#also would like to clarify this is in Steve��s point of view

[toburnup]

I usually don’t really like pov switching in fics bc like you said for me it disrupts the flow of the story and sometimes I like not knowing what the other person thinks and feels and their intentions bc it feels like I’m living the story with the person whose pov it is, but let me tell you, you blew my mind with the Eddie chapters. It was so interesting to look inside his brain and to see his point of view and realize that I, just like Steve, was blind to some things. Like how Steve was always the one to show up unannounced, how he could spend a week without coming not knowing Eddie was waiting for him bc he’d come every day before that. And to see that Eddie was also blind to some things like Steve’s alcohol problems (from what I understood he noticed but didn’t realize how bad it actually was?). And I also loved that those chapters weren’t just a retelling of Steve’s chapters word for word, it just felt like I was watching a montage of some moments through Eddie’s eyes, the ones that were memorable to him and maybe the ones that he still thinks about. I’m sorry for this essay, I just wanted to tell you that this fic has already become one of the best ones I’ve ever read in any fandom, thank you for this. I hope you know how talented you are❤️ Can’t wait for the next chapter!

💙💙 i'm!!!! ahh!! i'm so happy! writing eddie's pov was both very fun, and also very clarifying for myself.

also :) the examples you gave! love them. and i want to get into both a little more, so.... rambling below the cut!!

steve letting days go by without visiting because he doesn't realize eddie is waiting!! such a big misstep between them both. in steve's (slight, biased) defence, he didn't know that bothered eddie. steve said (fairly early on) that he "can't tell if you want me to keep coming over" and eddie's response sums up the different way they communicate their feelings. eddie doesn't say, "yes, i want you to come over." he says "if i didn't want you here, you wouldn't be." which is very different in terms of messaging. less direct. also untrue, lol. but steve is more comfortable with verbalizing that kind of thing so he follows it up with "so you want me to stay?" and eddie doesn't answer, just holds out his hand, which is an answer of sorts.

but steve asks again: "is that you saying it?" so that's 3 times that steve is asking this question of do you want me here? and eddie is unable to answer. because to him, admitting that he wants steve there is admitting that he notices when he's not, that something fundamental is missing. that he's lonely. and it's much easier to tolerate being alone when you don't think of it that way.

eddie not realizing the extent of steve's drinking - they wouldn't have the language for this, but eddie's dad was pretty much a functioning alcoholic. like in the opening section of eddie's first pov chapter, his dad is drunk when he drives them out into the storm. i've both struggled w/ addiction, and later on worked with people in recovery, and some people are able to live their lives while being heavily addicted w/o their communities noticing. eddie knew his dad was drunk because he'd seen it happen so many times, but it was also normal for his dad to be drunk and not necessarily act like it. so steve's own drinking wouldn't really be a red flag for him, it's just something he Notices and then moves on from. he's not concerned because why would he be?

the only time it seems to bother him (from steve's pov) is when steve drives over drunk on new years, but even then, from eddie's pov we see that his irritation isn't from steve being drunk at all. it doesn't really register for him like that. he moves steve's car, lets him climb into bed. he's just annoyed because he thinks steve has been avoiding him (not visiting) since he was "back in hawkins" after christmas. this isn't a judgement of eddie that i'm making, either. i think he's a victim of circumstance in a similar way steve s in this particular instance.

a montage of some moments through Eddie’s eyes, the ones that were memorable to him and maybe the ones that he still thinks about - nothing much to add, i just really really like how you phrased this. lovely.

as i went through steve's chapters and picked out some sections to write eddie's pov, there were a few that i wrote bits of, or added to. i had a lot of fun writing the sections where steve's perception misaligned with eddie's. or when he'd say things when he was drunk or post-orgasm lmao, and wouldn't necessarily remember.

super long answer. thank you for sending this message!!

[frenchgremlim1808]

Stop justifying Billy attitude.

 Introduction

This is a follow up post to my harringr**ve has much more follower than lumax lucas and max. You can find it here

Okay i made a promise, so today i’m gonna fulfill it. So i’m gonna say somethings that i didn’t think was controversial. Billy hargrove actions are inexcusable and irredeemable, he would have never have a redemption if he lived, he would have stayed an horrible asshole whatever would have happened. The only point in time where he could have become better is nonexistent, because he’s dead. So stop acting like he is a good person.

Now i am forced to explain cause it seems some idiot actually thinks that this character whose whole purpose was to pose a human threat to the cast and represent the bigoted views of the 80′s is in a fact sad boy who just needed a redemption.

Before i start just wanna clarify, liking billy has a character, liking how his purpose in the story was fulfilled or his complexity doesn’t make you a bad person. Not at all. I personally think that billy is a very well written character well fitted into the story and honestly very interesting way to show the effect of abuse and how abuse can change a person at a young age.

I’m gonna take every argument i saw and break it down for you.

1. Billy action are excusable he was a victim of abuse, so he continue the cycle of abuse, it’s not his fault !

Okay first do you think the same things to serial killer who also got abused by their parents. Is the fact that they were abused change anythings to the fact that they killed innocent people out of pure psychopathy and own twisted pleasure. Of course you don’t because that’ absolutely insane and if you actually think that go see a psychiatrist. 

“But op you can’t compare serial killers with billy all billy did was being mean to his sister’s friends” First of if you think he was just being mean to lucas/max, you’re either blind, or absolutely in denial. Billy tried to roll over lucas and co, burned a cat alive abused mentally max, menaced to kill lucas a child and steve, and even after his death still torment her so much that it pushing her toward suicadal thoughts. Second, okay you doesn’t like my comparisons then let’s make another. Do you think that my grandma who neglected and abused my mother out of pure hate for her simple existence in this world excusable in anyway because her childhood was bad. Because her childhood was kinda bad she now has the pass to abuse her kids and put permanent marks in their life of  self hatred and emotional disability. No she will never get that pass, never because her actions may come from past abuse, but it doesn’t change the fact that her actions ruined her children's self worth and view on the world. She continued the cycle of abuse while could have stopped it, she could have stopped it and given the chance to her kids that she didn’t get. But no she continued what her own parent’s did to her to her children’s. But my mom stopped it she stopped the cycle of abuse, by loving and taking care of me just like any mother should. She made mistake along the way but in the end she did the best she could for me.

My grandma actions are not excusable, but in a way understandable. She wasn’t strong enough to stop the cycle of abuse. Billy is the exact same. Billy actions are not excusable, in any way, but understandable.

2. “But if he had a good circle like Jonathan had, he wouldn’t turned like that”

Of course the Jonathan/ billy comparison. It’s true they have a lot in common. Physically abusive dad and an abused siblings. But i’m gonna express something real quick. What circle ? Like actually what circle. His anxiety driven mom ? His abused brother? Oh no his nonexistent friends who totally helped him not be an asshole. Jonathan didn’t have a circle he was alone against his dad. But still he didn’t decide to abuse Will, out of pure hatred towards the world. Having a circle doesn't mean your gonna be a good person, and not having one doesn’t automatically means you are gonna be an asshole. A good circle can help but in the end it’s all about inner strength. We really never talk about that but  Jonathan in my eyes is an extremely strong character. He was capable of not only surviving his father abuse and fly over it, but also becoming even more full of love for his brother and mother. He could have been just like billy, fallen into the deep end where no forgiveness is acceptable but no he fought against all of his father influence and learned from his abuse that he will never ever forgive him nor become like him. He will never forgive the abuser. 

And also if you wanna do comparisons let’s make a simple one. El has been abused her almost her whole life. Papa manipulated her. Even when he wasn’t with her he always had a certain control over her. In episode 8, Eleven has a choice forgiving the man who abused her or not doing that. She didn’t choose to forgive him, no she knew that in the end even with his kind words there was foul poison inside. A man who loved her wouldn’t have hurted her the way he did. A man who loved her wouldn’t have still tried to manipulate her. She knew deep down that whatever her heart could feel, he didn’t love her and he didn’t deserve forgiveness. She will never forgive the abuser. Pretty much everyone agreed with eleven choice. So why with billy is it different when he too abused max. Oh yes i forget he an conventionally attractive guy so you absolutely forget every action he did just because you simp for dacre. You know what, simp whenever you want for dacre, he’s a conventionally attractive white dude. But for the love of god stop confusing the actor with his character. Just because you think dacre is cute or whatever doesn't mean you have to act like his character did nothing wrong. HE’S A RACIST PIECE OF SHIT STOP PRETENDING LIKE HE ISN’T.

3.”Stop saying he’s a horrible person, that’s literally victim blaming him for his action”

Ooh, so saying that billy hargrove is an horrible person because he abused, threatened to death a child and burned a cat alive is victim blaming? I am currently blaming a victim ? You know what’s victim blaming, getting mad at Max for admitting that she hated billy and wished he died while he made her life a living hell. Victim blaming is also getting mad at Joyce for not being able to stand against loonie. It can also be blaming Jonathan for wanting to keep his job because his family is poor. That’s victim blaming. Billy is a victim of abuse true but like i said does it change any action he did ? In the situation i told was he a victim ? No he’s an abuser. Billy is an abuser. He may have been a victim but now he’s an abuser. He became an abuser the moment he decided to hurt max out of pure hate. When billy was young, he wasn’t an abuser, he was just a kid whose mother disappeared. He was just a victim; but when he became older he became an abuser. You can fell pity for the young abused kid who lost his mother, but you can’t feel pity for a freaking adult man who hurt 13 years old kids out of pure hate. Now all can fell for him is the pure feeling that he is a pathetic man who felt better by bullying thirteens years old.

4. “Leave us  to relate to a character who’s a queer coded abuse victim, we can just relate to his struggles”

I have some words, Look one minute at the cast, right here. 

So you wanna relate to an abuse victim who is queer coded and not racist nor abusive, will is there. You wanna relate to morally grey character who start of as a bad person but become better with time , Steve exist. Literally you have so many options; An abuse victim ( half of the stranger things cast), start of not that  great (Steve/ Eddie/ hopper), Queer/queer coded ( will,mike,robin,jonathan etc). You can pick anyone, literally anyone but you choose billy hargrove, Billy out of all them. Stop making a plea to yourself.

5.”The reasons we like billy is the fact that he could have had a redemption, we just want the best for him”

Stop it, like stop it right now. What redemption ? Billy dead. He’s fucking dead. So if i understand you like this character only for the non-existant version that you made up in your mind. You solely like a character because of a fanon version babygirlfied version of the character. Well that explain everything now. The reason why billy hargrove fan love him is only fueled by their own little fantasy world which doesn’t exist. Billy is dead he was never made to have a redemption. the writers decided to kill him for a reason. He was more of a plot point than an actual good person in season 3. And like do you actually think that if he lived he would have been a good person. Even if i don’t know got like therapy or something and by magic it worked would it have stopped him of being racist. No it wouldn’t.                                                          Do you want a little definition of racism 

“Racism is the belief that groups of humans posses different behavioral traits corresponding to inherited attributes and can be dived on the superiority of one race over another” Source Wikipedia

Racism is inherently the sentiment that some skin colors are superior than other. Racism is also putting stereotype on a certain ethnicity . It can manifest in a fear toward that ethnicity based on stereotypes.

Feeling superior. Billy hargrove feels superior to lucas because of skin color. He feel like his skin color is superior to poc skin color. I’m gonna ask a question, did you ever see in your life an extreme racist suddenly change and realized the error of his ways. Maybe it has already happened but it doesn’t change the fact that is rare. “But op billy isn’t an extreme racism it was just mild” No Billy racism isn’t mild. He tried to run over kids, and threatened of death a child. And even if his racism was mild it doesn’t change anything, He a racist in the 80 s. You think that him going to like therapy would change his racism especially in the 80 s.“But he wouldn’t have killed Lucas, he was just threatening him” Oh he JUST threatened of child of death, nothings wrong there. And euh... If Steve didn’t protect Lucas what would have happened you think. He would have JUST beaten the crap of him. I’m personally a poc, to know that some white ass 13 years old excuse the racism of billy just like we are the one overacting in this situation. Your a poc and your a billy fan, i literally don’t give a shit. That doesn’t change that he’s an abuser. Billy issues as a person doesn’t just come from his blatant racism. 

6. But the show clearly want us to understand he wasn't  bad, look at max grief.

Max grief billy, in a way she feels responsible for his death. Sometimes she may wish that she died in his place. But in no way is it cause she realized she liked him or something. Max is grieving because of regret. She never loved billy, she hated him. He made her life a living hell. But she feels like it’s her fault he died. She grieving a human being who died a horrible death in front of her. In her monologue she said it she wished he died. Grieving a bad person who has hurt you doesn’t mean you loved them. It’s a normal human reaction. Their relationship was complicated. Max never wanted the two of them to be this. All she would have wanted is to gain just some peace she got that peace but in her head that this newfound peace killed her step brother. Max is a nuanced character, she make bad decisions and sometime think things that aren’t true, grief and depression swallow her whole. Compared what billy fans think many of the stranger thing cast is extremely nuanced.The show isn’t trying to to make us understand he wasn’t bad, their showing that their relationship was extremely complicated. 

And anyway they wouldn’t make max forgive Billy when one of the core moral of stranger things is against that.

                            “Never forgive the abuser”

Will and Jonathan will never forgive their father, Joyce will never forgive loonie,Eleven will never forgive pap and max won’t forgive Billy. Just like billy shouldn’t forgive Neil max will not forgive billy. And that’s why billy would have never been redeemed. 

Just before i reach my conclusion i’m just gonna state some things:

-The Billy and Karen affair is still one of the most uncomfortable things that happened in the show, and Billy clearly isn’t at fault, Karen shouldn’t flirt with a young boy like him, she could literally be his mom. And technically its wasn’t illegal since billy was 18 at the moment ( if in america; in Indiana at that time the legal age of maturity is even 18, if it’s not, and in fact 21.... My opinion of Karen will decline... a lot.) but still weird as heck.

- I will admit that i too saw some queer coding in billy character, i could completely see the queer coding but i’m pretty sure it’s just dacre having good chemistry with joe. And even if he was queer wouldn’t change that he was a racist and and abuser so....

-While i do think that we should take in count actors views of their characters, Dacre saying that billy wasn’t racist was awfully wrong ,even Caleb said it billy is racist. But really it’s not a reason to cancel dacre or caleb or anyone. Actually don’t cancel anyone please.Cancel culture is one of the most idiotic things we have on the internet right now, and it would be amazing to just stop with that.

-I would say that the only reason most of the billy hate community can act sometimes hysterical is mainly because the billy stans can sometime be so ridiculous and the delusional ones in the conversation. Instead of accepting the fact that they clearly just wanna fuck dacre which is i guess understandable, they use Steve as a scapegoat. Just like back in time in the undertale fandom     ( bad memories....) people shipped sans and frisk while using frisk, a child, as a self insert for them self.

Conclusion:

Just like the Wheelers, Papa, troy,Angela, Jason, the town of hawking in general billy is an indicator of the time period. The mentality of small town and the discrimination that minorities could face there. Stranger is all about following outcast of societies, freaks. Billy doesn’t follow that definition, and that’s why he’s not a main character. Billy is an incredible character who clearly is complex and has multiple layers. While he is a great character for his purpose as an antagonist, he should have never been idolized by so many people. Billy is not a good person, nor a character who as made to be loved. Billy was made for you to wish him to hate him, then gain pity, then realize he is a very grey character, who a complex deconstruct of toxic masculinity and the 80 s mentality. 

And i will conclude by the fact that while this post was made to get some thought out of my head and kinda clear my absolute desperation at the billy stans naivety. It is also to i hope help some  young peeps understand that billy hargrove isn’t a character who you should stan, and maybe wake them up a little. Anyone can be misguided, so that’s why i hope that if a billy stans  is reading this you understand why most of the fandom dislike him a lot. 

Also if your an ex billy stan say to me in comments what made you change ways.

Anyway spend 4 days on this shit, peace out love you all.

[marvelousstevetony]

Hi! If you’re taking prompts, can you maybe do insecure tony for stony? I was just thinking about tony always stifling sneezes because his normal sneeze is insanely cute but he doesn’t want Steve or the team to know? But then they find out when tony has a cold or something and can’t stifle at some point? Thank you for your writing also :)

This is... so old, anon, I’m so sorry. Life has been crazy busy these last few weeks. I combined this ask with another anon requesting “vulnerable” for stony (which I’m also very late to answer, sorry!)

I hope you both see this anyway and enjoy despite it being so late. 

(2.5k of sick Tony, cuddles, and everything in between)

----------

“h’ehh… uhNGxxt! ehhh’mPTChh!”

Tony pinches his nose between his thumb and index finger, head bopping slightly forward with the force of the sneezes.

“Bless you, Tones.” Steve glances up from the debrief forms and watches the way Tony’s rubbing mercilessly at his twitching nostrils. His eyes are half-lidded, mouth hanging slightly agape as he waits for the sneeze to come, however, after a few seconds, it seems to escape, and Tony is left sniffling into his wrist.

“Sorry… thanks,” he replies, and Steve swears he can see Tony’s cheeks color immediately after Steve pulls out his handkerchief and offers it to him. Tony shakes his head, though, but his soft smile tells Steve that he’s grateful for the offer even though he declines.

Steve goes back to looking over the forms while sipping his coffee. They’ve been at it for a while, and Steve’s tired, so he downs the caffeinated drink mindlessly despite its ineffectiveness. Tony says it’s a mental thing as much as it is physiologically,  and it seems to have become a habitual thing for him since they started dating. Even though Steve doesn’t particularly like the taste, he finds that he’ll always drink the coffee as long as Tony’s there.

He narrows he eyes, concentrating on reading the words, but his head’s suddenly swimming, and he lets his eyes slip shut for a few moments until his hearing picks up a choked noise, and he looks up to see Tony stifling another bout of near-silent sneezes into the shoulder of his white button-up.

Tony looks adorable like this, Steve thinks, nose all scrunched up and eyebrows drawn together into a confused frown. He also looks tired, Steve notices, as tired as Steve feels. He throws a quick glances over the papers that are scattered all over the table, then up at his boyfriends who’s now scrubbing at his nose with a bent index finger, and catches his lower lips between his teeth as he decides that they’re done for the day.

“Hey,” Steve says as he gets up and goes to stand behind Tony, leaning down to rest his chin on Tony’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Tony echoes and turns on the chair, now facing Steve with a warm, yet sleepy, smile, which is immediately returned.

“You think it’s time to finish up here, yeah?” Steve ask softly, caressing Tony’s cheek as he says it. They feel a little warm, and now that Steve gets a closer look, he can tell that there’s a slight flush to them, and to his nose as well. It could be because he’s just tired, that happens to Steve sometimes, but Steve’s 99 percent sure that Tony probably needs rest because he’s both spent, overworked and, from the looks (and sounds) of it, coming down with a cold.

Tony leans in to the gentle touch for a second, then closes his eyes and nods. “I can’t even tell you how long snf! I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.” It almost comes out as a sigh, breathy and relieved, and Steve could feel the way Tony’s jaw unclenched in his hand.  

“So… dinner in bed?” Steve carefully slips off Tony’s glasses and places them on the table, then strokes a thumb under Tony’s eye, tracing along the indistinct line the glasses had imprinted onto his skin. “I think an early night would do us good,” Steve adds and leans in his brush his nose against Tony’s.

Tony pulls away slightly, even the softest touch making him sniffle madly. He draws in a few quavering breaths and leans away from Steve before crushing a small fit of sneezes into his fist.

“Hdt’mpshh! hH’NGSXT! N’GKt! snffSNFF! Sorry,” Tony rasps as the fit subsides.

“God bless you, sweetheart,” Steve says, voice drowning in sympathy. “Dinner in bed?” he asks again.

“We don’t have to, snff! We can do dinner at the table,” Tony assures, frowning.

Steve smiles warmly. “I know… It was mostly because I feel like I could fall asleep right here on the floor,” he chuckles. “But I do believe it’d be good for both of us.”

“Yeah, I- I guess so,” Tony exhales. “I really can’t be bothered to cook dinner, though.”

“I’ll do dinner,” Steve offers. “You can take a shower and get into bed.”

Tony pouts at that. “The can’t be bothered to cook dinner was mostly because it would mean we’d have less time to cuddle. You doing dinner doesn’t change that, Steve, I’ll still need my favorite pillow.”

Steve shakes his head and laughs fondly. “Thirty minutes tops. I promise.”

Tony narrows his eyes at Steve, then smirks. “Twenty.”

———

Steve arrives with dinner exactly 21 minutes and 15 seconds later.

“You’re late,” Tony states, looking at his wrist as if he was wearing a watch.

“Oh, shush, you,” Steve says as he settles the tray on the bed. “You’re not even wearing a watch.”

“JARVIS keeps track of the time,” Tony clarifies. “Although, I think you’re forgiven. This looks amazing, Steve.” Tony reaches out to grab the plate and puts it in his lap.

“Anyone can cook pasta, Tony. Even Clint,” Steve shrugs.

“But your pasta is actually good,” Tony says. “And I’m Italian, I’m a tough critic to please,” he adds as he swallows a mouthful of creamy spaghetti.

Steve, as always, brushes off the compliment and ducks his head with a shy smile. He joins Tony under the comforter, scooting closer to his boyfriend until he’s near enough to rest his chin on top of Tony’s head. He doesn’t even remember letting his eyes slip shut, but they do, slowly. He’s right on the verge of nodding off, but suddenly he feels something being removed from under his chin, and his head falls forward, waking him with a start. It’s Tony’s head that’s missing, Steve realizes.

Beside him, Tony’s body jerks slightly forward as he pinches his nose with two fingers. His eyes are squeezed shut, shoulders hunched, as he draws in a short breath and stifles another near-silent sneeze.

“ng’tCHh!”

“Bless you,” Steve croaks, his voice already rusty from almost sleeping. He grabs a few tissues from the nightstand and places them in Tony’s hand.

Tony accepts the Kleenex and brings it right up to his nose. “uhhGxxt’ch! ehhk’NGxt!”

“Let yourself sneeze, babe. Sounds like it hurts…” Steve mumbles as he settles back in close to Tony. He doesn’t even hear Tony’s response, because his eyelids are just so heavy, and the comforter is warm, and within a few seconds, Steve is out like a light.

————

When Steve wakes up, his face is smushed into the pillow. He sighs deeply into it before propping himself up on his elbows and scrubs at his face with both palms to clear away the sleepy haze. His naked back is half covered by the linen sheet, half uncovered, fair skin glowing from the sleep-warm heat. He must’ve taken his t-shirt off at some point during the night, which seems unusual. He’s normally always cold in the night and has to cuddle in close to Tony to get warm.

Steve looks to his right and watches Tony’s relaxed facial expression. He looks so peaceful and innocent that Steve can’t help the flush creeping up his cheeks or the soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Adoration and affection surge through him as he takes in the view of his boyfriend.

Tony is lying on his side, face turned towards Steve. His lips are barely parted, just enough to breathe in through his mouth. They look so soft, though, Steve thinks, irresistible, really, and Steve… Well, Steve feels it would be a crime not to kiss them when they are that pink and plump and perfect.

He leans down and catches Tony’s bottom lip between both of his. The kiss is gentle and sweet and the dazed feeling lingers even after he’s pulled away. It tingles in every inch of Steve body; the urge to run his fingers over Tony’s cheek, to brush a hand through the soft curls, and, somehow, Steve knows that this is what he wants every morning. He wants their sleep-warm bodies pressed close to each other. He wants the first thing he sees when he wakes up to be Tony’s messy hair and half-open mouth. He wants the domesticity and the pure bliss of waking up with he person he loves more than anything else.

The thoughts make tears prickle behind Steve’s eyes, and he probably would’ve teared up if Tony didn’t begin stirring just then.

Tony blinks his eyes open, and he smirks when he sees Steve gazing at him with such fond and kind eyes. “Mornin’,” he croaks.

“Hey.” Steve smiles and brings his hand up to stroke Tony’s arm through the soft t-shirt he slept in. “Sleep well?”

“I think so… or, I don’t know,” Tony amends. “I’m still so tired.” He closes his eyes and nuzzles closer to Steve, who now realizes why he’d overheated while they slept.

“You feel warm,” Steve murmurs. “Are you alright?”

Tony huffs. “‘M fine, Steve,” he mutters, voice muffled by the pillow. “Jus’ tired.”

Steve frowns and cups Tony’s cheek in his palm. “I think you’re running a slight temperature, sweetheart. ’S not too bad, but still…”

“I get hot when I sleep, tha-ahh-that’s w-why,” Tony tries, but it sounds unconvincing, even to him. It probably would have more believable if his breath hadn’t come in short gasps, and his nose hadn’t quivered violently as he said it.

Steve watches as Tony twists his head to face away from Steve. He doesn’t see the way Tony’s face undoubtedly crumbles with the sneezes, but the way his shoulders tense with the withheld sneezes is enough to make Steve’s heart ache in sympathy.

“ehh-NgHTsshx! Hng-tsxx! HNgx! SnfSNFF!” Tony sniffles a few times, then groans. When he turns his head to face Steve again, his eyes are squeezed shut and presses a hand to his temple. “Sorry, excuse me.”

“God bless,” Steve murmurs and removes Tony’s hand from his forehead and places his own there instead. He begins gently massaging Tony’s scalp, fingers rubbing along his hairline, and he carefully runs his thumb over one eyebrow.

Tony’s face is still pinched, nose wrinkling, and a few second later, he stifles a small Hngxsh! into the pillow. An almost inaudible whimper escapes through his lips, one that Steve probably wouldn’t have heard it if he didn’t have super-senses.

“Bless you,” Steve sympathizes. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?” Tony asks, confused.

“Hold them back like that. It’s not good for you, it looks painful,” Steve winces at the mere thought of the stabbing pain stifling sneezes does to him, and he can’t imagine it hurts any less to Tony.

“Yeah, it’s… not great,” Tony agrees. “But I can’t help it, it’s a habit.” He shrugs and leaves it at that.

They’re quiet for a minute while Steve nestles closer to Tony and drapes an arm over his waist. They lay there, in silence, looking into each other’s eyes— until Tony draws in a breath and crushes his face into his shoulder.

“H’tsnghh! Sh-ihht ihhngxt! Ugh.”

“Tony,” Steve says disapprovingly, glaring at him.

“I’m not doing it on purpose, Steve,” Tony grumbles. “That’s just how I sneeze, I’ve done it since I was twenty. Twenty, Steve. You know how many years ago that is??”

Steve chuckles fondly at Tony’s self-deprecating joke. “And I thought I was the old one in this relationship,” he retorts with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“You are, but it’s still a long time… You know how hard it is to break a habit like that? It’s impossible,” Tony answers his own question.

Steve shakes his head and laughs again. “You’re ridiculous—“

“You love me.”

“and— I do love you, yes, but you really should stop trying to hold your sneezes back like that. It’ll give you a headache, and from the looks of it, it already has.”

Tony opens his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. Instead, Tony sighs and deflates, which tells Steve that his suspicion was right. “Okay, yeah, a little maybe,” Tony admits with a small smile to show Steve that he is okay, even if his head is pounding and his nose is twitching, and he has to keep sniffling and rubbing at his poor nose to impede the horrible itch.

“I’m sorry you’re feeling bad,” Steve says sweetly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this sniffly,” he adds.

“You wouldn’t have… I don’t get sick. Or, I don’t get sick very often,” he rephrases when Steve gives him a look that says Really? “I normally just stay in the workshop, but this… this is not the normal I’m used to when I have a cold.”

Tony looks around the room, at Steve, who’s definitely the anomaly in this case.

Steve smiles warmly. “Well, it is now.” He leans in to graze a kiss over Tony’s lips and nudges his nose against Tony’s. The feather-light touch seems to cause the remaining itch in Tony’s nose to bloom, though, because Tony quickly pushes Steve away. He barely has time to bring his arm to his face, so he aims the sneezes down towards the blankets.

“tshu! tshh! eh’tsh! huh-tshoo!”

The sneezy sensation overcomes him so quickly he doesn’t even have time to think about stifling them. They’re small and soft and shivery, but Tony lets out a relieved sigh when he finishes. It feels so good to sneeze and not feel like he’s been smacked in the head by the Hulk afterwards.

The alleviation almost makes him dizzy, and it takes him a couple of seconds to pick up the sound of Steve... giggling?

“What are you laughing at?” Tony asks, brows drawn together.

“That- w-was,” Steve tries to speak, but he couldn’t get the words out in between cackles. “That’s the cutest sneeze I’ve ever heard,” he manages to say. The smile on his face stretches from ear to ear.

“Ha-ha.” Tony rolls his eyes. “Laughing at my weird sneeze is very funny, Steve.”

Tony pouts as Steve still couldn’t keep a straight face. “You know, this is why I started stifling them. Because of bullies like you.” Steve can tell he’s not actually mad, though, because Tony’s face starts breaking into a smile and soon he’s chuckling alongside Steve.

“That’s why?” Steve asks.

“I know my sneeze is weird—“ he begins, immediately going shy.

“No, it’s not weird, not at all. It’s adorable.”

“Adorable?” Tony asks incredulously.

“Mhmm,” Steve hums, “definitely the cutest sound I’ve ever heard.” The blonde leans in again, brushes his nose against Tony’s. It has the same effect the second time around, and Tony quickly snaps his head the other way to sneeze over his shoulder.

“tish! iitsh! huh-uh! tshu! hh’itsch! Oh…”

“So sensitive,” Steve murmurs fondly as Tony recovers from the fit of small, ticklish sneezes. “Bless you,” he adds and Tony just sniffles in reply. The tip of his nose is so pink, quivering ever so slightly, and Steve really can’t help but press the most tender kiss right on the center of it, grinning as Tony’s eyes begin to flutter shut again.

“Oh, fuhhck y-you, R-Rohhgers… ishhew! ishh! uhh-tshh!”

“Bless you, sweetheart,” Steve coos, one big, loving smile plastered all across his face.

[fairylightsandchai]

The Internship - Part 2

A/N: Hello, again! Just popping in again to say that I know I don’t usually post fanfic here, but I really wanted to take part in @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​‘s Pre-Code Challenge! Just ignore this if you don’t follow me for fanfiction. :) Also, I’ll be adding tags in a reblog. 

Read Part One Here!

As a side note, I’ve made a new blog since writing this dedicated to fanfic. If you wanna check it out, click here!

Pairings:  Dark!Professor!Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: >10K

Summary:  You are a student in the former-Captain America’s American History class, and you soon notice that Professor Rogers has been paying more than a professional amount of attention to you. But when he approaches you with an internship opportunity that’s too good to be true, how can you say no?

(A/N: This fic contains non-con elements, stalking, and manipulation, and this part will inclue rape, breeding kink, and kidnapping. It is also inspired by The Wild Party, a film from 1929. I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think.)

You let out a curse as your hand fumbled around inside of your purse; you professor would be there any second to pick you up, and your phone was nowhere to be found. You could’ve sworn that you’d set it down on your nightstand to charge, but it hadn’t been there that morning, and after spending the better part of an hour looking for it, you were beginning to give up hope.

           A knock sounded at your door and you swore again, finally setting your purse down next to your packed suitcase and hurrying to answer it. On its other side stood Steve, a smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He was dressed much more casually than you’d ever seen him before, wearing a pair of dark jeans, a white t-shirt, and a brown leather jacket.

           Staring between him and the bundle of daisies, you blinked once, twice before finally finding your voice again.

           “Steve! I… Are those for me?” you asked, and he let out a soft laugh.

           “Nah, they’re for the other girl who lives here,” he joked.

           “I’m sure she’s very grateful,” you managed, taking the bouquet from him and giving it a sniff. “What’s the occasion?”

           “Well,” he began, following you into your apartment as you went to locate a vase, “I know that you had your reservations about joining me, and I wanted to get you a little something for agreeing to the internship.”

           “Oh.” You finally found an old pitcher that you’d never before used and started filling it with water, watching Steve out of the corner of your eye. He seemed right at home, browsing your book collection with his hands in his pockets as he skimmed the titles. “Well thank you! They’re beautiful.”

           After setting the daisies into the water, you turned to face your professor.

           “So… Are you ready to head out?” you asked, and he quickly turned his attention back to you.

           “Sure am.”

           Before you could protest, he walked over to your suitcase and picked it up, not even batting an eye at how heavy it was. You scurried over to pick your purse up and follow him out of your apartment.

           “I might need to stop at a Best Buy on the way,” you told him as you locked the door. “I can’t seem to find my phone…”

           “You can’t go without it for a week?”

           “I mean… I can, but I would rather not have to,” you explained. “My mom might start to worry if I don’t keep in touch.”

           “Well how about you use my phone? I would hate for your family to be concerned.”

           You followed him to his car, surprised at how sleek and modern it looked; it had to be worth more than a couple years of your rent.

           “Are you sure? It won’t be too much of a bother?” you asked, moving to open the passenger door. Steve’s hand shot out faster than yours, though, opening it for you with a smile.

           “It would be no trouble at all, (Y/N),” he assured you.

           With a quiet “thank you”, you slid into your seat, flinching when Steve closed the door behind you. As you sank into the dark leather beneath you, you wondered if it was too late to turn back. You couldn’t get that meeting in his office out of your head; the way his voice had hardened, the way his face had turned stormy when you hadn’t thanked him initially, it still sent shivers down your spine. Steve had spent years as America’s ‘golden boy’, but you couldn’t shake the suspicion that there could be a darker side of him just beneath the surface.

           You jolted in your seat when you heard his door open, and you watched as he climbed into the driver’s side, his weight making the car shift as he settled in.

           After flashing a small smile your way, he pressed a button and the car started, its engine purring quietly. You were both silent as you made your way to the interstate, your apartment fading into the distance in the rear-view mirror. It was only after the car was on the highway that Steve glanced your way again.

           “You can put on the radio, if you’d like. We have a good hour of driving ahead of us, and that’s if traffic isn’t too crazy.”

           You sighed; traffic in the city was always crazy.

           You fiddled with the radio, eventually finding a station that you liked and turning it down to a low volume, just wanting some background noise.

           “Hey, I actually know this song,” Steve smiled. “Doesn’t happen too often these days; most of the music I listen to is on the records I have at home.”

           You smiled a little at that; some of the things he said really made him sound like a grandpa.

           “I like the oldies, too,” you told him, head turning to look out your window. “Do you have a favorite band?”

           Steve thought about it for a second, his thumbs tapping absentmindedly against the steering wheel.

           “Well… You’ve probably never heard of them, but I really liked The Ink Spots back in the day. Oh, and Frank Sinatra is pretty hard to beat.”

           “I happen to enjoy Sinatra myself,” you said. “I don’t know a lot of his music by name, but he has a really distinct voice.”

           “That’s true,” Steve smiled. “…You know, you have a really distinct voice, too.”

           Well, that came out of nowhere. You chuckled a little, feeling your cheeks heat up.

           “I…don’t think so,” you tried to dismiss him.

           “No, I mean it,” he insisted. “I really like your speaking voice; I imagine you’re a nice singer, too.”

           “You are… so wrong,” you informed him. “My singing voice sounds like a cat being boiled.”

           He threw his head back, his shoulders shaking with the force of his laugh.

           “And just how do you know what that sounds like?” he asked you, glancing away from the road to raise an eyebrow at you.

           You just shrugged, your smile fading slowly as you looked down at your lap.

           “Why do you do that?” you heard yourself saying.

           “Do what?”

           “Compliment me so much,” you clarified, not daring to look his way. “You always have something nice to say about me. Why?”

           It took Steve a few moments to answer, evidently pondering over his words.

           “Well,” he finally said, “I suppose I’m just used to saying what’s on my mind. Everything I’ve told you has been true, you know.”

           You felt something in your chest flutter, and you chewed on your lip as you cranked the radio louder. It wasn’t necessarily the words he’d spoken just now that unsettled you; no, it was the way he’d said them: softly, earnestly, in a tone that you don’t just use with a student or a friend. You tried to push that thought away, tried to write it off as ridiculous; he was Captain America. Why and how would he ever develop feelings for someone like you?

           The majority of the car ride passed in silence, and you watched the sun sink lower into the sky. He’d picked you up in the middle of the afternoon, and as the winter dragged on, the days were getting shorter and shorter. So when you finally made it into Brooklyn, the sky was awash in light pinks and oranges; the sun would be going down in about two hours.

           “So, I was thinking,” Steve finally spoke up, setting his right hand on the gear shift, “that we could stop for an early dinner before heading to our hotel room. I know a great pizza place close by.”

           His pinky was just barely resting against your thigh as he spoke, and even that tiny point of contact was enough to make you uncomfortable. You pressed your thighs together, putting some distance between your leg and his hand, and you thought that you saw his jaw clench at the motion.

           “U-um,” you finally spoke up, realizing he was still waiting for an answer, “yeah, that sounds good. I could go for some pizza.”

           With a nod of his head, he turned his turn signal on, turning down the next road. In no time, he’d parked the car in a parking garage and led you out onto a street. When you reached a brick building with a sign that said Lucali on it, he held open the door for you, waving you in before him.

           The smell of Italian food immediately washed over you, and you almost let out a moan as you deeply inhaled. A young, sweet-looking hostess walked to the two of you instantly, doing a double take when she saw the man you were with.

           Grabbing a few menus, she, for her credit, quickly got over her moment of being star-struck.

           “Good evening; table for two?”

           “That’d be great,” Steve said, giving her one of his trademark smiles. “We would like one in the back, if any are available.”

           “O-of course, Mr. Rogers,” she assured him, leading you both into a more secluded area. Jazz music was playing over the sound system, and as you sank into the booth you were led to, you noticed that every table had a small succulent on its surface.

           “Can I get you guys started with something to drink?” the nice girl asked, and you were about to say that you’d just take water when Steve interrupted you.

           “We’ll have a bottle of the house red blend,” he told her.

           “Oh, no,” you tried to say, “I don’t really want any wine-“

           The look Steve gave you stopped you dead in your tracks, and you were quickly taking back your words for a reason you couldn’t quite name.

           “U-um, that is, could I have a water with that?” you corrected yourself. Steve smirked, never taking his eyes off of you as the hostess hurried away.

           You squirmed in your chair, not daring to make eye contact with the man in front of you until he spoke your name softly.

           “Um… Yes?”

           “You know, I’d really like it if you were able to relax,” he said softly. “Sip some wine with me; try not to be so tense. Let yourself enjoy the evening.”

           Before you could reply, the hostess was back with your drinks, and you immediately chugged half of the glass of wine she’d poured for you – you would welcome anything that could take the edge off, at this point.

           “So,” Steve said, not touching his own glass, “I have a whole itinerary planned out for tomorrow. I thought we could start out by going to the building I grew up in; I was sure that they’d have tore it down by now, but apparently it’s still an apartment complex.”

           “We could even take some pictures,” you added, finishing off your glass. “They might be a nice inclusion to the chapter.”

           “That’s a great idea,” he smiled. “So, we’ll check it out and take some photos, and then we’ll go to Coney Island; Bucky and I used to go there all the time. Once, he made me ride this rollercoaster there until I got sick.” Steve laughed fondly at the memory. “But I got him back the next time and made him go on the tilt-a-whirl until he passed out.”

           You chuckled, feeling the wine start to tingle pleasantly through your veins.

           “Bucky? That was your best friend, right? The…the winter soldier?”

           Steve’s smile grew sad at the mention of that title, but he nodded his head, reaching over to your glass of water and taking a sip casually. If it weren’t for the wine, you were sure you’d have found that odd, but you didn’t even think twice about it.

           “He doesn’t like to be called that anymore,” he corrected you. “But he was known by that name once.”

           You were both silent as he poured you another glass, and you mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ before promptly sipping on it. The air between you felt awkward all of a sudden, and you regretted bringing up the tender subject.

           “So,” you spoke up, “what else is on your itinerary?”

           “Well…” Steve perked up, “I thought that we could head over to Central Park after Coney Island; it’s all the way in Manhattan, but I used to go there and draw when I was a kid.”

           “You like to draw?”

           “I sure do. It’s one of the things that I’ve been good at since before the serum.”

           “I’m sure that’s not true,” you assured him.

           “Oh, believe me, it is,” he grinned, and there was a softness in his eyes as he looked at you. “Other than getting in way over my head. I’ve always done that, too.”

           When the waitress came by your table, Steve ordered for the both of you, but you didn’t mind; he happened to order your favorite type of pizza, and you smiled at the coincidence. The wine was starting to make your head buzz, but you welcomed it over the constant anxiety you seemed to be facing these days.

           Your pizza came out surprisingly quick, right in the middle of a story you were telling Steve about your childhood. He was watching you so intently, his chin resting on his palm and his eyes sparkling with amusement. First one, then two more glasses of wine had been drunk (by only one of the people at your table), and when the bottle went empty he slid his still-full glass over for you to finish.

           The both of you were completely silent as you ate the pizza; it seemed that you both were hungry. You ate your fill before sitting back and watching Steve ate the majority of the meal as you sipped your wine; you’d never seen anybody eat that much pizza in one setting, but then again, you’d never dined with a super soldier before.

           The sun outside had completely disappeared by the time the two of you were finished, an entire bottle of wine sloshing in your belly as you stumbled out of the restaurant.

           “Woah there,” Steve chuckled, holding his arm out for you to support yourself on. “You ok?”

           “’M great,” you waved him off. “Just drank a little more than I was expecting to. You should’a stopped me at my second glass.”

           All Steve replied with was a deep chuckle, leading you back to the car and helping you into your seat. You blushed as he buckled your seatbelt for you, feeling like a child.

           “I can do it myself,” you tried to protest, but he batted your hands away when you reached for him.

           “I know you can. But I want to help you.”

           You huffed but made no attempt to further protest, settling in against the cushy seat as he started to drive you to the hotel. Your eyelids were slowly starting to feel heavier, and you jolted when you suddenly felt a hand descend on your shoulder.

           “Hey, doll,” Steve was saying, “We’re here. Wake up.”

           You blinked sluggishly; you hadn’t meant to drift off. Letting out a soft grunt, you opened your door and stood up on stiff legs. Your teacher smiled over at you as he unloaded your suitcases, handling all of the bags as he led you out of the parking garage and into one of the fanciest hotel lobbies you’d ever seen.

           Your shoes clicked against the marble flooring as you walked with Steve to the receptionist’s desk. The man behind the counter gave your professor a wide smile, not even sparing you a glance as he greeted the soldier.

           “Welcome, Mr. Rogers,” he grinned. “We are honored to have you staying with us, sir.”

           “Thank you,” he replied. “We have a reservation under-“

           “Rogers, yes. We have your room all set up.” The man handed Steve a keycard, and you wondered if he would start vibrating with how excited he was at having such a famous guest. “Please, do let us know if there’s anything we can do to make your stay more pleasant.”

           “I sure will; have a good evening.”

           With that, Steve gestured for you to walk into the nearby elevator before him, pressing the button for the 11th floor.

           “I was wondering if that guy was gonna kiss you,” you joked, and he threw his head back as he laughed.

           “I…am very glad he didn’t,” he sighed. “Wouldn’t wanna make you jealous.”

           Your eyes widened, but before you could say anything, the elevator dinged open and Steve was making a beeline down the hallway. You rushed to follow him to a door marked “1110”, and the first thought you had after he unlocked the door and led you inside was…there’s only one bed. The room was gorgeous, of course. Soft carpet flooring, white linens, dark wood furniture, and you passed a spacious, luxurious bathroom as you stepped further into the room.

           “Um… Steve?”

           He turned to you as he set your bags on the dresser, eyebrows raised.

           “Yeah?”

           “There, um… There’s only one bed.”

           “Oh,” he said, looking around at the bed as if only just then noticing it, “Yeah. All of the rooms with two were taken.”

           “…Um… Alright, then,” you said, starting to sober up from the wine.

           Walking over to the bed, you pulled off one of the pillows and dropped it to the floor, gripping the comforter and moving to pull it off of the mattress.

           “What are you doing?”

           You met Steve’s eyes, halting in your movements.

           “I’m making myself a bed on the floor.”

           “The floor?”

           You nodded, wondering why it was so surprising.

           “Yeah, I don’t mind sleeping on the floor,” you said. “You paid for the room, so you deserve the bed.”

           “…Why don’t we just share it?”

           You felt your cheeks heat up at his question, feeling like a deer in headlights as he stared at you.

           “U-um, well… It’s just that you, um… you’re my teacher,” you explained, feeling dumb as you said so. “Wouldn’t that be…inappropriate?”

           “Oh, c’mon, doll,” Steve sighed, setting his hands on his hips. “We’re both adults. You don’t need to be so immature about this.”

           Your eyes were round, and your mouth hung open, not knowing what to say to that. Your chest tightened at the feeling of disappointment, for some reason feeling sick at the thought of Steve thinking of you as ‘immature’.

           “I…  I’m sorry,” you stuttered, voice small. “I’m just…going to put my pajamas on.”

           You opened your suitcase hurriedly and snatched the first tank top and pajama pants you saw before rushing into the bathroom, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You took your time dressing, not wanting to venture back out into the bedroom to face him again; why did he bother you so much? Why did you care about what he thought?

           Letting out a deep sigh, you looked at yourself in the mirror, heart sinking when you saw your shirt. Or, rather, what was showing straight through your shirt. Your nipples were clearly visible through the thin material of your white tank top, and for a second you pondered putting on your bra again. But it was stark black, sure to show through even more blatantly than your nipples.

           Staring up at the ceiling, you briefly wondered if there was some higher power out there who just liked watching you squirm, scattering awkward, embarrassing moments throughout your life like a child throwing confetti.

           Whatever, you decided, gathering up your dirty clothes and holding them against your chest. Steve thought you were immature, anyways. He probably wouldn’t spare your nipples a second glance, right?

           …Right?

           Summoning your courage, you opened the door and walked out, not once glancing over at your teacher as you headed to your suitcase. Not even when you heard him sigh and sit up straighter on the bed.

           “Doll, I didn’t mean to be mean earlier,” he was saying as you shoved the bundle in your hands into the bag. “You’re very mature for your age, and I-“

           You turned around, mouth open to speak, but you stopped when Steve’s words were cut off by a deep inhale. You glanced up shyly, just in time to see his eyes fly up from your chest to your face, his eyes a bit wide as he tried to keep his gaze fixed on yours.

           For the first time since walking back into the bedroom, you realized that he was only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, his muscles on full display as he lounged against the headboard. You hoped he didn’t see how your thighs clenched together at the sight, but his eyes caught every movement you made as you stood before him.

           “I…” he cleared his throat, “I’m sorry for calling you immature earlier.”

           You nodded, tearing your eyes away from his pectorals as you padded over to your side of the bed. Not daring to make any eye contact, you lifted the sheets, snuggling down into them and turning onto your side. You were faced away from him as you spoke next.

           “It’s ok,” you said. “I think I’m going to go to bed now.”

           “Alright, doll,” Steve murmured. “Goodnight.”

           A few moments later, you felt his weight leave the bed as he got up to turn off all the lights. Once the room was completely dark, you felt the bed dip again, and you curled up into a ball to try and take up as little space as possible.

           For a long while, you could only hear your own breathing, and one by one your muscles were beginning to relax. Just as you were on the edge of sleep, though, you heard sheets sliding against skin, and then a pair of impossibly strong arms were wrapping themselves around you.

           Your breath caught in your throat, and for a second you froze. Your heart was pounding, and you felt Steve’s hot breath against the back of your neck. Wondering if he was just latching onto you in his sleep, you tried scooting away, wriggling in his iron-like grip. But despite your best efforts, he wouldn’t budge.

           “Steve,” you whispered, “can you-“

           “Stop,” he murmured, his nose nuzzling into the side of your neck. “Just be still.”

           Your eyes widened, and you felt a rising tide of panic swell in your chest. Once more, you tried to distance yourself from him, reaching back behind you to try and push against his chest, but he only tightened his grip on you, squeezing you until it was beginning to grow harder to breathe.

           “Stay. Still,” he growled, giving you one hard shake.

           You whimpered at his tone, too shocked to say anything else. Limply, you let your hands fall back to your side, feeling the fight leave your body like water going down a drain.

           “Good girl.”

           Letting out shaky breaths, you forced your eyes to close and willed your breathing to slow down. Despite your discomfort, your exhaustion was getting the best of you, and your eyelids were once more growing heavy. Sleep was beginning to overtake you, and in the last moments before it completely won you over, you realized how warm Steve was, how nice it felt to be in someone’s arms. In any other situation, you could see yourself enjoying this.

           But tonight was different. Tonight, you were trapped, and as nice as your body felt, your mind was at war with itself as you finally succumbed to sleep.

­­­­­­­­__________

           You woke up impossibly warm. There was a comforting weight on top of you, and the pillow beneath your head was so soft, providing just the right amount of support. It was so unlike your own bed back home, filled with lumps and-

           Your breath caught in your throat as the events of the night before came flooding back to you. Your eyes flew open, falling to the blonde head currently resting against your chest – Steve. He seemed to be asleep, his arm wrapped around your stomach and his lips slightly parted. From this angle you could see how long his eyelashes were, and for a brief moment you felt a flutter of jealousy.

           But that feeling soon left when he took in a deep breath through his nose, his spine stretching and his arm flexing against you. You felt his thumb lazily trace circles against your side as he let out a yawn.

           “Good morning,” he sighed, eyes still closed.

           You gulped, feeling that familiar spike of fear inside you.

           “Good m-morning,” you whispered back. You made to swing your legs over the side of the bed, but his arm only tightened in its grip.

           Finally, he opened his eyes and looked up at you.

           “Where are you going,” he asked, voice suddenly devoid of all sleepiness.

           “Just to the bathroom,” you murmured, and thankfully, he let you go, rolling onto his back to allow you to stand up.

           You felt his eyes on you the entire time it took for you to cross the room, and you let out a sigh of relief once there was a door separating you. A door which, you knew, he could easily put his fist through if he wanted; you’d always been aware of his strength, but it hadn’t seemed real to you until you’d felt his arms caging you in against him.

           As you went about your business, you belatedly came to the realization that there was no explaining his actions anymore. You could no longer shake away the feelings of unease Steve arose within you; you could no longer call yourself ridiculous for not feeling safe with Captain America, of all people. As you washed your face and considered your countenance in the mirror, you felt your world came to a screeching halt as you accepted the fact that had been right in front of you the entire time.

           Steve wanted you.

           After gathering up your courage, you stepped out of the bathroom to find Steve already up and dressed in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. He gave you a soft smile when your eyes met, but now you could see the steel behind it.

           “I figured we could just eat breakfast here,” he told you, using such a nonchalant tone that for a second you forgot entirely about last night. “They have a buffet downstairs. After that we can head to my old stompin’ grounds and take some pictures.”

           “Th-that sounds good,” you assured him, cautiously walking over to your suitcase. “Is it ok if I take a shower first?”

           “Of course it is. You want me to get out of your hair, leave you with the room to yourself? You can just come downstairs and meet me in the dining hall when you’re all set.”

           “Oh.” You blinked in surprise. “Um, yeah, that would be great.”

           Steve gave you another warm little smile, setting his hand on your shoulder as he walked past you.

           “I’ll be waiting for you.”

           You watched him leave, waiting to hear the door click completely shut before grabbing everything you needed from your suitcase and heading back into the bathroom. You took your time in the shower, wondering what exactly you should do about all of this. You couldn’t spend an entire week with Steve, not if he continued acting so…weird around you.

           As you applied your makeup and dried your hair, you reasoned that, yes, Steve definitely had…some kind of feelings for you. Maybe it was a crush; maybe it was something more. Or maybe he just wanted to get in your pants. Either way, you had to tell him that his feelings weren’t returned, that you wanted to end the trip early. He could find another intern to finish out the week.

           For now, you decided, you would do what he wanted for today; you would go with him to his old house and take notes; you would go to Coney Island with him. But as soon as he mentioned going back to the hotel, you would lay it all out for him and get an Uber back to your apartment.

           Feeling determined, you grabbed your purse and headed down to the ground floor, almost getting lost in the vast hotel several times before you were able to locate the dining hall. Upon entering the large room, you saw Steve sitting at a table, tapping away at his phone with an already-empty plate. When he looked up at saw you, though, he hurriedly shoved the phone into his pocket and gave you a smile.

           “You look great,” he said as you passed him on the way to the buffet.

           All you could manage was a weak smile for him as you went about assembling a plate for yourself, even though you really didn’t have an appetite. You settled on some fruit salad and a muffin, grabbing a cup of orange juice as you went back to the table.

           “That’s all you’re gonna eat?” Steve asked, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. You put on a false smile and nodded as you picked at your food.

           “I’m not really hungry this morning.”

           He didn’t offer any protest as you ate, and as soon as you were done he ushered you out into the parking garage. The car ride to his old home was mostly silent, leaving you to watch the streets of Brooklyn go by.

           “This town has really changed,” Steve eventually sighed. “It’s always weird coming back here.”

           You were quiet for a few moments, thinking about what to say. He’d sounded strangely…sad.

           “You don’t think it’s changed for the best?” you finally spoke.

           “Well… I dunno. Yes and no, I think. Because modern technology is great; there’s no disputing the accomplishments we’ve made with it. But this city used to be…smaller. And not just in size; it used to be that each street had its own flavor, its own feel to it. Now, everything is so commercialized that it doesn’t even seem real anymore.”

           “…I’m sorry, Steve,” you muttered, feeling genuine sympathy for him despite how he’d made you feel. “I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through.”

           Steve nodded, parallel parking the car onto the side of the road.

           “I wouldn’t want you to, doll. The things I’ve seen sure can change a person.”

           With that, he hopped out of the car, jogging around to open your door for you. As you stepped out onto the sidewalk, you saw a three-story brick building right in front of you. The first floor was dedicated to a Chinese restaurant and, beside it, a used bookstore, but it appeared that the top two floors were used for housing.

           “That window,” Steve said, leaning closer to point it out to you, “used to be in my bedroom. And the downstairs was a clothing store back then. My mom was a tailor there when I was little, before she became a nurse.”

           He led you around the building into an alleyway, a melancholy smile on his face. The alley was not unlike any other you’d seen; trash was strewn about and trashcans were lined up against the far wall. You heard music drifting out of an open window somewhere above you, though, and some of the windows had flower boxes with overflowing ivy inside of them. Steve paused at the foot of an old stairway made of iron, resting one of his feet on the bottom step and rubbing his hand up and down its rail.

           “I used to climb these stairs every day,” he said wistfully. “And me and Bucky would play in the alleyway; I could always beat him at jacks.”

           You gave him a small smile, walking closer to him.

           “Can I borrow your phone?” you asked. “For the pictures.”

           “Oh, right.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a StarkPhone, handing it to you. He made to walk away from the steps, but you held one of your hands out.

           “No, stay there,” you instructed. “Look up at your old apartment, and uh…act natural.”

           He chuckled, moving back to his position next to the stairwell.

           “Whatever you say, Miss Photographer.”

           You snapped a few photos from different angles, liking especially one where he had his back to the camera, his profile visible as he looked up at his old front door. You quickly set a black-and-white filter over it before handing him back the device.

           “I think those all look good,” you said. “Tell me what you think.”

           Steve flipped through the photos, lingering on the one you’d made black and white.

           “These are great,” he praised you. “But they’d look much better with you in them with me.”

           He gave you a wink as he tucked the phone back into his pocket, gesturing for you to follow him back to the car before you had the chance to say anything more.

           “C’mon, it’s been decades since I’ve gone to Coney Island. I wanna see how different it is these days.”

           The rest of the day was strangely…pleasant, in spite of being with a man you knew to have some kind of strange fascination with you. Going to Coney Island with Steve kind of made you feel like a kid again. He wouldn’t go on any of the rides, but he did play some of the carnival games with you. It was his idea.

           “C’mon, we can’t come here and not have at least a little bit of fun,” he’d cajoled. You’d given in, following him to the ring toss stall.

           After that, you began to loosen up a little bit. The games were fun, despite how rigged they clearly were. Steve, though, was unsurprisingly amazing at them; he’d even broken the Strong Man game. When he’d brought the hammer down onto the button, not only did the bell ring, but it cracked in half. He’d grinned and picked a huge teddy bear off of the rack, handing it to you proudly, and you hadn’t been able to do anything but laugh and accept it with a smile.

           After stopping to get a hot dog (or three hot dogs for Steve), you’d piled back into his car, barely able to fit the bear into the backseat. On the ride to Central Park, you skimmed through Steve’s phone, picking out your favorite of the photos you’d taken at the amusement park. You laughed and showed him the one you’d taken just after he broke the game; in the picture his eyes were wide as he looked back at you sheepishly.

           When you got to the park and managed to find a parking space close by, you sensed a distinct shift in Steve’s mood. As you got out and let him guide you to the spot in the park he used to visit as a child, you felt his eyes on you constantly, and your small talk puttered out into dead silence. You felt the back of your neck prickle with discomfort as you noticed the path you were walking on becoming less and less crowded, leaving you alone with the super soldier.

           You had the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

           Eventually, the two of you came to a shady part of the path where the tree branches hung low, shielding the asphalt underfoot from sunlight. There was a small, old-looking bridge in front of you, and Steve paused when the two of you were standing overtop of it.

           “Why are we stopping?” you asked, turning to him. “Is this the place?”

           Steve didn’t answer, looking down at his hands where they rested against the bridge. You felt that familiar sense of anxiety rising up inside of you, and you fidgeted as you watched him carefully.

           “You know, I’ve thought about this moment for a while, now,” he finally said, “But hell, I’m still nervous.” He gave you a sheepish smile, but it did nothing to make you feel better. “I guess you just have that effect on me.”

           You gulped, clenching your fists at your sides.

           “Steve, what…what are you talking about?”

           “I think you know, doll.” He stepped closer to you, his chest almost touching yours. “I think you’ve known for a while.

           “You must know that I’m crazy about you by now.”

           You looked down, not able to meet his eyes, but his hand went under your chin and guided your face back up towards him.

           “Hey, look at me, baby. I-“

           “No, please don’t,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Steve, we can’t-“

           “I love you.”

           Your heart sank upon hearing those words, and despite how he’d treated you up to this point, it broke your heart to see how hopeful his expression was.

           “Steve, I…” You paused, and he eagerly nodded, hoping to hear something you knew you couldn’t say. “We can’t do this. You’re my teacher, and I’m your student. We could both get in huge trouble.”

           You watched the hopeful glimmer in his eyes fade away, replaced with disappointment as his face fell.

           “But…what if you weren’t my student?” he suddenly asked.

           You scrunched up your eyebrows questioningly.

           “What do you mean?”

           “(Y/N), you don’t have to go to school anymore,” he told you in a pleading voice. “I…I could take care of you. You could do your writing from home, and I could provide for us and our family. I know that you have your own plans, but now you don’t have to-“

           “Our family? Steve, I’m so… I’m confused. You expect me to just quit everything and, what? Be your housewife?”

           Steve frowned at your tone, setting a hand on your shoulder. You tried to move it away from him, but his grip was like iron.

           “Doll, I know that this is sudden, but I also know that I can make you happy. And you can’t deny that you have the same feelings that I do. I can hear your heart pounding as we speak-“

           “That’s because I’m afraid, Steve! I hardly even know you, and the only feelings you’ve given me so far have been fear and discomfort. You can’t just fucking decide that-“

           His grip on you tightened, causing you to let out a yelp of pain.

           “Watch your language, baby,” he warned you, voice hard as steel. “I won’t have you speaking to me that way. Not after everything I’ve done for you.”

           “What you’ve done for me?! You haven’t-“

           “I changed my whole life for you,” he spat, his face getting closer and closer to yours. “I moved across town into a shitty matchbox apartment just to be closer to you. I got you into my class so we could properly meet one another. I’ve given you my heart, (Y/N), and I’m ready to give you the life you’ve always wanted!”            Your head spun with his revelation of just how crazy he was. You wanted to scream in his face; you wanted to tell him just how insane he was. But you knew that wasn’t the smart thing to do in this situation, and if you wanted to make it out of this, you would have to be smart. He was stronger than you, and you were alone with no one else in sight; you couldn’t fight your way out of this.

           “S-Steve,” you whispered, forcing yourself to look into his eyes. “Steve, please. I’m sorry for being so…rude. Just… Can we talk about this? Maybe at the hotel? All of this is so sudden, just like you said. I need to think it through.” You silently willed him to believe what you were saying; if you could just make it back to the street you could try and find help.

           He seemed to turn over your words, hesitating before finally loosening his grip on you.

           “…Okay, doll,” he nodded, taking a step back. “We can talk about this. But you’d better watch the tone you take with me. Now let’s-“

           He was cut off by the sound of a ringtone emanating from his back pocket – more specifically, your ringtone. You both froze for a long moment before Steve slowly reached for it, and your blood ran cold when you saw its familiar phone case. It wasn’t the StarkPhone you’d been borrowing from your teacher all day; no, that was your phone. The one that you hadn’t been able to find yesterday.

           And Steve had it.

           “…I’m sorry about that,” he sighed, crushing the device in his palm as if it were made of paper mache. “I know that this looks bad… I was gonna give it back to you after our week together.”

           All of your reason went out the window, and on shaky legs you turned and did the only thing your brain could think about in that moment.

           You ran.

           You could hear Steve’s footfalls behind you, moving impossibly fast, and you let out a scream, making your voice as loud as possible and willing your legs to move faster. Within seconds though, his vice-like arms were around you, one of his massive palms pressing against your mouth and muffling your cries.

           “Cut it out right now,” he demanded. “You know you can’t win this fight.”

           You didn’t faulter in your frenzied movements, though, still kicking your legs blindly. It was only until you felt his hand move from your mouth to your throat that you went still, your vision slowly going black at the corners as it became harder to breathe.

           You were still trying to scream, though, begging anyone who could possibly hear you for help even as your voice became thin and strained. All too soon, though, you felt something hard hit you in the back of the head, and you felt yourself sinking into unconsciousness.

           “Shh, it’s ok,” you thought you heard Steve say. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

           And then everything went black.

________

           The first thing you became aware of as you woke up was how sore you felt. Your head was pounding, your mouth was dry, and your arms were cramping. With a low moan, you tried to move them, but something around your wrists was stopping you.

           “Shhh, doll, you’re ok. I’m so glad you’re waking up.”

           Slowly, your eyes opened and you found yourself face to face with Steve. Sucking in a deep breath, you turned and saw your wrists tied to a bedframe with a thin but strong length of rope. Judging by the rope burn on your skin and the soreness in your muscles, you’d been tied up in that position for a while.

           “I was so afraid I’d hit you too hard,” Steve was going on, perched right next to your hip on the mattress. “I’m sorry that I had to do that, but to be fair, you weren’t leaving me much of a choice.”

           Your eyes widened as you took in the room you were trapped in. The walls and floor were made out of concrete, and there were no windows in sight. There were, however, bookshelves lining an entire wall to your left, and there was a brown leather couch and two matching armchairs placed in front of them. A staircase sat in the corner to your right, and there were two visible doors in the room – one right in front of you and one to the right.

           “Doll? You okay there? Your heart is beating faster than a steam engine.”

           You turned back to face Steve so quickly that your head spun with the movement.

           “S-Steve?” Your voice was brittle, and you just then realized how much your throat hurt.

           “Oh, here, hon. Sip some water; it should help your throat feel better.” Steve stood up and retrieved a glass of water from the nightstand before once more taking his place beside you and holding it to your lips. You tried to lift your head up off the pillow as much as possible, but some of it still dribbled down your chin.

           After you’d drank your fill, Steve put the glass back on the table and leaned over you, letting one of his hands rest on your hip while the other one wiped away the water you’d spilled.

           “There you go. That feel any better?”

           You warily nodded, completely unsettled by the pleasant little smile he was wearing on his face.

           “Steve,” you tried once again. “Where am I?”

           “Don’t worry about that,” he said, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb while his other hand drew lazy circles against your hip. “You’re safe.”

           You struggled once more against your ties, but all you accomplished was aggravating your already raw skin. Steve sighed and pulled away, standing up and putting his hands on his hips.

           “Doll, I’ve already warned you about your attitude,” he chided. “If you calm down, I’ll untie you, but first you’ve gotta settle down and behave. Understood?”

           You felt tears spring to your eyes as you realized just how helpless you were in this situation, but you blinked them away as you nodded. You stopped struggling and lay still.

           “I-I understand.”

           “Good girl. Now, I’ll untie you, but if you try to run or do anything stupid, I won’t hesitate to tie you up again and leave you like that for the next week. Got it?” When you nodded your head, Steve tsked, shaking his head. “You need to do better than that. Say, ‘I promise not to run, Steve.’”

           “I-I promise not to run, Steve,” you recited, feeling a tear slide down your cheek.

           His face softened at that, and he leaned over you to wipe it away.

           “Don’t cry, baby. You’re safe here, remember? The last thing I wanna do is hurt you.”

           Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pocketknife, and you winced as he gripped the rope. With quick, deft movements, he severed both chords, and as soon as you were free you scrambled as far away from him on the bed as possible, rubbing the sore skin of your wrists while drawing your knees up to your chin. Steve sighed at your response, but all he did was sit down on the bed again.

           “Now, you said you wanted to talk earlier, right? So let’s talk. But this time, watch your tone; you’re already due for a punishment for how you spoke to me earlier.”

           You felt yourself blanch at his tone, hugging your knees tighter as you watched him; you didn’t want to talk. You didn’t even know what to say, other than to voice the one question echoing in your mind.

           “…Why?” you finally asked. “Why are you doing this?”

           “Because I love you, doll,” was his immediate response. “I know that you’re confused. I know that you’re scared, and I can understand that. Love is…scary; it’s terrifying. But I know that if you just give me a chance, you’ll see how happy we can be together.”

           You shook your head, trying to trample down the anger you felt welling up inside you; yelling at him would get you nowhere.

           “Steve…this isn’t the way to go about this,” you carefully said. “I don’t want a relationship right now. And it’s not about you; I don’t want a relationship with anybody until I’m done with college. Please, just…let me go, and I promise I won’t tell anyone, ok? We can even go on a proper date after I graduate if you still want to. Just please, please, let me go. You don’t want to do this.”

           Steve’s lips stretched into a humorless smile, and he let out a cold chuckle.

           “I don’t want this, huh? What do you know about what I want? As a matter of fact, what has anyone ever known about what I want? Or what’s more, when have they cared?

           “I never wanted to be this,” he growled, gesturing down at his body. “I didn’t want to be some super soldier; I just wanted to serve my country. I never wanted to wake up in a century I didn’t belong in. I didn’t want to fight against an alien army; I didn’t want to watch half of my friends turn to dust; I didn’t want to see the first woman I ever loved slowly die of an old age I never got to reach.

           “But I did it. I did all of that, and now? I’m tired of doing shit I don’t wanna do just because it’s what’s right. Just this once, I want something for myself. Someone for myself. I want to be happy. And baby, right now, you’re what I need to be happy.

           “I’ve given everything away, and now I’m going to collect on what I’ve rightfully fucking earned.”

           The entire time he was talking, his gaze had gone darker and darker as his voice rose, and now he stood up, marching to the side of the bed you were resting on and pulling you up with both hands wrapped around your biceps. You felt yourself being lifted completely into the air, but before you could push him away, he was kissing you.

           His lips were unforgiving as they moved against yours, his tongue shoving itself inside of your mouth ungracefully. You whimpered, pressing your hands against his chest and wriggling your body in his grip. He made no signs of budging, though, only tightening his grip on you.

           Desperate to separate yourself from him, you bit down on his tongue, feeling yourself being suddenly dropped to the hard floor as Steve let out a howl. You thought you saw blood trickle down from his lips as you staggered to your feet, but you tore your eyes away from him and quickly started rushing to the stairs. Taking two steps at a time, you climbed them until you reached the steel door at their top.

           With shaky hands, you turned its handle, but it didn’t move so much as an inch. Feeling your heart plummet to your toes, you uselessly flung yourself against it, vaguely aware of your own screaming.

           Letting out a sob, you pressed your back against the cold steel, looking down to see Steve wiping a small trail of blood off of his chin. He hadn’t moved from his spot, and in spite of his obvious pain, there was a smirk on his lips. There was no mistaking the anger in his eyes, though.

           “Get your ass,” he growled, drawing himself to his full height, “down those fucking stairs.”

           Your entire body was trembling as you realized how helpless you were.

           “NOW,” Steve suddenly shouted, and you jolted at the sound.

           Moving as if in a daze, you descended the stairs, a cold numbness spreading throughout your body as you realized you were well and truly trapped. When you stood in front of Steve once again, you felt his hand grip your chin harshly, yanking your face closer to his.

           “That,” he growled, “was a stupid thing to do.”

           He suddenly spun you around and pushed you, and you let out a shriek as you landed on the mattress. He didn’t give your body a chance to stop bouncing before he was on you, tearing at your shirt until you felt the material rip.

           “I tried to do this the right way,” he was muttering, almost to himself. “I waited for months. I watched you; I was nice to you. I had an entire evening planned for you after the park if you’d have just said yes.”

           You cried out as he yanked your pants down your legs, and you blindly kicked at him as you sobbed. With harsh, jerky movements, he pushed them apart and settled his hips over yours, settling his weight over you until you were pinned.

           “I was gonna be gentle with you,” he continued on, running his hands over your body, squeezing your breasts so hard through your bra that you yelped. “I was going to make your first time so special, baby. But then you had to go and fuck it all up.”

           Your body froze for a second, a wave of terror crashing over you at his implications. Steve used your pause as an opportunity to push his jeans down, taking his underwear with them. You tried your best not to look down at his body as he took his shirt off, but you’d still caught a glance at what lay in store for you.

           His cock was enormous, bigger than any you’d seen in any porn, and you squeezed your legs together at the thought of it inside your body. It wouldn’t fit; there was no way.

           “Please, Steve,” you were babbling, once more trying to push him away. “Please, it’s gonna hurt so bad; please, I don’t want this to be my first time. Steve, I-“

           His hand descended down over your mouth, gritting his teeth as his other hand tore off your bra.

           “I hope it does hurt, doll,” he growled. “I hope you can’t walk straight for a week. I hope that every time you even think of running away from me again, every time you so much as move your legs, you feel me fucking into your tight, virgin pussy and remember who you belong to.”

           Suddenly you were being flipped over onto your stomach, and you gripped the sheets as you felt your panties being torn off. This was it, you thought, and you braced yourself as best you could.

           But when your legs weren’t pulled apart, when you didn’t feel his hands against you for a second, your eyes opened once more. You turned your head to look over your shoulder, only to see Steve’s hand  as it slapped your ass so hard you swore you saw stars.

           You buried your face in the blankets beneath you as he spanked you over and over again, sobbing as the pain radiated throughout your entire body. Every time you tried to crawl away from him, his hands would wrap around your hips and pull you right back to where he wanted your body.

           “Nuh-uh, baby,” he growled. “You need to take your God. Damn. Punishment.”

           Each word was punctuated with a spank, and you did nothing to stop your screams as you lost count somewhere around 15. You’d had no idea how strong he was before this; you’d thought you’d sensed it when he held you in his arms last night; you’d thought you’d seen it in his bulging muscles. But it was only now, as he was using his strength to hurt you, that you fully understood it.

           By the time he stopped, you were laying limp on your stomach, crying into the sheets and trying to think of something, anything other than the pain. But when you felt yourself being maneuvered up onto your knees, you felt your panic only increase.

           He gave you no warning before he shoved his cock inside of you, but even if he had said anything, you doubt you would have heard it over your own scream. Your walls were roughly stretched as he entered you, inch by aching inch. Your chest shook with your sobs as they mingled with his moan of pleasure. A part of you wondered how he could be feeling so good while you were in such pain, but all thought left you when he started moving his hips.

           You’d always known that your first time would be at least a little painful, but nothing could have prepared you for this. The pain seemed to radiate throughout your entire body, and you couldn’t even find it in yourself to struggle as his thrusts grew more regular in their rhythm.

           “Fuck, baby,” he moaned, his hands squeezing your hips. “I knew you would feel good, knew this pussy would be so good to me-“

           He cut himself off with another moan, shifting his hips so he could fuck deeper into you. You had your eyes squeezed shut the entire time, your nails biting into the skin of your palms as you willed the pain to go away. You tried to relax against him; you even tried to enjoy it, just to ease the pain. You were desperate for it to go away, and your cries only increased when Steve started to move faster.

           Whether it was out of pity or just his own sick amusement, he slowed in his rhythm just a bit, snapping his hips almost lazily as one of his hands trailed down your back.

           “Oh, I’m sorry baby,” he breathed, dragging his cock up and down your walls, hitting a spot inside of you that made your eyes fly wide open. “I forgot that you like it nice and slow at first, right?”

           You whined at his words; the pain was still present, but with him hitting against that spot that made colors dance behind your vision, pleasure was starting to build alongside it. You were somewhat aware that you were babbling, but you couldn’t even make out your own words as he hit that spot repeatedly.

           “I used to watch you, you know,” he grunted, reaching around your body to run his finger over your clit. You jolted at the sensation, inadvertently clenching around him. “I would watch you use that little pink toy you kept in your bedside table. I – fuck - memorized how you made yourself cum, knowing I could make you feel so much better than that tiny piece of plastic ever could.”

           As he started thrusting faster once more, his fingers sped up with him, rubbing up and down against your clit until your sobs slowly started transforming into moans.

           “See, doll? I fucking knew you would love this,” he said. “Knew you would see how you were made to be mine. I’ll fucking make you see.”

           Your eyes rolled as you felt yourself moving closer and closer to the edge, and from the shouts and half-grunted words of praise spilling from Steve’s lips, he was getting close, too. His hips were moving at a brutal pace, but you were starting to crave it even through the dull haze of pain. He was filling you up so well, hitting every corner and ridge inside of your pussy so perfectly, so completely; you did nothing to stop your moans from falling out of your lips, all of your fear and agony fading away until there was nothing but Steve and the pleasure he was bringing you.

           “Steve-!” you cried out, your hips moving against his of their own accord. “P-please-“ You weren’t sure if you were begging for him to stop or begging him not to, but as you reached the edge of your climax, you found that you didn’t care.

           “I know, baby,” he growled, “I know. I-I… Fuck!”

           Suddenly, his fingers were gone from your clit, and you let out a whine as your orgasm eluded you, slipping away right through your fingers. You felt something warm flood your pussy, though, and you looked over your shoulder to see Steve’s mouth open in a silent scream, pure bliss written across his features as he came inside of your abused pussy.

           Your eyes were wide open, silently pleading with him as you squirmed beneath his body, but when he opened his eyes and saw your sad, needy face, all he did was grin.

           “I knew you would be perfect, baby,” he panted, slowly pulling his cock out of you with a wince. You ignored the sensation of his cum leaking out of your body, trying to catch your breath between the sobs that were starting to return.

           “W-why…” you started to ask, but he just leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

           “Be a good girl for me next time, and I’ll let you cum.”

           You melted against the mattress and watched him dress with unseeing eyes, the pleasant feelings in your cunt starting to fade while slowly being replaced by a dull, throbbing ache that brought fresh tears to your eyes.

           “Now, I’m going to go out and get a few things from the store,” Steve spoke, his voice steady and neutral despite what he’d just done to you. “I’ll be back in a few hours. I want you to think about what you’ve done and have a nice apology waiting for me when I come home, okay?”

           When you didn’t respond, he turned to you and raised one threatening eyebrow, not looking away until you’d given him a shaky nod.

           “Good girl. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

           After pulling his shoes on, he started climbing the stairs, pausing at the top to look back down at you with a deceptively warm, soft smile.

           “I love you, doll.”

           And with that, he left, leaving you with his cum cooling on your thighs.

[royalheroine]

Helen regretted arriving to new york city much earlier than her family. She arrived to see a stream of aliens coming through a big portal in the sky. She had to act fast. She should’ve run. Should’ve stayed in a cafe or something, but she did something highly impulsive. She fought.

She quickly found a broken pipe in the alleyway and started hitting at the aliens. The aliens started shooting bolts of light at her and she adapted by finding a broken off car door. She was surprised that it blocked most of the shots. She found herself protecting the stay victims and escorting people to nearby bulidings or outreach refugee camps.

Blood sprayed on her face while she stabbed a alien in the head with the sharp pipe. She didn’t notice the wound on her left side, and didn’t complain about the scratches and bruises on her legs. She just wanted it to end. She hoped her family is not here, even if they didn’t care about her. She then decided to head to the stark tower, maybe the aliens held hostages in there.

----

She found herself going up to the top floor after realizing that no one is being held hostage on the lobby floor.

---

The elevator door opened and she saw a man with raven black hair. Wearing a royal overcoat adorend with gold trimmings and fabric. He held a glowing scepter.

‘Shit did i just find the villian?!’ she thought to herself.

“And who might you be.” He smirked.

She carefully stepped out of the elevator. Trying to identify or at least avoid his attacks. Surviving multiple aliens seemed hard, but this encounter would be even harder.

“I-I thought people would be taken hostage in this tower- I think I thought wrong. Wait-” she looked at the crescent shaped charm on his chest.

“A-are you a god?” She asked. The symbol looked very similar to the symbol in her norse mythology storybook. The storybook that she read over and over again.

“Oh, so you know your place. You realize who I really am, your god.” He spoke to her.

“Y-are you- Loki?” She abandoned all feelings of fear and terror. Those feelings were replaced with feelings of childlike curiosity.

“Yes, how does a mere mortal know about my name?” He was curious too. He thought that mortals only knew about their own realm.

“Uh- apparently people from the past worshipped you, and Thor and Odin and others, they’re called Norse. And I guess they wrote stories about you! Stories that I read a lot. And, yeah, I know this is a really weird thing to say to someone who is invading your planet but- I- you’re my favorite god.” She looked away.

‘Thats my last words. I literally called my killer my favorite and I’m going to die. Great.’ She thought to herself.

Loki put down his scepter. He wanted to entertain this small, puny mortal. A mortal that didn’t seem to fear him.

“Come child.” He guided her to the bar.

—

“So, what do they say about me?” He asked her.

“Well… They said that you can shapeshift and that you had a baby with a horse.” She giggled. The god wrinkled the bridge of his nose.

“God, the way you mortals create stories are weird and highly inaccurate. I only raised a baby horse, not gave birth to it.” He clarified, leaning the scepter against the bar.

“I mean, you were not portrayed as wholly evil or wholly good, since mischeif is neutral in morality. Which means you’re not a villain. Right? She asked

“That’s where you’re wrong. My brother is a hero and I am the villain. A villain who is not even asguaridan.” He told her.

“Y-you’re also compared to your brother?” She asked shyly

“Yes, all the time.” He huffed

“Well, you’re in the same boat, my brother, Finn. He’s older, cuter, a golden child and good at everything. Meanwhile, you have me… Messy, uncoordinated and decided to fight instead of run away like anyone else.” She said.

“Fighting is a more noble pursuit than running.” he told her, but he noticed that she was bleeding on her side.

“Oh dear, that’s not a nice sight.” He carefully laid her down on the couch.

“W-what?” She was getting faint, she didn’t notice that she was bleeding out. Loki summoned a rag and started using his healing magic. But he had limited knowledge.

“Stay with me dear, once you wake up, we will rule together, besides, two monsters should shine in the sunlight.” He assured the sleeping child.

---

The girl woke up to see a group of heroes circling Loki. She stood up but her wound thobbed.

“Ah!” She dobled over. Clutching her side. A man dressed in blue and red came over to her.

“Did he hold you hostage?” He asked.

“No- I- he healed me.” She said grogilly. She didn’t realize that it was all over.

“Dear, you should’nt move as much.” Loki called to her. The blue hero looked confused.

“Ah- where is he going?” She asked.

“Back to asgard.” The blonde hero said.

“Are you Thor then?” She asked. Staggering once she stood up.

“Yes” He smiled lightly, probably trying to calm down the shaking child.

“Your age?” The blue hero said.

“11.” She meekly said.

“You hurt a child!” Thor shouted at Loki.

“No! He actually took care of me! We- had a conversation!” She shouted in protest.

“He hypnotized you.” The blue hero tried to get the situation straight.

“I WOULD NEVER! NOT A CHILD!” Loki shouted. Thor only put a mechanical gag on loki.

“I-i”

“Lets get you down, alright?” The blue hero gave a comforting smile.

She found herself stuffed in a small elevator with a bunch of heroes and a villain. She was slightly shaking from the excess adrenaline and the pain from the wound. Loki kept glancing at her, worried that she might faint from the blood.

“Sooo…. What is your name kid?” The man in the iron suit asked.

“Helen. Helen Conrad.” She told him.

“Well, lets lighten up! Lets all introduce ourselves. I’ll start off. My name is Tony stark! Real names only!”

“I am Steve Rodgers.” The blue hero smiled.

“Natasha Romanov.”

“Clint Barton.”

“Thor Odinson”

She smiled brightly. “Thank you for introducing yourselves!”

----

She found herself in the lobby, witnessing the fight over a glowing blue cube.

‘Why are they so obsessed with that cube?’ she asked herself.

--

“Your parents haven’t shown up.” Thor pointed out as they sat ontop of the car.

“Not surprised, probably busy with my brother.” She leaned back. Probably thinking that she’d just settle back into her normal life.

“What if you came with me. To Asgard.” He asked her.

She turned to him. “Y-you’d really bring me?” She asked.

“If your parents are as neglectful as they are, then I should probably just bring you to a better place. Your skills will be better cultivated on Asgard than with your parents.” He said.

“Also, you’ve made a profound impact on my brother, Loki. So would you be kind to come on behalf of him? He doesn’t show it but he’d like you to come too.” he asked.

“D-definately! Definitely!” She shouted. Jumping up and down.

“I-i- d-definately- w-wait. Give me a s-second.” She was getting too excited that her stuttering became apparent. She took a deep breath.

She gave a curt, “Yes. yes I would like to go.” She smiled. Thor grinned.

“You would definately love the palace.”

---

Loki and Thor held on to the container with the tesseract and Helen stood behind the container.

“Are you sure we should let a child go to a different realm with two gods, and one of them tried to invade our planet.” Steve asked Tony.

“I’m sure Thor would keep her safe, besides, we might have to hold her in the tower when she comes back.” Tony repled.

“Why?” Steve asked.

“I’m pretty skeptical about the fact that a child was able to battle her way into my tower and talk down the god of lies without getting killed in the process.” He remarked.

---

Helen was beamed in the entrance of the rainbow bridge. She walked with the two gods. One in chains and one with the hammer. She looked at the view of Asgard. It looked grander than she’d imagine. The golden towers were glistening in the sunlight. The rainbow bridge was translucent but had rainbow like branches pulsing through the bridge. She seemed scared to cross the bridge at first. Having a slight fear of heights. But Thor grabbed on to her hand and gave her comforting look.

Loki looked on, wishing he could do the same. But glad that his brother did it in his place.

---

Helen was being addressed by the king of Asgard. Odin.

“You have the heart of a heroine and the capacity to empathize with even the toughest of villains. Tell me, child. What is your name?” He asked her.

“He-he-Helen.” She stuttered. Cursing herself for stuttering in front of the king.

“Conrad.”

“Conraddotar?” Odin clarified

“You can call me that.” she said.

“Enjoy yourself at the palace, you are now considered royalty for extending your kindness to my son, Loki.” Odin said.

---

Helen wore a simple green gown. She was happily skipping around and exploring the palace.

“Helen, dear, can you come to me?” A voice sounded in the hallway.

She turned to see Queen Frigga.

“Let’s fix yout hair, shall we?”

--

Helen was sitting on Frigga’s bed while Frigga was braiding her hair.

“Thank you for everything that you’ve done. Tell me, Helen, what is your family like?” She asked.

“Well, I have a brother, and two parents. But my parents lives revolve around my brother. But- Im ok with that. I do things by myself and I got used to it.” She said.

“Ah- im sorry my dear. But here, there are servants and maids that can help you. So relax. I know how traumatic the invasion was, so I hope you realze that you are safe.

----

Helen was sitting on the steps, looking at Loki in his cell. She noticed that he has a lot of furniture in his cell. He was reading a book, and she was scribbling something in her notebook.

“Mind telling me what you’re writing down, dear?” He asked, thumbing through the pages.

“Uh-I-I’m actually d-drawing.” She said. Trying not to stutter.

“What are you drawing?” He asked.

“You.” She meekly said. Loki put the book on the table and walked towards Helen, he sat down in front of her.

“Mind showing me?” He smiled lightly.

She tore the page out and she showed it to him. It was loki and helen, under a flower tree. He was reading a spell out of the spell book.

“That looks adorable. When I escape, will you hand it to me?” He smiled.

“Of course.”

—-

“Do you like the accommodations in the palace?” Loki asked, hoping that they are taking care of her.

“Yes, but I wish I can enjoy them with you.” She answered. Twiddling her thumbs.

“So I decided to sit at your cell and talk to you!” She grinned. Loki’s heart melted. He’d never knew that he’d meet someone who was so naive and childlike. Enough to paint him as a positive figure. But he didn’t care. He just felt a sense of kindness towards her. He feels fond of her. He never realized that he was fawning over a mortal. Who’s life can flash before his eyes.

“That is great child.” He said.

“Wish I had my chello here, could’ve played you a tune.” She said. Loki used some of his magic to steal away a chello from the music room and teleported it here.

“Then play me a tune then.” He smiled

—

Loki was spellbound by the tune, she played a song that a mortal composed. But he didn’t know that the mortal is a master at music composition. Apparently the song was Blue Danube, by Johan Strauss. He swayed to the melody. By the time Helen was done he asked her a dozen questions.

--

“How long have you played?”

“5 years. Started at a young age, when my parents believed in my talents.” she told me.

“They should’ve known how bright you’ve shined.”

“Don’t blame them. They stop trying after finding out about my stutter.” She said.

“Your parent’s arent even parents.” I told her.

“I realized that when I hit 9.” she replied.

“Then maybe you should have a different father. Someone who adores you, who encourages you to be as different and unique as possible, who doesn’t compare you to anyone, who empathizes with you. Someone- someone like me.” He slowed his rant. Realizing something.

“D-do you want me to be your father?” He asked. Taking a big risk, being vulnerable .

“I-i-i’d lo-love yo-you to!” She was a stuttering mess, her brain was trying to process the proposal.

“Dear, slow down, take a big breath.” He grinned

“I would like for you to be my dad.” she slowly said. Tears coming out of her eyes.

“I would whipe those tears from your eyes but I’m stuck in this wretched cell.” He chuckled.

“I want to hug you.” She sniffled.

“You’ll get the chance.”

---

Everything was broken, damaged. But Helen rushed towards Loki’s cell. She just got word of Frigga’s death. And she didn’t want to lose her new father. She saw Loki in his cell, seeming to be fine. But she just broke out in sobs.

Her breathing was ragged. Tears flow through her eyes, and she was sniffling. She collapsed to the ground. Choking and crying. Crying for him, Loki. Feeling too much of his pain. Loki put down his defenses.

He had a green shirt but his hair was matted, her crawled to the crying child and wanted to reach out to her, but the barrier kept him from touching her.

“H-hey. Don’t cry-”

“You’re depressed so I’m depressed! I don’t want this to happen, for you to be sad! I-its my fault! I’m sorry. I-I. i’m- s-s-sorry. Mr. Loki! I-i have no-no right to be you-your daughter!” She was stuttering, trying to calm herself down. But the stale air and the buzzing barrier, it was hard to.

“No, don’t say that, you’re my daughter through and through. None of this was your fault. None of it. Please, stop crying for me.” He guided her to a deep breath.

“S-sorry.” she apologized for her shrill crying

“Don’t be sorry.” He smiled.

---

Helen gave Loki a big hug when Thor freed him from the cell. Loki returned the hug while threading his fingers through her braided hair.

“Darling, I have to help Thor. But I will come back.” he told her.

“A-are you sure?” She asked.

“One way or another. Yes.”

--

When Helen found out about Loki’s demise, she locked herself in the room and cried. She sobbed, blaming herself for letting him go alone. Hating herself. A knock sounded at the door. The door opened and she saw Odin.

“S-sorry if my cries are too loud.” she whipped her tears.

“It’s alright my child.” Odin sat at her beside.

“I-Lost my dad.” She stuttered.

“He said he’d come back-”

“One way or another.” Odin’s illusion was dispelled by Loki. He smiled kindly at her.

“I am sorry for causing you unnecessary pain. But I had to keep up the illusion for my safety.” He whipped her tears with his thumb. And enveloped her in a crushing hug.

“But now we can rule together. My little princess.” He smiled.

[harringtonheartache]

Daybreak | Part Five

Part Six

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Lab Escapee! Reader?

Summary: Part five of this fic. Trauma unburiable and comfort unfamiliar. 

Word Count: 2,200 +

Warning(s): Mild cussing, PTSD/trauma

A/N: Yay chapter five! Thank you to anyone who is reading (-:

While he had previously been roped into driving only Dustin to the arcade, Steve had now upgraded his chauffeur position and become responsible for driving all four kids back to their respective houses. Nine still sat shotgun - her spot was reserved at this point - and this time around she was left void of questions from the kid in the back. The boys (squished into three seats despite their headcount of a higher number) talked with one another at a slightly above reasonable volume. 

“If I had like, one more quarter, I totally would have beaten your high-score,” Dustin spoke. 

“No you wouldn’t have,” Lucas responded, the look on his face communicating just as much self-righteousness as his tone. 

“Okay, one of you out,” Steve said as he stopped the car in front of a house.

“One of us? Whose house are we at?” Mike questioned him, the darkness of the sky leaving it hard to see exactly where they were through the back windows of Steve’s car. 

“Technically Lucas’s, but as long as one of you gets out, I don’t care who I leave here,” he said.

Lucas, hearing his destination announced, ignored Steve’s attitude. He still had Dustin to argue with. “You wouldn’t have beaten my score,” he said. He ducked out of the car. “And you never will!” He said with a slick smile and a louder voice, shutting the door before Dustin could respond. His mouth hung open for a second, as his chance of shooting back was taken away from him at the closing of the car door. 

With every stop, the noise from the back got lesser and lesser. Will was the last to be dropped off (although he could have sworn his house came before Mike’s), and he gave a polite farewell to Steve and Nine. He was the only kid of the four who verbally thanked them, although they were all grateful despite their lack of expressing it upfront. “No problem, Will,” Steve said as Will climbed out of the back seat. “It was nice to meet you, Nina” he told Nine. She had almost forgotten she had a second name. “You too,” she said to him. 

Once Will had gotten about halfway up his driveway (Steve always watched to make sure they got inside okay), she spoke again. “I think he’s my favorite”. 

“What, not me?” Steve said to her, his eyes scrunching in a false dissatisfaction.

“Of the kids,” she clarified.

“Ohh,” He rolled his eyes, not aggressively, but rather to signify that he understood, or that he just got it. “Okay,” he said, throwing his head with a dramatic nature, his hair (messy but somehow still immaculate) bouncing as he did so. Nine chuckled at this, and it was only after she did so that he dropped the act and cracked a smile too. 

—

By the time the two arrived back at Steve’s house, the sun had completely set. He decided that entry through the backdoor was the safest bet, as it was less likely to alert the attention of his parents than it’s alternative. He guided Nine with his own movement. “This way,” he told her as they circled the house to his backyard. The night was quiet, their feet making soft strides through the grass. It was dark since the absence of the sun, but she could still make out his tall figure in front of her as for the serene moonlight that illuminated her view. Once they had made it to the concrete of the back porch, a new light showcased his silhouette: the ones that lit the pool. 

She paid it significant mind, uncertain and slightly curious of the body of water’s purpose, but chose not to ask Steve for answers. She was sure that he wasn’t fond of explaining things that seemed nothing but ordinary to him. They walked the curve of patio around the water’s edge, himself leading the way, three small steps up to the backdoor. “Shit, did I really leave the house key in-” Steve broke the quiet nature of the atmosphere, but only slightly as he said this in a whisper. He felt his pant pockets up and down, patting the fabric to feel for metal underneath. “I don’t know why I don’t have the house key on the same ring as the one for my car,” he continued with his soft-spoken ramblings. “Shit, okay I gotta go back,” he told her, spinning on the heels of his feet to face her with an apologetic yet lighthearted look on his face. It was humorous. Nine was standing below those three steps, as she hadn’t climbed them yet. She raised her eyebrows slightly, but only communicated a look with an understanding and untroubled essence.  

He took up the lead again, back to the car to retrieve the key that his misorganization placed there. She followed him, not because she was required too or even asked, but because she hadn’t even considered waiting there for him instead. Taking a few steps backward to give him room, she intended to follow him right back to the car. “Sorry,” he threw her a quick apology, although she didn’t think that he really needed to. 

She stepped without quite looking where she was going. The back half of her foot was met without ground, and the lack of balance threw her body backwards into the cold of pool water. Without much time to realize her mistake, a small yelp could be heard for but a second before she was submerged underwater. Steve heard it though, and turned swiftly to watch her disappear under the surface. The first splash in the deep end was followed by a second. He had jumped in willingly, and now directed himself to where he had watched Nine fall. His pool was deep. The lower end of it sunk to eleven feet to allow diving from the board above. Gravity’s victim kicked with no particular swimming stride at the bottom of those eleven feet, water filling her lungs as she couldn’t help but scream. The feeling of hands, strong but struggling against her movements, made her want to scream louder. As she was unable to put up a true fight, they gripped around her center, underneath her breasts but above her stomach. Arms tightly around her, she was pulled upward, and she inhaled sharply when her head broke the surface of the water. “Hey, hey I got you,” she was told. Her breathing was erratic, interspersed with coughs combating the water she had swallowed. “You’re okay, I got you”. With the voice’s second sentence of reassurance, her mind was able to fully realize who it was that had her within their hold. She stopped thrashing. Steve swam gently without lessening his grip, pulling her with him in the direction of the pool stairs. Her hands found the arm that wrapped itself around her upper half now, and she clutched onto it. ‘I’ve got you, you’re safe,” he said again. 

Steve could now touch the bottom of the pool, and Nine probably could too, but he still did not let go of her. Once reaching the stairs, he turned her around to help her to dry ground. Once she was met with the familiar feeling of concrete beneath her feet, she sunk, her body too weak from it’s unintentional swim to stand. Her left leg bent in front of her, as if she were sitting cross legged, but her right bent slightly further out rather than stacking on top, left foot to the side of her right thigh. Her hands, flat against the pavement in front of her, gave her support as she leaned forward somewhat. Steve, removed from the water as well, trotted over to a poolside chair to gather a towel. “Can- can I touch you?” he asked her when he returned with it in hand. Perhaps a silly question to someone whom he had just hauled from a pool, but one he made sure to ask. Breathless, she nodded. He wrapped the towel around her back, tucking it over her shoulders. His left hand did not leave her when he was done though, as he placed it lightly against her back. 

He now sat next to her, his own wet clothes leaving a pool of water next to the one Nine’s body produced. She closed her eyes, struggling against unwanted thoughts that filled her head like it’s own eleven-foot swimming pool. “You’re safe now, I promise,” he spoke. A promise he could now guarantee. His hand circled against her back soothingly. 

—

Returned to the true safety of his bedroom, Steve now shuffled through his closet for dry clothes to offer Nine. This time he fished out a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts. He turned around to hand them to her, taking notice of how intensely she was still shaking. “Hey, do you want to take a hot shower? Then you can change into these clothes,” he said. Her hands still gripped the pool towel he had given her outside. “I can wait just outside the door, no one will bother you,” he told her. She agreed. He walked her to the hallway bathroom, letting her inside and placing the clothes on the closed toilet seat. He folded them neatly, as his mother had done with the blanket he used for his bed on the floor. “You can use whatever you want in there,” he said, referencing the various soaps and shampoos that lined the hollowed segments of his shower. “Okay,” she told him. “Thank you,” she added, looking into his eyes completely. It was a sincere thank-you, one that held the weight of more than just gratitude for the granted use of the shampoos. “Yeah,” he responded softly, holding eye-contact with her beyond his response. He ducked his head as he stepped out of the bathroom, carefully shutting the door. Keeping his vow, he stood with his back against it as he waited for her. 

Her hair now smelled like Steve’s, and her body was dressed in a large sweatshirt that almost completely covered the shorts she was also given. The hood tucked nicely against her neck, her and Steve retreated to his room. “Do you feel better?” he asked once they were inside. “Yes,” she said, a small smile following her words. It was a genuine expression, but it still had a thread of sorrow sewn somewhere within it. “That's good,” he said. 

—

Sitting up with great speed, Nine gasped louder than she would have preferred as she violently pulled herself from sleep. After taking into consideration her surroundings, she decided to be grateful she hadn’t screamed instead. Sat slightly off-centered on Steve’s bed, she took panicked inhales and exhales, trying to remove herself from her brain’s idea of a dream. “Are you okay?” a voice in the darkness startled her a little bit more. Gazing over the bed’s end, she saw Steve, who sat up too, gazing right back at her. “Yeah,” she responded. “Just,” a pause, “a bad dream,” she finished. “Oh,” his voice spoke.

 “Do you want to talk about it?” he questioned. He had actually been awake for a few minutes, and the idea of conversation comforted him as he hoped it would her as well. Her breathe calmed, chest rising and falling with less rage. There was a pause before she spoke again; she was contemplating her own speech. “Back at the lab.. They would lock me in these big tanks of water. In my dream I was back there. They wouldn’t let me out.” A nightmare Steve had surely never endured himself. He sat silently for a moment, and Nine worried she had taken an invitation to discussion he had not truly intended for her to take. “Is that why it scared you so much? Falling into the pool?” he asked, connecting the day’s events with her confession of trauma. His voice was soft, perhaps as soft as it had been earlier when he had reassured her that she was safe. “Yes,” she said quietly. “My mind just brought be back to those tanks”.   

Silence fell as it had before, Steve’s inexperience battling with his kind and consoling nature. “I’m sorry,” he spoke again, not wanting to leave her too long without a response. “I,” he paused once more, contemplating words. “I can’t exactly relate to, or even imagine that feeling. That’s terrifying.” He shook his head in disbelief and sincere empathy.

No one spoke for another twenty seconds or so, but the silence was comfortable. A steady calmness settled over Nine just knowing that he was awake and sitting with her. “I won’t let them take you back,” Steve’s voice found itself in the room again. Nine had been focused on her hands as she provided her segment of the conversation, but with this assurance, she looked up to meet his eye in the darkened room. A smile graced her face, but not to reassure Steve this time. Since she had first staggered into Steve’s car, with every moment leading up to now, a feeling of true security had been increasing inside of her. It was with his last sentence this sensation of safety derived from being within Steve’s presence was finalized. He smiled back at her from the floor, that same calmness reaching him as well.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tag list: @ggclarissa @hyp-oh-critical @orchideax @we-are-band-sexuals @cpt-lamby @l0ve-0f-my-life @girlyisthatweirdkid @walmartrotisseriechicken

[berjhawn]

Angel On Fire - Ch. 2 - Those Left Behind

Warnings: angst ; fighting ; ETC

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader ; Thorin Oakenshield X Reader ; Bucky X Reader X Thorin ; Marvel X Reader X Hobbit

(A/N) This series updates everyday. The Series Master-list is located on my main Master-list which is located in my bio. 

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Chapter 2 – Those Left Behind

Thor storms into the tower in the middle of meeting anger and rage on his face. “Where is (Name)?” He yells out making the rooms occupants all look around at each other in confusion. “I will not ask again, where is my sister?”

“Woah, what’s going on?” Steve asks as he rounds the corner the commotion catching his attention.

“(Name) is missing,” Thor adds as his brother walks in behind him with anger in his eyes. “Where is my sister?”

“I don’t know, she didn’t come in for her mission for the last few days. I thought she was just taking some time off after…” Steve trails off his brow furrowing in concern.

“After what?” Loki asks moving to stand between Steve and his brother.

“After her and Bucky ended things.” Steve concludes taking Loki in surprise.

“Why would she do that? She loves the poor fool.” Loki adds making Thor radiate with anger as he starts to put the pieces together.

“What did your friend do to my sister, Rogers?” Thor roars making Bucky walk into the room followed closely behind by Natasha.

“What’s going on out here?” Natasha asks making Thor stomp over to Bucky and reaching up shove him into the wall and hold him there.

“You, what did you do to (Name)?” Thor inquires making Bucky’s face turn sad.

“We broke up Thor.” Bucky replies his brow furrowed as he lets Thor hold him against the wall even though it was painful. “Didn’t she tell you. She tells the two of you everything.”

“(Name)’s missing Buck.” Steve interjects making Bucky’s face fill with concern.

“You don’t think Hydra-”

“No, we cannot find her anywhere on this Earth. We have already searched.” Loki adds as he walks over to pull his brother away from Bucky.

“What do you mean not on this Earth?” Steve asks glancing from his friend back to Loki.

“Exactly what I said. There is no trace of her here on Earth nor anywhere in our solar system.”

“Are you saying she just vanished into thin air?” Natasha asks making Loki scowl at her.

“In a matter of speaking, yes.” Loki replies.

“Then why come here looking for her if you already knew she was gone?” Natasha questions making Loki roll his eyes as he points to his older brother.

“This one thought that her boyfriend might have some inclination as to where she was; but seeing as the two of them are no longer together, I’d say our trip was wasted. Come Thor, we have one more place to check.” Loki concludes grabbing his brothers arm and pulling him away from Bucky and back toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks making Loki stop in his tracks.

“Why do you care?” Loki sneers making Steve fold his arms over his chest.

“Because she’s still my friend and I am worried about her.”

“Some friend you are, you didn’t even know she was missing, and she works with you.” Loki adds making Steve look down at his feet. “We’ve been looking for her since she didn’t return home from his house. What were you all doing?” Loki looks from Steve to Bucky who couldn’t meet their gaze. “Don’t worry about (Name), we’ll find her ourselves.” And with that the two of them were gone. Steve lets out a heavy sigh as he realizes that they were right. What kind of friend had he been to her?

“So, what are we gonna do?” Natasha asks pulling both Steve and Bucky from their inner thoughts. “We have to find her. It’s on us that she’s been missing so long.”

“You’re right.” Steve concludes reaching for his coat and shield. “I guess we’re just gonna have to follow them.”

                                                            ~~~

“Are you sure about this?” Loki asks Thor as he stands outside the Sanctum Santorum. “He’s not exactly a fan of mine.”

“No, he’s not. But he’s the only one we can go to for help.” Thor concludes making Loki nod. Thor walks up the steps to the door and before he is even able to knock, he finds himself inside sitting in a chair across from Dr. Strange. “Hello Doctor.”

“What are you both doing here Thor?” Strange asks making Thor clear his throat.

“Our sister has gone missing-”

“Then notify missing persons, what does that have to do with me?”

“We’ve searched the world, and all the worlds in the galaxy already and we’ve not found her.”

“Huh, that is strange. Do you have anything of hers on you?”

“I have this,” Loki says as he hands a silver scarf over to the sorcerer.

“Thanks,” Strange replies staring at Loki before giving Thor a look. Strange lets out a sigh before he lifts the scarf up to examine it. “You’re sure this is hers?”

“We gave it to her as a gift.” Thor interjects making him nod.

“Good, come with me.” Strange says but before they can move, they’re transported to another room where he is searching through some books. They stand there for a moment before the sorcerer has an aha moment. “Let’s try this.” He starts moving his hands around creating glowing golden sigils in the air. After a few moments a view appears making Thor and Loki stare at the scene before them with tilted heads.

“Where is this?” Loki asks his eyes remaining on his sister as she walks down a road with a strange group of men.

“Some place called Middle Earth. It’s in the Tolkien Universe.” Strange replies narrowing his eyes at the vision.

“How do we get her back?” Loki asks folding his arms over his chest his eyes staying focused on the sorcerer.

“That’s a little more difficult. I can show you where she is, but because of her location I can’t open a portal to her. I may, however, have something here that is also from Middle Earth. I think that with it I should be able to open a portal, but it won’t be to her exact location. Getting back might be a little more complicated.”

“I’ll do it.” Thor announces making his brother look at him with concerned eyes.

“Not that I am against us going after her brother; but you did hear him right, we might not be able to come back.” Loki adds.

“That is why you should stay here. Asgard needs at least one of its princes to rule.” Thor offers.

“I’m not going to go into how terrible that would be. She’s my sister too Thor.” Loki clarifies making Thor nod.

“What would you have me do Loki? We cannot leave her there.”

“I’m not saying we leave her there.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“How about I find a way to tweak a sling ring so that when a portal is available you both can use it to come back?” Strange interjects making both the gods look at him.

“You couldn’t have said something before?” Loki asks suddenly annoyed.

“You two looked like you were enjoying your conversation.” Strange concludes before moving his eyes back to the vision.

“So, then we both go?” Loki asks.

“I for sure am going.” Thor says.

“Alright then, how do we do this sorcerer?” Loki asks and Strange smirks.

“Wait here gentlemen.” Strange says as he vanishes for only a moment then reappears holding a book. “This should help.”

“A book?” Thor asks cocking an eyebrow at the sorcerer. “How’s a book supposed to help us?”

“This isn’t just an ordinary book. This is a book from Middle Earth. It’s called ‘There and Back Again: A Hobbit’s Tale’ by a Bilbo Baggins. It’s how you’re going to get there.”

“How?” Loki asks side eyeing his brother.

“I’m going to channel the frequency of the universe and then push you guys in.”  

“Push us in?” Loki asks concern filling his voice.

“Pretty much. Now would you like to get started?”

“Let’s do this.” Thor replies anxious to get to this world and find his friend.

Will Continue...

Tags are open

[madlori]

Lori Explains Hockey Numbers

So I’m gonna take you through the basic hockey player stats, which anyone can access on NHL.com. There are super advanced analytics too, but I’m not going to get into that.

The above images are for the same 5 players (I split it into two images or else it was too small), the current top 5 points leaders, and these are the baseline player stats. Note that all are centers except John Carlson, who is a defenseman and having a hell of a start to his season. Also note the top two players both play for Edmonton - the Oilers are traditionally terrible but they are 6-1-0 on their season so far so that’s good for them. It probably won’t last.

So here’s what those numbers mean.

GP: Games played G: Goals A: Assists P: Points

A few general words. Hockey players aren’t judged on goals scored but on POINTS scored. You get a point for a goal or an assist. Each goal can have up to two assists, a primary and a secondary. You get the same point for all those things. Most players have more assists than goals, just because there’s twice as many assist points available as goal points. Don’t think assists are somehow lesser - the goal is credited to whoever’s stick touched the puck last before it went in the net, which may or may not be the player who did the work to make that goal happen. Lots of times the goal-scorer is just the guy standing by the net, while the player who got the primary assists carried the puck all the way up the ice and dodged defensemen to get it there.

+/-: This is a very polarizing stat, usually called “plus-minus.” It’s supposedly a measure of a player’s on-ice effectiveness. If you’re on the ice and your team scores a goal, you get a 1+. If you’re on the ice and your opponent scores a goal, you get a 1-. It’s cumulative, so by the end of the season you’ll see guys with a plus-minus of 25+ or 17-. A lot of people claim this stat is meaningless - so much of it depends on what else is going on. How the goalie is doing obviously affects it a lot. 

PIM: Penalty minutes P/GP: Points per games played. This is a very important stat and is a key measure for a player’s overall success through the course of his career because it negates time lost due to injury etc.

This stat is a little misleading this early in the season. Usually by the end of the season there will be maybe only a half dozen players who are still above 1.00 in P/GP. Scoring on average more than a point per game is a benchmark of a truly exceptional player as even really good players often go scoreless. Nobody can maintain a 2+ P/GP pace. Sorry, Connor.

ETA: I should clarify. Usually for every season that are a few dozen players who stayed over 1.00 the whole year. There are only a handful of players who have more than 1.00 G/PG CAREER. There are currently eight active players with a career P/GP of greater than 1: Connor McDavid, Sidney Crosby, Evgeni Malkin, Alex Ovechkin, Patrick Kane, Nikita Kucherov, Steve Stamkos and Joe Thornton. Both Sid and Connor rank in the top ten G/PG ALL TIME.

The next six numbers are for kinds of points. PPG/PPP = power play goals and points, SHG/SHP = short-handed goals and points, GWG = game-winning goal and OTG = overtime goal.

Then we have S for Shots, which means Shots on Goal. You see this on the screen during game time, tallied for the whole team as SOG. This is the number of shots the player has taken. Now - shots on goal are a specific thing. Any old “slap the puck towards the net” doesn’t count. A shot on goal is defined as a shot where the puck would have gone into the net if the goalie hadn’t stopped it. That means if you hit the crossbar, it’s not a shot. If the puck’s aimed right but another player blocks it (not the goalie), it’s not a shot. If you just miss the net wide, it’s not a shot. A lot of teams now also track shot attempts, which includes all the other stuff. The next number is S% or shot percentage, also called the shot conversion rate, meaning how many of your shots taken resulted in a goal. If your conversion rate is above 20% you’re doing pretty damn good.

TOI/GP is Time on Ice per Games Played and Shifts/GP is number of shifts per games played, in other words average time on ice. A hockey game last 60 minutes and they roll four lines of forwards and three of defenseman, but the lines never get equal TOI. The top lines almost always clock more minutes. You can see that all of the centers in the above graphic are clocking way more than their equal share of minutes. Draisatl is playing almost as many minutes as a defensemen. Some defenseman do 30 minutes or more of ice time. You can also see from the number of shifts compared to the TOI that for these players, their average shift length is a minute or less.

And finally FOW% which is Faceoff Win percentage. Obviously you want to be above 50%, but faceoffs are a hard thing to be good at, and if someone wins even 3-5% more than they lost, they’re considered Good at Faceoffs. Sid is really killing it in the faceoff circle so far this season. Carlson you see has zero faceoffs - he’s a defenseman, which means he doesn’t take faceoffs. More detailed analytics tally up how many faceoffs a player wins as a function of where the faceoff occurs on the ice. It’s way more important to win a faceoff when it’s a defensive zone faceoff - when the faceoff is taking place by YOUR goalie and not your opponent’s, because you don’t want the other team getting puck possession when they’re in your zone.

Now, the goalie stats.

So first we have GP/GS which is games played/games started. 

W = wins. The goalie gets credit for a win. L = losses T = ties OT = Win in overtime SA = shots against, or how many shots the goalie has faced so far Svs = Saves, or how many shots he’s stopped Ga = Goals against, how many goals have been scored on this goalie Sv% = Save percentage, one of the two majorly-reported stats for goalies. If you’re an NHL goalie you’re really expected to be above 90%. Above 92% is really good. John Gibson is having a hell of a year so far. GAA: Goals against, average. Number of goals against divided by number of games played. An NHL goalie really expects to be below 3. Below 2 is great. Below 1 is like HOLY SHIT.

It’s interesting that Freddie Andersen’s stats are not looking good even though he’s tied for most wins, and the Leafs are actually doing pretty well. That probably means the forwards on his team are scoring a A LOT to overcome his relatively poor performance...*checks*...yep, Toronto is currently #1 in goals-for, having scored 31 total goals this season so far, three more goals than the three teams who’ve scored 28 (Nashville, Pittsburgh and Edmonton).

So those are the stats that get flashed up a lot. Please enjoy your hockey-viewing experience.

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Those Who Fall: “APTF” Story (Modern Domestic Stucky AU)

Twenty-Six:

"E-D-I," the cheerleaders led the cheer, "S-O-N! Edison Eagles Soaring Again!"

Bouncing a fussy Holly on his hip, Bucky cheered along with them, "E-D-I! S-O-N! Edison Eagles Soaring Again!"

Sharing the non chili-cheese covered crinkle fries with Holly, Steve chanted along with the next cheer, "Hey! Hey, you! You know what to do! You gotta bounce with the blue and --" even swiveling his hips the same way the cheerleaders did "-- wiggle with the white!"

Feeling Bucky's eyes on him, Steve glanced up at his handsome husband. His handsome husband who was shamelessly checking him out. Not that Steve minded. Not like Steve, himself, hadn't done so once or twice… or fifty times before. Instead of rolling his eyes like he normally did, Steve waited until their eyes locked and leaned in to kiss him.

When Steve pulled back, Bucky opened his mouth. Silently asking for a fry, and who was Steve to deny him? Making sure that it had plenty of sauce and cheese, Steve lifted it up and placed it into Bucky's mouth. As Bucky chewed the crinkle fry, Steve mocked Bucky's voice, "Thanks, babe." Then, he replied to himself, as himself, "No problem, dear. You know that I live to serve you."

In reply, Bucky rolled his eyes before he winked. All the while, Holly talked her baby gibberish with a messy face and the fry smushed and soggy in her little fist. Steve encouraged the ten month old, "Yeah?"

"Come on, Eagles! What's our battle cry?!" The cheerleaders started leading another cheer.

Steve kept his attention on the baby girl, making faces, while chanting along, "V-I-C-T-O-R-Y! That's our Eagle battle cry!"

Earning a smile and a giggle from Holly, Steve felt accomplished and redirected his attention to the game. It was getting close to halftime, which was the real reason why the Barneses were there. In his anxiousness, Steve shoved more greasy fries into his mouth.

"Eagles! The Best of the best! Here to shine! From now till the end of the line! We've down it before! We'll do it again! Come on, Eagles! Bring home the win!"

Both Bucky and Steve turned to look at Jonas who knew the cheer word-for-word. The pair exchanged a look when the young man cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "LET'S GO, EAGLES!"

Chuckling, Steve turned to press his forehead into Bucky's broad shoulder. Shaking his head because he loved their son and his enthusiasm.

Then, the whistle blew. Steve peeked up to watch the football players head over to their coaches. As they started for the locker rooms, the halftime show performers made their way for the field. Worrying his lip, Steve located Luke and hoped his son knew that so many people were routing for him tonight. Hoped he knew that even if the performance wasn't as perfect as Luke always wanted everything he did to be, that his family was so proud of him.

Steve watched as the color guard dressed in Jack Skellington unitards carried out their flags, setting them where they needed to be for the show. The dance team in asymmetrical Sally tunics carried out their own props of foam tombstones, causing Steve's brows arched curiously. But it was the drum majors pushing along a custom podium with a familiar paper mache mountain with a swirled top, that got Steve and the rest of the Barnes family excited for the show the students would be performing.

"No way!" Tibby excitedly turned around to face Steve and Bucky as she accused, "You didn't tell me they were doing this!"

"We didn't know," Steve defended them while Bucky clarified, "He was trying to keep it a surprise."

"At least now we know why he kept it a secret," Jonas shrugged.

"Guess so," Steve scoffed, eyes scanning for his son.

"Let's hear it for the four time Super Regional Bands of America Champions, the Soaring Eagles Marching Band!" The announcer introduced them, "Performing The Nightmare Before Christmas. Led by the drum majors, Harley Keener, Betty Brant, and Cindy Moon!"

Sophia excitedly gasped at hearing that and turned to look at her dads, "The Nightmare Before Christmas!"

"That's what they said," Steve smiled, taking a step closer. With Sophia standing on the bleacher seat, she was almost as tall as Steve. "Look at their costumes! They're pretty, huh?"

As Steve wrapped his arms around the eight year old, Ethan shouted, "Look, papa! There's Luke!"

Looking behind him to where Ethan was on Jonas's hip, Steve followed where the six year old was pointing and found Luke. Not being able to do anything except feel so proud of the freshman.

"Go, Luke!" Steve cheered while his brother-in-law, Danny, loudly woo-hoo-ed.

Steve wasn't even sure if Luke could hear them from his spot closest to guest bleachers. Of course, that wasn't going to stop them from cheering for him though. The Barneses were already a loud, lively bunch long before Steve met them, and with them growing up and having kids, it only made them louder. Especially in regards to their children. Even Wanda and Vis were enthusiastically cheering for Luke.

Once everyone was in their starting position, Harley turned on the top of the creative platform. Giving the signal to the announcers that they were ready. Steve's gaze went back to Luke as the band started playing The Nightmare Before Christmas overture. It was almost impressive how in sync they were, but Steve knew just how much time Luke put into his part, so he could only imagine how much everyone else did.

As the band continued playing, they started marching, forming rows that moved so fluidly that it was almost hypnotizing. The color guard picked up their white flags, revealing that they were meant to be the beloved ghost dog, Zero. With floppy ears and an orange light-up nose, and everything. Twirling the flags and tossing them high in the air. Marching and moving along with the band as they made their way over to the faux graveyard.

The color guard members leapt between the rows of foam tombstone. Each one they passed, a person from the dance team popped up. Jumping into the air as they kept their legs parallel to the ground and were able to touch their toes. Once the color guard was out of the way, the dance team performed a series of back handsprings.

"Well, shit," Bucky commented, and Steve nodded; also impressed by the precision.

"Papa, I want to do that!" Sophia told him, her jaw open in complete awe as she slightly turned in Steve's grasp to look up at him.

Steve couldn't blame her and he dropped a kiss to the top of her head as he agreed, "Okay. I'll look into some classes."

"Okay!" Sophia exclaimed. In silent reply, Steve held his finger up to his lips to shush her and pointed to the football field.

When Luke came into view, Steve whispered in her ear, "Look! It's bubby!"

Sophia wiggled in her excitement and shuffled her feet as she danced. To make sure that she didn't fall, Steve tightened his grasp around her torso and swayed them from side-to-side. It was a little off-beat to the marching band's rendition of the beautiful Jack and Sally Montage, but Steve wasn't necessarily known for his rhythm.

Content in the moment, Steve kissed Sophia's temple and watched the interpreted choreography tell the story of the music. Every so often, Steve's gaze would search for Luke and smile. His son was healthy and happy and doing exactly what he wanted to do. And with all of his kids there, he knew that same was true for them as well.

Reaching up, Sarah rubbed Steve's back. Not for the first time, Steve understood what Sarah had to be feeling every time she saw him succeed. He got it. Long after his angsty adolescence and almost entirely done with his short temper, he got it. Why it hurt Sarah when he was hurt. And more so why Sarah was happy when he was.

Removing one of his arms from around Sophia, he wound it around Sarah's torso and brought her in. Thankful for everything that she had taught him in life and how many more lessons he could still learn from her. And instead of teasing Sarah for crying at watching her grandson perform in the high school marching band, Steve leaned over and kissed her cheek. If a tear escaped his own eyes at seeing his son perform, then that was his own business.

[voxofthevoid]

Idk if your blog is the place for this discussion, and I know it's missing the point that trans people had made (but I dont want to speak for them) - from my perspective rule!63 for only one character in m/m ships is inherently homophobic. Changing one character to Fem is forcing a heteronormative structure on gay pairings. As a gay person, I see enough straight pairings, why do this in m/m fics?? If you're exploring discussions around gender, try making both rule 63 otherwise that's an excuse.

(Sorry about the late response - been a busy week(s) and the topic required some thought.)

Not gonna lie, I was very confused when I first saw this ask before I realized it was prompted by this post I reblogged. I’m not sure this blog is a place for this discussion either, at least in terms of visibility. This isn’t a discourse blog or any sort of discussion-oriented one, just my personal trashfire. All I can give you is my view on this.

Addressing the trans perspective first - I can’t speak for every trans person out there, no one can, but my perspective as a transmasc guy is that rule!63 has a place in fandom that’s very different from that occupied by trans narratives. Writing a cis male character as cis female or vice verse isn’t even comparable to writing a trans narrative. The way gender is conceptualized is these two cases are poles apart, and the you can potentially explore gender dynamics is also different. One cannot be replaced by the other, and that doesn’t mean rule!63 has to be chucked out the window while we focus solely on trans stories either.

Because as a trans person, I can tell you that 99% of the time, I stay the fuck away from trans narratives, whether or not they’re written by fellow trans folks. It hits too close to home and is usually very triggering. The 1% of time is an exception and even then, it takes a lot out of me. And I’ve trawled around tumblr enough to know that I’m not the only trans person who feels this way. Rule!63, with its cis main characters is a wholly different thing.

Now, onto your claim that Rule!63-ing just one character in a m/m pairing is inherently homophobic:

I disagree.

To start with, a good amount of m/m content in fanfic are of non-canon pairings. Which means the gay representation already doesn’t exist. Fanfic isn’t representation - it’s fans compensating for lack of representation and combining it with subtext or just generally playing around with sacred canon for any number of reasons. And just as some fans choose to ship male characters who’re canonically straight/unconfirmed together, some fans will ship the same male characters with other female characters. Neither one is more or less valid than the other.

The same way people are drawn to particular ships, they’re drawn to particular characters. And a huge part of fandom is made up of women - queer, straight, cis, trans. They might want to explore their existence in relation to their favorite character(s), and sometimes, they may do this using Rule!63. 

This is by no means the only reason a writer would rule!63 a guy and ship him-turned-her with another guy. And all these writers aren’t necessarily women either. It’s not like we know the gender of an author just from reading the content of a story. The above example was just one possibility that came to mind when you said this sort of Rule!63 is inherently homophobic. I’m a straight trans guy (clarifying because this is tumblr - I identify as a man and am attracted to women), but the stories I write are of gay and bi men, because exploring masculinity is more comfortable for me than exploring femininity, for obvious reasons. Point is, my fics reflect neither my gender (trans man) nor my sexuality (heterosexual).

You see the issue in trying to suss out motivations through fictional content? And this is just a mild example.

I understand wanting to see more queer content. I’m in the same boat. But the solution to that isn’t blaming Rule!63 writers. Use filters generously to blacklist content you don’t want to see. Either create or otherwise promote the kind of content you do want to see.

Because no, changing one half of a fictional m/m ship to female isn’t enforcing heteronormativity on gay characters. The gay rep didn’t exist in the first place. I’d argue that “ukefication” is closer in line to viewing male same-sex relationships through a heterosexual lens. A writer changing a male character to female is just playing in their fanon sandbox, as is their right.

It’s their story. They can do whatever they want.

I’m not saying there are no Rule!63-ed straight stories written because the writer is homophobic. It’s likely. People come in all flavors, some of them shitty. I don’t see why a m/m pairing would appeal to a homophobe in the first place, but I’ve also trawled around the internet often enough to see that people might support queer characters in fic, then turn around and be bigoted towards actual lgbtq+ people.

But the accusation that it’s inherently homophobic is in no way substantiated.

I do think it’s different when we’re dealing with a pairing that’s canonically m/m.Then, you have actual gay representation, and changing one of those characters into cis women would offend a lot of people and for good reason. My last fandom and ship revolved around a canon gay couple - Viktor and Yuuri from Yuri on Ice. Most wrote them as cis men, some wrote both as cis women, others wrote one/both as trans characters. Rule!63 for just one was rare, and the few times I saw it, I noped the fuck out. My current ship is non-canon (let’s not go into the subtext and tropes and marvel’s bs). At the end of the day, Steve and Bucky aren’t gay representation because that’s up to Marvel, and we know what they did. I’ve seen fics that portray them with a wide variety of genders and sexualities, and some of them show them as a straight couple. Unlike with Yuri on Ice, these stories don’t seem offensive to me. I may or may not engage with them, but the content alone is harmless.

(Anyone wants to add to this, feel free. As I said, I’m not a discourse blog, and these are my musings, not the gospel. Different people will view this issue differently. But do be civil.)

[spectral-musette]

So, the Avengers: Endgame spoiler ban is lifted, and I’ve had a chance to mull over my responses, so I’m finally going to try to write up some thoughts. I was hoping to have seen it again in the interim, but that didn’t work out, so I’m relying on memory from one viewing – it’s possible I’ve missed or misinterpreted things.

Spoilers to follow, so scroll carefully, Ye on Mobile! Also, sorry about the Long Post (TM), I apparently I had a lot to say.

 Time-wise, for its 3 hour length, the film didn’t feel long to me. It maintained its momentum and nothing felt laggy or tedious, even the big battles.

Time travel-wise… Okay, positive stuff first. I thought that revisiting the settings of earlier films was absolutely delightful and nostalgic. It felt very satisfying to have those call backs to earlier adventures and cameos of old enemies (Crossbones, Pierce, Zola, and, surprise, even Sitwell). The Cap vs. Cap fight was hilarious, and I loved seeing Steve so utterly exasperated with himself (“I can do this all d-“, “YEAH, I know.”). The scene in the 70’s was good, though some of the Tony and Howard stuff rang a little hollow to me. I think that’s mostly because I’ve always had trouble reconciling Dominic Cooper’s Young Howard Stark (who I’m very fond of, especially after Agent Carter) to the older version of Howard we see in various flashbacks. They look, sound, and act nothing alike; my friends and I always joke that Hydra replaced Howard sometime in the 60’s. So while an aged up Dominic Cooper Howard probably would’ve made me emotional, as it was, I was more moved to see 20 seconds of Jarvis than for all the stuff with Tony talking to his dad about fatherhood.

Using the “Quantum Realm” for time travel was… okay…. Insofar as the “science” of the Ant-Man films has absolutely never made any damn sense (and that’s …. fine. They’re funny and joyful, and I enjoy them a lot anyway. I don’t go to Marvel movies for “realistic” science fiction), throwing time travel into the mix felt like it just might as well happen. I guess I understand why they chose to go with the “nothing we do in the past can affect our own timelines” approach, but frankly it’s still giving me a headache. I also understand not over-explaining, but there’s a middle ground there that wasn’t quite achieved for me. I guess, based on the scene with Tilda Swinton (sorry, haven’t seen Dr. Strange and don’t know her character’s name) and Bruce, we’re supposed to assume that every journey to the past (cue Anastasia music) creates or perhaps just shifts the time traveler into an alternate reality that branches from their original reality at that point? And then when they travel back to the time they started from via the quantum realm, they return to their original version of reality. So the actions that they take in the past affect that alternate reality, but not the reality that they came from and return to. That’s the only thing I can figure out that makes sense to me at all, but unfortunately the film didn’t make that especially clear. Maybe seeing it again would clarify? So this is gonna be a big factor in how I feel about Steve’s ending, but I’ll get to that in a moment.

Also, a tangent re: time travel… While Tony (an engineer) and Bruce (a biologist) are both brilliant, this seems a little outside their areas of expertise! You know, wouldn’t it be great if we had a character who was an astrophysicist who could really tackle this type of thing - OH HEY, we do! I realize that there were probably issues with getting Natalie Portman back in a substantial role, but I love Jane Foster a lot and I would’ve loved seeing her work with Tony and Bruce to save the universe with a handful of Pym Particles.

OKAY, there’s an awful lot to cover, so I’m going to break down some of my feelings by character just to try to stay organized.

(First, a disclaimer that I haven’t seen Captain Marvel yet, so while Carol seemed like a great character, I don’t have a lot to say since I don’t really know her yet. That said, this seemed like an adequate introduction to the character and I am interested to know more. We have the problem of “if Fury could’ve called her anytime why didn’t he call her during the Chitauri attack/to fight Ultron/etc.” But all the individual titles that come after the team-ups have that problem a little bit… Where were the Other Avengers in Thor 2 or Iron-Man 3, etc.? Sometimes you just have to accept and move on.)

Briefly:

Nebula and Gamora, Tony, Bruce, Scott, with a quick note about Wanda and a very conspicuous absence

And the heavier stuff regarding:

Thor, Natasha, and Steve (and Sam and Bucky).

Nebula and Gamora:

While the Guardians aren’t really my thing, I did vaguely know that in the original Infinity Gauntlet comic storyline, Nebula takes the gauntlet from Thanos and fixes reality. I understand not following the comics exactly for the sake of surprise and to fit with the changed version of the universe, but it still felt wrong to totally take that away from her. Especially given what Thanos has done to her, personally, it seemed fitting that she was going to be the one defeat him. I’m glad she was still pivotal to the story, but it felt like an extra kick in the teeth that past!Nebula was the catalyst for Thanos catching up with our heroes rather than getting to be the one who saves the universe. And forcing her to kill her past self felt like it should’ve been treated with much more gravity than it finally was.

I’m really glad we “saved” Gamora by bringing the version of her from the past into the current timeline (however that works), but I feel so bad for anyone who’s really invested in Gamora/Peter Quill. It’s so heartbreaking that their entire history never happened as far as she’s concerned, that we’ve not only removed that very key relationship, but her character growth over the past how many years. It is at least hopeful; Peter remembers, and has the chance to woo her again, but that’s still got to sting.

Tony:

So Tony Stark sure did die.

I’m not sure… he really needed to? I mean I don’t think I get the rationale of the Infinity Gauntlet killing/maiming the user. I recall the handwavey line about gamma radiation, but if you don’t immediately die after using it, couldn’t you juuuust, say, use the Reality Stone to be like, “hey what if I wasn’t mortally injured”? Couldn’t somebody ELSE do that? I’m not sure I get that.

So that said, I’m not sure if RDJ was really pushing for “you gotta kill me off” for dramatic effect or just to step out of the franchise? It would’ve been kinda cool to see retired Tony working as Avenger-support, working on suits for Rhodey and future Iron-heroes (Iron Patriot? Iron Heart?), mentoring Peter and other youths, and living his nice life with Pepper and their munchkin.

But what a way to go, huh? Dramatic self-sacrifice saving the the planet(/universe?), and a funeral that almost everybody who’s anybody shows up for.

Bruce:

I’m with Valkyrie that I preferred EITHER version to PermaHulk Bruce. Honestly, the Hulk himself had sort of become an independent character, especially after Ragnarok (my issues with Ragnarok aside). So by Bruce settling into this “I look like the Hulk but I act like Bruce” limbo, are we … essentially killing the Other Guy? I don’t like that. I mean I prefer Bruce obviously, but I’m really uncomfortable with that solution.

Scott:

I really love Scott and he was delightful as always in this film. I’m heartbroken for him that he missed (another) 5 years of Cassie’s life, though. I’m also pretty sad we won’t get to see the little girl who has played Cassie so far in any future films since we’ve aged the character up to a teenager. Also, I would’ve liked to see more of Hope! I loved Scott and Hope’s little moment when Hope calls Steve “Cap” and they trade expressions between Scott going “SEE, HE IS REALLY COOL, RIGHT?” and Hope being like “Yeah, okay”.

Overall I guess the Ant-Fam is sorta tangential to the main MCU Avengers cast, so while it was nice to have everybody play together, briefly, I’m pretty content that we’ll see more of Hope (and Janet!) in future Ant-Man/Wasp titles.

 - Similarly, while T’Challa and the Wakanda fam were definitely underused in Endgame (especially the entirely absent Nakia), Black Panther 2 is happening. It’s disappointing to not get a substantial amount of characters that you like in the big team-up films, but it’s good to know they’ll be returning later.

Wanda:

We are really leaving Wanda in a rough place of having lost her twin brother and her android boyfriend within a pretty short amount of time (that’s rough, buddy). Plus, one of the characters that we’ve seen her have a pretty strong bond with is Steve, and he’s out of the picture too. I’m not sure where we’re going with this character, honestly. Hopefully it’s not continuing to hurt her.

It really seemed conspicuous that nobody so much as mentioned Vision by name in this film. Wanda referred to him indirectly, but that was it. I get that Vision isn’t immediately able to be saved since he didn’t vanish in the Gauntlet event, but, yikes, can anybody besides Wanda please attempt to give a damn about him?

I know sometimes we like to pretend that Age of Ultron didn’t happen to us, but Vision was still an interesting character, and some major plot points of Infinity War focused on the value of Vision as a person. I feel pretty bereft that he’s (apparently) gone beyond recall with so little mourning.

Thor:

*heavy sigh*

Thor’s characterization was….???

Unpopular Opinion: despite its good points, I overall didn’t really like Ragnarok, and Thor already sort of felt out of character to me at that point.

Another Unpopular Opinion: I actually really love The Dark World. Thor’s relationship with Jane, and his characterization of gentleness and humility in that era really were important to me.

And I get that Hemsworth is genuinely good at comedy and probably likes doing it. But Thor has always been a funny character. We just used to be laughing with him instead of at him.

I was so uncomfortable with the way the film framed Thor’s brush with depression and alcoholism. Because Thor has lost so much at this point, he has every reason to struggle. I want to say that Thor wouldn’t have given up, but the same time I can believe that this almost unimaginable weight of loss (Frigga, Odin, Loki, Heimdall, The Warriors Three, Asgard itself) would take some toll. And yet the framing of his scenes treats his grief and despair as cause for humor. We’re expected to laugh about an unkempt beard and a big belly instead of being concerned about the fact that a character that we loved considers himself a failure. And there’s nothing funny about this situation to me. It just made me uncomfortable and sad. Revisiting Thor 2 and having him talk to Frigga was on the better side, but I’m disappointed that we couldn’t save her.

Natasha:

*heavier sigh*

Okay, I think a lot of the problem here is that it’s just really difficult to kill a main character any time other than in the last act (we also saw this problem in Star Wars Rebels, but that’s another can of worms). So because Natasha died at such a midway point in the movie, I still can’t shake the feeling that she’s not really dead. Nothing about it felt final to me. Clint trying to emphasize that, because Red Skull said so, it was impossible to bring her back (it’s freaking RED SKULL, why would we trust him???) just made me think even more that she was definitely coming back. Everything seemed to point to her dramatic reappearance and then it just … didn’t happen. That’s not to say it won’t happen in a future film, though, but it still feels deeply unsatisfying and unceremonious now, and that feeling really was a blow to my overall enjoyment of the film.

It also sat really badly with me that Natasha made this choice not just to save Clint (which I would believe; their friendship is really great and I love seeing Natasha’s extremely profound but non-romantic bonds with Clint and with Steve (though I would’ve preferred Natasha/Clint to Natasha/Bruce)), but because she fundamentally felt less worthy than Clint. I don’t like the idea that Natasha went to her death still feeling such guilt, still feeling like a monster (according to that awful scene in AoU), for the things she did as a very young person under the influence of brainwashing. I don’t like that at all.

I’m also really disappointed that we didn’t pursue Natasha and Bucky’s relationship from the comics in the MCU. Because the idea of two people with very similar emotional wounds coming together to support each other as they heal is just really appealing (#looking for baggage that goes with mine). That throwaway line in Civil War (“at least you could recognize me”) really had me convinced that we were going there. I guess we still could, but there are a lot of “ifs” standing in the way now.

Steve:

Another disclaimer: Steve is absolutely my favorite Avenger, and I ship Steve/Peggy really hard.

Aaand I still felt uncomfortable with the resolution.

Maybe it’s just the difficulty I’ve been having getting my head around the time travel shenanigans.

So a lot of the criticisms I’ve heard/read about Steve going back to the 1940’s to Peggy seems to be functioning under the assumption that Steve is living within the timeline as we know it in MCU canon, staying completely hidden, and just not changing any of the bad things that canonically happen: Bucky becoming the Winter Soldier, Hydra infiltrating SHIELD, etc.

But we’ve been told that time travel doesn’t work that way – that Back To The Future, Doctor Who way – in this universe, right? This brings me back to my Alternate Reality take. So my understanding is that after Steve returns the infinity stones to the points in time that the Avengers yoinked them from, he basically occupies an Alternate Reality for a lifetime (Tilda Swinton’s thing about the branched off timelines being consumed by the ~forces of darkness~ only applies IF the infinity stones aren’t returned, and he took care of that). And he could’ve done anything in that Alternate Reality – married Peggy, saved Bucky from Hydra, prevented any wars and disasters he could. Basically it was Steve’s own personal Happiness AU. And then, (presumably after Peggy’s death), he uses the Pym particles and the Quantum Realm to return to his original reality.

Except, in that case, shouldn’t he have returned on the platform instead of dramatically showing up on that park bench?

So…I’m confused and I don’t like it.

Even from the Alternate Reality take, the situation of that choice is complicated. In choosing to be with Peggy, he’s tearing himself out of the lives of all of his loved ones in his Original Reality – Bucky, Sam, Wanda, (whatever the situation was with Sharon Carter that we absolutely never resolved?), etc.

And we’re not completely sure it was a choice, exactly. It’s possible that in the ongoing work to return the infinity stones, Steve somehow got trapped in the past (don’t know why he would’ve had to go to the 40’s, but I guess he could’ve run out of Pym particles there and had to wait for Hank to invent them to even be able to make the trip back).

Also, narratively speaking, it feels a little like we’re invalidating Peggy’s grief, and her character growth that went on in Agent Carter (even if her happy ending with Steve is going on in an Alternate Reality). I wasn’t totally sold on Peggy and Daniel Sousa yet (though I do like Daniel as a character a lot), but Peggy had a whole lifetime that didn’t involve Steve except as a beloved memory. Where is she in that arc when Time Traveler Steve comes back into her life?

Also, even if it IS an Alternate Reality, there would STILL be a version of Steve frozen in the ice in the 1940’s in that reality. How do we deal with that?

And how do we deal with the fact that Steve isn’t the man that Peggy lost anymore. He still loves her, but he’s changed, he’s lived almost a decade since then. How do they find their footing with each other? I’m sure it isn’t impossible, but it’s interesting, and it’s not addressed at all.

I think that’s what bothers me the most – that this is a whole huge adventure – Steve’s entire LIFE – that we’re shoehorning in at the very end of the movie without showing any of the really interesting bits or answering any of our questions about it. I guess that leaves the situation as a fertile ground for the imagination, and maybe that’s a space that the MCU intends to explore someday? I would absolutely watch the hell out of Steve’s Time Travel Romance with Peggy, somebody take my goddamn money.

Anyway, I’m happy about Sam taking up the Shield as Captain America. Bucky-Cap also could’ve been great, but I feel like, with the place we left Bucky in his recovery, he doesn’t need that responsibility yet. Let him rest. Wherever we’re going with the series featuring Sam and Bucky is going to be really interesting, and maybe we’ll get to the point where Bucky really wants to work towards atonement and is ready to share the burden of the Shield with Sam? I’m looking forward to finding out.

Overall, most of my feelings about the movie were pretty positive. It was a complicated story to tell with a lot of characters, and mostly it was handled pretty well. Some of those threads did fall flat for me, but they didn’t totally invalidate the parts of the movie that worked.

[artmutt]

LA Philharmonic Centennial

My chief reason for a frenzied 4-day visit to L.A. this fall was to hear some of the music being performed as part of the 100th anniversary of the L.A. Philharmonic. I became a fan of this orchestra during the tenure of Esa-Pekka Salonen, when concerts were still happening in Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. I waited anxiously for the completion of Disney Hall, the Frank Gehry building that now houses the orchestra. And Gustavo Dudamel was giving a series of programs with the Chicago Symphony the week they announced that he would become the next Music Director of the Phil. Call me a fan.

Of course, it’s a little intimidating to try to write about the programs I heard, when Alex Ross has already done so, eloquently, in The New Yorker (November 26, 2018 issue). I’m sorry to have missed the premiere of Andrew Norman’s new work, and I wish I’d been able to hear the new Steve Reich premiere. Oh well...I was able to attend Susanna Mälkki’s performances of Sibelius’s music for The Tempest, and the remarkable realization of John Cage’s Europeras I & II.

Outside Disney Hall, on our way to Mälkki’s concert, we caught a performance of George Brecht’s Drip Music, happening outside the hall. I’m sorry I didn’t get the name of the handsome, nerdy guy who gave what I considered a rather radical version of Brecht’s piece. I mean, some of the crucial components were there (music was poured from a smaller container to a larger one), but the drips and pouring had been amplified, looped, and audio-processed into something much more like “music” in a conventional sense than most of the performances of this work than I have previously experienced (or participated in). This was part of the orchestra’s “Fluxus Festival,” a daring component to this centennial celebration, given that so much Fluxus “music” is, in fact, a critique and deconstruction of the conventions of classical musical performances.

Inside the hall, things were deconstructed, too. For this was not just a performance of Sibelius’s music for The Tempest. This was a full-fledged performance of Shakespeare’s play, with Sibelius music placed in the appropriate spots in the action. The stage of Disney Hall had been transformed with a set, with the orchestra (and chorus) placed behind these objects. A fair number of Hollywood actors were in the audience: we nearly bumped into Mariette Hartley on our way to our seats.

All this seemed fairly brilliant and daring, and The Tempest is one of my favorite Shakespeare plays. Alas, Disney Concert Hall was not really designed to be especially conducive to the spoken word. Indeed, and large resonant space like this is great for music, adding warmth and natural reverb to instrumental parts, but it swallowed up words the way my cats swallow up tuna. We were in the third row, close enough to practically smell the actors, and even with microphones, vast stretches of Shakespeare’s beautiful words got sucked into the acoustic void and lost. (I’m blaming the acoustics; American actors enunciating Shakespeare were also to blame.)

Sibelius’s music, under the baton of Susanna Mälkki, on the other hand, was dark and profound or delicate and ethereal, as needed by the text. I thought that the music was particularly lovely, and only wish that I could have heard it in the proper context of Shakespeare’s often profound words. Alas, this brave new world did not have a lot of comprehensible speech in it.

Comprehensibility was not the issue the next evening, when John Cage’s Europeras I & II were performed. In response to a commission for an opera, Cage responded by subjecting the components (both vocal and instrumental) of approximately 113 operas to chance operations. The stage was turned into a grid, and subjected to further chance processes in terms of lighting, stage movement, and set components. Musicians watched large clocks, set up behind the audience, to time their contributions to the piece. The result - where singers sometimes performed arias in near darkness, while a space on the other side of the stage was brightly lit with nothing happening, only to have a flat descend in front of the singer mid-aria, with an orchestra playing things completely unrelated to what was being sung - was something you either got into, or took strong opposition to, depending on your point of view. (Audience members began fleeing after about 15 minutes of Europera I, and a fair number did not return after intermission for Europera II.)

I. on the other hand, who knew what to expect and was prepared for an evening of non-sequiturs and discontinuity, was both periodically bored and periodically delighted, much as when I see a conventional opera performance. The production was directed by Yuval Sharon, a much-admired figure in L.A.’s experimental theatre community, who clearly understood and respected Cage’s aesthetic, and supported it, rather than fighting with it. The whole production felt surprisingly affectionate.

This performance did not take place in Disney Hall, but at Sony Pictures Studios, which used to be the old MGM lot out in Culver City. This is where The Wizard of Oz was shot, along with a bunch of the MGM musicals. Sharon was given free access to the Studio’s archive of backdrops, costumes, etc., which worked brilliantly in Los Angeles. Flats that descended while we listened to an aria from Mozart were straight out of some Gene Kelly or Judy Garland movie, while the costumes suggested other famous films. All jumbled together, and competing with each other, much the way they are in our collective, unreliable memories. In calling his work Europeras, Cage noted that he wanted to give back to Europe a work made up of the heritage of European operas. But in Los Angeles, the pun struck home more: these were Your Operas too: and by extension, the musical theater tradition in the U.S., which was enabled by the movies, could embrace its origins in European operas. of the 19th century. 

Europera I - at 90 minutes - felt a touch too long for the material. But Europera II, at 45 minutes, was perfect, filled with humor and occasionally pathos, and endless surprise. We laughed, we cried, it became a part of us. Oh, and we loved the work of the six dancers, who helped further confuse and clarify the chaotic mise-en-scene of this delightfully randomized work.

[doomonfilm]

Review : Breaking News in Yuba County (2021)

In an effort to be fully informed and knowledgeable at year’s end, I’ve decided to start doing my 2021 release marathon now, as the wheels of film production are seemingly back in full swing.  With an army of streaming services and Netflix DVD at my disposal, full (or at least fuller) coverage should be easier to attain, so I went down the list and started queueing things up.  One of the first DVDs to reach my home was Breaking News in Yuba County, and I’ve got to say that things are definitely off to a great start.

Though Breaking News in Yuba County more than likely did not set itself out to be a cautionary tale or a deeply symbolic reflection of our times, it must be given notice for its unflinching look at how sociopathy and a lack of empathy have led to deplorable acts seemingly becoming the norm.  Outside of Steve and Jonelle, there really isn’t anyone in this film that doesn’t run off of selfish intentions, a general disregard for others or some level of deception.  Center to this universe is Sue Buttons (played wonderfully by Allison Janney), who seemingly finds her power and affirmation in the dual realization of her husband’s infidelity and the immediate relief of responsibility due to his heart attack.  This moment becomes a clarifying and freeing event for her, swinging her completely to the opposite side of abusive restraint by turning her into a criminal pathological liar, not to mention an attention-seeking fame junkie willing to say anything for her moment in the spotlight.  The levels of entitlement, toxic restraint and willful ignorance she puts up are astounding, making pure criminals like Mina, Ray, her husband Karl Buttons and Mr. Kim pale in comparison.  

It is this narrative catalyst that spirals things wonderfully out of control in the most entertaining and oddball ways possible, and all of it is served in a very straight-laced, matter of fact way that amplifies the hilarity.  Writer Amanda Idoko does a great job balancing Sue’s desperate spiral into madness, Karl’s fear-based actions, Petey’s errant assumptions, Mina and Ray’s criminal exploits, Nancy’s need to be valued and the duo of Det. Harris and Steve’s twist and turn-filled investigation, leaving us with plenty of comedic and dramatic stimulus, punctuated at the end by a few outrageous bursts of properly-toned violence.  What really stands out is how the actions of one or two have a way of ballooning out to the point that the wake of destruction takes victims that did not deserve to become victims while someone like Sue Buttons, as skewered as her perception is, can seemingly benefit and move forward in a blissfully ignorant manner due to her disassociation.  Maybe that’s what makes stories like these work so well... despite the intentions of the writer(s), the mixture of relatability and outrageousness leaves just enough grey area for viewers to fill in the blanks with personal experience to make a connection or attain a deeper understanding.

There is nothing necessarily flashy or standout about the technological production aspects of the film, but then again, Breaking News in Yuba County clearly was not made to be visual bells and whistles.  One thing that does immediately stand out, however, are the costuming and hair choices in this film.  There is an interesting blend of outdated fashion, evergreen fashion and personality-exuding haircuts (and wigs) that immediately give our characters a sort of visual shorthand for viewer understanding (ie Nancy is serious, in comparison to Gloria Michaels being shallow and exploitative) while also playing as funny in many cases.  The comedy is also handled in a very nuanced and dynamic matter in terms of both writing and performance, with it being wholly apparent that all parties involved “get” the joke they are trying to convey, and are all going about making sure that their various levels of dry deliveries and nonchalant reactions to horrifying situations play consistently.

Allison Janney has some serious dramatic and comedic range at her disposal, and it is on full display in Breaking News, as she swings between a meek and mild-mannered disregarded housewife, an attention-seeking sociopath and professional victim with relative ease.  Regina Hall matches this energy with a matter-of-fact, no-nonsense put-upon approach that, in tandem with a keen eye for detail and a strong judge of character, makes her a narrative lightning rod for key events.  Mila Kunis turns in a surprisingly strong and subdued performance as a second-tier news anchor that is begrudgingly dependent to a sister who marginalizes her accomplishments and a stepbrother who makes financial promises with dirty money.  Jimmi Simpson gets to set his trademark comedic snark and smugness to the side for a victim role that is heavy on concern, fear and desperation, all played with a eye-opening amount of dignity despite the drastic and outrageous circumstances.  Simpson is set up against the foils of Awkwafina and Clifton Collins Jr., who have surprisingly wonderful chemistry as they channel unique shades of the same volatile mixture of sinisterness and dry comedic wit that feed off of one another.  Appearances by Wanda Sykes (who is always hilarious), Matthew Modine, Samira Wiley, Ellen Barkin, Bridget Everett, Dominic Burgess, Keong Sim, Chris Lowell and the wonderful Juliette Lewis round out the strong cast.

I doubt that Breaking News in Yuba County will garner any sort of awards recognition next spring, but I’d be willing to bet that this film will likely find itself a cult audience at some point down the road.  During my viewing, films like Fargo, I Care A Lot and the criminally underrated Drowning Mona all came to mind, meaning that this film sits in the midst of very good company.  To my knowledge, this film has not been well-received by critics, and the general viewer consensus is only slightly better, but I found it to be entertaining and worth my time, and would definitely recommend for those that don’t take their entertainment too seriously.

[gaytonystark]

Missing You

Pairing: Thor x Reader Words: 2,933 A/N: Wrote this for @lady-thor-foster ‘s writing challenge and also I’m just a slut for Thor nowadays. I hope you like it and gimme some feedback maybe???

The streets were relatively empty thanks to the poor weather so you took advantage of the low foot traffic to run some errands. Gray skies loomed above you, but you found comfort in the dreary sky as it watched over you. The fallen rain squeaked under your boots as you headed home with your bags of groceries. Your raincoat protected you from the last few persistent rain drops from the storm that was finally letting up. Thunder clouds still loomed overhead, letting you know that rain would soon start up again. With this in mind, you decided to head home so you wouldn't’ have to have to haul your things through the heavy rainfall.

Your apartment building came into view and you fished your keys out of your pocket. Some thunder began to boom in the distance just as the rain began to pick up again. You got inside, set your bags down, and shook the rain off your coat before hanging it up to drip dry. The only sounds that could be heard were the drops of water as they hit your hardwood floor, but something felt off.

Slowly, you walked to the kitchen, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. You rounded the corner to your kitchen with baited breath and you heard the faint sounds of someone’s strained breathing. The closer you got, the more familiar that breathing sounded so you sped up your pace. Your fear only grew as you entered the kitchen and saw a large form laying on the ground.

“Hey, Y/N, I was wondering when you would be returning home.” Thor said, his head held up just enough to look up at you as he lay on his back.

“Yeah I just had to pop out for a minute.” You said, stunned at the site before you. “Had I known I was expecting visitors, I would’ve made other arrangements.”

“All the same, I am just happy to see you.” He shot you his most winning smile before it was replaced with a grimace.

“Uh, hey Thor, I don’t know if you know this but you’re bleeding on my floor?” You asked, confused as to why Thor hadn’t provided a reason as to why he was currently bleeding out in your apartment.

“Ah yes, how could I forget.” He said, equally as surprised at his current situation, “What happened was I was attacked and now I am here.”

“Ok sure that clears it up.” It definitely did not, but you didn’t want to waste anymore time on the formalities while your friend lay dying in your kitchen. “Why don’t we get you up off the floor and into a chair.”

“Of course, here just take my hand.” You took his outstretched hand and began to pull him up. The task of getting the God of Thunder up was proving to be much easier said than done.

“You’ve lost some weight, haven’t you?” You asked, grunting under the effort of getting him vertical.

“Have I?” Thor looked mildly offended as he let you yank him up.

“God no, I was just trying to be polite, but you cut your hair.” You draped one of his meaty arms around your shoulder and led him to your dining table. With a solid shove, you pushed him into a chair where he landed with a groan. “It looks good short.”

“Thanks and that’s great to hear, I thought I was looking a little too lean lately.” Thor said, examining himself as he sat down.

“Is that even possible?” You caught your breath and sat down opposite one of your closest friends. “Now do you want to tell me why you’re here.”

“I’m hurt and I don’t trust anyone else to heal me.” Thor said simply, clutching at his side. “As much as I have come to trust Stark and his methods, his Midgardian sense is not so keen in these matters.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, but you had to admit that you were a little flattered. “I think you forgot the part where I am also a Midgardian with the same sense. You’re a god, Thor, you really should be at the compound so they can fix you.

“Y/N, you know as well as I that you are no simple Midgardian.” He reached across the table and held your hand, gazing into your eyes and you swear to this day that you saw an entire galaxy in them. “Your eyes see beyond what is there and your abilities are more than those of even Tony Stark with all his gadgetry.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Odinson,” You said, a smile playing at your lips, “but it will get you healed so just sit tight.” You let go of his hand as you ran to your room to dig out everything you would need to heal a god.

Thor was the only one that knew about your whereabouts after you left the Avengers when everyone found out. It was kinda his fault, but you didn’t hold against him. It was an accident after all.

He didn’t mean to expose you when he blurted it out to the team because he thought they knew you were a witch of sorts. You were stood by the door in the conference room, waiting to be dismissed while The Avengers finished their briefing. Your role was to silently take note of everything happening then disappear to finish your other duties on the compound. This was the boring part of your job, but you seldom complained because Tony Stark was paying you way more than he should. Every meeting was the same, Steve talked, Tony made a comment, Natasha dozed off, Clint flicked a piece of paper at her to wake up, but Thor listened attentively since this was his first meeting since coming back from Asgard. All the same, you documented all the happenings in painstaking detail until something unexpected broke your focus.

“And what role does the witch play in all this?” Thor asked abruptly, bringing you out of your distracted daze and pointing a finger to you. Everyone looked at you wide eyed then back to Thor who had no idea what he had just done.

“I mean she likes to get an attitude with me sometimes, but I wouldn’t call her that, Thor.” Tony said, jumping to your defense.

“Oh no, I only meant to ask how her powers will contribute.” Thor said, clarifying further but only causing more confusion.

“Powers? What powers? What is he talking about, Y/N?” Steve asked and your face went bright red as you tried to hide your embarrassment.

“I don’t-I mean that there’s um-” You stuttered, trying unsuccessfully coming up with an explanation.

“Do you all not know? Isn’t it obvious?” Thor asked, looking at his teammates confusedly. “It’s in her eyes.”

“No they don’t know!” You hissed as you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“My deepest apologies, I thought they knew.” Thor immediately apologized upon finding out the truth but the damage was already done.

“Well they do now.” You looked around at all the stunned faces as they saw you through new eyes. “So I guess I owe you guys an explanation, don’t I?” An hour later and everyone had a comprehensive idea of what kind of witch you were. Natasha gave you an impressed grin on her way out while Steve, Tony, and Bruce looked slightly terrified. Wanda asked for your number so you could discuss this further and compare powers later. Thor was the last one out, but he lingered as the others filed out.

“I assumed they knew,” He started, genuine remorse and a little embarrassment spelled out on his handsome face, “it wasn’t my place to speak out like that and I hope you’ll forgive me.“

“It’s okay, really, but can I ask you something?” You asked cautiously, closing the door to avoid having any unwanted listeners.

“Of course.” Thor looked relieved at the fact that you weren’t upset with him and visibly relaxed.  

“How did you know?” You asked, an inquisitive grin on your face.

“Well, it’s everything about you, the way your shift energies to suit you. I’ve only ever seen it in creatures beyond your world, but it came through the moment I looked into your eyes.”

“I can’t believe my own eyes betrayed me.” You said, a nervous giggle escaped you as you cast your eyes downward.

“I’m glad they did because you are something extraordinary.” His eyes bore into yours and you saw something in them you didn’t even realize you missed.

From then on, you and Thor were practically inseparable. It was nice that you had someone who understood you and Thor felt less alone on Earth. Anytime he wasn’t wrapped up in his Avengers duties and you had a free moment on the compound, the two of you were discussing your other worldly abilities or you were taking him to new food places. Either way, you each brought a sense of normalcy to the other.

It broke his heart when you left and you were going to miss seeing him almost every day, but that’s who you were. Soon enough, your complexion became more sallow and your hair turned weak and brittle. You couldn’t stay in one place for too long or the energies would become stale and you would become ill all over again. It wasn’t a surprise to you anymore because it was apart of being your kind of witch, but this was the first time you actually had a reason to stay. Weeks were spent where you searched for a spell or charm or talisman that would let you stay longer to no avail. Eventually you had to give up your research when dark spots began to appear all over your skin and your nails became thin as paper.

“You’re leaving for good, aren’t you?” Thor asked from your doorway the day before you left the compound when you failed to meet him at your usual spot.

“I have to Thor, I can’t be here any longer or it’ll only get worse.” You let out a disappointed sigh as you tried to hide your symptoms under the baggie hoodie you were wearing. “I’ve never stayed anywhere this long, but I don’t want to go, not this time. You have no idea how much I want to stay.”

“Will you tell me where you’re going?” He asked as he entered your room and softly shut the door behind him.

“I haven’t decided yet, I only know that it has to be far from here.” Thor stepped closer, slowly closing the distance between you. “Thor, I don’t want to go.” You said, your voice broken from the heartache.

“Nor do I, but if staying here is causing this, then you have to go.” He pushed your stringy hair behind your ear. “When you decide, please tell me where you are if only so I know you are safe.”

“I will, but only if you promise you won’t forget me.” You looked up and though your skin had dulled, your eyes still shone as bright as when Thor first met you.

“I could never forget those eyes.” He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand and held your face so gently as if he was afraid you would break. You tilted your face up and he bent down to meet you in a kiss that almost made you change your mind and stay. It lit you up from the inside and you forgot the pain you were in from your condition and from the thought of having to leave the only person you truly cared about.

Even through your sickly appearance, Thor could only see your magnificence and you could see how much he had come to care about you. That was the first and only time you didn’t like what you were. Nothing could be done and you begrudgingly understood that so you packed what few things you were attached to and stole away to your next destination.

It would be months before Thor heard from you again and he smiled bigger than he had in a long time when he got your letter saying you were safe and that you missed him.

“I know you said you wanted to visit, but I didn’t think this is what you meant!” You shouted from your bedroom as you rummaged around in your things.

“I can’t say I did either, but even under these circumstances, I’m happy to see you, Y/N.” He said as you came back into the dining room with an armful of supplies. The smile on his face lit you up from the inside until it was replaced with worry when his smile turned into a grimace.

“I missed you, Thor, and I’m gonna fix you right up, don’t worry.” You laid out an assortment of vials next to your pestle and mortar. “So let’s see what we’re working with.”

“I could never worry when I’m with you.” His words caused a shy blush to fill your cheeks and a smile that only Thor could get out of you spread onto your face.

Without wasting anymore time, you lifted his t shirt to reveal a nasty gash about a foot in length running across the left side of his torso. It wasn’t too deep, but it was bleeding pretty steadily and it was obviously causing him pain. Admittedly, you had seen worse, but this was still pretty bad. Nonetheless, you knew exactly what to do.

Thor watched in awe as you dusted different powders into your mortar and mumbled incantations. Small sparks flew from your concoction and you knew you were doing it right. You unconsciously smiled as it all came together and it felt good to be doing what you do best.

“I always loved watching you do this.” Thor said, somewhat to your surprise.

“It’s not the same practicing without an audience,” You replied, reminiscing while your concoction brewed, “still though, I wish you were here under different circumstances.”

“I’ll always be happy to see you, Y/N.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” You dipped a swatch of gauze into your creation and laid it onto Thor’s wound. “This is gonna sting.”

“What are you talking about, I don’t feel anything-” Thor started before his words turned into an agonized growl. “I see what you meant, but I’m still happy to see you.”

“It’s okay, it’ll only last for a few minutes.” You said, instinctively grabbing his hand in reassurance and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “If it hurts, it means it’s working.”

“I never doubted you.” Just as you said, the stinging pain subsided and any traces of the laceration that brought him back to you was all but gone entirely.

“Not bad if I do say so myself.” You smirked as he looked down at his unblemished skin and you found yourself admiring your work. “I guess this means you have to go now?” You tore your eyes away and cast them downwards to hide your disappointment.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He asked and you nodded your head wordlessly for him to continue. “I really don’t want to go anywhere right now.”

“I have a secret too, I don’t want you to go.” You leaned over the table and kissed him and you realized how starved you were for the taste of him.

Your kiss led you to your bedroom where you spent the night in bliss with your favorite person in the world. In the morning, you were pleasantly surprised to wake up and see his sleeping form in your bed. You ran your hand through his short blond hair and he stirred at your touch. With his eyes still closed, Thor took your hand in his and pressed a kiss to your palm.

“If I could wake up to you every day, I would never want for anything else.” Thor said, his voice still groggy as he woke up. “I never want to miss you again.”

“How do we fix that, Odinson.” You said coyly, your hand still in his reassuring grasp.

“Come with me and we can go wherever you want. The Nine Realms are yours to take and I’ll be by your side, as it should be.” He looked you in the eye and you could see how much he wanted this for you, for the both of you.

“Thor, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Just thinking about being away from him again made your stomach drop, but you didn’t want to be an inconvenience to the person you had come to love.

“Y/N, I don’t want to be on a planet that you’re not on.” Thor was fully awake now and so were you as you held back tears. “I felt whole when I met you and every moment away from you is as if I’m losing myself.” Looking into his eyes, was like looking at your home. Every part of you missed him when you left and you never wanted to be away from him now that he came back to you.

“But where would we go first?” You asked, your voice thick with tears of happiness.

“Anywhere as long as you take me with you.” Thor exclaimed and he wrapped you in his strong arms.

At that moment, you don’t want to be anywhere else in the galaxy. You were finally home and neither of you were going to let it go ever again.

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[thesecretheadteacher]

Bullying

I make no apology for the length of this entry as the topic of bullying is a very emotive one. Where it occurs, it can be such a damaging and destructive set of actions, leaving the victims upset, hurt or, in a few cases, contemplating or going through with attempts at suicide. It is probably one of the biggest fears parents have for their child whilst at school and also something they feel unable to help with.

The scale of bullying: Once again, for those of us who were raised in the 70s and 80s, we are likely to have witnessed or experienced bullying on an industrial scale. These were the days before there was any awareness or acceptance of difference: the closest anyone got to neurodiversity back then would be if it was the name of a new wave pop group. Anyone with autism, ADHD or any other, fairly common, condition, was just seen as a ‘weirdo’, anyone who was slightly effeminate, or merely kind was ‘gay’ and anyone whose skin colour was darker than you would expect from a 2 week holiday in Skegness, was a N word or the Asian P word. These were just the verbal bullying, of course there was also the physical bullying, I think I was lucky to get through these years with both testicles intact, as they were treated like mosquitos – someone always looking to swat, flick, kick, stamp, punch or knee them, and the resulting excruciating pain provided the watching group with the highest form of hilarity. I guess it was probably different for girls. Fortunately, such sustained and ongoing bullying is very rare and, though parents should be vigilant, in the vast majority of cases, it is something that can be dealt with very easily and effectively by the school.

What is Bullying?: The key starting point for tackling bullying is knowing what bullying is. Most parents will be using their own experiences, possibly from school, but more likely form the media: whether that was watching Gripper Stebson with his 1950s teddy boy style, grabbing various Grange Hill characters by the throat as part of his dinner money pyramid scheme, through to Nelson Muntz giving Bart a wedgie on the Simpsons. Or maybe from stories or videos, some truly horrific, of young people being set upon and beaten up by groups of kids. None of these, however, help to clarify what bullying is.

There is no legal definition of bullying in the UK but, in a school context most would view it as ‘repeated behaviour which is intended to hurt someone either emotionally or physically, and is often aimed at certain people because of their race, religion, gender or sexual orientation or any other aspect such as appearance or disability.’

As well as knowing what it is, it is important to know what it isn’t, because there are many things that rather than having a negative impact upon our children, are actually valuable and important learning episodes (I can hear myself morphing into Oprah here):

-        Falling out with each other – this happens and is an important part of their development into adulthood to deal with conflict with others. Unfortunately, far too many parents see this as bullying because their child might be upset as a result of it.

-        Day to day rough and tumble – this particularly applies to boys as they grow up. There is some good science around the importance of ‘horseplay’ (Fry, D. P. (2005). Rough and tumble social play in humans / Pellis, S. M., & Pellis, V. C. (2012). Rough-and-tumble play: Training and using the social brain). Think of it like young animals that jump and climb and wrestle and fight. Having done thousands of break and lunch duties, I am very familiar with what is horse play and what is a bit more serious – the basic guide being are they all having fun, it is very easy to see if someone isn’t or if one individual is being targeted – that is where we step in.

-        A one-off omission: for example not being invited to something outside of school.

-        Not liking someone: we cannot make pupils like each other. This is another important learning point to help in growing up. I am sure we all have people in our own lives that we don’t like, but through our adolescent development, we have learned how to deal with that.

-        Arguments: these happen all the time, as anyone who has been married will testify.

-        A single act of telling a joke about someone. We have all been the butt of a joke at some point - usually funny for others, less so for us.

Of course if any of these things become repeated or several of them happen towards the same child, then yes this would then constitute bullying.

How to deal with bullying: this is what most parents want to know and is the point at which some parents go horribly wrong. So here is my step by step guide:

1.      The most important thing is that the child tells someone. Staff in school are usually excellent at spotting things going on – I have lost count of the number of times I have been on duty and, amidst the mass of humanity that makes up lunch time, spotted a child looking a bit down, on their own or upset.

2.      Watch out for changes in your child: mood swings, sudden aggression, withdrawal from family life (though take care as these are also the default setting for most teenagers.)

3.      If your child can’t talk about it, get them to write it down.

4.      If it involves social media, which increasingly it does, switch it off – delete the apps and don’t engage.

5.      NOW CONTACT THE SCHOOL. I have put this in caps because this is the most important thing. Having discovered you think your child is being bullied, you will be feeling angry, shocked, protective, aggressive and maybe even feel you have failed your child. This heady concoction of feelings is not a good place from which to start to address the issue.

6.      Work with the school: the vast majority of schools deal with these things on an almost daily basis. They know the other children, they see the interactions, they know the parents of the other child or children. They care deeply about your child and the other children and they will do what they feel is best.

7.      If things don’t get any better, then escalate the matter within the school – schools are hierarchical and above a form tutor is a head of year, above them a member of the Senior Leadership Team and above them the headteacher.

How not to deal with bullying: the steps above should lead to the matter being resolved and your child returning to their usual happy, or at least apathetic, experience of school. However, I have had plenty of first-hand experience of parents who decide to handle the matter differently – none of these led to a better outcome than following my advice, and some led to far more serious outcomes for them.

-        Don’t start the discussion off by being abusive or threatening the school for ‘failing your child’. Venting your anger on a poor receptionist won’t make the wheels move faster.

-        Don’t start at the top. I have had many examples of parents contacting me directly, as headteacher, to deal with a falling out between two pupils. Though I have decades of pastoral experience, there are far more appropriate people to look into the matter. It isn’t that I don’t care, but the school and education system wouldn’t really be getting its money’s worth out of me if I spend 6 hours a day in ‘circle time’ with Year 7 girls who have fallen out.

-        Don’t go above the top. On a number of occasions I have had parents decide that, rather than inform the school, they think the matter would be resolved quicker by going above the school to the Local Authority, Ofsted, The Diocese, local MP, Parish Priest, the press, the Pope or anyone else they could think of. Needless to say, none of these people are really in a good position to unravel the reasoning behind why Sally didn’t invite your Bethany to Cineworld last week.

-        Don’t encourage your child to take matters into their own hands. “I’m sorry Sir but I have told him, if anyone says anything to you, you just punch them” or “You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t tell your son to hit them if they say anything.” Well-meaning as this advice from some parents is, it isn’t really great preparation for the world of work. For that day when little Billy grows up, gets his job in middle management and has a falling out with Steve from accounts and decides a good right hook might progress things. So unless you have grand plans for your child to move into the gangland underworld, it really isn’t good advice.

-        Don’t take matters into your own hands with the parents. Often when parents raise a concern about another child bullying their own child, they will want to meet with the other parents. Nearly all schools will avoid doing this, not because we are being obstructive, but because a) the parents (usually) aren’t the people who have fallen out and b) both sets of parents will have only heard their own child’s version of events and will be overly protective. It doesn’t work. Likewise contacting the other parents by text, social media or be going round to the house – all of these are like trying to put a fire out armed with aerosols and petrol. I have witnessed parents going for each other outside the school gate, or picked up the pieces afterwards when one or more parents have been charged with assault.

-        Don’t take matters into your own hands with the child. No matter what you have been told about the other child, they are still that, a child. I have known many occasions where a parent has approached a child directly to ‘warn them off’ like some sort of mafia enforcer. Now I don’t know how they have thought it would play out in real life, but the reality is usually that the child is with some friends, feels like they can’t lose face and so rather than say “Yes of course Mrs T, it was wring of me to behave like that towards your little Mickey, it won’t happen again, take care.” It ends up more “Who are you talking to? Get away you Pedo. I didn’t do anything. F*&k Off, I am going to get my dad on to you.” To be fair this approach does often end the initial bullying and is replaced by family warfare, police action and lawyer involvement.

Don’t arrange a ‘settler’. This is where both sets of parents arrange for the children to meet up and have a settler (a fight to resolve things). For many of you reading this, the very thought would be horrific, but for some of the communities I have worked in, this is the ‘honourable’ way to do things. I have known parents set up times / places for the fight, have rules around not jumping in and even drive their children to the event, like an evening at a Justin Bieber concert. This is not just for boys, I have known it happen with girls too and heard a child describe how her dad had watched her get knocked all over the place then afterwards suggest that the matter was no closed.

[xdirtyhalox]

An Open Letter to Warpaint and Their Fans

It seems that there are some things that need to be clarified, in the name of integrity & clear communication:

1. Harry Styles’ fans (HSF) were quite excited that Warpaint was opening for Styles during his upcoming 2018 world tour. As is our way, we tend to be extremely supportive of anyone who is involved professionally with Styles & any member of One Direction. As has happened with Steve Aoki, James Corden, Zedd and more, we open our hearts, our family and our pocketbooks to show our respect and appreciation. Warpaint received the same warm welcome.

2. It is due to our general respect and excitement for Warpaint that we were so taken aback, and yes offended, by the remarks in Monday, 3 July, 2017’s interview. Both in context and on their own merit, the comments had an unfortunate condescending air, and (inadvertently or not) a lack of respect or appreciation for HSF as individuals or as a fandom, as well Harry Styles and his music. 

To be written off as “young [unfiltered] ladies” who needed an opportunity to listen to “good” music was both frustrating and heartbreaking. This fandom is made up of a wonderful variety of individuals, a majority of which are female, though well outside of the “young [unfiltered] ladies” moniker, a label that is well known as disparaging and dismissive towards women of any age. 

Furthermore, the insinuation that being a fan of a major artist discredits your musical taste, or means that you need to be educated is frankly insulting. The beauty of our fandom is that we are wildly different – but equally worthy – people. We find love in all sorts of music: indie, rock, blues, soul, country, EDM, R&B, and yes– pop. The same person who loves Harry Styles’ decidedly rock album is the same person who loves Pink Floyd or John Paul White or The White Stripes or Tina Turner, Katy Perry, John Mayer and so on. Being a fan of Harry Styles means you’re organically a fan of Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and the up and coming indie artists, including Warpaint. We are diverse in tastes and title, and we are fervently proud of that. To be brushed off due to our love of one artist is simply wrong. The statement was based on many assumptions and logical fallacies. 

The same can be said of needing an indie band to create an opportunity for self-exploration. The lovely thing about a fandom such as ours is that it creates a safe haven to explore many of our intimate or outspoken desires. Have the secret wish to be a singer or play guitar in an all-girl group? Here are thousands to millions of people cheering you on, telling you that you can do it, making connections around the world with other inspired people. We don’t need new opportunities – we’ve made several on our on. And, as previously mentioned, we have such a range of musical tastes that the doors have been opened many, many times. While we certainly appreciate Warpaint’s style and genre, to insinuate that only through their music we will grow is both wrong and absurd. 

Styles himself did not seem to fare better in the perceived eyes of Warpaint. Though certainly glowing at times, there seemed to be a fundamental assumption that Warpaint was more credible and that Styles’ music was lesser somehow. It seemed to be a slap in the face of an artist who obviously respects the band enough to have them on tour. This sickened us as no one wants to see their favorite singer shaded by those he clearly likes. 

3. No other opening act of Harry Styles’ upcoming tours has felt the need to comment openly or negatively about Harry Styles or HSF. Of the four artists, only Kacey Musgraves and Leon Bridges have name recognition to the general public. Of the four artists, only Kacey Musgraves is listed outside the indie label (even Leon Bridges, playing significantly different music, is still considered an insider’s artist, a key component to ‘indie status’). Yet of the four artists, only Warpaint felt it necessary to comment publicly in any forum in any way that can be perceived as negative, disparaging or inappropriate. Muna is a phenomenally wondering indie-dark pop band known for its independence and unwavering allegiance to its beliefs. Bridges is a man who has never shied away from his roots or his view of music, truth, and accountability. Musgraves is lauded in her genre, a seemingly dark horse who remains authentic and unbending to the expectations of her chosen genre. None of them sound anything like Harry Styles. None of them have the worldwide success or popularity that Harry Styles have. They have received the same questions and interview requests Warpaint has, the same eyebrow raised that Warpaint was apparently responding to. Yet none of them have felt the need to say anything but positive things, if anything at all. By opening their mouths, Warpaint opened the door to interpretation and, most likely unknowingly and unwillingly, joined the chorus of lesser, those who put others down in order to lift themselves up or remain afloat at their current standing. It was a cheap shot, even if made with the best intentions. 

4. Our fandom has a fairly tough skin. After seven years in the game, it is safe to say that we’ve been through quite a lot, and have been called many, many things. While it certainly irks us, we’ve learned to brush it off due to the overwhelming appreciation and vocal respect given by Harry Styles (as well as Niall Horan, Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson).

The issue with Warpaint’s comments is that we don’t expect such sharp and unsubstantiated, belittling claims from inside the house. There is a true and understandable hurt that comes from backing a band and showing them love, only to receive a glib brush-off in the name of “musical integrity.” There is true and understandable hurt that comes from giving a band an opportunity to operate authentically on an entirely different, and wider platform, and having that band shade or snub him, again in the name of “musical integrity.” We had open arms and felt summarily rejected.

This could have all been a simple mistake. People misspeak and tempers flare. However, since the fall out, there has been no attempt on Warpaint’s part to clarify their statements, or to reach out to fans and assure them that they meant no harm. Instead, there was some likes of tweets that painted us as silly and dramatic, and Warpaint as some sort of victim.

Let this be explicitly clear: Warpaint are not victims of anything except their own blunder. Actions have consequences. It is fairly clear that they have no plan to clarify or mollify, which supports the superiority narrative that the interview spun. 

5. Fans are absolutely allowed to show their displeasure. In the light of the circumstances, fans are more than in the right to desire a different opener. It has nothing to do with Warpaint’s music, but the perception (that, again, four days later has still not been addressed or corrected) that they feel above us as people and music lovers, and Harry Styles. 

Music is a universal language full of patterns of truth. Concerts are sacred events where people of all walks come together, and, just for a moment, a sliver of a day, forget who they are and become one. There is beauty in that. There is great honor as well. So it is incredibly understandable that people wouldn’t to enter that space with others they feel don’t respect them. You don’t piss on our home and then expect to be invited in warmly. 

Throughout this situation, we have been constantly told to sit down, shut up & enjoy the opportunity to listen to Warpaint. We need not to sit and we need not be silent. And our point is that we will be unable to enjoy Warpaint’s product when they don’t respect us. 

We’ve been told we don’t have a right to complain. We as consumers have the right to complain. At the very end of the day, it’s our money, and we have a right to withhold it if we feel it’s being used against us in some way. “We think you’re silly, but thanks for the money.” No, no thank you. 

(Please note: I am not saying, suggesting or insinuating that Warpaint is only touring with Harry Styles for the money and/or platform. That’s an entirely different conversation, one that I am not engaging in here. I am saying that concert tickets cost money and that money goes to the artists and their teams.)

We’ve been told that there are better, more mature ways to state or displeasure. Yet, at every invitation for suggestions on those better, more mature ways, we’ve been met with dismissals and jeers. 

6. In my years in fandom, I have never seen such contentious and cruel fighting as I have with Warpaint fans. The trolling of our fandom, the remarks about our appearance, weight and size, intelligence, credibility, sanity, taste and more – the hits seem both never-ending and deeply personal. I can certainly understand the need to protect or defend a beloved musician or band; but I do not understand attacking people’s morals and character, and constantly belittling someone. If it makes you feel important, I am sad for you; my importance has always been tied to what sort of positive and lasting impact I’m making on my fellow humans. 

I’m also befuddled by the “They didn’t say that, but we believe it’s true” defense that is coming from Warpaint fans. You believe that Warpaint would never disparage HSF or Styles himself that way, but you believe us to be young, unfiltered, dramatic, unimportant, annoying girls, Styles to be purely pop with no substance or standing? How do those go together? How are we supposed to interpret Warpaint’s words as innocent when their fans are using them as daggers?

7. In Harry Styles’ seven year career, never once have his fans had to defend his actions and/or speech. Never. That should speak for itself. 

8. Harry Styles does not need Warpaint for credibility. This narrative is both ludicrous and unfounded. Harry Styles’ credibility comes from the strength of his music, his character and his own accolades. Harry Styles credibility comes from his reputation and reception. Harry Styles the album was critically lauded for ushering in a new era of rock-centric music. It was acclaimed by countless reputable critics and outlets. And if all that was for naught, Harry Styles’ fans include Ronnie Wood, Elton John, Stevie Nicks and Paul McCartney. No matter what spectrum of the musical landscape you find yourself on, you absolutely cannot discredit the aforementioned legendary artists. Their fervent and vocal support of Harry Styles as a person and a musician speaks volumes and, along with the aforementioned, cement him as a credible and well-respected artist. He and his team chose Warpaint as an opener because of his/their appreciation of the music and what they felt was a great opportunity. 

In conclusion:

No, we aren’t sensitive children with no musical taste or perception of the world around us. You and your band aren’t better than us because you’re indie, and our artist and us aren’t better than you because we’re rock and pop. The level of platform does not denote anything other than popularity, and while we can all disagree, there’s never a place for personal attacks and wounds meant to last. It’s music and it’s beautiful, so let’s allow it to be that way. 

B🌸