to his father’s trailer.

So, he could share with her the words his heart was willing to say.

The words that could bring light to his darkness.

“I love you, Betty Cooper.” He said with warm heart eyes, is lips parted slightly retaining some air as he waited for her answer.

A second of silence, yet it felt like years.

“Jughead Jones, I love you.” Said she with the sweetest smile.

That’s how a kiss turned into another.

The heat beginning to rise at their chest.

Passion overwhelming the room.

They moved.

She crashed against the cupboard as he lifts her up at the countertop.

Her shirt got missing at the floor.

His shirt went to find hers.

He kissed her hungrily, his hand caressing her neck possessive.

Kisses rolled lower.

She moaned.

A knock on the door popped their bubble.

They jumped scared.

“Oh, my God. Is that your mom?” he asked with widen white eyes.

“Who else would it be?” the girl huffed as she got off searching for her shirt.

He opened the door.

Yet, it wasn’t her mom.

It was his ex.

Hello~ it took me a little more to update because this days were crazy. Also, the amount of short is shorter than usual but I really wanted this part to end like it did!! Next part is on the making and it’ll be at least 4500 words.  

See you peaches! <3

Next part: Some sassy serpent reader struggling with Jughead at the Southside High, how will her change affect him?

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Tag List:

@somethingweird168 @evanpeters3826 @trumpettay @oxoxo0 @superhalsteads @the-mad-girl-with-a-book @beforethebraces @agusdoti @zarinnaaaa @unaveragewriterfreak @k-n-e @letsdosciencekids  

[allinyourmindclimbing]

The pictures all belong to John Gill / copyright John Gill !!

INTERVIEW with the legendary John Gill.

(Interview done by - and intro written by Jean-Marc Winckel in 2008)

John Paul Gill Jr., born February 16, 1937, in Tuscaloosa, Alabama (USA) is my all time climbing hero beside Wolfgang Güllich, Klem Loskot, Tony Lamprecht and some others. I admire his philosophy about climbing, especially bouldering. He is a mathematician, a gymnast, a climber and for me a philosopher, a wise man. « There is an affinity between math and climbing. It has to do with independence of effort and good pattern recognition skills, coupled with a desire to solve problems and explore. », so John.

As a gymnast, he discoverd bouldering and introduced the use of magnesia (chalk) and the dynamic movements into climbing. The jumps were aesthetically pleasing him. The picture where he does a one-arm front lever (see the pictures) became very known throughout the whole world. Therefore, he is also known as the father of bouldering. Climbing was for John an extension of gymnastics. In his first article in the « American Alpine Journal » in 1969 named « The Art Of Bouldering » he wrote : « …the boulderer is concerned with form almost as much as with success and will not feel that he has truly mastered a problem until he can do it gracefully. » But what I admire the most about him are his ideas about the mental strength in climbing and how he experimented with it.

Pat Ament writes in his biography about John Gill : « … He found in bouldering sharp, clear reality, and on occasion a feeling that – with the right consciousness – he weighed a little bit less. The right mental attitude might inspire « a slight sensation of telekinesis » or in fact minutely perceivable levitation. It was easy to listen to such concepts, as they flowed subtly and with somewhat of a sense of humor from Gill. After all, he did at times seem to defy gravity. »

In Yosemite in the late ‘70s Yvon Chouinard said about John : « Climbing is still in a stage of pure physical movement, and the next step is going to be mind control. I think Gill has already gone into that, from watching him prepare for a boulder even in the late ‘50s. … You’re going to have to use meditation and Yoga to be able to get up some of the new climbs, because pure physical strength and technique are not going to be enough. … I think it’s going to be Zen and the art of rock climbing. »

In the beginning, John found inspiration for his mental training by reading the books of Carlos Castaneda (« A Separate Reality », « The Teachings of Don Juan », « The Art of Dreaming », …) Often he soloed long, easy graded routes to enter mentally another world and experiment with the flow effect. Experiences such as these were entirely the consequences of meditative practices, for he NEVER had used psychedelic drugs.

Furthermore, Pat Ament writes in the biography : « Gill spoke of a mystical reality that, as he described, was an « extension of the hypnagogic state. » He suggested that certain exertions in bouldering occasionally produced an apparent separation of « I-consciousness » and physical body, « similar to how the mind of a long-distance runner seems to soar above the automaton-like running form… » … Gill seemed fond of the phrase « kinesthetic awareness, » meaning perhaps « self-realization, » a turning inward where all realms – sensory, mental, athletic, artistic, intellectual, mystical, spiritual and aesthetic – are united. »

In his essay « Notes on Bouldering – The Vertical Path » John described that the « outer value » of bouldering, pure difficulty, is just one aspect of the sport. The « inner value » of bouldering has much more to offer. But to acquire it one has to break away from competition !

In his description about a climb near Pueblo that John Gill and Chris Jones soloed together, Chris said : « One must be free to choose a more difficult way than the easiest, if that is what strikes the fancy of the moment. The rock must be a menu, for this « menu-soloing .» The choices, freedom, movement, mental acuity inspired by the exposure, warmth of the sun, feel of the rock – the EXPERIENCE is everything. »

I am SO happy that I had the chance to have contact with John and ask him to make a little interview with this living legend. I hope you enjoy this interview as much as I did ! Let it be a little inspiration for you to improve yourself, change the way you see things, change your views about climbing and enter mentally another world while climbing.

I advice you to read the biography « John Gill – MASTER OF ROCK » written by his friend Pat Ament (ISBN : 0-8117-2853-6) and have a look at his website www.johngill.net !

Have fun … it’s all in your mind !

1. When and how did you discover bouldering/climbing ?

In 1953, as a junior in high school in Atlanta, Georgia, a classmate, Jeanne Shearer (Bergen) took me along to north Georgia on a one-day expedition to try to find a cave in the middle of a limestone cliff. She had ropes and carabiners and slings, and I was fascinated with dangling above an abyss and scrambling about. I started bouldering – without knowing that was what I was doing – in 1954, while a student at Georgia Tech. Seemed like a natural extension of the gymnastics I was learning. A couple of years later in the Tetons Yvon Chouinard told me I was "bouldering", something he and his pals did in a light-hearted way at Stoney Point near Los Angeles. No one had the faintest idea of the history or origin of the activity, and it was strictly playtime on the rock, not serious climbing. Some Brit, I'm guessing, told someone at Stoney Point in the late 1940s or early 1950s they were "boulderers".

2. Do you still boulder/climb a lot? If not, how did you put the sport behind you?

I quit bouldering over twenty years ago after tearing the biceps off my right forearm in a bouldering accident. After thirty-something years of chalked-up dynamics, my body said "enough". I returned to my other climbing love – modest freesoloing – for a number of years. These days, with arthritic shoulders and chronic rotator cuff problems, I still enjoy traverses right above the ground, and I may get back into some solo climbing this summer, as well. However, I can't jump off boulders anymore, regardless of mats.

3. Do you consider climbing in general as a sport or a lifestyle?

For me it was an athletic lifestyle.

4. In how far do you relate mathematics with climbing and gymnastics with climbing? What do they all have in common?

I'm not sure mathematics has much to do with gymnastics, but the problem-solving aspect bears some relationship with the more cerebral aspect of rock climbing or bouldering. Gymnastics was good for me, for I began climbing with no athletic background and the still rings and gymnasium rope led to chalk, dynamics, and strength. I did gymnastics for its own sake as well, enjoying learning difficult moves and feeling the grace and precision necessary for the sport.

5. What do you mean by “option soloing”?

Picking and choosing among different possible lines according to difficulty or aesthetics when going up otherwise relatively easy terrain.

6. Do you stay in tune with modern bouldering, the magazines or websites?

Not really. I read some of the articles occasionally.

7. What differs in your opinion the climbing of today from the climbing when you discovered the sport?!

The level of naiveté. When too much is known about an activity and the standards are very high, it seems more like work than play. There was a different sense of adventure back then, more like a pilot flying by the seat of his pants in the 1920s when compared to modern flight training. Jets are neat, but think of the time the old barnstormers had!

8. What do you think of the current grading system in bouldering and the 20+ moves boulder traverses? Should they be graded as a route or a boulder problem?

The V-scale seems adequate, although I'd like to see one set of numbers or letters for all kinds of rock moves, low or high, short or extended – a system incorporating some sort of additional marker to distinguish power from endurance.

9. What do you think about the recent grade-explosion? Wouldn't a scaling system that is in constant evolution or a grading system depending on the number of ascents be more appropriate?

Every generation since the 1950s has seen a "grade explosion". If the circumstances are right, yes, a simple ratio of attempts vs. success might be a nearly-objective system. But this is very unlikely to occur. In gymnastics, in the 1950s, there were A, B, and C level moves. Now there are D and E and super E additional levels of difficulty. The open-ended structure is entrenched and would take a nuclear detonation to change!

10. How many moves had a typical boulder problem "at your time"? And how high were they?

Depends on where they were. At Jenny Lake the problems were very short, just three or four moves, if that, on 12 foot-high boulders. In the Needles of South Dakota, they were somewhat longer, sometimes up to 30 feet, but that was rare. I used to compare a problem with a gymnastic routine, which would have 7 or 8 moves at most. More than that and you were on a climb.

11. Why didn't you put a mattress under your boulders? For ethical reasons, transportation issues or are the young guys cowards? :-)

Are you kidding? Pads were invented to make money. We would take a simple and cheap top-rope along for some of the problems with bad landings or exposure. The "ethics" of not using a top-rope was subtly encouraged by pad makers. A mattress? Puleeese!

12. Is a boulderer a better gymnast or a gymnast a better boulderer?

I don't think there is a solid correlation. In my time – in the 1950s – being a gymnast helped, but not necessarily now that rock climbing has become so specialized and advanced. Better to avoid the excess weight of gymnastic muscle tissue.

13. Didn't you offend any purists and climbers of your time when you started using chalk and doing dynamical movements?

There were some – usually those lucky climbers whose hands stayed dry naturally – who complained about chalk. They didn't feel good losing their genetic advantage! There weren't many who complained about dynamics, although climbers had to become stronger over the years to successfully apply dynamics to the rock. The old adage about three-point suspension came down through the ages in British circles, where climbers objected to the "excessive" use of modern gear. Geoffrey Winthrop Young and others recoiled from the idea of risking falls. Also, the US Army strongly encouraged their mountain troops to follow that practice.

14. You began rock climbing around 1953! Does climbing guard against arthritis?

Little correlation, if any. My shoulders are badly arthritic, but that came mostly from still ring work years ago. My hands and fingers are fine, and it's been 55 years now. I suspect, however, that some types of crack climbing may lead to the condition./p>

15. Do you think the best climbers in the world are that good mainly through good genetics or through dedication?

First genetics, then practice. Without a good anatomical structure, the higher levels of difficulty may not be attainable.

16. Do you believe that yoga and meditation exercises help a lot to increase the level of climbing?

What I found was that meditation increased my enjoyment of climbing no matter what the level. Why does everything have to relate to reaching a higher number?

17. In Pat Ament's biography about you, Yvon Chouinard said: "Climbing is still in a stage of pure physical movement, and the next step is going to be mind control. I think Gill has already gone into that,... in the late '50s.". Please comment on that and do you agree with our saying "it's all in your mind!"?

Speaks for itself, doesn't it? But I think mental control is achieved while actually struggling on the rock – itself a disciplining authority - rather than sitting in an ashram.

18. In how far did the books of Carlos Castaneda help you to enter mentally another world?

They were a tremendous help. After entering another form of reality I saw the true and ancient foundations of religion. Saint Theresa of Avila was a pioneer in this realm.

19. In your essay "Notes on bouldering-The Vertical Path" you wrote that aiming for difficulty in our sport is unhealthy! Why?

Did I say that? Huh. It's not unhealthy, but it is overly confining. There are other dimensions of the sport. One can climb as a moving meditation – not to increase difficulty levels, but to enjoy a kind of epiphany.

20. Please explain and tell us a little bit about "kinaesthetic awareness" and the "flow effect" you experimented with for many years?

Any gymnast can understand the flow of a routine and feel graceful and precise movement. It's not merely to impress the judges. It's an inner reward. It's too bad that the sport of bouldering has been taken over by those who see it as simply competition and a numbers game.

Thank you very much for this interview John and we wish you good luck & health and all the best for the future and may the force be with you!

[mailorderfictionalcharacter]

a list of semi coherent thoughts I’ve had about mcu wanda maximoff

0.5 this post is open to discourse. if u are unwilling to see viewpoints that are pro wanda or anti wanda this is not the post 4 u.

1. wanda runs off of very powerful emotions and that’s an a + character trait. her rage fueled grief and power is just fascinating to watch.

2. ew whitewashing why do you do this to me mcu. stop. enough.

3. yeah it’s kind of ridiculous to kill the ex-ceo of a weapons company that killed your parents as compared to whoever fired the missiles or whoever ordered said military action but it’s not that ridiculous if you apply the barest modicum of generous interpretation to it.

Tony Stark was emblematic of the very destructive American ideal of we’re great and right and coming with guns. Going off of IM2, even as he was doing great things (”I’ve successfully privatized world peace”) his performance was still very um American (”no one’s man enough to go [against me]”). Like as audience members we get it but I could see how that sort of look-at-me attitude would not ring like redemption to someone in that much emotional pain. Like, you could easily read their actions as being about attacking every American/foreign influence figure head, which is sort of supported by the fact that the twins wanted the avengers down not just Tony Stark.

If the weapons were illegally sold there’s no guarantee the twins knew that Tony wasn’t responsible. It’s possible Tony leaked the truth about Obadiah after the “I Am Iron Man” press conference, but the original plan was a SHIELD coverup.

I’m not inclined to conflate profiting of our wrongs or moral ambiguities on the same moral level as instigating wrongs, but it’s also up in the air whether or not Stark Industries cared about collateral damage in the design of their weapons and that’s something the twins could legitimately blame them for. IM1 canon is a mixed bag - we have intellicrops (concern for philanthropy) but we also have, y’know the Jericho (the weapon that levels mountains)

(read more under the cut)

tl;dr: wanda is a fascinating flawed character who suffers from writing problems but she’s also wearing the name of a jewish/romani woman even though marvel studios is too much of a coward to translate that to film & i’m perpetually bitter and indecisive about everything.

4. the twins had enormous social factors encouraging them to hate the avengers/america. even american media was questioning the avengers; shield had fell; people were putting up anti avengers graffiti

5. considering the twins spent their formative years in a country at war and lost their parents I’m assuming they went through quite a few economic hardships.

6. what sort of access did the twins have to media or education?

7. I’m not inclined to blame the twins for their desire to get revenge but it is worth noting that they seemed to have very little concern for collateral damage even though the only thing we as an audience knows for certain is that the whole reason they’re seeking revenge is because of collateral damage.

8. there’s a gap of 8-12 years between the death of their parents and their attack on the avengers. no matter what mitigating circumstances there were (and I think there were a lot) that’s a premeditated crime

9. there’s a lot of parallels between wanda maximoff and kira nerys except the writers on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine actually cared about Kira Nerys.

10. both of Wanda’s major fuck ups (willingly unleashing the Hulk on Johannesburg and failing to protect everyone in Lagos) happened in African countries. I believe in some suspension of belief for superhero movies but I’m not sure it’s entirely appropriate to be like hey! look at Wanda! the whitewashed character who fucks things up in African countries! such girl power! great anti-imperialism message!

(I mean, the same disregard applies to all the avengers though. I’m pretty sure the safest interpretation of Lagos is “the avengers could have done better by not fighting in proximity with a bunch of civilians” which is on Steve. And unless I fever dreamed this Steve tosses his cowl at the feet of anti-avengers graffiti in the beginning of aou and there is nothing appropriate about that).

11. Wanda was introduced in AOU, a movie with sub par dialogue and tbh I have a feeling Whedon et.al never thought through the implications of Johannesburg bc he just wanted a convenient way to introduce a hulkbuster fight.

12. tbh I really want a scarlet witch movie to fix all of this but I also really want a recast and I know I won’t get either (fanon wanda is the best because we can fix all of this with a hammer).

13. CA:CW seemed to draw on a lot of Wanda’s comic history (specifically in the oppression metaphors) but since it followed the clusterfuck that was AOU I can’t exactly give them a standing ovation for that.

14. ca:cw did a very bad job following through wanda’s plot threads from aou. tbh I’m not even team we need to stretch Wanda’s redemption arc further but idk, it might be nice if she mentioned her dead brother or tied the Lagos incident/Sokovia accords to, idk, her past living in a war zone.

15. ca:cw could’ve given me wanda wryly commenting on how luxurious the compound was compared to sokovia but instead it gave the should-be-jewish character a cross in her bedroom and fuck that marvel why don’t you just stake me through the heart so I don’t have to deal with your bullshit

16. I wish wanda in the airport scene was more about her desire to do good (go stop the supersoldiers) than the awkward oppression metaphor

17. although push come to shove I would’ve focused on poverty/american foreign intervention over calling the powers she volunteered for the source of her oppression the whole raft scene does demonstrate that people whose powers (or even training) cannot be separated like say Sam and the Falcon or Tony and the suits face a special criminal justice risk.

but this isn’t really relevant to the accords, which are not the SHRA and honestly the same ethical problem of how to incarcerate enhanced people exists whether or not someone is acting as a superhero (is it ethical to put a psychic murderer in solitary confinement if that’s the only way to prevent them from using their powers to escape or assault guards?)

18. according to beta canon/film subtext wanda & pietro did not willingly sign up to work with hydra. Just good to remember.

19. I will forever be attached to the idea of wanda liking Vision’s company because he is both practically invulnerable (not going to get shot 7 times on a floating city) and emotionally dependent on her support (just like Pietro). (this is not implying twincest btw)

20. I think wanda’s house arrest in ca:cw is not completely unreasonable (she’s probably awaiting investigation & is at risk of being hurt/hurting others from mob violence) but definitely steve (and probably natasha & sam) should be under house arrest as well. but they aren’t, and I think it’s fair to say that in universe that’s xenophobia/anti-immigrant sentiment. why be afraid of the american icon when you can be afraid of the poor sokovian woman?

21. antis make way too much of the whole “she’s just a kid line”. like steve was responding to tony calling her, a human being, a weapon of mass destruction. like, he was just trying to humanize her and calling the youngest person in a group a kid even when they’re an adult isn’t that strange.

22. in lagos wanda was trying so damn hard to stop that bomb and yes she didn’t manage it but blaming her instead of steve? uh gross.

23. how much experience does she have? yes tony stark throwing himself into superheroics worked out surprisingly well but superheroes need training

24. I insist marvel release a 22 page dissertation on wanda’s mind powers but also if I don’t like it I’ll call it not canon. (my initial theory was that she produces ptsd symptoms - even if the person normally doesn’t suffer from ptsd - but something in the confidence that she can manipulate tony before entering his mind makes me think she has slight suggestive abilities beyond fear and also thor’s vision arguably followed a different vein)

25. antis like to argue that the maximoffs only turned on ultron because it benefited them but let’s be clear the maximoffs fought ultron because they thought he was wrong and wanted to personally help. they could’ve just tipped off the avengers and left or left ultron to do whatever ultron was going to do and only fought him if he directly came after them okay the twins had options and they chose the most altruistic option.

26. ppl who say wanda isn’t really whitewashed because marvel’s decades of retcons have whitewashed her at past points are pretty much using a two-wrongs argumentative fallacy.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Hello, and happy holidays. :) Um, could you please write about protective Bucky and sick Tony? Like Tony is so sick that he can't move a finger and Bucky pampers him to no end.

Fever Dream

Tony is in his lab when it happens. He wakes feeling sort of dizzy and warm but he ignores it because he has things to get done. He’s determined to get something accomplished. So he drags himself to the kitchen like normal, pours himself an overly large cup of coffee and goes down to the lab ignoring the way that his body aches with each step. He’s sure that it’s just the grogginess from sleep and it’ll wear off the moment he has some caffeine in his system. He’ll be fine.

He isn’t fine. After a couple of hours of working, he feels even worse. His body can’t decide if it wants to make him feel like he’s walking in the pits of hell or if he’s trudging his way through the arctic.

“Jarvis?” he asks, hoping that he can get some answers.

“Sir, might I suggest you get some rest? Your body temperature is elevated.”

“Meaning?” Tony’s annoyed that he even has to ask. He’s normally better than this. That’s what concerns him the most so far, that he can’t even make the mental jumps needed for something so simple. How is he supposed to get any work done?

“I believe you have fallen ill.”

(Watch out for the break, mobile readers!)

Tony scoffs. He hasn’t gotten sick in years. He tries to ignore it, but ends up feeling dizzier with each passing minute. Finally, he tries to get to the couch so he can get the room to stop spinning. He’s not sure if he makes it. The last thing he remembers is Dum-E’s distressed whirring as he wheeled over to him.

-

Tony is in his bed when he wakes. He has no recollection of how he got there. He was pretty sure that he had made it to the lab last he checked.

There’s a soft knock on his door before it opens. Bucky stands in doorway, holding what looks like medicine and water.

“You’re awake,” Bucky says, although the concern is evident in his voice.

“Barely,” Tony mumbles, and then pushes off the blankets and swings his legs to the side of the bed. Apparently, that’s even too much motion for him, because his head starts pounding and the dizziness is back. He lays down, burying his face in the nearest pillow in the hopes that it’ll go away if he just doesn’t move. It helps a bit, but he still feels weak all over.

“Don’t think you should be goin’ anywhere, doll.”

Tony ignores the way that his heart stutters at the pet name. It figures that he can’t focus on anything else, can barely move, and his body still decides that it’s a good time to remind him of his growing fondness for Bucky.

“I have work to do,” Tony mumbles, looking back up at Bucky.

“You need to rest. I think your work will still be there in the morning.”

Bucky lays down the water and medicine on Tony’s bedside table and looks at him for a moment before frowning. It’s the same look that he gives Steve when he’s worried for him, which seems to be all the time. Tony’s sure that he’s imagining it because he knows that Bucky doesn’t like him nearly as much as he likes Steve.

Bucky puts a hand on his forehead and Tony tries to suppress the small groan that threatens to come out. Even that much makes him feel too hot. Bucky must be able to tell because he looks even more concerned.

“I think your fever is getting worse,” he says and then pours some of the medicine for Tony and hands it to him. “Drink this.”

Tony does as he’s told because he knows there’s no use in arguing and if there’s a chance it’ll help, it’s worth a shot. Tony tries to glare at Bucky but the medicine works quickly and glaring takes too much effort. Tony can see that Bucky looks equal parts amused and concerned as the sleepy haze of the drugs overtakes him and he drifts off.

–

When Tony wakes he feels slightly better, or at the very least everything around him has stopped spinning,  and he doesn’t feel his body ache the moment that he sits up in his bed. That’s good enough for him, he’s worked under worse conditions. He tosses the sheets aside, stands up and pointedly ignores the way his body is begging him to climb back into bed and get more rest. He can rest later, he has things to finish.

He opens the door and refuses to acknowledge that it takes him more effort than normal to turn the knob and then to push it open. He’s a little winded by the time he reaches the living room but he makes his best attempt to control his breathing and not let it show that he’s having any problems with it at all. Judging by the way Bucky and Steve look at him, he doesn’t think he is succeeding.

“You should be in bed.” Bucky says looking at at him disapprovingly.

“I was in bed. Now I’m not. I think I’ve met the quota for the day.”

“You’re sick. You look like you’re having trouble just standing.”

“This is how I always stand.” Tony counters even though he can feel himself slouching more than usual, and seriously, did someone change the force of gravity today because it normally doesn’t work against him this much.

Tony is faintly aware of Steve staring at him sympathetically in the background, even though he doesn’t contribute to the conversation. He is only able to focus on Steve for a moment before the room starts spinning again and he falls forward. Bucky catches him as he begins to fall and Tony uses his hands to steady himself against him. He’s dimly aware of the feeling of Bucky’s abs beneath his shirt, and even in his sick, addled state Tony has a thought of That can’t be real.

“Is this also how you normally stand?” Bucky asks dryly.

“Yes. I often hang off you with my face in between your pecs. I don’t know how you missed that.”

Tony’s sure that gets him an eyeroll in response even though he can’t bring himself to move his head away from Bucky’s chest and look up at his face. He can’t bring himself to do much of anything at all.

It doesn’t seem to matter because in the next moment Bucky is picking him up–bridal style, much to Tony’s delight–and carrying him back to his room.

“Could you carry me to the lab instead of my room?”

“No.”

Tony sighs, but lets his head drop against Bucky’s chest again, since it’s difficult to hold it up on it’s own without something supporting it.

Tony can feel himself starting to drift off the moment that he’s in Bucky’s arms. It figures that the one time Bucky carries him he’s too delirious to even appreciate it. Tony had many theories about Bucky’s strength. Although, most of them involved Bucky picking him up for reasons much less innocent than Bucky trying to take care of him because he has a minor cold. He thinks that he would prefer any of his other reasons currently. Maybe being pinned against a wall and having Bucky hold him up will make him feel better.

He opens his eyes slightly and looks up at Bucky, who is smirking at him, and whose cheeks are tinted a little red like he’s blushing. Tony can’t figure out what would have caused that. He decides not to dwell on it and doses off again.

–

This time, when Tony wakes up, it takes him a while. His eyes feel too heavy to keep open so he tries to blink the sleep out of his eyes a few times. As he’s doing so, he notices something heavy around his waist and a body pressed against his. He blinks up at the ceiling and can definitely hear the rhythmic and steady breathing of someone beside him.

He turns his head to the side slightly and is met with Bucky’s still asleep face. His mouth is open just a little and Tony stares at his lips for longer than necessary. He wants to appreciate the fact that Bucky is in his bed and cuddling him, he really does, but his body feels like it’s on fire and that is all he can focus on at the moment. He hates being sick. He hates that he couldn’t enjoy Bucky carrying him–which he now firmly believes wasn’t a fever dream as Bucky is in his bed and he thinks that’s proof enough–and now he can’t enjoy Bucky actually being in his bed because everything in his being demands that he focuses on what he’s feeling on how to fix it instead.

Tony doesn’t know how to fix it. He has no idea how to even begin. He hasn’t been sick in years, not with an actual cold, flu, or whatever this is. He’s dealt with plenty of other things, getting the arc reactor was easier, it didn’t interrupt his life as much as this is determined to do. It also didn’t demand his attention this much.

“Go t’sleep. I can hear you thinking.” Bucky mumbles.

“I’m too hot,” Tony responds, aware of the way that his voice comes out like a whine. “Could you maybe, just, scoot over a bit. I think you’re making it worse.”

“I think me being here will help you sweat it out faster,” Bucky says and Tony thinks he feels the grip of the metal arm around his waist grow a little more firm. Honestly, if Tony was currently feeling like himself he’d probably find that a turn on. As it is, he just wants his space - he wants the blankets off of him. Why does he have so many anyway? He really wants Bucky to just move over a little so Tony’s skin can have some room to breathe. He can feel parts of his skin sticking to Bucky’s and definitely not in the sexy way.

“I’m sweating all over you,” Tony tries.

“I don’t mind,” Bucky mumbles as he closes his eyes again.

Tony watches the way Bucky’s features relax as he does. Tony is amazed that Bucky’s still there, that he’s insisting on being here with him instead of going about his day. He’s sure that Bucky and Steve must have had something planned, but Steve has not come looking for Bucky..

“Is there a reason for you being in my bed?” Tony finally asks, not that he minds. Well, he normally wouldn’t mind, but currently he doesn’t appreciate the added heat, however, he does still appreciate Bucky being in his bed.

“Yeah, didn’t want ya tryin’ to leave again.”

Tony is silent for a while. Apparently, the silence is too long because Bucky murmurs “You did y’know. Try to leave. A couple o’ times actually.”

“Is that why you’re using the arm as a makeshift prison?”

Bucky lets out a hum in confirmation and Tony sighs. He should have designed a failsafe in the arm that would react to him for situations like this. Bucky takes a moment to release his grip a bit and move his hand slightly so he can rub small calming circles on the small of Tony’s back. Which works far more easily than Tony expects, he relaxes into the touch instantly.

“This is a pretty nice fever dream,” Tony breathes out quietly as he shuts his eyes again. He may as well enjoy it while it lasts.

“I ain’t a dream, doll.”

Tony doesn’t respond to that. He doesn’t believe it. The entire day has been unbelievable  and he’s having trouble sorting out the dreams from the small glimpses of consciousness that he has had. So if it’s a fever dream, it’s one that he won’t question. It’s easier to believe that Bucky would want him in his dreams.

-

The next time Tony wakes, he isn’t feeling as warm and his bed is empty aside from him. He thinks for a moment that it was just a dream afterall, but the side of the bed where Bucky, or dream Bucky, had been is still warm. Tony then realizes he can hear the shower running, although it shuts off a moment after he notices it.

Bucky opens the door to the bathroom and steps into Tony’s bedroom. Tony can’t do much but stare at him. Bucky is not wearing a shirt and drops of water are still hanging onto his body. Tony follows one that trails down Bucky’s navel and stops at the top of the sweatpants that he’s wearing. Sweatpants that Tony realizes are his. They hang low on Bucky, much lower than Tony wears them, enough that Tony can see his hipbones peeking out over the top of the waistband.

He decides that this confirms it. He is definitely dreaming.

“How are you feeling?” Bucky asks him, effectively breaking Tony out of his thoughts and forcing him to drag his eyes back up to Bucky’s face.

“Better? I think. I’m fine if I don’t move. That’s a good sign, right?”

Bucky frowns in a way that tells Tony it is definitely not a good sign. He crosses the room to come closer to Tony and takes his flesh hand and presses it to Tony’s forehead. Tony’s focus goes back to all of Bucky’s bare skin as he gets a closer look. Sure enough, it’s damp and glistening from the shower. Figures that Bucky would use his shower and Tony wouldn’t even be in there at the same time to enjoy it. He adds it onto the list of things that he expected to go differently. Most of which is from today.

“Your fever seems to have gone down.”

Tony hums. “I don’t feel as hot anymore.”

“Good. I’ll get you some more water and then you’ll need to wash up a bit.”

Tony nods.

“Think you’re able to stand?”

“I don’t know. Last time I tried it didn’t go well.”

“Just give yourself a minute to wake up and then try. I’ll go get you water while you do that.”

He leaves the room before Tony can say anything. Somehow the sweats seem to hang even lower when Tony looks at them from behind. This, he decides is actual torture. Bucky’s spending the day taking care of him, running around wearing Tony’s clothes and foregoing a shirt and Tony feels too damn weak to do anything about it. Although he’s certain that this is exactly the kind of motivation he needs to finally do something about his increasingly hopeless crush if he were feeling better.

Bucky is back quickly with a bottle of water that he insists Tony drink right away. Tony does before Bucky can go on a rant about dehydration.

“Alright, try and stand up for me, doll.”

Tony sits up and can already feel his head start to rush, he knows that he won’t be able to stand. He won’t be able to do it for long at all. He shuts his eyes as he sits to try and get the room to stop spinning. The medicine must be wearing off because it feels almost as bad as the first time and every other time that he had woken up it had been a little more manageable.

Tony lets out a whine and stands, because he refuses to be beaten by a dumb cold. He’s up for approximately 3 seconds before he collapses backwards onto the bed to sit down again.

He lays down again just to get the dizzy feeling to stop.

“Let me know when you want to try again. You can hold onto me. We just need get you washed up a little and change your sheets. It’ll help ya heal faster.”

Tony takes a while to get the spinning to stop but finally is able to sit up again. Bucky’s at his side in an instant and helps him up. He lets Tony hang off of him pathetically as he steers him to the bathroom. Tony’s too far gone to even focus on Bucky’s bare skin under his fingertips.

“You’re not going to hop in the shower with me are you?”

Bucky smirks at him, “Ask me some other time, sweetheart.” And yep, Tony’s still dreaming. “But right now, no I won’t. Just going to scrub you down a bit with a cloth.”

“You know, I always thought I’d make it until at least 80 before the sponge baths started,” Tony says, “But I did always imagine them with a sexy nurse and I suppose you fit that part of the fantasy well.”

Bucky looks like he’s holding back a laugh. “You have no idea what you’re saying right now, do you?”

“Sure I do. Just told you that you’d make a sexy nurse.”

“Right. Take off your shirt.”

“See that was part of the fantasy too.” Tony says.

Bucky smirks at him. “No, really. I need you to take your shirt off.”

“Fine. Guess we’ll match then.”

Bucky shrugs. “All of your shirts are too small for me.”

“Couldn’t go find your own shirt?” Tony says as he lets go of Bucky and the sink for a moment to slip his shirt off over his head.

“No. My room is 3 floors up and I know you well enough to know that if you woke up, you would have tried to go back down to the lab.”

Tony frowns. Bucky has a point there, but he doubts that he would have woken up anyway. Sleep is suddenly one of the most appealing things to him and Tony would kill to be able to sleep this easily the rest of the time. Tony wants to argue that he wouldn’t have snuck away, he really does but he’s too tired and he can feel himself becoming increasingly exhausted the longer that the has to hold himself up, even with the added support of the sink, so he does as Bucky asks and takes his shirt off.

He watches as Bucky wets a cloth and then brings it to start scrubbing at Tony’s back. The warmth from it and the gentle pressure that Bucky applies is strangely comforting. But the small circles that Bucky is rubbing the cloth in is having the effect of making him feel more weary and he knows that it shows in the way that he starts slouching.

“Sorry, won’t take too long. Just need you to turn around for me so I can get your front.”

Bucky’s words wash over him gently, Tony’s falling in that weird in between awake and sleep state where everything seems strangely distant, including Bucky even though Tony knows that he’s less than a foot away. Tony takes a moment to lean on the sink a little heavier than he has been, closes his eyes for a long second and then turns around quickly. The motion is too fast and he feels the dizziness rush back into his head instantly, as though it is demanding that Tony doesn’t forget its presence.

Bucky wraps an arm around him before he can fall. Uses his body to support Tony up, and Tony is very aware of all of the bare skin that is on display and now touching his. It makes him feel far too hot again, it’s too much, too close and he feels like every inch of his skin that’s touching Bucky’s is burning, but it’s a burn that starts slowly until it finally feels like a fire under his skin itching to burn it’s way out.

“I think I need to sit down,” Tony says shutting his eyes tight as though not having to see anything will help dampen the sensations that he’s currently feeling.

“Okay,” Bucky says and Tony feels him run his fingers through Tony’s hair in a way that massages his scalp just slightly. Then he picks Tony up just slightly to place him on the sink so he can sit on it instead of leaning against it the way that he had been. “How’s that?”

“Better. Doesn’t feel like I’ll fall over at anytime,” Tony says and opens his eyes slowly the dizziness having subsided enough.

Bucky nods at him and then moves in between Tony’s legs as he reaches to wet the cloth again. Tony stays silent as Bucky provides the same care to his chest. He pauses over the arc reactor, like he’s not sure if he should wash it or if water will damage it. “It’s waterproof, you can go ahead.”

Bucky looks at him for a moment like he’s trying to decide if Tony is actually okay with him touching the arc reactor at all. Tony gets it, Bucky was slow to trust when it came to his arm, but Tony has trusted Bucky for months now so he doesn’t even consider it when telling Bucky to wash it. Bucky gives a slight nod and gently washes over the arc reactor as well.

“Think you’ll be able to make it back to your bed?” Bucky asks.

Tony lets out a small mhm in agreement as he climbs down slowly and leans against Bucky for support to walk back. Bucky frowns at Tony’s bed as they walk back in and instead guides Tony to a chair nearby and helps him sit down.

“Gimme just a minute,” Bucky says as he kneels down before him so he can look up at Tony as he talks. He uses the same gentle tone that he’s been using all day, soft and calm and Tony doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of it. “We gotta change your sheets before you can go back to sleep, okay?”

Tony just nods. Bucky gives him a smile and squeezes Tony’s knee in a way that’s supposed to be comforting before standing back up and heading over to Tony’s bed to strip the sheets. There’s a knock on the door by the time that Bucky has managed to throw everything off of his bed. Tony stares at the door dumbly, for a moment he had forgotten that there were still other people in the tower. Had almost forgotten that a world still existed outside of his room, that not everything disappeared outside of him and Bucky. It still feels like a dream, in the sense that like a dream nothing outside of what is currently happening where Tony is seems to matter and his mind can’t even begin to process that the world outside of him has kept moving even though he has become sick. He can hear Bucky calling him dramatic in mind already so he doesn’t voice the thought.

Instead he watches as Bucky answers the door, murmurs a thanks to whoever it is, Tony can’t really hear, but he assumes it’s Steve–it’s always Steve.

When Bucky turns back around to him, he’s holding a tray and the smell of food hits Tony immediately. His stomach churns in a way that he can’t tell if it’s hunger or nausea but he thinks he won’t get out of eating with Bucky around anyway. Bucky places the tray on the bedside table next the chair that Tony is sitting on. It’s nothing more than a bowl of soup but Tony still has to resist scowling at it. The smell a little too overwhelming for him currently.

Bucky seems to notice since he says in a voice that’s sterner than the gentle tone that he’s been using, “You need to eat something.”

Tony sighs. “I can try.”

“All I’m askin’ of ya.” Bucky says and then goes back to making Tony’s bed.

Tony stares at the soup for a while as he picks up the spoon and stirs it, he continues doing that in slow methodical motions until it becomes something he doesn’t have to think about. Instead he watches the way that the liquid swirls and spins as he avoids eating, but he quickly picks up the spoon and puts it to his mouth as Bucky turns around and frowns at him. It’s not awful so he continues.

His bed now has new sheets and blankets on it and he’s not entirely sure where Bucky found all of that within his room but he’s too tired to question it. He continues eating as he watches Bucky cross the room to his dresser and start digging for something. He ends up pulling out a pair of sweatpants similar to the ones that he’s wearing and he lays them out on the bed.

“Done eating?”

Tony nods.

Bucky takes out pills from the medicine that he brought in earlier and hands them to Tony along with the water. Bucky watches Tony as he drinks and then stands by the chair waiting for Tony to use him as support so they can make the short distance to the bed.

“Change your pants before getting back in,” Bucky says.

“Very eager to get me out of my clothes today, aren’t you?” Tony says, half surprised that he’s coherent enough to flirt still. But he could be on his deathbed and he’d probably still be making pathetic attempts at flirting at Bucky.

“Think I’m always eager, doll. I’ll show you when you’re better.”

Tony stares up at him. “Promise?”

Bucky smiles but doesn’t confirm or deny. Instead just says, “Get your sweatpants on.”

Tony does so, using Bucky for support as he shimmies into the sweats and then trips slightly as his feet somehow get tangled with the ends of the pants and collapses onto the bed.

The moment he hits the bed he can feel his body start to melt into it. Can feel the medicine start to take a hold of him as his mind once again becomes hazy. He can’t focus on that for long because he’s suddenly overcome by how cold he is, he can feel his skin break out into goosebumps at the cool air that lightly blowing over it and Tony glares at the vent that’s directed at his bed.

He feels the bed dip next to him as Bucky climbs in again. Tony didn’t think he was going to stay. He had expected Bucky to have given up on taking care of him at this point. But Bucky’s presence is there and it’s persistent and Bucky makes himself more known as he moves closer to Tony and takes Tony into his arms. Wrapping his metal arm over the top of him and pulling Tony closer to his chest as he does. Tony can feel the contrast of the heat that Bucky’s body is giving off against his own cold skin and he feels himself lean into the embrace, the warmth welcoming him easily.

“I’m in love with you,” Tony’s not sure if it’s the medicine or the cold or the way that Bucky is again rubbing small calming circles on his back that makes him say it. He’s not even aware that he did say it. It comes out as more of a murmur than anything else and if it weren’t for the way that Bucky’s fingers lose their rhythm on his back, hitching just slightly he’d think that Bucky didn’t even hear him.

“It’s okay. I know you’re just doing this ‘cause I’m sick and it’s what you do but I thought you should know,” Tony continues when Bucky doesn’t say anything. Maybe it’s the fact that everything feels like a dream. He’s not convinced that it isn’t and it’s safe to say it if Bucky isn’t real but instead something that Tony is hallucinating from the fever. There’s no harm in telling hallucination Bucky that he’s in love with him.

Tony’s not sure if Bucky ever responds, he feels the soft press of lips against his forehead and then he lets sleep wash over him entirely.

-

Tony wakes to the sunlight shining bright on his face and demanding that he open his eyes. He regrets it instantly as the sun shines brighter the moment that he blinks the sleep away from his eyes. He shuts his eyes just as quickly and burrows further back into the warmth that he’s encased in, reveling in the comforting presence pressed against his back, the arm wrapped around him adjusts a little and holds him tighter as he shifts around.

It’s then that the memories of the previous night come pouring into his mind. He’s feeling better, he certainly doesn’t feel like he needs to sleep constantly so he’s pretty certain that he could slide out of Bucky’s grasp and avoid whatever conversation Bucky will think they need to have. Tony tries not to groan as he remembers telling Bucky that he’s in love with him. Tony wishes he would have just said a normal i love you that could have been explained a way easier, but no, the in love part makes the whole situation worse. He thinks that’ll be harder to blame away on the illness once the inevitable rejection comes along.

He squirms and tries to slide down and out under the arm but it grips his tighter as he moves and he’s absolutely stuck. He’s trapped with the increasing pounding of his heart and his growing anxiety for Bucky to wake up.

“Stop trying to escape,” Bucky says and his lips brush against the back on Tony’s neck in a way that makes his hair stand on edge and he has to repress a shudder from spreading through his body.

“Is aggressively spooning me your way of making sure I don’t run away?” Tony asks instead of acknowledging the elephant in the room.

“It’s working,” Bucky mumbles.

“Yeah well, there’s no need for it. See I’m all better so there’s no reason for you to coddle me anymore. I think if you just let me go and we can both get on with-”

“Tony-” Bucky starts but Tony keeps talking over him because he is very much not interested in what he’s going to say.

“-our lives.”

Bucky ignores him, he presses a kiss to the back on Tony’s neck and then softly says, “I was going to ask you on a date.”

Tony stays silent. He tries to process that information but a part of him is afraid that if he acknowledges it this moment will slip away from him and he’ll find that he hasn’t actually woken up yet.

“Before you told me that you’re in love with me.” Bucky ignores the whine of protest Tony makes at that and continues talking. “I was planning on asking you after you felt better. Had been working myself to it for a while and I think Steve’s tired of seeing me pine. But you’re still sick, no matter what you say, so what do you say we go on a date when you’re feeling better?”

Tony doesn’t say anything for a while. He blinks once, twice, three times just to make sure that he still is here and that Bucky is still holding him in his bed and asking him on a date.

“I normally get people into my bed after the date,” Tony says.

It’s not an answer but Bucky seems to recognize it as Tony’s way of saying yes anyway since he laughs and says, “I’ll gladly be here after the date too, doll.”

“Promise?” Tony asks feeling more like himself.

“Yeah, I promise. Now go back to sleep, you need your rest and it’s barely five.”

Tony feels Bucky shift slightly as he scoots down a little and rests his head in between Tony’s shoulder blades. Tony stays awake for a while longer and listens as Bucky’s breathing evens out. He doesn’t try to run away even though Bucky’s grasp on him has loosened to the point where his arm is carelessly thrown over him and not being used to keep him there, instead he smiles to himself and moves his hand down so he can lace his fingers together with Bucky’s as he falls back asleep.

[renaroo]

Wednesday Roundup

The late but always reliable reviewer Rena is here today. I sat on this one for a while considering the... internet-wide discussion we all are a part of now given Marvel’s recent revelations from this particular Wednesday, and the fact that I have a Marvel comic (even if only one) on my Roundups today made me somewhat reluctant to fully get into this, but I had, personally, a good Comic Day and I would hate to waste the opportunity to share the good in comics going on right now with all of you. So we’ll see how everything stacks up, and just how I’ll be handling Roundups in the future as a result of the current... nastiness, we’ll call it.

DC’s Batwoman, Image’s Descender, Marvel’s Invincible Iron Man, DC’s Super Sons, DC’s Superman, DC’s Superwoman, DC’s Trinity

DC’s Batwoman (2017- ) #2 Marguerite Bennet, James Tynion IV, Steve Epting, Jeromy Cox

As worried as I was with the Batwoman: Rebirth issue -- and I think I laid out my concerns pretty fairly, I have to fully admit that my worries have been almost entirely subsided as we go forward starting with this issue. 

I always have this concern when there’s a continued revisionist history of a character’s origins that we’re going to be falling into a Donna Troy affect -- where every author is more interested in retelling and retconning her history than actually allowing the character to be who she is and moving forward from there. A problem in comics that disproportionally affects female characters if you’re sharp enough to notice such things. 

This issue really helped me to put down that worry mostly because while, yes, we are revisiting Kate’s past for the hundredth time in the last ten years, the story proper is actually pushing us and her forward rather readily while not shying away from the aspects of Kate that make her Kate. 

Her loyalty, her issues with commitment, her homosexuality -- everything comes into play this issue and leaves us itching for more involving these Many Arms of Death plot overall. I’m very excited about this comic and am so glad that Maguerite Bennet is becoming such a good fit for it. 

Image’s Descender (2015- ) #21 Jeff Lemire, Dustin Nguyen

So I just recently got caught up on Descender in time to review the newest issue the week it came out, so I have to give major thanks to @feministbatman for recommending this comic to me. What can I say, you know me so very well and my love for robots and sci-fi has been incredibly rewarded for it.

This issue was another brilliant one, we had Tim-22′s reveal and takeover of the ship, but we also got to see a lot more development of Andy and Effy thanks to Bandit’s little vision quest of sorts for us. 

But of course the most anticipated and worrisome part of all of this is worrying for Tim-21 who is still in Psius’ hands and at the heart of the Havester plot that keeps on thickening.

It’s hard to say much else. 

I will say that while I’ll always be a fan of Nguyen’s signature style, I do find at times the choice to make this entire comic watercolor rather than more inked and refined does do some disservice to certain moments I think could benefit from having stronger color and more definition to them, but that’s a general criticism I’ll probably dive more into with the wrap up of this arc. 

Marvel’s Invincible Iron Man (2016- ) #6 Brian Michael Bendis, Stefano Caselli, Marte Garcia

An entirely all-female supporting cast to a female Black superheroine Ironheart with our token dude (Tony) being a computer AI. It’s the setup dreams are made of and I love how much love Riri is getting in the media and the world for her choices here. 

It’s also incredibly relatable how she reacts to being in her idol’s workshop, the idea of her “using it as her base” is unfathomable and her geeky cries of “THIS IS HOLY GROUND” had me literally laughing out loud. I loved it, and I loved how much agency and voice is given to Pepper as Rescue. So often when a young new hero takes over an identity, the trailblazers before them get left out (looking at you Captain Marvel, though you did make up with it in a pretty good issue yourself). 

There’s just so much to love in this comic and I’m glad that at the end of the day, even with all the Women in Science, it doesn’t diminish Riri’s single mom who works a 9-5. That relationship, you can already tell, is going to be monumental moving forward.

Great issue, great introduction to Riri. Am looking forward to seeing more of her. 

DC’s Super Sons (2017- ) #3 Peter J. Tomasi, Jorge Jimenez, Alejandro Sanchez 

To put things simply: This book might be one of the most amazing things that DC is putting out right now and if you have absolutely any interest in it at all, I would highly, HIGHLY recommend you pick it up because this is some a-grade fun. I adore having this book to look forward to and the antagonism as it comically plays out between Damian and Jon is easily some of the best stuff I’ve read with Damian’s character since the Robin: Son of Batman comic. 

Which, if you know how much I flatly adored that comic, should obviously be taken as pretty high praise.

That being said, there’s some issues. Damian’s skin tone is not being protected enough by the editors and the whitewashing, especially compared to how good DC’s Rebirth comics have been about it in other series, is very distracting and supremely disappointing. 

Jon has grown on me very quickly and while I will continue to talk about my longing for Chris Kent and my apprehensions about the continued theme of biological kids erasing the bonds of adopted kids, this is a good comic overall.

DC’s Superman (2016- ) #21 Peter J. Tomasi, Patrick Gleason, Mick Gray, John Kalisz

In this episode of “how is an evil cow taking down Batman” today, we get no such answers to no such questions, but we get a giant octopus monster fight with Superman, Superboy, and Robin and -- really -- isn’t that the content anyone really comes for in a Superman comic. 

Once again, Jon’s heat vision is out of control and kills something, but rather than it being another moment of horror and reflection for him, as his father was trying desperately to save the creature’s life along with the citizenry of Hamilton, but the entire town seems to turn on Superman and praise Jon over him for “doing what is necessary.”

Now, this might be me reading too much into this (and read: it is) but this seems honestly like a huge commentary on the values of classic heroes like Superman being put in stark contrast to the blood thirsty and fear mongering of the public today. Too often we praise the most immediate and final of reactions rather than the harder and grayer solutions which Superman is supposed to be able to give us. 

And considering how awkward the praise heaped on Jon feels in this issue, and the surprise revelation at the end, I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to like that a life lost unnecessarily is being celebrated by everyone around. 

Damian and Jon are still a ruckus and everything is still very intriguing. This is definitely my favorite Superman run in a long time.  

DC’s Superwoman (2016- ) #9 K. Perkins, Stephen Segovia, Art Thibert, HI-FI

So here we are starting off with a new creative team and resetting my Rule of Three, which for anyone new means that I give new runs and new comics 3 issues to hook me before deciding how to handle the series moving forward. And considering that I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the last two or so issues of Jimenez’s run, I’m not completely objecting to a bit of a change up in the creative team. 

This issue is dealing with the fallout of the Superman Reborn storyline and mostly about Lana dealing with once more being powerless, and how that makes her feel conflicted. I felt like this dealt with Lana’s emotions in a much more respectful and loving way that the last issue did, definitely, but mostly the issue read as filler before we get into the next arc which’ll be starting with #10. 

So here we go into curiosity. I’m very interested in where this new team is deciding to take us. 

DC’s Trinity (2016- ) #8 Cullen Bunn, Emanuela Lupacchino, Ray McCarthy, HI-FI

Another issue, another tie-in, another creative team change. Now, I’m going to be flat honest with you: I have absolutely no explanation for what happened in this issue. And I’m not doing that for comedic effect, it’s just honest. 

This definitely felt like more filler before we get to somewhere beyond all the crossover events and can instead return to Trinity’s desperate attempt to find its own status quo. Something that positively worries me because its predecessors in spirit, Superman/Batman and Batman/Superman, never really cohesively found that groove for themselves. 

For the time being this feels like after the first arc, this series has become something of a place for reactionary storytelling -- basically paid advertisements for bigger events going on in the rest of the DCU. 

I desperately hope I’m wrong, I really liked the first arc and would like to see more friendship-centered adventures between DC’s Big Three, but I’m going to officially move this series to trade-wait if things don’t change by the next issue. We’ll see.

So this has been a rough week for comic fans, there’s no getting beyond that, and this Roundup was at least in part held back due to my own concerns about just how much the fallout of some truly bad decisions over at Marvel was going to play into my own feelings toward comics this week.

I feel, overall though, I had a good pull this week, and while some were a little lackluster and have gained my reservations, I overall really loved my Super Week. And of my Super Week I definitely have to give my favorite issue to Super Sons, which has just turned out to be a spectacular gem to follow and I’m very glad for it existing. 

But how do you all feel about this week? Any comics I missed you think I should try out? Any disagreements with me on this week’s picks? I’d love to hear from you!

[tori10rambles]

Jumin’s route is done! That was a freaking roller coaster. aka the route in which i probably broke my own heart a little before I even finished Day 4, and it only got worse from there. And DAY 10 DESTROYED ME.

Being the rabid Seven fangirl I am, getting this route was hard. The only thing that kind of soothes my heart is that I didn't get any heart breaks from Seven. (You know, besides his actual heart by Day 10. That kind of negated... almost all my good feelings).

i just want to help like, every single one of these losers with their problems jfc.

Also, per usual, these comments were written as the game was being played, and so are probably kind of incoherent, and switch from first and 3rd person POV sometimes in the middle of the same point. All of that is under the cut.

Also, for some reason, the After end CG didn’t save to my album. Hm....

  Jumin

So much of his personality is explained by his dad honestly. Also, I have a very bad feeling about his dad and the Choi lady.

When you grow up in the public eye, it seems like the choices are to either try to become as bland/invisble as possible to avoid having the paparazzi on your ass (as seen with Jumin), or you do a Tony Stark and make a party/attention whore mask and basically try to own it.

Considering how Jumin describes his dad (skirt chaser? easily seduced by a pretty face?), I'm not completely surprised that he doesn't like women.

Also, should I be concerned that I find his utter failure at photography kind of adorable and odd, considering his best friend is a professional photographer?

...What the fuck did your dad do? A fiancee, seriously? The creepiest part is that apparently she's related/connected to his new skirt?

"I won't sell out my father over my cat." Does that mean your dad's actually tried that/is trying that? jfc

it's kind of cute watching him be concerned over MC, because you can kind of tell that he's warming up to her/starting to like her, but doesn't really get (want to acknowledge?) why.

Your dad is an asshole for using you as a bargaining chip. Also, please note that Jumin apparently cares about the company and how his father's personal life affects it more than his father does. And that Jumin is still more considerate of people's feelings, despite being a "robot."

...Considering the women from your dream sound like gold diggers and possibly at least one cougar/pedophile, I cannot blame you for disliking women.

Also, his dad is really bad at getting him. I feel bad because this seems like the first time this happened? Someone save Jumin from his well meaning, but obviously ignorant-about-his-son's-personality father.

Putting your cat in a cage because you think it’s the safest option does not include the emotional problems of being stuck in a cage

You’re projecting, Jumin... Rika onto Elizabeth? Wtf? I gotta say you apparently dodged a bullet considering what she did to V’s eyes

Jumin talking about controlling his cat is .... really creepy. because he talks about Elizabeth 3rd like she's a person/personified to him, so what would he do with an actual person he cares for?

he thinks intimacy is a luxury. jfc

So I'm at your place, but I'd really like an explanation for the cage.

y'all know things are bad when Jaehee knows he's unstable. ...why am i at his place at night again?

So while I'm enjoying you riling up Zen, some of your comments creep me out ("I don't want anyone else to look at her"). That's creepy (and also not a response I would choose), even if it is kind of cute.

are you offering to cook, or are you offering your chefs? Because strawberry pancakes sound delicious.

...wtf, put me to bed? I am not a child or a pet. 

Yoyoyo, does this imply you had feelings for Rika? omf not another person who wants me to be her replacement jfc yoosung was bad enough

Who is surprised that Elizabeth 3rd ran away? Not me.

i cannot believe you went and used lines from a soap opera to play Sarah. ...And that it worked

...Is this REALLY the time to be kissing me!? And what is it with these men and kissing me when I'm not ready for it!? Seriously, these guys have some awful timing.

Um... no. You are not giving Elizabeth 3rd back to V. You obivously love her, and you need more than just MC to care about, Jumin.

...I cannot believe you just said "the use is fairly similar" when I asked if I was a replacement for your pet. If I could, I'd run. I'd run SO FAR.

I'm pretty sure Elizabeth ran away because you legit went and caged her for hours when she's used to roaming around your penthouse freely.

...forever? HELL NO. I am my own person and deserve to be treated as such.

this complete 180 in personality is disturbing as hell.

Possessive Jumin scares me. A lot. At least he knows a relationship needs time.

...Half the shit coming out of your mouth sounds so creepy.

Trapping me somewhere and telling me it's for my own good is not protecting me... it's making me desperate to leave.

omfg, the Jumin phone call with the hilarious response!

Jumin's building is like a gilded cage. it terrifies me on a level i can't comprehend. like, I may be a bit of a shut in, but even I leave the goddamn building when I feel like it. It's the fact that I have the choice to leave, i think.

He feels... surprisingly less menacing/creepy on Day 9. Thank god.

Oh thank god they found Elly. hopefully this means Jumin will CALM THE FUCK DOWN.

I'm with Jumin on this one, his dad is really blinded if he thinks hiding your credit report from a businessman you're trying to marry is a good idea. That just screams goldigger

The fact that Jumin actually expressed his emotions and concerns to his dad, jfc that's progress. Also, he's managed to find a middle ground, SCORE!

...dude, how often do you say thank you and that you appreciate Jaehee;s work if she's that shocked?

that phone call immediately after the meeting with father is actually pretty sweet? omg. but the one where I call him after that VN was kind of... eh. not as nice

...When was the last time jaehee got a holiday? When was th elast time you LET her!?

...Okay, the VN after the 21:46 chat on Day 10 wasn't bad until the very end. Then it got weird. I am NOT a thing to be devoured jfc.

THANK YOU for seeing what's wrong with Rika's vision of a perfect world.

"We like each other. How can we be dangerous to each other." - THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS TO RESPOND TO THIS I'M NOT EVEN GOING TO START.

YOU ARE NOT PUTTING ME IN A GODDAMNED CAGE. I AM NOT A PET OR AN ANIMAL JFC THAT'S NOT SOMETHING TO JOKE ABOUT.

I feel like you're planning some sick burns, and it involves public humiliation. I'm so down for this.

At least you're letting me out of the penthouse?

Your idea of marriage is weird, but understandable. Also, I hope to HELL that wasn't a proposal after you only met me 10 Days ago, and LOCKED ME IN YOUR APARTMENT FOR MOST OF THOSE DAYS.

...what's with the rings on you status icon?

YES YOU'RE BEING TOO POSSESSIVE.

You sound kind of adorable as a kid.

Now that he's let me go home, he's actually kind of cute? I liked his Christmas DLC ending better tho.

Oh my god, that's savage.Public humiliation ftw.

YOU ACTUALLY PROPOSED. WTF. the dress is awesome though. i'd wear that but with less boob window

Seven

I'm so sorry. T_T I'm leaving your route for last, which means I need to be mean/indifferent to you and this sucks like hell. Especially since I get to talk to you more than once in a while. Almost none of the responses I want to make in Days 1-4 are the ones I chose to get this route. this is pain. none of this is okay. i am not okay. i will probably not be okay whenever i think about seven during Jumin's route.

The space station phone call makes me want to cry, because shit, he obviously is crushing at this point? And I'm going to end up crushing his heart into itty bitty pieces and I can't stand it. It's like... like waiting for the inevitable, and the suspense only builds because you know it's gonna happen, but you don't know how bad the resulting reaction will be.

The cat dream phone call makes me really fucking sad. because taken into consideration with the conversation Unknown and Seven had in Yoosung's route, and Unknown's rant in Yoosung's Bad End 3, I'm getting very concerned about Seven's childhood.

Everytime you break the fourth wall, I squee. And goddamn, you're right about games and Yoosung.

Zen and Seven are so freaking mean to Jumin, omf. but seriously this is the kind of drag I'd do to my friends, so long as they knew I was open for retaliation and didn't mean half of it

Your love for your cars is kind of adorable.

Seven’s friendships w yoosung and zen are hilarious and adorable. Like, give me more of it.

Why do i think that half the things you claim come from a book you read are actually things you think up yourself?

Every time you meet Unknown, my feels hurt. And I really, really want that explanation for who he is.  I mean, I read spoilers obviously, if you've seen my tags, but I wanna see how the game reveals it.

This man, seeing him sound so broken after his encounter with Unknown continues to upset me. That phone call about relationships hurts to, because there is CLEARLY some projecting going on there.

THIS FUCKING PHONE CALL.

Jfc, Seven is not okay. I'm so glad i can ask if he is or not and not end up on a bad end. But damn is it not fun to see him break. And the aftermath.

You're not okay (the 15:29 chatroom sounds like you're talking about Unknown btw, which I mean, MC doesn't know, but is obvious to anyone who is watching you), but I hope you can be okay soon.

Also, this just makes things even worse to me? Because not only has the person he cared about NOT chosen him, but the person from his past who was supposed to be safe and happy apparently hates him. And he's not getting any answers. Like, this just might the worst route for Seven?

Wait, what did V promise you? What does it have to do with unknown? Good lord, I want answers. Mostly so you finally have them.

Zen

Stop flirting with everything in a skirt that breathes. Especially me. That can only end badly.

Also, please know I agree with you SO HARD about Jumin's treatment of his workers, but again, I'm going for Jumin's route this time, which means agreeing with him.

But please, quit picking on jumin about being an "ice king" or "robot," because he literally does not know how to express emotions.

You and Seven are so freaking mean to Jumin, omf.

Zen’s dream is creepy. Adding meowing to the creepy music box music is not cool

your misconceptions about Jumin's life is amusing and concerning

lololol Big Brother Zen does not like MC being alone with Jumin.

Thank you Zen, for saying everything I've been saying about this situation.

religious nuts? Zen!? What if that's Mint Eye

Zen continues to be the best dude for coming to MC's defense.

Yoosung

I'm so afraid for this boy because he's so gullible. You'd think he'd know by now that Seven likes to troll people. No, I'm not counting the resets in that statement. Seven made it clear basically in the first couple of chats/calls/texts he participated in that he's a humongous troll when it suits him.

OMFG the infamous M call. I was not prepared for that holy shit.

omf Yoosung. STUDY. PLEASE. ...And now you have summer classes.

your misconceptions about Jumin's life is amusing and concerning (the bodyguard thing at least)

your insight into Jumin and his view of relationships is... really close to what i thought. good job yoosung!

I pity Yoosung for taking care of Elizabeth.

Jaehee

I'm so sorry I have to condone Jumin's work practices for a good end. And that I just gave Jumin a new cat project. You don't deserve this bullshit. No one deserves this bullshit.

Are you playing wingwoman? because it might actually be working.

I don't blame you for this really creepy situation.

you're so kind of try and assuage Zen's worries.

I understand your frustration with Jumin and wholeheartedly support it

I'm so glad you get a holiday omfg. Also, it’s hella cute and kinda depressing that you’re so happy about getting the vacation.

V

Your friendship with Jumin is so cute wtf.

is it your guilt complex and your need to keep the memebrs "safe" that would make you upset that Yoosung is going along with Seven? Because if so, that's kind of hypocritical considering Seven's a member, and you wanted him to go alone.

Goddamn it V. Thanks to your secrecy, I can't go back to the apartment.

ANSWER SEVEN. PLEASE. SEEING HIM SO DOWN IS NOT FUN.

Oh my god you're sassy. I wasn't expecting that. It's awesome though. Legit, half the fandom seems to forget that V is a sassy mofo. We need more of it.

Rika

...Wow, you are crazy. "A device that can take everything, that can delete everything"... What the hell kind of shit is in that apartment, Rika? Because there is no way there's only information about your party guests... Or is that the entire point? Is there blackmail there?

...You just sounded so nice there, talking to Jumin. Wtf happened to you?

A world without pain or mistakes... that's so idealistic... and impossible. Progress is important! We'll stagnate otherwise, and while being comfortable is important, so is making progress so that EVRYONE is happy. You can't tell me that those who are poor and starving and sick are happy where they are. Feeling sad is HEALTHY, especially after making a mistake or being affected by one. It's what keeps us empathetic and compassionate towards others!

...Are you REALLY asking your BOYFRIEND'S BEST FRIEND if he'd date you? REALLY!? I CANNOT BELIEVE... That's so cruel to V! Even if it WAS a joke!

And honestly, that last statement sounds like you want everyone to like... commit assisted group suicide or something.

Unknown & Mint Eye

Why does it seems like Unknown is talking to you in the VN from Day 2? It's so creepy, especially when you're reading that chat in the dark, after having woken up in the middle of the night for the game.

Goddamn it you gave me a heart attack. I can't tell if it's the music that scared me more or the messages.

...How have I gone three routes and not realized your HQ is a fucking castle?

Sarah & Glam Choi

Fucking gold diggers and attention whores, man. I cannot believe y'all are trying to use Jumin and his dad for money. Like, wtf?

Also, what the hell gave you the idea that Jumin is the type to mix work and pleasure? Also, Jaehee could totally do better than Jumin.

You are never getting rid of Elizabeth 3rd. It's stupid to think you can try, let alone succeed.

Goddamn it, using the paparazzi to your advantage is a dick move.

Knew you were after their money. You company is weak af Sarah, and apparently you have no idea how to make money.

...how stupid are you to think that Jumin couldn't recognize his own goddamn cat.

...Y'all just got PLAYED by the Ice King.

Public humiliation ftw! now leave and don't come back.

Uh... I couldn’t really enjoy this route very much because of the very possessive and creepy undertones halfway through the 11 days. I mean, I know he gets better, but honestly, that shouldn’t be behavior an s/o should have to stick around and try to “fix.” It also sounds a lot like coercive behavior abusers would use? Basically, I think Jumin needs a therapist who will probably need their own therapist instead of a girlfriend, because that kind of emotional burden is heavy and not something I think I personally could handle.

I was talking to someone else about this route, and we agreed that his route really isn’t good for anyone who isn’t personally emotionally or mentally healthy/alright.