#america has been falling off lately i fear

[trans-axolotl]

ID: Intersex activist Max Beck standing in front of the American Academy of Pediatrics with a sign that says Silence=Death.

On October 26th, 1996, the first ever protest for intersex liberation in America took place when activists from Hermaphrodites With Attitude took to the streets to protest the American Academy of Pediatrics. Later memorialized as intersex awareness day, this important action was a milestone for the American intersex movement. Max Beck, one of the intersex activists from HWA, documented the entire protest and later published their recollection in the Intersex Awakening Issue of the Chrysalis Journal. The full piece is pasted under the cut.  

"But we’re here today to say we’re back, we’re no longer lost, and we’d like to offer some feedback. We’re here to say that the treatment paradigm for “managing” intersexuals is in desperate, urgent need of re-examination. We’re back to say that early surgical intervention leads to more than “just” physical scars and sexual dysfunction. We’re back to say that the lack of education and counseling for intersexuals, our families and the community at large does not lead to a blissful, healthy, well-adjusted ignorance. Rather, it too often leads to a life-threatening shroud of silence, secrecy, and self-hatred. 

I’m here representing over one hundred fifty intersexals throughout North America. One hundred fifty intersexuals are saying: Please! Listen! You doctors, you pediatric endocrinologists and urologists treating intersexuals, you nurses interacting with intersexuals and their families, listen to us! We understand intersexuality, not because we have studied the medical literature — although many of us have — not because we have performed surgeries, but because we have been grappling with intersexuality every day of our lives. We’re here to say that those who would have us believe that intersexuality is rare, cloud the issue by breaking us and separating us into narrow etiological categories which have little meaning in terms of our actual, lived experience. 

We’re here so that other intersexuals can find us — for many of us, finding others like ourselves has been a lifealtering, even life-saving, experience. We’re here to reach parents before their intersex child is born. We’re here to elicit the help of other sympathetic professionals. We can take a stand as openly intersex adults without being crushed by shame! And we did!" 

Hermaphrodites With Attitude Take to the Streets: By Max Beck, 1997

In late October of 1996, Hermaphrodites with Attitude took to the streets, in the first public demonstration by intersexuals in modern history. On a glorious fall day, the like of which you can only find in New England, under a crackling, cloudless sky, twenty-odd protesters joined forces to picket the Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Pediatricians in Boston. Deeply aware of the historical and personal significance of the action, and — correctly — surmising that a notebook diary would not be practical on such a whirlwind, windy week-end, I took a small hand-held tape recorder with me. What follows are excerpts from the resulting transcript.

October 24, 1996 2:45 PM, Atlanta’s Hartsfield International Airport

The trip has only just begun and I am already exhausted. Hot. Starving. Fifteen minutes until take-off. Every businessman boarding the plane looks like a pediatric endocrinologist, Boston-bound. Silly thought, testimony to what? My anxiety? My fear? My giddy anticipation? If these bespectacled, suit-and-tie sporting men were pediatricians, would they be flying coach on Continental, with a layover in Newark? I’m headed for Boston, for the Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Pediatricians (AAP). Tens of thousands of pediatricians. I’m not a pediatrician, though, nor am I a nurse; in fact, I barely managed to complete my B.A. I’m a manager of a technical laboratory. We don’t work with children, and the AAP certainly didn't invite me, so why am I going?

With the plane taxiing toward take-off, this is a lousy time to reassess. I’m going. I’m going because I am intersexed. I’m going because the doctors and nurses who treated me as an infant and a child and an adolescent, and those who continue to treat intersexed infants and children today, consider me “lost to follow-up.” I was lost— that’s part of the problem. Now, I’m back.

9:02 PM: Boston’s North End

I’m comfortably ensconced in Alice’s warehouse condo in Boston’s North End, a renovated warehouse with a view of the city skyline, ceilings easily twenty feet high, exposed beams and brick, gorgeous tile floor. As I speak, my hostess is preparing an absolutely phenomenal meal. The aroma of roasted peppers permeates the entire space. Tomorrow, the work begins; my project this evening is to unwind and enjoy this wonderful meal. Easier said than done. I’m feeling excited, enervated, I feel very alive, something I don’t feel very often, I feel very present and aware. It could be my exhaustion, it could be the Chardonnay. But I think, rather, that the excitement is anticipation about what we are about to do. Being here, finally being prepared to raise a voice, to be heard, to be seen, a vocal, out, proud hermaphrodite who is standing up to say, “Let’s rethink this, this isn’t working, we’ve been hurt, stop what you’re doing, listen to us!” I’m really looking forward to meeting Morgan at the airport in the morning; it’s always amazing to make eye contact with someone else who has been there.

October 25, 7:38 AM Boston Commons

En route to my encounter with the AAP, walking the approximately two miles from my hostess’ domicile to the Marriott Hotel at Copley Square, I pause in the Boston Commons to enjoy a park bench, to sip my Starbuck’s decaf, and to watch a group of senior citizens performing Japanese swordsmanship on top of the hill beneath a monument to some forgotten general. The city is cool this morning, but clear, and it promises to be a beautiful weekend. That’s good: we won’t be rained out. I’ve got a stack of about ninety ISNA brochures in the bag at my side, crammed in the inside pocket of my leather jacket. If I want these pamphlets to get inside, I’ve got to get to the site of the Nurses’ Panel at the Marriott before they close the doors. Then it’s back out to the airport, to pick up Morgan. My feet are already killing me.

October 26, 9:15 AM: North End

Morgan and I are sitting at our hostess’ breakfast table, pulling our thoughts together. In a few minutes, we’ll have to leave to pick up Riki at the airport. The logistics of pulling together an action are mind-boggling. There’s no describing the thrill, though, of all that work, all those phone calls, all those miles. Riding a clattering subway on a Saturday morning, seated beside another living, breathing, laughing, swearing intersexual, hugging near-strangers at unfamiliar airports, then riding back, together, defiant, determined, organized, to the heart of so much of our pain, so much of our anger, so much of our need. We gathered in front of the huge Hynes Auditorium, pamphlets and leaflets in hand, and met the AAP attendees as they left the convention center for lunch. The next hour-and-a-half was a blur, as we positioned ourselves in strategic locations before the Hynes, held signs and “Hermaphrodites with Attitude” banner aloft, distributed our literature, engaged AAP members and passers-by in conversation and debate, spoke to microphones, to cameras. In all that time, I recorded only one fragment of a breathless sentence. 

Saturday, 12:20 PM Outside the Hynes

We’ve got all the exits covered, and it’s an incredible, incredibly empowering experience. I remember the words I spoke to the TV camera, if only because I had scribbled a rough outline on the airplane, pirating mightily from Cheryl’s press release. And because the moment was so salient, so real. Me, Max, bespectacled, with blisters on my feet and chapped lips, speaking out to untold numbers of invisible viewers (and a few bewildered pediatricians behind me.)

"When an intersex child is born, parents and caregivers are faced with what seems to be a terrible dilemma: here is an infant who does not fit what our society deems normal. Immediate medical intervention seems indicated, in order to spare the parents and the child the inevitable stigmatization associated with being different. Yet the infant is not facing a medical emergency; intersexuality is rarely if ever life-threatening. Rather, the psychosocial crisis of the parents and caregivers is medicalized. 

Intersexuality is assumed to be a birth defect which can be corrected, outgrown and forgotten. The experiences of members of the intersex support groups indicate that intersexuality cannot be fixed; an intersex infant grows up to be an intersex adult. This hasn’t been explored, because intersex patients are almost invariably “lost to follow-up.” The abstract of a talk that will be given at this very conference by a doctor who treats intersex infants concedes that “the psychological issues surrounding genital reconstruction are inadequately understood.”

Part of the problem is that we were lost to follow-up, and there were reasons for that. But we’re here today to say we’re back, we’re no longer lost, and we’d like to offer some feedback. We’re here to say that the treatment paradigm for “managing” intersexuals is in desperate, urgent need of re-examination. We’re back to say that early surgical intervention leads to more than “just” physical scars and sexual dysfunction. We’re back to say that the lack of education and counseling for intersexuals, our families and the community at large does not lead to a blissful, healthy, well-adjusted ignorance. Rather, it too often leads to a life-threatening shroud of silence, secrecy, and self-hatred. I’m here representing over one hundred fifty intersexals throughout North America.

One hundred fifty intersexuals are saying: Please! Listen! You doctors, you pediatric endocrinologists and urologists treating intersexuals, you nurses interacting with intersexuals and their families, listen to us! We understand intersexuality, not because we have studied the medical literature — although many of us have — not because we have performed surgeries, but because we have been grappling with intersexuality every day of our lives. We’re here to say that those who would have us believe that intersexuality is rare, cloud the issue by breaking us and separating us into narrow etiological categories which have little meaning in terms of our actual, lived experience. We’re here so that other intersexuals can find us — for many of us, finding others like ourselves has been a lifealtering, even life-saving, experience. We’re here to reach parents before their intersex child is born. We’re here to elicit the help of other sympathetic professionals. We can take a stand as openly intersex adults without being crushed by shame! And we did!

7:20 PM: Boston’s North End

Goddess, this is so sweet, so liberating! I was so reluctant a week ago, having my Jesus-in-Gethsemane experience, reluctant to accept — not an onus or responsibility but — to accept who I am. And here’s where the hard work really begins. I’m exhausted when I think of the road before us. But then, it’s nothing like the road behind us. 

Max Beck, 1997.

[misfitwashere]

Why I remain hopeful about America

Even as darkness falls 

ROBERT REICH

JAN 20

Friends,

So many people I know — including, I suspect, many of you — are despairing over Trump’s second regime, which starts today.

I share your fears about what’s to come. 

Yet I remain hopeful about the future of America. Here’s why.

Trump hoodwinked average working Americans into believing he’s on their side and convinced enough voters that Kamala Harris and Democrats were on the side of cultural elites (the “deep state,” “woke”ism, “coastal elites,” and so on). 

But Trump’s hoax will not work for long, given the oligarchy’s conspicuous takeover of America under Trump II. 

Even before Trump’s regime begins, it’s already exposing a reality that has been hidden from most Americans for decades: the oligarchy’s obscene wealth and its use of that wealth to gain power over America. 

Seated prominently where Trump is giving his inaugural address today will be the three richest people in America — Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, and Mark Zuckerberg — each of whom owns powerful media that have either boosted Trump’s lies or refrained from telling the truth about him. 

Musk sank a quarter of a billion dollars into getting Trump elected, in return for which Trump has authorized him, along with billionaire Vivek Ramaswamy, to target for elimination programs Americans depend on — thereby making way for another giant tax cut for the wealthy.

The oligarchy’s conflicts of interest will be just as conspicuous. 

Musk’s SpaceX is a major federal contractor through its rocket launches and its internet service, Starlink. Bezos’s Amazon is a major federal contractor through its cloud computing business. Zuckerberg is pouring billions into artificial intelligence, as is Musk, in hopes of huge federal contracts.

Ramaswamy, whose biotech company is valued at nearly $600 million, wants the Food and Drug Administration to speed up drug approvals. His investment firm has an oil and gas fund. His new Bitcoin business would benefit if the federal government kept its hands off crypto. 

Trump himself has already begun to cash in on his second presidency even more blatantly than he did the first time. He just began selling a cryptocurrency token featuring an image of himself — even though cryptocurrency is regulated by the Securities and Exchange Commission, to which Trump has already said he’ll name a crypto advocate as chair. 

Not to mention the billionaires Trump is putting in charge of key departments to decide on taxes and expenditures, tariffs and trade, even what young Americans learn — all of whom have brazen conflicts of interest. 

They’ll all be on display today with Trump. Then, many will take their private jets to Davos, Switzerland, for the annual confab of the world’s most powerful CEOs and billionaires. 

Not since the Gilded Age of the late 19th century has such vast wealth turned itself into such conspicuous displays of political power. Unapologetically, unashamedly, defiantly.

This flagrancy makes me hopeful. Why? Because Americans don’t abide aristocracy. We were founded in revolt against unaccountable power and wealth. We will not tolerate this barefaced takeover.

The backlash will be stunning.

I cannot tell you precisely how or when it will occur, but it will start in our communities when we protect the most vulnerable from the cruelties of the Trump regime, ensure that hardworking families aren’t torn apart, protect transgender and LGBTQ+ people, and help guard the safety of Trump’s political enemies.

We will see the backlash in the 2026 midterms and the 2028 presidential election, when Americans elect true leaders who care about working people and the common good.

And just as we did at the end of the first Gilded Age of the late 19th century when the oligarchy revealed its hubris and grandiosity, Americans will demand fundamental reforms: getting big money out of politics, taxing huge wealth, busting up or regulating giant corporations, making huge social media platforms accountable to the public rather than to a handful of multibillionaires.

Friends, we could not remain on the path we were on. The sludge had been thickening even under Democratic administrations. Systematic flaws have remained unaddressed. Inequalities have continued to widen. Corruption and bribery have worsened.

It’s tragic that America had to come to this point. A few years of another Trump regime, even worse than the first, will be hard on many people. 

But as the oligarchy is conspicuously exposed, Americans will see as clearly as we did at the end of the first Gilded Age that we have no option but to take back power.

Only then can we continue the essential work of America: the pursuit of equality and prosperity for the many, not the few. The preservation and strengthening of a government of, by, and for the people.

[quixoticanarchy]

“We plan for every agricultural health emergency, but all of our red teaming missed this” scenario: an agricultural outbreak that potentially imperils public health and leaves cows sick but mostly still standing, says David Stiefel, a former national security policy analyst for the USDA. With continued spread amongst cows, or to another “mixing-vessel” species like pigs, the virus “could mix and match, then you get a whole new genetic constellation,” says Jürgen Richt, regents and university distinguished professor at Kansas State University. Experts are hesitant to speculate about what could happen if the virus were to begin more widely infecting humans, for fear of spreading panic, but the toll could, in the worst case, dwarf that of COVID-19. If the virus “infects a person infected with a human flu strain, and something comes out that is reassorted and adapted to humans? I don’t even want to imagine,” Richt says. “Not good.” The Institute for Disease Modeling, a research institute within the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, has estimated that a global flu pandemic could kill close to 33 million people within six months.

--

This should be a story of heroism, cooperation, and an all-hands effort to defeat a wily virus that many scientists warn could mutate into a pandemic threat. Instead, it is a story of intimidation and obfuscation. The vets who sounded the alarm have been silenced, some even fired, and won’t discuss their experiences on the record for fear of reprisals. And the federal agency that was supposed to help thwart the virus instead has allowed for an unspoken “don’t test, don’t tell” policy among dairy farmers. The USDA’s inaction, critics say, is attributable to its dual—and sometimes conflicting—mandates. It is responsible for the health and safety of the nation’s food animals, but it’s also in charge of promoting and protecting America’s $174.2 billion agriculture trade. And sick cows, with documented cases of a virus never before seen in cattle herds, could be very bad for business.

--

And H5N1 was not in the corporate playbook. Dairy farmers, afraid their cows would be quarantined or that they would not be able to sell their milk, simply opted not to test. Some forced veterinarians off their property. “Everyone is so scared shitless. That is what is going on in the background,” says the Western-state veterinarian. Meanwhile, the USDA was sitting on details about infected farms. Researchers rely on the international data-sharing platform GISAID to track the spread of worrisome viruses, and the USDA’s H5N1 submissions have been both late and frustratingly light on detail. The CDC submits H5N1 sequences and metadata within eight days. Countries like Vietnam and Cambodia move even faster. But the USDA has been sharing the genetic sequences of H5N1 samples an average of 24 days after collection, and those submissions don’t say on what date, or even in which state, each sample was collected. Only later, usually after three to six weeks, does the agency provide that additional information. As a result, the USDA’s data is effectively useless for monitoring in real time how the virus is mutating. “Why can the US CDC provide actionable information while the USDA cannot?” asks a GISAID staffer. “The withholding of such data by other nations would most certainly have triggered political outrage at the highest level in the US.”

[yuk-tepat]

Tepatic New Year

Happy New Year! Let’s talk about New Year in Tepat.

New Year has been discussed summarily before here:

https://www.tumblr.com/yuk-tepat/169316572948/discoursedrome-argumate-i-like-new-years-day?source=share

https://yuk-tepat.tumblr.com/post/154867637619/lexember

The biggest holiday in Tepat is New Year or Mut Tik (‘base of the year’), which falls on October 25. The ancient year was timed to the harvest and its bounty. In feudal times, it became timed nationwide to the new moon nearest the equinox, and later fixed at the equinox. This was presumed to be the death-date of the ancient hero Simen. During the Qom era, it was moved a month later, to October 25, to celebrate Qom’s (re)unification of Tepat, and it has stayed there.

Prior to fixing the calendar, new year’s timing varied by region, like the harvest. In western regions, with a more Mediterranean climate, where many plants grow through the winter instead of the summer, the harvest and New Year were celebrated in spring instead. It is still celebrated as a minor holiday, Pyal i Khip Hyaq, ‘Western Harvest Day,’ although New Year is celebrated with the rest of Tepat. The old equinox is still celebrated as a Thanksgiving Festival Pyal i Mal (Khip), with people giving thanks for the successes, and celebrating the achievements of the old year, before turning their thoughts to plans for the future, as represented by the New Year.

While New Year’s day is October 25, the entire holiday lasts for 5 days, through October 29. This constitutes a Tepatic five-day week, Thop Mut ‘Base Week,’ which is considered to exist outside any of the months. Every fourth year Leap Day is added to the end of the week, creating a very special 6-day bonus New Year. Additionally, New Year’s Eve is also celebrated, and is actually when many New Year customs take place.

New Year has some similarities with Thanksgiving, because it is autumnal and harvesty. A klarge family gathering and feast was typical. Adornments typically included a wreath of twisted stalks of grain, which was placed on, under, or around the main dish at the table.

One New Year tradition, the Tsapay, has been discussed before.

People in Tepat spend most of the time leading up to New Year cleaning. Everything must be made perfect so the New Year can start perfectly, so the rest of the year will be good, because New Year sets the tone for the entire year. Unlike foolish Americans who party the night before and wake up late and hungover on New Year, in Tepat that would be unthinkable; everyone is in bed by sunset and wakes up before dawn to observe the sunrise and catch the early worm - wearing new clothes. A(t this rate, America will never succeed on the world stage.) Much care was taken in all things on the first day of the year. The first day was full of “firsts”: first greetings, first meals, first actions, first piece of writing, first song, first word, etc.

As in the terrestrial West, people make new year resolutions. Additionally, they paid off all debts, let go of their grievances, and forgave people or sought forgiveness. As part of the forgiveness theme, the period before New Year’s was a popular time for leaders to commute sentences.

Another feature is large bonfires, which may have started with burning the chaff. All fires are extinguished, and then relit, typically from a communal fire. This may be accompanied by a parade of people carrying torches home, known as a “flame-run” (xam i-tem). People also used the opportunity to burn other needless or unwanted things to ‘clean up’ for the new year. This evolved into a tradition of collecting pieces of old paper scraps, on which were written various bad things – names of enemies, personal weaknesses, actions which someone regretted, things one feared, or even social problems – into a pot, and then throwing them in the bonfire. Conversely, hopes and dreams were written on paper and tied to trees in public.

[kavalyera]

I have many questions to ask about Ophelia!

👁️ - How do other people perceive this oc? How close do their first assumptions come to the truth? 🌍 - What are this oc’s religious views? ⚡ - Does this oc have any unusual or “irrational” fears? 🐺 - How does this oc deal with solitude? 📓 - Do you associate any quotes or lyrics with this oc?

waaaaaa omggg thank u so much for asking abt my volgirre serial killer author jdndjxjsbx🥺

👁️ - How do other people perceive this oc? How close do their first assumptions come to the truth?

Ophelia has carefully constructed mask that she has that other people view. Some know that there’s something far worse, some don’t even know the monster right in front of them. Most people’s perceptions of her is that she’s full of shit as she’s masquerading as a normal Toreador, only exemplified by the fact she’s married to a literal prince. But if kindred do graciously accept her warmth, Ophelia does indeed play into their perceptions of her, a coquettish, soft spoken, and imaginative mind that’s full of charm and wit. Of course, that’s not the truth at all. Ophelia takes great pleasure in people, and especially kindred, falling under her charms.

🌍 - What are this oc’s religious views?

Formerly, a devout Catholic as she was a Filipino born in an upper class family in late 1800’s Manila—Ophelia served the church. She probably would have been to a convent if she didn’t have to move to America with her stepfather. She had a Spanish stepfather when she was around a toddler so being Catholic is just deeply ingrained into her. Even now, a hundred years later, Catholicism is still seered into her bones like a rash that’ll never go away. Ophelia is the kind of religious that still feels a connection to faith, though, doesn’t try to be devout about it. She knows she’s a killer through and through, even with her sweet façade—of course she does! Why would she beg for forgiveness? Why would she ask to be holy again? Why do any of that when the sweetness of gore, and the squelch of blades twisting into flesh is far more pleasing than submitting to the church? But even then, Ophelia finds some comfort in religion. She has a rosary and even though she barely even uses it, she still has it on her. She prays it sometimes. (And as a bonus, her patron is the Virgin Mary who is the patron of young women)

⚡ - Does this oc have any unusual or “irrational” fears?

Ophelia has a severe case of somniphobia after quite literally being used as a blood doll in her sleep by her sire back when she was a mortal. This manifests in her never really being able to go into a “sleep” state in the day like most kindred, so she either writes during the day or does other stuff to not be in that state. It’s not like kindred can get tired after all. Sometimes, she just roams around her haven.

🐺 - How does this oc deal with solitude?

Depends on what kind of solitude. By nature, Ophelia is charismatic and extroverted, and other than writing, she makes a great conversation partner. If she’s alone for a short while, she’ll just write. She closes herself off from people when she’s writing because it’s one of the ways she locks in on her work. Though on a longer scale? Ophelia will not be doing well. She needs people to talk to. She can not be an introvert to save her life

📓 - Do you associate any quotes or lyrics with this oc?

A lot heehee

" You're like crack to me

I don't want to leave

I'm watching you sleep

Afraid you'll stop breathing "

— Velvet Crowbar, Lana del Rey

" You know just how to be cruel

When you shake your hips that way

Paint your lips that way

Michelle, Michelle

You are a monster from hell "

— Michelle, Sir Chloe

" You slowly enter

'Cause you know my room

And then you crawl your knees off

Before you shake my tomb "

— You’ve Seen The Butcher, Deftones

" I lie here

Blessing the life that I'll live up high

Ophelia

My old name screams all you've left behind

I linger

Through all the times shining bright "

— Ophelia, Dark Valley

" I, I, got a new girlfriend

She feels like he's on top

And I don't feel no remorse

And you can't see past my blinders "

— Ophelia, The Lumineers

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

The New Day - S.Rogers

Summary - Steve has few fears but one of them is love, it’s one of the fears he’s never faced. It takes a song about love to make him understand that love is a need and nobody is greedy for wanting love.

Word Count- 884

Author’s Note - Day 16! It’s a bit late again, sorry about that, it’s been a busy day and I’ve been exhausted. It’s another Greta song fic! If you’ve never listened to it, I highly recommend you do, it’s such a beautiful song with fantastic lyrics. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings - Use of Y/N, female reader, not proofread, kissing

my masterlist

25 days of fics masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

not my gif

Steve Rogers was a man who wouldn’t admit to fears, he was a man that would face these fears head on. However, there was one fear he had, one that he had yet to face head on and that fear was love. He had loved before, his last love being Peggy Carter before he was frozen in time. Since waking up in 2011, he had refused to entertain dating with the fear of potentially falling in love and hurting the person he loved as he had hurt Peggy.

That had all changed after a team holiday movie night, he had been sitting beside a long-time friend and teammate, Y/N. She was the first person to treat him like he was just another guy, not Captain America, not a super soldier, just Steve from Brooklyn. They had formed a connection almost immediately, Steve knew he had feelings but he suppressed them as much as possible. She was well aware of his fear of love and she was more than willing to wait for him. 

The rest of the team had gone off to bed after the last holiday movie had ended, it was just Steve and Y/N sitting on the couch as the credits rolled. She had decided it was a perfect time to show him some new music. “You remember me showing you that band I really like? Greta Van Fleet?” She asked him.

“That’s the one with the short singer, right? Didn’t I go with you to one of their concerts?” Steve replied.

“Yes! Here’s one I haven’t shown you yet, it’s about love, how it’s a need and not something to fear or feel guilty about. It’s one of my favorites,” She rambled on before pulling it up on the TV to start the song. As the song started, he listened to her singing along more than he did to the song itself and watched as she danced around the room. She held out her hands to him, he grabbed her hands, standing up and danced along with her.

Love isn’t greed it’s a need that goes unspoken/Love doesn't leave when you fade away/Pain isn't vain if it means your heart's been broken/Pain is the same as a means to heal

As the song came to an end, the two stopped their dancing and just stood in the middle of the room, hands still linked together. “What do you think? Did you like it?” She asked, a smile gracing her face.

“It was a beautiful song. I can see why it’s one of your favorites,” Steve replied genuinely. He watched as her smile widened causing his own smile to spread over his lips. 

“It reminds me of you, that’s why I wanted to show you the song.”

“Why does it remind you of me?”

“Because I know that you have a fear of loving someone and then hurting them unintentionally. But love is something everyone needs, it’s a basic need humans have and although you are superhuman, you are still a human. Just because you hurt Peggy unintentionally all those years ago doesn’t mean that it’ll happen again,” She explained to him, bringing a tear to Steve’s eye.

“It’s scary to love someone so deeply when I know they could get hurt or they can get a target put on their back because of who I am. I’m scared to admit that I love someone because I don’t want to see them hurt,” Steve told her, the tear falling down his cheek. She reached her hand up and gently wiped the tear away.

“It’s okay to be scared, Steve. You are only human and humans have fears. Tell me about this person you love, what makes you love them so much?”

“She’s wonderful, absolutely wonderful. She never sees me as Captain America, only Steve Rogers from Brooklyn. I can tell her anything without any judgment and she helps me understand things that used to confuse the crap out of me. She shows me songs about love and tells me they remind her of me. She told me that love is a basic human need and that it’s okay to be scared.”

“Steve-”

“It’s you that I love, Y/N. I’ve just been too scared to say something because I didn’t want you to get hurt or risk the potential of you getting hurt. You mean so much to me and the last thing I want to happen is-”

He was cut off by her lips meeting his, effectively shutting him up. He was quick to react, his hands cupping her cheeks and his lips moving in sync with hers. She had wrapped her arms around his neck, urging him to move his body closer, so he moved his hands down to rest on her lower back, pulling her body into his. Steve could’ve kept going all day but Y/N needed air so she reluctantly pulled away, panting as she rested her forehead against his. 

“I love you too, Steve. I wanted to jump in but you just kept talking so I kissed you. Was that too much?” She asked him breathlessly.

“It wasn’t too much. Shut me up like that more often, yeah?” He replied, causing her to let out a chuckle.

“You got it Cap.”

[chocoadepti]

Nicola Drama CD Vol. 1 - Epilogo del 1927

This is an extremely rough translation, mainly mtl'd. Corrections more than welcome!!

That's a lot of people.

Forty thousand people...no, how many hundreds of thousands? It was a good thing I saved a hotel room. As I expected, I didn't want to join that crowd.

I had heard that New Year's Eve in New York is celebrated in Times Square rather than Trinity Church, but it was more than I expected.

The neon signs lit up the city more than usual, making it look white and shiny. It's so beautiful when you look down from a high place like this. But it's a shame that the night sky is so hazy, the beauty of the stars was better back in our hometown.

How is it, do you miss Burlone?

I don't think I'm the nostalgic type, but lately I've been thinking about that town a lot.

The street corner where I met you and the bar we used to go, the open-air restaurant in Veleno we passed by on a date, the shopping streets of Creta, and the Christmas Eve when we looked out over the square. ((Not quite sure about this part!))

I wonder why, there have been my share of bad times, but all I can remember are the good memories. And most of them are memories of you.

I hope one day, I don't know how many years or decades it will be, I'll have the chance to go back.

You see, for example, when passenger planes become stable enough to cross the Atlantic, it will be much easier and simpler to travel between America and Italy than it is now.

Ah, the Ball Drop. The countdown to the new year has begun. Less than a minute to 1928.

Yeah, this latest technology is pretty amazing. I heard they used a hundred bulbs in the Times Square Ball.

How do you like this kind of lively New Year's Eve? We haven't spent much time in church so far, but it's a good thing we went to the evening mass, so we were able to show our sincerity to God, right? ((Not sure about this part!!))

Here it seems to be the norm to do the ceremonies early and then have festivities at night with friends. I heard that New Year's Eve has become the mainstream, though I suppose it depends on the religious sect. ((Also not sure!!))

Oh, look, it's going to fall soon.

Five, Four, Three, Two, One

Here it comes. A new year has begun, 1928.

I'm glad to be here with you, my precious one, at this moment.

You're so cute too. I'm sure my wife will be just as cute next year and beyond.

I am glad that we were able to spend our first New Year's alone together after we got married.

After a few years, when it becomes normal for us to spend time together, it would be nice to invite not only family but also friends and have a party with everyone.

But that's a long way off. For now, I want to have you all to myself at least while we are newlyweds.

Eh, you also feel the same way?

Ah, I'm not doubting that you think so too, but you're being unusually honest, so I wondered what was wrong. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to question (??) you.

I was just happy and a little surprised.

I'm sorry.

Will you forgive me?

Grazie.

I think we've been out here too long, your cheeks are getting all cold. (??)

No, I'm not okay because you're so cold (??), so let's go back inside.

Come here, let's get you warmed up. I guess I'm colder than I thought too. It really does seem to get freezing cold in the winter here.

Yeah, I don't like the heat or the cold to begin with, but the reason I don't like winter is because it reminds me of so many things.

Ah, that's right, I've never talked about it with you. It was about 10 years ago now, I had spent winter in the Alps. I was stationed on the Italian Front.

I never regretted that choice. It was my own decision and I feel I did my duty. To paraphrase you, even if I could rewind time, I would make the same choice.

So many of my comrades died in that place, so many of them took up arms to protect their country, and many of them were broken by fear, crying to see their families and loved ones, but their tears soon froze and many of them died with regrets because they could do nothing about it. ((??))

Compared to them, I was very lucky. I could return to my hometown without losing anything. I still had two arms and both my legs were still connected.

It was good to return to my life (?), and the first thing I thought about was what to do with the rest of my life that I hadn't used up. But I didn't think too much about it. I knew what I wanted a long time ago, and I thought I would use my life for someone else.

I wanted to die protecting someone or something, just like my comrades.

It's not that I wanted to die, it's just that I've long since forgotten how strongly I wanted to not die. I'm willing to die to achieve my goals, and I've always been okay with that.

I'm sorry to tell you this, but listen, it's not like that anymore.

I'm Mafia, and I'm always in danger. The more power my Family gains, the more people will try to kill us. There are so many mafiosos in this city, and they are always looking for opportunities to take down other organizations.

We have left Burlone and arrived in New York, but I am sure that tough times will continue to occur.

Still, I won't die. No matter what, I won't die and leave you alone under any circumstances, I swear to God.

Ah, but it doesn't sound very credible for me to swear to God after what I did, does it?

Then, I'll swear to you, who is more important than God.

I will survive, even if I have to slurp up muddy water. Definitely.

I have lived my whole life for someone else. For my mother, for my country, for Dante, for my Family. I was told to do so, or I was forced to do so, and I thought it was my role to do so.

Now, I understand. Just like Dante, I was also bound to my blood for so long.

But now I'm free. You broke my cage, and now I just honestly want to be with you, to do this not because of someone else, but from my own desire. This is my wish, and no one else's. I want to live for my own sake, to make my own wish come true. I'm sorry that I couldn't say that I'll live for you. I'm being selfish and doing what I want for myself. (?? I'm not very sure about this part!))

Eh, you're saying that it's only natural? That I'm not being selfish.

That's why I fell in love with you/That's why I'm crazy about you. (Two different interpretations here lol)

I love you, my precious. Thank you.

If you were to live for me, then of course I'd be happy. But, if you were to live for yourself, and then you want to be with me, and stay by my side, then I'll be more than happy.

That's right, Signorina, how do you want to spend your first day of the year? If you want to get up early and go out, then you may need to go to bed. Or do you want to stay up late until the sun rises? Of course, if you want to chat then I'm also welcome to that.

We can talk while lounging in bed, but there may not be much of a conversation. Ah, I'm not trying to distract you, but, you see, I know myself pretty well.

Well, why don't we sit on the couch and chat, then that way I'm sure I won't disregard your wishes.

How about I make you something warm? Like hot milk?

Just like that night we met, I took your shaking hand and tucked you in. I was hoping to get you to let your guard down and maybe even fall in love with me, but I never thought that I would be the one to fall. I thought I had prepared for that quite carefully.

You see, Sister Sophia came to the house the next day and asked me to take care of you here, right? Actually, I had arranged that in advance.

You were very surprised at that time, weren't you? You never would have thought that and experienced and serious Sister would ask such a favor from the Mafia.

I told her in advance that it was necessary for your safety. I though that she(you?) would be hesitant to do so, and more than anything, I thought she(you?) would be scared. I asked her to make it a proposal from the Sisters.

I was planning a lot of things like this without you seeing it.

Well, I was betrayed by my own heart, which should have been the easiest to control.

All right, sit back and wait for me to make it soon. Ah, you're going to follow me? You're being more honest and sweet tonight than usual. How cute. How about we skip talking and go to bed instead?

I'm joking, I'm joking!

But we can't stay awake forever, so we'll go to bed sooner or later, right? If you're sleepy then, I'll caress your cheek and thank you for being my wife, kiss you softly and go to sleep with you. But if we go to bed and your eyes are still wide open and you're still acting sweet like this, then I'll live up to your expectations. It's ok to sleep in until afternoon tomorrow, after all there's no butler here to get mad at me.

My hot milk is a recipe that Giulia taught me. I heat it slowly over low heat like this. The trick is to keep stirring without boiling.

Can you pass me the mugs? Grazie.

Honey and cinnamon are the finishing touches.

Here you go, Signorina, be careful not to burn your tongue.

Maybe a bit too sweet. I'm glad you like it, your smile is the best reward of all.

Do you remember when I said it was enough for me to have a lovely wife at home?

That was my true feeling at the time. You didn't need to go out, do housework, or work, I just wanted you to be at home waiting for me to come home. I didn't want anything more than that, I was satisfied just by your presence.

But things are a little different now.

I want to have you all to myself, but I don't want to lock you away.

The woman I fell in love with is probably not the type of person who likes to stay at home, and even if she says she doesn't have to do anything, she should find something she can do and make an effort. (??)

I like that about you.

I want you to live your life the way you do.

Of course, if you want to stay at home all the time, that's fine. Even if you are just lounging in bed every day, my love for you will not change. But if you want to cook, or clean, or whatever else, then I'll convince Bartolo. He's a bit of a pain, but I can handle it.

Just because you're my wife doesn't mean you have to subject yourself to the rules that impose obligations or don't give rights. (??)

That's a bad tradition.

If you want to go out and find something you want to do and work hard to make it happen, then I'll support you. Of course I have my concerns, because I think it's best for you to stay home so you're not involved in anything dangerous or put in harm's way.

And I know that starting something new can be exhausting, painful, and hurtful.

I used to want to keep you away from all that, but that's my own ego, and if I really love you, then I shouldn't blindfold you, right?

I want you to see the world with your own eyes./ I must allow you to see the world with your own eyes. ((?? Unsure if this one too))

I've grown up a bit in the past year to be able to think this way, don't you think?

If you start something new and still have a hard time, then I will comfort you a lot. I will encourage you until you feel better and help you until the problem is solved. And afterwards I'll make you something like this, hot milk or whatever you like, hold you close until the tears stop, and go to sleep with you.

Then when morning comes, the two of us can work together again.

Instead of leaning on one person, let's take each other's hand and live together forever, supporting each other even when trials sometimes come our way.

You have always faced me with sincerity.

I will look straight back at you and respond to that that sincerity with my own.

Hey, my precious, I believe in your heart and mind.

So can you believe in me too? There is no room for hypocrisy in my feelings for you.

I will always be with you this year, next year, and no matter how many years pass, I will protect you no matter what happens.

I will continue to love you the best I can.

So don't ever leave me.

Please love me.

[femmmie]

THE ISLAND

Read the entire fic on AO3

Chapter 8: The betrayal

Ian can't believe Amanda would write a hit piece on him. And yet, here we are. Meanwhile, Angela asks Amanda to come with her on an expedition of sorts...

Chapter word count: 2.266

Rating: general

“The fall of president Hecox

By Amanda Lehan-Canto

Once America’s golden boy, mister Hecox ran a brilliant but deceiving campaign, running on decency and respect. His platform was unifying and appealing to the general electorate.

Once elected, though, things quickly took a turn. As soon as he was sworn in, it was like a Russian sleeper-cell was activated. He grabbed power, misusing the declaration of a state of emergency. He’s been governing like a tyrant ever since.

Big business is not happy with these developments. A CEO of one of the Fortune 500 companies bemoaned anonymously: “We fear for our lives, actually. If the heat doesn’t get us, these draconian constraints on the free market will surely choke us to death!”

In fact, because Hecox has shown to be a liar and completely turned from being a normal and nice guy to being a self-imposed Steward of the country, he has thrown capitalism and democracy out of the window. A far cry from the all-American image he so carefully crafted of himself.

What will he do next? Will he usurp even more power? Will he dissolve congress? Who is to say, nobody knows ‘this’ Ian Hecox. We live in uncertain times and will remain so for the foreseeable future. One thing is clear, however: something has to be done about it.”

Ian couldn’t believe it. He and Amanda’d had a lovely interview once again just yesterday! How could she have done him dirty like this?

“Can you believe this crap?!” Ian showed the People.com article to Shayne and Courtney on his phone. They stood inside the oval office.

“It really doesn’t sound much like her. I thought she was cool,” Courtney said.

Shayne shook his head slowly. “Yeah, me too. What the heck? She was the only journalist still willing to write honestly about you. But I guess she finally folded to the pressure.”

Ian was genuinely hurt. He could usually judge people really well. And he’d only gotten good vibes from Amanda. They had… they had a ‘thing’. He didn’t even know if it was flirting, or just goofing off. But every time they would be close, something was in the air between them.

“And they even chose my ugliest picture!”

“Yeah, that doesn’t look good, my guy,” Shayne one-armed Ian’s head. Ian pushed him off playfully.

“Well, then. It’s going to be interesting to see which companies will still do business with us after this. We had the green energy ones planned this week.”

“Yeah, about that…” Shayne mumbled sheepishly.

“Just give it to me straight?”

“They cancelled.”

Ian threw his hands in the air in frustration. “Then why did I become president?”

~

“What the hell?!” Amanda called, and she never called otherwise, with her boss at People.com. “I didn’t write this? Why are you posting it under my name?”

“You interviewed him last, that little WANKER,” her boss squeaked. “And it was high time someone told the BLOODY TRUTH about him.”

“What are you even saying? This is unacceptable! Retract the article or I quit!”

“Well, I got news for you, babe: YOU’RE FIRED!”

Her boss hung up, but he apparently hadn’t pushed the button correctly. So, she overheard him say:

“Now, where’s my BOOZE!”

After the incident, Amanda called Trevor.

“Hey Trev. I have some bad news…”

~

It was the middle of the night, but infuriatingly hot as you were supposed to only use the AC during the day. Amanda paced back and forth through her apartment in her underwear. What would she do now? Somehow, she didn’t feel like pursuing journalism anymore after all this.

But as Fate would have it, her phone rang. It was Angela. Amanda sat down and relaxed into her couch.

“Angela! Am I glad to hear your voice.”

“Hey Amanda, sorry for calling so late. So, uh, this might be a weird question, …”

Amanda’s heart swelled. Angela’s voice was raspy as always and full of cheer. She just made Amanda smile.

They had talked on and off the last couple of months. Only on the phone, though.

“But I remember us talking that time at the dog park about how you love nature and would like to make a change.”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m going on an expedition to basically get some people together and brainstorm ideas on how we can make that change. To battle the heat, use nature to help out people and animals and stuff. I know you’re a busy woman, but…”

“You had me at ‘weird question’.” Amanda smiled and pushed her phone against her ear.

“Great! We sail out tomorrow at 9 o’ clock.”

“Wait. Tomorrow? Wait. Sail?”

“Yeah, I know it’s kinda short notice! But you know how it goes, I talked to a couple of folks and they have commissioned an artwork on an island. I told them I’d do it for free if they would let us chill there for a while so we can focus and come up with the best ideas.”

“Angela, my dad would love you. you’re so strange.”

“Gee, Amanda, thanks. You know actually, that’s the biggest compliment you could give me. Plus, you’re weird yourself, loser.”

“Ugh, I AM a loser though. Ang, I just lost my job…”

“WHAT? Oh no, baby! I’m sorry to hear that. But that means you have all the time to help me out!”

“I guess I do! But wait, what do I even bring on a boat?”

“Uh.. I don’t know actually. I guess a toothbrush?”

“Sounds good. Wow, I’m actually doing this? We’re going sailing? What if there’s another hurricane though?”

“There won’t be.”

“If you say so, babe. Oh, ew, my old boss called me babe. Can you believe it? He also used to call me ‘bird’, it was weird.”

“Ew ew ew! What the hell? Can’t you sue him or something?”

“Nah, I’m not putting all my energy into that. I’m just glad I’m out of there!”

“Yeah, me too! Nobody treats my friends badly without suffering the consequences! Which are, that I glare in their general direction, disapprovingly.”

Amanda laughed, and felt extremely grateful to have someone like Angela in her life. She’d never connected with anyone that well before.

Amanda felt safe talking to Angela. Raving to her about the latest Bridgerton episode, trying to get her to come to a true crime village, which was probably or definitely a tourist trap, but wanting to go anyway. And Angela was always enthusiastic, always up for ‘the bit’ and indulging Amanda to a degree nobody else ever had.

Even though they had only met once before, Angela felt like home.

~

“Hi, oh my god!”

Amanda hadn’t slept. She had thrown some clothes and her toothbrush into a suitcase, downloaded her favorite true crime series onto her phone and mindlessly brushed her hair until her alarm rang.

And now she stood on the quayside, looking up at Angela who was already on board.

“AYE AYE, SAILOR!” Angela saluted.

“I hope this isn’t my White Star Line!”

“HEY! NO JINXING IT!”

“Sorry, cap’n!” Amanda tipped an imaginary hat to Angela.

“Whew, okay, I guess I’ll get on board!”

~

The trawler, an old fishing boat, was quite large. Even so, there were a lot of people on board and everyone was crowding around in the salon. Amanda, being as tall as she was, had to bend her head down a little. It gave her cramps.

“So, you remember Chanse?”

“Of course, hi!”

Chanse waved.

“And these are Damien, Arasha, Noah, Keith, Nicole and Olivia. They are all experts at strengthening the environment against climate.”

“Look at you! It’s so nice to meet you all!”

Everyone politely waved or shook Amanda’s hand.

“So, are we all set?” Angela asked.

“Not quite, I have a plus one, if you don’t mind.” Amanda looked out of the window. A tall guy wearing a bandana quickly approached.

“Hi! Is this the right one?” He called.

Amanda ran on deck and waved at him.

“There you are, Jack!”

“Oh, my dear Rose!” Trevor joked back.

“TREVOR!” Angela, who’d followed Amanda outside, called down.

“Wow, your voice is so loud from up close, haha.” Amanda winked at her.

“You know me, my Italian roots run deep.”

“I love that!” Amanda fixed her hair behind her ear.

Trevor climbed up the boat as well. He hugged Amanda warmly and shook hands with Angela. Amanda had filled him in just this morning, and he’d volunteered to come with immediately. Amanda was really lucky to have a friend like him.

“So, where are we going?”

~

Everyone was either sat at or stood around the salon table, eating breakfast. Amanda sat next to Trevor and Angela. She was in high spirits despite the few hours of sleep she got last night.

“Thanks again everyone,” Angela began, “for joining me on such short notice. You know, things may seem bad and may be bad. But everywhere there are people trying to do something about it. And we can make a bit of an impact too. I really believe that. And, you know, if it’s all in vain, at least we died trying!”

The crew was silent. Amanda decided to laugh loudly to break the awkwardness.

“Yeah, we sure will Angela, haha! Anyway, I would actually love to know what everyone here does. What is your specialty? Because, well, I don’t have any, to be honest. But I am a journalist so I could at least try to get your ideas out there.”

“And I can spice up her stories with some good shots,” Trevor added. Amanda smiled at him. He was so cute.

“Shall we do a little roundtable?”

“Yeah, awesome,” Damien seemed eager to talk about his passion. He had a warm face and dyed silver hair. “Yeah, so I specialize in weather control. It’s not even my personal preference, because, ehh, it’s never without consequences. But things like great green walls, meaning giant forests surrounding cities to protect them from sandstorms and desertification for example. Those are cool. But if there really is no other way, you can use chemicals to make it rain.”

“Wow, that’s so impressive!” Angela was sketching in a little booklet.

“My work is also pretty impressive,” Keith said so deadpan that everyone was scared for a second but then laughed. “I put polluters in jail! I’m an environmental prosecutor and basically try to get big companies to pay for their sins. Let’s not kid ourselves though, haha. They will not stop polluting. But that cash goes a long way to help small businesses that do follow the rules.”

Arasha nodded. She was a beautiful girl with sharp features and long, black hair, falling in tresses around her shoulders. “I can’t believe these big corporations, don’t they know they’ve already killed off half the planet? The CEOs should be in jail!” She sighed. “I work at a smaller scale but try to optimize the outcome. The thing I do is plant tiny forests in big cities. They grow like crazy and provide a little shelter for the local animals and people alike.”

Amanda’s eyes lit up. “Aww, tiny forests? That sounds so cute! I’m imagining these tiny trees looking all cute and stuff…”

“They are pretty cute, you’re right.”

“You’re cute, cutie!”

“Aw, gee, thanks, Amanda.”

Trevor rolled his eyes.

“I work to supply companies that try to improve the climate with the data that they need,” Noah said a bit shyly. His hair was dyed green, and he had big green eyes. “It’s not as cool as you guys’ projects but it’s nice to be able to work data driven. It helps people higher up in these companies have the necessary arguments for their decisions.”

“Yeah, we use a data driven approach as well,” Olivia, a beautiful petite woman with a mischievous demeanor, continued the roundtable. I’m coordinating rewilding projects all over North America: wherever we can release animals that thrive in the changing climate, and have a positive impact on the environment, we do it. But we need lots of data to determine where exactly the right places are to do it. This way, nature does a big part of the job itself.”

“I love that,” Nicole said. “Our company Pressalike does carbon hypercapture. Nicole was a gorgeous woman in fashionable clothing, outclassing everyone else, except for her pink Grindr hat. “We could supercharge your tiny forests, Arasha.”

“That would be amazing!” Arasha smiled.

Angela sat up and stopped drawing for a moment. “See! We’re already making progress! Yeah, so I am more in Amanda and Trevor’s lane: I attract attention to the good cause with my artwork.”

“And you’re a masterful organizer,” Chanse added. “Oh, hii again everyone. Yes! So, well, I am your captain! That’s my job.”

Everyone laughed and cheered him on.

“Go Chanse! We won’t get anywhere without you!”

“So yeah, let’s leave shore and head to the island!” Chanse got up and went to the control room.

“I hope we see some whales or orcas or something,” Olivia said hopefully, looking out.

“I heard you can attract them by throwing meat into the water,” Keith suggested.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Noah challenged him.

“Don’t throw meat into the water!” Angela hastily interrupted. “I don’t even know if we have meat,” she added, pondering and losing track of her thoughts.

Olivia and Keith disappeared.

“They’re going to check if there’s meat on board this boat,” Amanda and Trevor whispered to each other.

“They better not find any!” Arasha shuddered. “I’m terrified of sea creatures! Any of them!”

[lazywriter7]

Cap-Ironman Rec Week - Take A Chance On Me Sunday

I’m a firm believer that good writing and a long enough wordcount can sell me on anything... which is why this list was hard, because I read coffee shop and Hogwarts AUs to major character death, twice over. But I think we’ve come up with some fun stuff to rec nonetheless -  Same old story. by orphan_account “We’re toasting our regrets,” Tony explains. “Your turn." “Oh,” Steve says. It takes him a long minute to think of something. Or, more likely, it takes him a long moment to work up the courage. But then he turns and raises his bottle to Tony. Looks him dead in the eyes, a sad, sort of wistful smile on his face, and says, “You.” Notes: On a list of era preferences, post-Endgame is usually not super high for me, and this fic is the Most Endgame. It’s compliant with Steve’s ending Endgame. And yet I enjoyed it so very much because it gave me a SteveTony ending without necessarily going back on their past loves and choices, it talks to regret without actually rewriting it, and I very, very much recommend it. such a devotion of the heart by  drunkonwriting Persuasion AU. Tony is a disillusioned heir on the outs with his wealthy, spend-thrift father, trying to finish his master's degree so he can work on engineering instead of joining the House of Lords. When he has to return home to prepare his family house to be rented, he doesn’t expect the new tenants to be Bucky Barnes and his new wife - old friends of Tony’s spurned ex-fiancé, Captain Steve Rogers. Tony, still heart-broken over their falling out, has no intention of meeting Captain Rogers again if he can help it. Captain Rogers has other plans. Notes: I don’t always click on WIPs, which is mighty hypocritical of me, and Persuasion is... mumbles someofmyleastfavouriteAusten. This fic, however, does address some of the things I don’t always enjoy about the original plot, and the liveliness and detail in the writing and characterisation is more than worth it not being complete yet... so go and shower it with love! how much i’ve been touching you by isozyme Steve loves Tony, but not enough to listen about the SRA. He loves Sharon, but not enough to stop coming to Tony late at night. Notes: Oh boy. Infidelity is one of those very, very few tags I avoid, but I’ve loved all of this author’s other work, so gave this one a shot. It’s brutal, ugly and unpleasant, which is exactly the way I’m supposed to feel, and so very, very well done. The excellent prose -  Rain sluices down Tony’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Every so often the wind shifts, and the downpour slams into the glass mid-fall like an open-handed slap. - accentuates every emotion the reader is meant to feel, so if you’re in the right mood for it, this is a highly impactful read. Childhood is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies by MemoryDragon Seven-year-old Tony Stark wakes up on a Hydra base, lost, afraid, and alone. He has to overcome his fears before it's too late for the Avengers and Captain America. Notes: Character de-aging is something that can be hit-or-miss for me, but this one is a classic. By the very nature of the premise and how much time Tony spends as a seven year old, it’s more pre-slash though Steve/Tony is tagged, but watching Steve and the Avengers match their expectations of who they think Tony is versus who they see in his younger self, makes for quite the satisfying read. The Time of the Season by  WhenasInSilks Iron Man shuffles his feet and clears his throat in a burst of static. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here. Doesn’t matter the reason.” For one wild moment Steve actually considers it. Surely if he can tell anyone, it’s Iron Man? Iron Man would never shrink away, would never laugh at him. But what could he possibly say? Actually, Shellhead, I just pulled myself off three times in the past hour and I was thinking about your boss the entire time. Actually, Shellhead, I’m a science experiment they let out of the lab too soon and I think I might be going out of my mind. Notes: This is another one of those WIPs that is completely worth the read and subscribe, because identity porn oh myy :D The author takes the secret identities of Tony Stark and Iron Man and pushes them to the farthest extremes, till it’s incredibly entertaining and somewhat disconcerting and the amount of sheer pining that exists in one room is surely enough to kill us all of delight. A Fool's Name For Fate by  elise_509 It’s 1949. Hollywood’s system of powerful studios and contract stars is fading fast as a new decade looms. Tony Stark thinks he’s just the type of forward-thinking, madcap genius that can solve the dream factory’s woes, and maybe he can. If not for a certain distraction named Steve Rogers, the golden boy who should clearly be twenty-feet high on the silver screen yet seems determined to stay hidden behind the scenes. Tony’s used to getting what he wants, but now he’s not sure what that is. Or rather, who that is. Notes: More WIPs that deserve love! The premise is so captivating, and the writing even more so. I love the period it’s set in, I love how Tony and Steve fit into it and the roles they play, as well as the way they play off each other, and the sheer pleasure I got from the 70k words I gobbled down is definitely worth holding out for an ending.  And that’s all for today. Go take a chance on reading something you normally wouldn’t!

[angie-j-kay]

Find The Word Tag, also Meme Monday

I was tagged by @dyrewrites. I am tagging @abalonetea, @gummybugg, and @k--havok. No pressure, no worries.

My words were: tight, blur, trap and sweet.

Yours are: heart, ick, hold, and bark.

Naturally, this is from What You Cast Out: A Tale From Little Egypt.

Tight: The thing holding Tracey back was tensed, wound so tightly that it felt as hard as the stone around them. Tracey felt the Reliquus lean backwards, just a bit. This was a new feeling, though. It wasn't fear, exactly. The Reliquus growled a bit in uncertainty, confusion dusting across both of their minds. Something was wrong. Tracey didn't know what it was, but something had just gone very, very wrong.

Blur: The suspect's eyes clapped closed against the sudden light, and she stumbled backwards against the frame of the door. Before she could fall, though, a blur of red fabric swung up in defense. Gabe moved just a fraction of a second too late to block it. He caught the drawstring backpack directly on the side of his head. If the bag had been holding anything heavy, the blow would have been devastating. Even as it was, it threw him ever so slightly off balance. His flashlight flew, bouncing off the wall loudly, and the shadows of the hall danced as it spun.

Trap: “Yeah, that's for the best,” Sarah smirked at her. “Shit like this is exactly why we try to stay hidden. The Florals, anyway. The Fae have been hiding from Humans for most of history.”

“Been wondering about that,” Tracey admitted. “They change depending on how they're perceived. I take it avoiding us helps them stay in one shape?”

“Yeah, something like that. To be honest, I never bothered to learn most of their history. There was something about Humans trapping them, long ago. I didn't care enough to read into it. They're in charge over us, and we're the redheaded stepchildren to them. That was always enough for me.”

Sweet: It was a mead hall, like the pictures in her history books. Well, it was supposed to be, anyway. The roof was vaulted high, and there was sunlight coming in from the little windows at the top. There was a fire pit in the middle, with a kettle of something savory-smelling hanging from a bar over the top of the embers. Tables set with candles, mismatched goblets, and trays of fruit lined the walls. It even smelled right. Tracey had never wondered what a mead hall would have smelled like, but somewhere between the smell of smoke, the massive amounts of old wood, the stew, and the sweetness of the fruit lying around, she felt almost as if she had been transported back in time.

This felt far more like what Faerie should have been. Even the stone of the floor under her feet felt like it just belonged to another world. If she didn't look too closely, Tracey could even ignore that the tables were of the variety that graced every park and picnic site in America.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

What You Cast Out: A Tale From Little Egypt (Novel Masterpost HERE!)

A small college town is rocked by a horrific murder, with only one suspect. Officer Gabe Nelson knows Tracey Rutledge can't possibly be guilty, but the only thing more incriminating than the woman's behavior is everything else that his investigation reveals.

Why does the case trace back to her childhood home, and why did she run away from it eight years ago?

Why is the FBI as interested in Tracey as they are in the murder?

What smells like wet dogs?

As the case closes in on Tracey, so does the real killer. Gabe will have to choose between the life he has always believed in and the values he has always held, while the world he thought was real starts to fall apart.

Chapters are available for download on Ko-Fi and Patreon!

--------------------------------------------------------

NO AI WAS OR EVER WILL BE USED IN THE PRODUCTION OF MY ZINES.

If you like this post, I'd love it if you shared it so more folks could see it. The more people share this post, the more people will be able to read the novel!

And if you'd like to join my taglist, let me know!

The current taglist: @wedgie-of-destiny, @nightacquainted, @storminmywake, @brokenandlonelysouls, @tattur, @theamazingchickenman, @solstice-muse-collective, @axl-ul, @tucsonhorse

[andrewuttaro]

Skepticism, space for God, and that election

There is something truly good and righteous about a curious mind. We modern people so often pose faith and religious belief against science and reasonable skepticism. It seems to those of us who have been blessed with a good education understand from experience that a curious skepticism that tests hypotheses and asks hard questions is a helpful mindset in many areas of life. From science to politics, from relationships to business, we have to have a critical mindset, right?

The idea of doing my research in a Presidential election seemed utterly useless if I did not apply the harshest and most critical skepticism possible of those seeking my vote. Right? RIGHT!?

Indeed so much of our modern world leans heavily on a critical mindset towards everything from holding down a job to making thoughtful entertainment choices. We are taught to be skeptical consumers to avoid recalled products and anything that might make us look like we support something we don’t. I think I speak for many of my age peers when I say it’s hard to put a finger on any moment when righteous skepticism failed us.

Alas, it does. Righteous skepticism easily gives way to unjust cynicism.

A serious relationship with God uses righteous skepticism as an accent more than an entrée. It’s certainly there in the right places but where it fails is clear: when we shake our fists up at God wondering why he let some peril fall into our lives. Like Job of the Old Testament we sometimes only look up to God when we are in torment… or when we want a favor as one musical artist named Jellyroll sings.  

Socially speaking, righteous skepticism fails us when we use it as a reason to not empathize with our fellow human beings long enough to encounter them for their true self. That is the starting point for any good faith effort in life, at least any such social endeavor. That is, we must believe there is more to a person than what is immediately, outwardly obvious. We humans are not logical beings, or at least we are not in every area of who we are and how we want to live our lives. If we are too skeptical of those who are in our corner, so to speak, we tend to close ourselves off in isolation.

Skepticism will lead you to cynicism if that’s your only lens. To be serious about knowing others for who they actually are we need a different lens. This is also the space we have to leave open if we ever want to truly know God in a personal way. To those who place God outside their grasp, a la faith, this is why: God is encountered in trust, not skepticism. We might cling to skepticism a bit too hard for fear of being a fool in the end. But some of life’s greatest loves involve making ourselves fools. More on that later.

Where righteous skepticism fails is the same place religious faith most often fails us: in the public sphere when we abandon the good faith agreement necessary for both endeavors, often because we confuse righteous skepticism with unjust cynicism. No group project is successful if we both assume who the slackers are and then treat them like slackers without demanding anything better from them.

In that situation we leave no space for the sustaining spiritual truth underneath the willingness to cooperate in the first place: humanity in the former, God in the latter.

This is too nebulous to start. Let’s be brutally real. On the whole we are in a place culturally that is defined by a willful alienation. We groan at the call to cross the divides because our comfort zones have never been more comfortable. We look across the divide and construct a cynical stereotype of our chosen outsiders and then call it righteous skepticism. The truth is that it’s killing us, or at least the social order we fancy in this country.

The Election and a vaguely hopeful outlook

Let’s get this out of the way in blunt terms: we talk past each other in politics here in America lately. The information age has entered a phase where we have tuned our echo-chambers so keenly that essential new information comes as a surprise. News is something I have enjoyed from a young age: I am a news media junkie. In an electoral cycle like the one we just made it through that felt more like a crippling addiction to me than any kind of resourcefulness: a hobby the way vomiting in alleyways outside bars is a hobby.

To say we live in a post-factual political reality in the United States, and an increasing segment of the broader world for that matter, I think is cynical and ultimately a vast oversimplification of a spiritual moment we’re in as a country. The good faith cooperation that our political system always depended upon here in the United States, that is an adherence to non-legal, procedural norms rooted in mutual respect, was always a profound weakness wrapped up in a familial joy. Now the norms are all but dead because we are thoroughly insulated from any sense of familial joy toward our opponents.

In other words the echo chambers don’t overlap at all anymore. Two generations ago we assumed our politicians wouldn’t get too brutal with each other because their kids played together at social gatherings. Now our politicians accuse each other of every crime imaginable with regularly and they are insulated from dissenting opinions in echo chambers like the rest of us. Their kids certainly don’t play together anymore for fear of catching the other side’s moral ills as if politics is cultural contagion.

The truth is you cannot expect everyone to have all the facts, even in the information age. People will make the decision they will make based on the facts they comprehend. A wise confessor once told me that in smarter sounding words. Prepare for that in all the endeavors of your life. Encounter is the expectation to hold everyone to whether or not all the facts are known. Encounter being a shorthand we use in religious circles for this aforementioned looking past initial impressions to a more accurate understanding of who a person actually is.

There is a familial joy that a high-functioning nation-state can produce within a healthy body politic: an almost religious commitment to see each other as three-dimensional human beings with hopes and fears, that is what keeps a democracy healthy. Empathy acted upon: encounter. But this is so out of style you might read that with levels of disgust breaking the scales, who could possibly believe my opponent is good in anyway?

We outsource a sense of community strictly within our echo-chambers nowadays and wow, did it show in this election.

Call me naïve but I truly believe this kind of encounter can save us. Had we all genuinely encountered one another for who we really are in the aftermath of that deeply isolating global pandemic that occurred a few years back, then we are probably on a different road today. And I am not even necessarily saying the Presidential election would have been different. But let’s call a spade a spade here.

We have decided against genuine encounter with each other. We have decided that authoritarianism is more tolerable than the slightest want or meaningful contact with someone who wouldn’t fit in within our preferred cultural caste. Our society is rapidly re-segregating along ideological lines before our eyes and the scariest part is nobody of any political stripe really seems to be all that interested in fixing it. It’s as if we are perfectly content to find entertainment in the misfortune of our political and cultural opponents to the detriment of everything including the stability of the government itself.

Have mercy. People have dignity imparted on them by God and we cannot steal from them the room to be wrong and the room to will for something else if they have second thoughts. Unjust cynicism under the guise of some righteous skepticism is undoing the empathy needed to make government work at all. Forgive my gloominess here. Government and politics are always a tenuous project and if this one fails we’ll start another one… unless this choice earlier this month is truly irreversible in a despotic kind of way.

In democracy choices are not supposed to be irreversible. But then again the United States of America is not a normal democracy. That’s not for any structural, cultural, or even demographic reason: it’s pure geography.

Our country sits upon the North American continent in such a way that no other political entity can seriously challenge its power here, economically or politically, without appealing to the conscience of the nation. Our government supposedly governs according to our conscience as a people, that’s the underlying implication of representative government. That body politic needs to be quite healthy to bear the responsibility of this place on earth. Yes, there is a geographic danger to our elections we don’t talk about.

Two enormous oceans border America’s two coasts and the continental nations bordering her to the north and south are weakened by having a fraction of her arable land, population, and navigable waterways. The East Coast, from the Southern tip of Texas to the northern tip of Maine is fortified almost continually by barrier islands anchored by two enormous deep-water bays. The nation’s geography also allows for functional energy and agricultural independence. This is all before you even talk about the external power projection of the most advanced military in human history.

To the extent that this country is a force for good, this geographic fortification was never a true concern of the rest of the world; rather it was a resource. The arsenal of democracy! But if there is ever a truly authoritarian government on this continent, something truly unaccountable and undemocratic, it will be a menace to humanity for centuries that our species would be lucky to contain to just our planet. This is the research I would invite you to because I don’t think I am exaggerating in the slightest on this point.

American elections have a bit more weight when you consider the geographic over-powered nature of the country. But authoritarianism will never happen here, right? Right?

But hopefully we all take our vote seriously enough to not need to go to that particular thought bubble. I don’t know, I’ve never been more unsure our country will avoid that fate then when an insurrectionist reclaimed the highest office in the land earlier this month. Not to mention that person has a governing trifecta, functional control of the Courts, and an opposition party that has consistently proven impotent to counter his movement effectively. Hopefully I’m overreacting. Frankly I pray I am overreacting. So yeah… let’s hope democracy remains strong and holds those it elects to account.

Space for God is space for each other

Pope Francis recently said “To grow in life one must overcome fear and embrace trust.” To the degree we stereotype and oversimplify the world around us and the people in it we give into fear. Sometimes it seems our righteous skepticism is ordered toward fear more than trust. We rush to identify what is fearful and don’t bother risking trust when we don’t have to. Perhaps that is the brakes on our growth as people and as groups of people.

Life is changing for me. This is my last article with a distinctly political edge. I’ve seen enough. I am calling it, so to speak, on my own ability to say anything insightful about my country’s politics, at least enough to feel the need to post them on the eternal repository of the internet. I will soldier through what comes next because I believe in a God beyond my control. I want to grow in that trust for what lies ahead, not build any walls of fear.

That is not a banner I wave. In fact sometimes I fear I hide my belief in God too much. Part of that belief however is the trust in God enough to give all his other children the space to not be cajoled into thinking like me. When we use politics to enforce our worldview, as opposed to using it to impose the best possible policy, we turn the shared space of public life into a warzone in a matter of time. No political party is innocent of this.

The opening contemplation on righteous skepticism is, to some extent, a letter to the college-educated liberal circles I find myself in more often than not. But the mindset we’re talking about with that is the baseline of most modern people regardless of their political identification. If we live in some kind of godless age, which I don’t believe we do by the way, its simply because our starting point is so hostile to that patient encounter required to know anything not cleanly scientific. Want to know something not cleanly scientific? People!

Righteous skepticism comes after the objective foundation. We believe in the scientific method because we believe the universe is knowable. We continue living life day in and day out in spite of its difficulties because we believe life is worth living. Those are assumptions so basic to human life in the 21st century that we don’t ever really question them unless we’re in a deep dark place… or we’re religious. Those baseline assumptions are clearly broken.

Yes, the one about our nation being a collection of committed believers in rule of law, separation of powers, and basic human decency was clearly wrong but that’s not what I am talking about anymore. Our baseline assumptions about what people want are broken. I mean this on a philosophical, spiritual level: we lost the plot at some point. Cynicism about the intentions of public institutions was once a regrettable duty strictly for watchdogs; now it is such a national pastime that few public institutions are not completely hated by some segment of the public.

Of course human institutions will always have at least some ill intent because they’re made up of humans with some ill intent! But our righteous skepticism has so fortified us from anything we fear might make us look a fool that we are nearly to the point of giving up basic joys of life like holidays with family members we disagree with. And I don’t just mean the government as we’ve imagined it in this country for decades: I mean meaningful human interaction!

I am not going to lecture anyone to get off their phones. I had a smart phone in middle school, I am all the way gone on that front. What I will say is touch grass in the jargon of the chronically online: encounter something real and tangible that makes you feel uncomfortable! Pull apart the neat, pejorative boxes you’ve put every type of person into and find the common good!

To put it another way I find the advertising for Artificial Intelligence (AI) products fascinating. It honestly makes me think we are starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel of the isolated mind typical of this echo-chamber phase of the information age. One ad really sticks with me. Google wants you to buy a product to help your child write a letter to their role model, or at least that’s what the ad shows off. It tidies up the diction, grammar, and punctuation to the point the receiver of the letter will soon think AI is spamming them with actual, physical letters.

An experience that could be instructive for being a more mature soul, like writing a letter, is just another homework assignment that you kinda feel like you cheated on as to not risk human vulnerability. On an individual what a loss that is for being human, leaving space for that faith in ourselves. In San Francisco the self-driving cars are being tested in the wild. I saw it firsthand in September. That felt like the next public space after the supermarket check outs where the robots had to colonize, eh?

I have seen the future, and it does not have staying power! Even in a world where the infrastructure and technological kinks are worked out the anti-social concept breaks a baseline assumption that would otherwise leave space for human beings to be human beings. If you give all these jobs to AI then nobody will have the money to afford AI in the first place. Do you see where I am going with this?

Even on the societal level we’re so alienated from each other that its tearing apart society at the seams. We’re either cruising toward the ultimate pre-communist starter world where society is only affordable for the owning class or we’re heading for a human lived experience so detached from all perspective and humanity that we’ll opt to be plugged into the proverbial matrix excitedly. We might be a generation away from fighting tooth and nail to not to be unplugged from our preferred reality. I am not that pessimistic. I think we do have the power to decide the society we want to live in. But I do think we’re coming to the breaking point.

You can only cut so many friends and family out of your life for not towing the same worldview bonafides  before the whole social structure is unlivable. Perhaps this recent presidential election was simply won by the coalition that was more unplugged? No, I said I was done with the political commentary. That’s it.

The light at the end of the tunnel is trust. We are going to have to leave space for each other to exist without the rigors of righteous skepticism breathing down our necks, at least not in the world of baseline human interaction. This might necessarily lead us to faith in one another again. That is faith in one another to start, but faith, nonetheless. That is the first building block to restoring the necessary norms of political cooperation that makes that whole mess look generally more hospitable to the untrained eye.

We are better for putting a little faith in each other. We’re also better for having a little faith in what we can’t even faintly understand: in other words, God.

Leaving space for each other is leaving space for God. No, God is not something that science will ever disprove just like science is not something that God will ever disprove. That was a false conflict from the start. We ate it up though, didn’t we? We seek moral permission slips whether or not we consider ourselves even remotely moral or religious people. My wife hates it when I overeat, so trust me, this is hard for me to admit too. The slightest physical exertion gets the water on the burner to boil pasta for me.

We’ll eat up any permission structure that gives us what we want. It’s time to start pursuing what we need instead. We can, we’ve done it before, as a society and as individuals when commitment comes knocking in life. Leave the space open for human beings to be human.

If you are even kind of open to faith in God then maybe that starts with simply leaving the space open for him. In the beginning that will be just a space without righteous skepticism, as it grows that will become faith as you get to know him better. At some point you will realize the righteous skepticism is useful in this newfound relationship you’ve trusted your way into.

The Closing Plea

To close the loop on this article I suppose its worth saying God has done crazier things with the United States of America. In the 1930s this country was a deeply isolationist place with racism and antisemitism running amok in politics and civic life. By the end of the following decade, though America had to come kicking and screaming, she was the principle material conqueror of the industrialized antisemitism of the holocaust and the primary rebuilder of the European continent which she had previously been reviled to get involved with. Who says a God who sees something good in the American idea might not go somewhere dramatically better within a few years?

To be clear I think Christian nationalism is not of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and I believe no self-respecting, serious country should elect those who tried to overthrow that exact same government. But as a matter of fact those are the directions we’re going in right now and I can only control what I can control. To leave space for faith, for each other, and for God is not to shrink away from those realities as if in prayerful isolation. It is an effort to humanize the whole structure that led to this mad situation in the first place.

The closing plea here is for heroic patience. The preservation of self-giving love requires a belief in the basic goodness of a critical mass of people and in each individual’s inmost heart. That’s called hope. Call it naïve if you like but without hope righteous skepticism degrades into mere unjust cynicism and a healthy democracy degrades into an autocratic oligarchy run by the consumerists best equipped to feed into enough people’s delusions.

Perhaps Hope and the heroic patience it requires is too much to ask in these times. That’s okay. You know you better than I know you. Leave yourself the space to sit with it long enough to seriously consider it. If you decide to take up hope then I welcome you back into the world of those with the crazy belief that all will be well at some point. We pray and work our way there; but hope is the first step.

[themculibrary]

Non-Explicit AUs Masterlist

all i ever wanted (ao3) - alby_mangroves, seratonation sam/bucky, steve/tony G, 14k

Summary: Florist/tattooist AU. When Steve and Tony decide to get married Bucky and Natasha volunteer to organise the wedding for them. As it turns out the florist is one Sam Wilson and Bucky really didn’t stand a chance.

alone in the bitterness (ao3) - Lissadiane bucky/clint G, 16k

Summary: “In which Bucky is a nurse and Clint is his favourite (and most frequent) patient.”

a pirate’s tale (ao3) - Marvel corner (PinkGold) bucky/steve/tony M, 35k

Summary: Pirate AU where Bucky, Steve and Tony have a past, a present and a future together. Not everything is easy, in fact, easy may not have been in their vocabulary to start with.

bucky barnes got married (ao3) - 27dragons, monobuu, tisfan bucky/tony M, 90k

Summary: Bucky married Tony when they were both teenagers. Tony had just lost his parents and Bucky had just lost his arm, and they thought sticking together was the best choice they could make. Now, twenty years later, Bucky fears that he’s lost Tony’s love and is wondering if they made the wrong choice, after all. More than anything, he wishes that he could go back in time and try again, but that’s just a fantasy… or is it?

can’t for the life of me (ao3) - prxntiss gamora/peter M, 38k

Summary: “I promise I’m not just tryna get you in my bed… unless it’s working?”

She shoved him so hard that he almost fell off the path. “In your dreams, Quill.”

-

[ in which peter and gamora are flustered teenagers who are strongly in denial ]

expecting the unexpected (ao3) - Capsicle2013 steve/tony M, 35k

Summary: When Steve struggles to get pregnant, Tony offers to carry the baby. It’s a success and Tony falls pregnant. Everything appears normal. So then why is Steve experiencing the same thing?

fate will play us out (ao3) - steveandbucky steve/bucky M, 30k

Summary: Bucky has landed himself a job with Stark Industries. He doesn’t know yet that the job is actually being the PR manager for the Avengers.

Bucky has also started dating Steve Rogers. He also doesn’t know yet that Steve is Captain America.

Bucky’s life is about to get a whole lot more exciting.

i (created from fantasies) exist solely for you (ao3) - Mizzy steve/tony T, 62k

Summary: Six years ago, without the Avengers Initiative there to save the day, scientist Dr. Eric Selvig sacrificed himself to save the world, the almighty demi-god Thor was lost to a terrible storm, and vigilante Iron Man – spotted with a nuclear weapon trying to take advantage of the situation – was forever labelled an enemy of SHIELD.

This is a comic book office AU, where Steve is defrosted a year too late, Thor has forgotten who he is, and no one knows Tony is Iron Man.

Also includes: office pranks, inappropriate post-it notes, and superheroes who like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain.

leave the gun on the table (ao3) - Myrime steve/tony M, 188k

Summary: Tony meets his soulmate under the worst possible circumstances. It is not just a kidnapping gone wrong. It turns out Steve and his gang picked him on purpose and they want some personal revenge. If only he had managed to say the words written on his soulmate’s arm before they threw him back out into the streets.

no magic would save me (ao3) - arsenicarcher (Arsenic) pepper/tony M, 20k

Summary: Once upon a time, an angel with the unlikely name of Pepper came to the circus, and took Clint away.

peter’s stars (ao3) - IronPengu, parkrstark steve/tony T, 175k

Summary: Steve and Peter lose their apartment and are kicked out on the streets. Steve has to juggle between jobs to earn whatever money he can, take care of his son while resfusing to let him realize how much they’re trouble in, and keep them warm and safe on the city streets in winter.

So, he really doesn’t have time to date the billionaire that flirts with him everyday as he buys his cup of coffee. Even if he did, he can’t let himself fall for the man. Because if he knew that he lived from a backpack and showered in a public bathroom there’s no way he’d still want him…right?

stars fading, but i linger on, dear (ao3) - ChibiSquirt steve/tony E, 53k

Summary: A Soulmate AU where people meet their soulmate in their dreams. Of course, not even that solves all the world’s problems, especially if one or more of the soulmates has a secret identity…

the heat of you (ao3) - queerastronaut sam/bucky, background carol/maria M, 15k

Summary: Sam’s a paramedic. Bucky’s a firefighter. They hate each other’s gut but somehow, they keep saving each other’s lives. Until one day, the fire gets too big too fast and Sam realizes that he may not hate James Barnes as much as he thought.

the holy glimmers of goodbyes (ao3) - seadawnnight steve/tony T, 21k

Summary: AU where Tony and Steve grow up together in the 30s and 40s, along the way managing to be friends, lovers, strangers, and soulmates.*

*Not necessarily in that order.

Also includes: boarding school shenanigans, mac and cheese, drama (but vintage!), and Steve and Tony being the dramatic idiots they are.

thirty-eight days and counting (ao3) - thecommodore_squid (orphan_account) steve/bucky M, 40k

Summary: An AU in which Bucky is put in the witness protection program and Steve is the agent hired to protect him/pretend to be his husband.

to be vulnerable is needed most of all (ao3) - perfect_plan steve/bucky M, 118k

Summary: Steve is a shy comic book artist and meets his new neighbour, Bucky Barnes.

In which there are awkward longings, meddling best friends, comic conventions, heartache, lemons, video games, dorkiness, dancing and two cute boys.

uncertainty of the law (ao3) - mambo steve/bucky M, 26k

Summary: Steve didn’t expect to fall in love with the lawyer looking at his painting.

But he did.

wholesale change (ao3) - biblionerd07 steve/bucky M, 83k

Summary: Steve Rogers, captain of a losing NHL team, has taken so many bad penalties this season he’s worried he’s going to get set down to the minors as punishment. His agent comes up with a plan to make Steve irreplaceable to the fans–a reality dating show. Where the contestants want to date Steve.

(you’re) the one that i want (ao3) - eriot, tisfan bucky/tony T, 24k

Summary: Billionaire genius Tony Stark meets and falls in love with tough guy and heart-throb Bucky Barnes during a summer’s fling at a beachside resort. Thought to have been parted forever, they discover they’re both attending Avenger’s Academy, a prep-school for superpowered people. With a different social circle, different goals and different dreams, will Tony and Bucky decide that the other is “the one that they want.”

An Avenger’s Academy/Grease mash up fic.

[writingfish]

I am writing the next chapter of This Soul is Ours Now and it's not finished, but I need someone to read this and come on this emotional journey with me because I don't know how to end this chapter. Help.

The stones had been dampening his emotions. Stephen still felt them, but it was at a much less intensity than it would have been otherwise. He would have been angry, but the gaping hollowness inside him didn't leave room for anything else.

He was crying, hands wrapped around himself in a futile attempt at a hug. His fingers hurt. They'd been in one position for too long. His breath shook and he tried to inhale deeply, only to keep breaking into sobs halfway through.

His daughter was gone, possibly dead. His best friend didn't know him, no matter how concerned he had looked for Stephen when he had led him to this room. The Time Stones had fused. Their explosion of power a beacon to anyone interested. Thanos would have felt it. He would be coming.

His plan hadn't worked. It had been too late for the universe and it had fallen apart around them. He, himself, had damaged it too. He'd left it, had dreamwalked into his own corpse, had used the Darkhold and caused an incursion.

Has it ever occurred to you that it is not solely your fault? Reality cut into his thoughts. It wasn't. I would know.

But he shared some of the blame. It had been his fault in some ways.

You tried to fix it, Soul said. The orange threads holding his soul together felt warm, gentle.

He had tried, but it hadn't worked. He'd failed.

It would have. Reality sounded as sad as as an anchor of the universe could sound. But it was too late.

You tried, Power rumbled. It felt oddly soothing. That was more than most.

Wong had helped, had agreed with his plan when no one else had. The other sorcerers had feared that would it make things worse. They were right. It had.

Black, jagged, grief cut through him. His gasp dissolved into another sob. His head pounded. His skin felt tight, his mouth dry. His knees hurt. Why was he still here? The universe was gone, everyone in it dead. Wong was dead. He'd failed. He'd failed. He'd failed and there was no reversing it. The damage couldn't be undone. There were no bargains that could be made. He'd destroy this universe too. It was only a matter of time.

He'd fail Wong again. He'd kill people again, like his plan had the first time. Half the universe gone because of him. The Illuminati said he was the largest threat to the multiverse. They were right. He'd caused the incursions, had used the Darkhold to dreamwalk into his alternates, had murdered them.

Hey-, Mind tried to interrupt. He wasn't listening. Horror sunk its claws into him, tore at his mind. Somewhere, someone was wailing, hoarse, shaky, and barely there. His throat burned. A weight was on his chest, sinking inside to burrow into his heart.

The universe was gone. Everyone he'd ever known was dead. Why was he the only one left? Why was he still alive? Why had he thought he could fix it? Why had he even tried?

Cold sunk into his bones, crawled its way beneath muscle and flesh. His hands had stopped shaking. They didn't even hurt now. He couldn't breathe. The wailing was still there. He was back in his corpse again, flesh falling off. Rot invaded his nose. The world dimmed, felt dull. The dead were trying to tear him apart. One of his fingers was gone. America was screaming. Dormammu was in front of them, in front of him. Time rewound. His flesh knit together. He was going to die here, again. He'd be trapped here forever. He'd never see Christine again. He'd never get to know Wong properly, would never be able to help America find her parents. It would be just him and Dormammu for all eternity. Why was he doing this again? Why shouldn't he-

Warmth cut into his thoughts. Everything paused. The warmth was surrounding him. There was a frantic fluttering beneath his ear. There was breathing too, a little shaky, but mostly steady. He blinked at an expanse of blue that slowly resolved itself into cloth. He blinked again. Cold fluttered around him, bringing the smell of crisp air and fizzling sound of portals being formed. The world was steady around him. Reality felt solid. The presence of Kamar-Taj's wards hummed in the background. He closed his eyes-they felt terribly dry and sore-and pushed his head further into the cloth. It rumbled underneath him and suddenly, he became aware.

There were arms around him. He was lying on someone. A blanket was tucked around them and the infinity stones were humming gently in his pocket. Slowly, he looked up. Wong looked back at him with the most relieved expression he'd ever seen on his face.

"Stephen," he said and his voice sounded relieved too. Why? This Wong didn't even know him. Time laughed in his head again, sounding amused. He ignored it. Time always seemed amused with him.

"How do you feel?" Wong asked.

Drained. Empty. He opened his mouth and coughed. There was sandpaper in his throat. His mouth was dry. Immediately, Wong looked around before looking back at him. He looked slightly alarmed. Red light flashed and suddenly there was a glass of water in Wong's hand.

Wong blinked at it. "Thank you?"

Stephen tried to push himself up, but pain shot through his arms and spiraled down his fingers. Wong set the glass down and reached for him. He helped Stephen sit up. His hands were steady, Stephen noticed. Warm, too.

He helped Stephen with the glass of water too, holding the glass steady as he sipped at it. Stephen knew better than to gulp it down; he'd only cough it back up again. The water was the best thing he'd tasted.

Why was Wong here? Why was he doing this? His Wong had never been a hugging type of person The most he would do was pat Stephen's shoulder sometimes. Grief welled up in him again. This wasn't his Wong.

He took another sip of water. Everything ached, but at least his mouth no longer felt as dry. He continued sipping and focused on breathing. Wong stayed silent. Stephen wondered what he was thinking. They'd never met before today, yet here Wong was.

Eventually, the glass was empty. Wong set it down on the nightstand and turned to him.

"I have never seen you like that," Wong said.

Stephen laughed wetly. "We've never even met."

Wong did not smile, though he looked like he very much wanted to. Stephen could see the slight upturn of his lips.

"No," Wong said. "We have not. But I know you. My alternate self knew you and those memories became mine."

Time's laughter made sense now. Sharp, jagged horror rose again. He felt nauseated. He'd gotten Wong killed and this Wong knew.

"I would like to be your friend," this Wong said and his thoughts scattered.

"Why? Why would he want to be friends?"

"Because I want to," Wong said simply.

Oh, he'd said that aloud. He swallowed, feeling his eyes get wet again. How did he still have the energy for tears. Did he know? No, he must not. He wouldn't want to be friends if he knew.

"I saw all of them," Wong continued. There was worry in his eyes, a bit of fear too. Was Wong afraid of him? The nausea got stronger. "All of them up until the end."

Wong knew.

Breath stilled in his lungs. The weight on his chest was back. He couldn't breathe through it. Horror crawled back up from the depths, chilled him from the inside. He needed to leave. He need to leave before he got Wong killed again, before -

Warm hands clasped his. Wong looked at him, serious yet gentle.

"I want to continue that friendship," he said. "I like the person I saw in those memories, you."

Stephen stared at him for a long moment, then burst into tears again.

[umichenginabroad]

Week 15: So long, Praha!

Dobrý den,

I have so many mixed emotions about my time here coming to an end. As busy as I was throughout the semester I truly believe I did a good job immersing myself in Czech daily life and culture and I'm proud of that. I definitely want to come back, just without the responsibilities that come with being a student 😅. 

We had our challenge project presentation panel, followed by our final ceremony signaling the end of the program. The company really liked our work and appreciated the extra time I put into compiling the document with action items for their tech team. 

Now all that’s left is cleaning up the common areas of the apartment, which I unfortunately had to do alone before Isy (a Czech peer) came and helped me. She’s an angel. 

Enjoy the views along the walk home from school and from my room for one last time with me.

Final Reflection

As I sit in the airport and reflect on my experiences, I’m overwhelmed by feelings of gratitude for the people I’ve met and all the unique experiences I had, in Prague and beyond. To better convey these thoughts, let me share with you a brief story that I feel encompasses my biggest takeaways from this semester abroad.

When I was solo traveling in Italy, I stopped in Milan for a night and decided to hang out at the bar of the hostel I was staying at before heading to dinner. A man who looked to be in his late 20s sat down next to me and we started chatting. He introduced himself as Dennis, a civil engineer from the Netherlands, who has been traveling throughout Italy chasing the recommendations of locals he'd met along the way. I sat and listened to his stories, admiring his ability to arrive in a new country without plans, developing an itinerary en route. After all, locals know best.

I was also surprised by his ability to take so much time off of work for travel. In the Netherlands, like many other countries in the EU, it's customary to have 6-7 weeks of paid vacation time each year. I was shocked. In America, there is no federal requirement for paid time off. In fact, many Americans don’t even use all their PTO, in fear that in taking time off they’ll fall behind on their work or hinder their career growth. We fell into this conversation in class a few weeks ago, and it enlightened me about all the workplace perceptions and expectations that don’t apply outside of the US. While the US is incredibly progressive in terms of fostering diversity in technical roles and schooling, the hustle culture is exhausting and counteractive to quality of life, balance, and even productivity. Not to mention the extreme costs associated with healthcare and having children, and the lack of maternity leave or protection. I feel privileged to have obtained this knowledge while studying abroad that I wouldn't have considered, or even fathomed, when thinking about working abroad post-college.

After an hour had passed, another woman in her early 20s joined our conversation. Polina’s a linguist, originally from Belarus, but has been living in Warsaw for the past decade. We bonded over staple TV shows of our childhoods, including ICarly, Victorious, and Drake & Josh, which fostered remarkably shared experiences despite growing up on opposite sides of the world. Soon after, we were joined by two more men, also engineers, in their 30s: an Italian named Marco and a German named Tim. We sat and talked in our group of five until the early morning hours. I learned more about cross-cultural communication and international living than I ever imagined I would in my time abroad.

On the next round of drinks, I’d been craving a coffee and put in an order for a cappuccino. I received unexpectedly strong opposition instead… It turns out ordering coffee after 11am is completely taboo in Italy. The bartender, with a mixture of amusement and adherence to custom, refused my request but compromised by serving me a shot of espresso: a subtle push to respect local customs and embrace cultural peculiarities.

When chatting a bit deeper with my new friends, it dawned on me how much power language held. There I was, a two-language speaker surrounded by people who spoke 4, if not 5, or more languages. Polina, the linguist of the group, educated us about languages and their roots, including Italic, Slavic, and Germanic. As solo travelers, we all shared an understanding of the power of communication when traveling; without English as a universal language, none of us would’ve been able to connect.

We got to talking about the aspects of our homelands we were proud of. Polina, with her roots in Belarus and Poland, praised the genuine, no-BS attitude of her people. Tim, with a more somber pride, mentioned Germany’s dedication to a conscious and cultured society after a dark historical chapter. Dennis talked up the networking and opportunity in the Netherlands, and recounted the legacy of the Dutch being the only Europeans to be allowed to trade with China and Japan in earlier days. I mentioned the diversity of the US, and how I’ve had the opportunity to grow up with friends from many different ethnic and religious backgrounds. And finally, Marco spoke about the Italian way of celebrating daily life and finding beauty in every situation. I knew this to be true, as just this afternoon I ran into a mall during a downpour of rain to discover tens of pairs dancing around a small speaker. I witnessed two teens, one teaching the other how to dance, then turned my gaze to a young woman joining an older gentleman dancing solo. Soon enough, everyone joined in on the camaraderie. 

Reflecting on these experiences, I recognize the profundity in this seemingly small conversation and the depth each of us brought to it through shared laughter, memories, and time. That's the essence of my journey abroad, embracing authenticity and connection.

Czeching out,

Reese Liebman

Computer Science and Engineering

Institute for Study Abroad (IFSA) CS Tech Career Accelerator in Prague, Czechia

[qu-film-history-to-1968]

Shadow of a Doubt: The threat of the unknown enemy. (Franco Morgante)

Filmmaking in the late 1930’s and early 40’s was very different from the previous eras of film. World War II had affected almost every aspect of life in America and Europe, and many films at the time were pressured to have some kind of reference to it. This was most commonly seen with the propaganda films that were made at the time, which were made to increase and maintain support for the Allies’ war effort. This would lead to the creation of a production code which forbade films from depicting social conflicts, slums, or even criticism of the government so that the US wouldn’t look weak. As such many films would heavily feature elements like anti-nazi and Japanese messages so they could even be released to the public. But one film that would stand out amongst these propaganda films was Alfred Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt. The film follows a girl named Charlie who is ecstatic that her Uncle Charlie (yes, she was named after her uncle) had come to visit her and her family after years of not seeing them. But Charlie learns that her uncle is most likely a serial killer who has killed three rich women. And now she is doing everything she can to get her uncle to leave her house. 

What’s fascinating about this film is that it has a message that relates to WWII, yet it never once mentions it. The main theme of this story is that while society may be pleasant right now, there is a threat that is growing in the background, and most of the public is completely oblivious to it. This can be with the character of Uncle Charlie himself; he seems to be a pleasure to be around. He’s good looking, is well spoken, and even gives his relatives gifts when he first arrives. But there are small quirks about him that make him seem off. He frequently remarks on how he doesn’t want to be photographed, doesn’t trust anyone, and even directly says that he thinks the world is a joke. He presents himself as a kind gentleman, but deep down inside him there is something deeply wrong with him. How does this relate to WWII? Well before war even broke out, the Nazi’s had been slowly gaining power, and with America being isolationist most of the public wanted nothing to do with foreign affairs. Which ended up backfiring as the US would be attacked by Japan and Germany would declare war on them. So, it is my belief that Uncle Charlie is meant to be a physical representation of the unknown enemy idea. An article written by Steffen Hantke adds to this idea by saying “At first glance, World War II registers as a barely audible background noise in Shadow of a Doubt, as it did in Rebecca and Suspicion. At the same time, however, the film tells a powerful cautionary tale to wartime America about the enemy hiding in its midst, much like "Saboteur” and “Lifeboat”. The film subtly shows that if America remains complacent in the world, then their greatest enemy will just be growing stronger without their knowledge. This mindset is also what caused the red scare of the 1950’s as people feared that America was being subverted by communists without anyone realizing it. This film also falls in-line with the film production codes at the time, as the story takes place in a nice neighborhood and doesn't show any slums or social conflicts. At most there are jokes from Uncle Charlie criticizing the banks in America, but I feel they were allowed because he is meant to be a character you shouldn’t trust. Adhering to the production codes just allowed for this film to be seen by more people and spread the message of always being alert as you never know when the big enemy will decide to show itself.

  Source:

Steffen Hantke (2016) Hitchcock at War: Shadow of a Doubt, Wartime Propaganda, and the Director as Star, Journal of Popular Film and Television, 44:3, 159-168, DOI: 10.1080/01956051.2016.1161586

[vahlee]

The winds batter the Prius as Janice accelerates aggressively. Her ring tone sounds through the car, amplified by Bluetooth. As soon as she finishes passing the Amazon truck, Janice commands, "Answer."

Her assistant speaks. <Janice, you aren't gonna believe this shit.>

"Yeah?"

<These readings are off the chain!>

Janice's car swerevs in the high wind. She glances to the right, seeing nothing but a dark, angry shelf of clouds.

"Alright I'm looking over there right now and I can't see anything, what's going on?"

Romania says, "The tornado that hit Albert Lea an hour ago is moving straight north at a forward speed of 66 miles per hour. Faribault has been destroyed. A Weather Channel team in Owatonna is saying the Target store there doesn't exist anymore, wiped completely away."

The weight of Romania's words hit Janice full force. She shudders and takes a shaky breath.

"This is an EF5."

<Yeah, EF5," Romania comfirms. "Owatonna Police are completely overwhelmed and missing three quarters of their department. Apple Valley is scrambling to evacuate as the tornado looks to pass over them directly, Janice, this is going to be the worst tornado ever!"

An alert on her phone startles her, and she glances at it. The headline steals the air from her lungs in a horrified gasp.

<What happened?> Romania demands.

"They can't evacuate that city," Janice says, her heart pounding.

An entire squad of police officers with flashing lights fly by her on the other side of the freeway. A squadron of fire engines tails them.

<What else can we do?> Romania stammers. <We have to help get them to safety!>

"They cannot evacuate that city!" Janice reiterates, tears falling from her eyes.

<Are you serious?> Romania seethes. <You're giving up on them?>

"Romania!" Janice yells, her voice breaking. "It's too late. It is too late."

Struggling to keep her sobs down, Janice forwards the headline to Romania, glancing at the words on the screen of her phone — <MASSIVE TORNADO STRIKES APPLE VALLEY, HUNDREDS FEARED DEAD>

Janice hears Roamnia gasp in horror.

<No,> Romania croaks.

Another notification from.the Weather Channel grabs Janice's attention. <EF5 TORNADO HITS APPLE VALLEY>, followed by another from Lakesun Media — <TORNADO EMERGENCY ISSUED FOR MINNEAPOLIS/ SAINT PAUL>

Janice hears Romania's suppressed sobs through the phone.

<We have a tornado in Belle Plain heading north towards Cologne, and a tornado in Bloomington heading north towards the Mall of America.>

Janice gasps as she replays Romania's words in her head.

"Bloomington ... I'm right next to the Mall of America right now."

<You need to get out of there now!>

Janice glances to the right.

The tornado is chewing through the massive shopping center like an icebreaker, concrete walls shredded as if they were confetti. Cars fly into the sky, never to be seen again. Explosions erupt on the ground as debris falls from the sky, with the fireballs immediately being swept to the right.

Suddenly, Janice feels the Prius lose forward speed, her head suddenly thrown into her steering wheel. The seatbelt crushes her chest as she struggles to stay in the middle lane. Her foot to the floor, her engine revving, but the speed decreases exponentially. An overhead sign gantry shakes in the roaring winds. Her breath hitches as she looks right again, and this time, only a wall rapidly-moving dust fills her vision.

"Oh my god," Janice whimpers.

<Janice! Get out of there, NOW!> Romania screams desperately.

— Thursday (unreleased story)