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anika-ann · 4 years

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What I’d Never Say or Do (Had I Been in My Right Mind) - Pt.1

We Both Break Free (…if We Make It on Top)

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2, part 3)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count (Ch1): 2050

Series summary: A story in which you officially come back from the dead, Tony with Natasha decide to take the blame for the whole mess and organize a party with unexpected party crashers and Bucky should consider thinking before speaking.

Fic title applicable to Tony, Natasha, Steve and his soulmate (aka the Reader), Bucky and his sort-of-buddy Matt Murdock and possibly few more.

Ch.1 summary.: In which Natasha and Tony go mad.

A/N: This series will be just a smaller thing, snippets set around The Age of Ultron (and later, Endgame). Later will be referred to as WINSoD because the title is a monster.

Warnings (ch1): mention of death and resurrection, mention of superntural creatures (see Errare Humanum Est), language, fluff

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Tony Stark was a ridiculously theatrical person.

While that was no news to anyone who knew as much as his name at least, but he still managed to outlive the legend, the reputation that preceded him.

He left you standing by the door, walked in to gain the undivided attention of the person inside the office and wanted you to reveal yourself in the exact right moment – a moment he trusted you to recognize.

Well. You assumed with a revelation like yours, it was rather hard to keep the drama away. But leave it to Tony Stark that he would blow it to proportion just to have fun.

“Tamara, darling!” the billionaire howled, the door opened only for a crack, so you could hear the reaction. You rolled your eyes, sighed and nervously looked around. The department was empty safe for the woman in the office, but it still made you feel uneasy; probably the effect of having to hide for the past weeks to avoid detection that could lead to a major scandal.

“Oh god, what happened?” Tamara asked, sounding as horrified as annoyed.

“Why do you assume— okay, that’s fair. How’s you hubby doing?”

“Alright,” the poor woman answered, clearly suspicious. “I more or less cleaned up the latest mess, so I’ve been coming home early…”

“Yeeeeah, about that. I have good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?” Tony offered cheerily.

“Bad news. Always. Let me just sit down-- no, no, don’t let me sit down, I have a feeling I’ll wanna pace irritably.”

That caused the corners of your lips to turn up. You were starting to like this woman already.

“I’m gonna need you to deal with a major scandal worthy of your skills.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere and I assumed as much.” Now you officially loved her – and you saw why Tony did too. Sass and snark; Tony’s language. “So, care to elaborate?”

“Nah, I’ll give you the good news. You’re gonna get some help. I brought reinforcements. She doesn’t have much experience with PR-” Try none. “-but I’m pretty sure she’ll be the one all the questions will be aimed at.”

“Oh my god, Anthony, did you get a woman pregnant?!” the woman hissed, not bothering lowering her voice. She sounded… kinda pissed. Which was reasonable, given the fact Tony Stark was happily-not-single with one amazing Pepper Potts.

“What? No! I have Pepper!” he opposed her, having the nerve to be offended. You smirked, hoping Jarvis caught that one line too. “This is all on Capsicle-“

“Captain Rogers got a woman pregnant?! What the-“

You felt like this was the moment.

“No, Mrs…. Tamara,” you said it the end, realizing Tony never told you the poor woman’s last name, and entered the room. “But his soulmate sort of came back from the death.”

Tamara was a middle-aged woman, with blonde medium-length hair and huge majestic glasses, business suit in a bloody-red colour and lips perfectly shaped in an “O” as you demonstrated the problem at hand.

“Holy. Shit.”

Leave it to Tony Stark he would flee the moment an actual explanation was needed, letting the others deal with the aftermath of his dramatic tendencies. To be fair, this was more of your drama, so…

“Good. Looks like introductions are not needed. I’ll send you the necessary data. Have fun.”

He strode through the door, winking over his shoulder at you and sending an air kiss to Tamara and you nervously smiled at the woman, your awkward side showing when you raised your hand to a reluctant wave before you could realize a handshake would be more appropriate.

“Uhm. Hi…”

The blonde blinked several times, shook her head with an incredulous chuckle and stuck out her hand.

“Hi. I’m Tamara, Antony Stark’s cleaning service. What can I do for you?”

Oh yeah. You’d get along just fine.

…

The story was simple and yet enough to make at least two Avengers very much hated.

Tony and Natasha, perhaps from some residual guilt of which you weren’t sure where was coming from, were determined to be thrown to the wolves of public.

Apparently, it had been all their idea – to have Steve and you kidnapped in the first place by the bomb enthusiast psycho. They had caught something fishy, been aware of it for a long time and opted for drawing the something rotten within SHIELD and company out by leaking early info on where you and Steve would be going to dates for several nights in a row without your or Steve’s knowledge. Perfect bait with nearly perfect surveillance background and safety measures.

Predictably, it had gone to shit and while you had never been blown up to death, which was something Steve had had zero clue about, you had been recovering from your life-threatening injuries for weeks in a hidden facility of top-secret location with way too much security. Still without Captain America’s knowledge.

Admittedly, this tale was a PR nightmare in making, not to mention a complete bullshit. Yet, the Avengers (sans Steve so far) unanimously approved of it. Tony and Natasha would be the first to blame, while the rest would reluctantly admit they knew as well and they had all kept it from Steve.

“You can’t be serious,” was all you managed to come up with, Steve sitting on the couch next to you while the rest of the team, the part that was momentarily on Earth, gathered around you to break you the news. This was what they came up with? “People will hate you.”

“And their hearts would still bleed for their golden boy, who would forgive us in time, especially since we offered his girl a job and an apartment she can’t quite refuse.”

“Wait, what kind of a job?!” Steve snapped, waking up from the deep thoughts he had fallen into with this stupid talk.

“The non-dangerous kind, Steve, calm down, please,” Natasha cooled him off flatly, but you could see her sincere gaze when it met with Steve’s. We wouldn’t endanger her, not again, it whispered. Steve’s shoulders slumped.

“What kind of a job?” you echoed, still worried. You assumed the apartment Tony mentioned was a place in the Tower, not bothering to ask about that part.

“PR. Unless you want to deal with your old job of which I have no doubt your best buddy would give back. I’d just like to remind you how the public reacted to you dying.”

Right. You wouldn’t mind a little privacy and safe space. You liked your old job, but it didn’t seem like an option now. Except… this was crazy.

“But they will still hate you. It makes you guys terrible friends and teammates. Frankly, it makes you kind of… terrible people,” you said slowly, taking time to examine everyone’s face.

“She’s got a point,” Steve agreed, wheels in his head clearly turning in a lightning speed.

“Meh. You should know what Fury’s up to during his ‘the end justifies the means’ periods – which is non-stop. I wouldn’t worry about that,” Natasha shrugged it off, pursing her lips a bit.

“Wasn’t it you who said you weren’t sure how to get her back to the world without having to explain she was literally led by an angel from Heaven?” Clint reacted to Steve, who sighed.

“Yes, of course, but this-“

“-is perfectly believable,” Natasha interrupted him, raising an eyebrow before beckoning to Tony and herself. “Me and Tony came up with the operation – a spy and a billionaire with questionable conscience. We pulled the rest of the team into the charade. This can work.”

“I can’t say I’ll enjoy this,” Bruce entered the conversation for the first time, surprising everyone. “However, it will allow you to walk the streets freely – with uncomfortable questions, yes, but it is a reasonable deal for us.”

“Steve? Thoughts?” the spy turned to him again.

Your soulmate observed his team for a long time, just like you, watching each of them individually, trying to read them as he himself was conflicted and undecisive. Finally, his eyes settled on you, a hint of an encouraging smile on his lips.

“Doll? How do you feel about that?”

The softness of his voice, the actual freedom he gave you when it came to this decision warmed your heart and made you shudder at the same time. You had no doubt he had come to a decision; but the final step was on you and you only. He would be affected too, of course, but this was your life that could turn upside down for like… what, the third time since you had met him?

You worried your teeth over your lower lip. “I mean… I’d really appreciate not having to hide in here all the time, but… I don’t want people to hate you, guys. I feel like I caused enough problems-“

“No, doll,” Steve whispered, his hand covering yours and squeezing firmly as he locked his gaze with yours and didn’t let go. “I’m not asking about them. I’m asking about you. They are clearly willing to do this.”

“Are you?” you questioned despite being confident about his answer.

“Do I love you?”

That caught you off guard. “Huh? That’s not what I-…?”

What did that even mean? Did he love— come again? How was this about his feelings towards you all of sudden? Was it time to question them? God, you hoped NOT.

“That the newest version of asking whether the sky is blue, doll,” he explained with a lop-sided smile and you released a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding.

Idiot. Sap. Sweet-talker.

“You’re such a sap.”

“You love it,” he hummed confidently. You smiled despite your better judgement. You loved him. And yeah, you loved this silliness too.

“I do.”

“So… are we doing this? Together?” His smiled grew a little wider, the twinkle you adored appearing in his eyes and you couldn’t but squeeze his hand back.

“Yeah. Together.”

“Jarvis, send Dum-E with some insulin shots,” Tony cleared his throat and you felt your cheek dust with a blush, roughly pulled out of the haze Steve managed to put you in once again. “We’re all having unhealthy sugar rush.”

The captain rolled his eyes. “Har, har, Stark. Are you guys really okay with this?”

Clint huffed. “It’s not like people will start planning our assassination more than they do already.”

“Tamara might,” Natasha opposed, amused.

“Ah, poor Tamara, I better bring a wine with me when asking…” Tony mused, scratching his goatee.

You turned to the red-head spy, not happy about being out of the loop.

“Who’s Tamara?”

Tamara, the head of the PR department for Tony (and sometimes for the Avengers too, because those two clients, so to speak, often came as a package deal), was currently starring at you speechless when you told her the tale of what actually happened and what lie they had decided to feed the public.

The silence lasted long enough for you to start worrying.

“Are you alri-“

“Angels are real?!” she burst out, nearly making you jump out of your skin with the sudden exclaim. You placed your palm over your chest to keep your racing heart inside your ribcage.

“…yes. But so are demons, shapeshifters, witches and so on, so…”

“Not a good thing to go public with. Got it. I understand the cover-up now. Though people being able to be resurrected would be enough on its own even without the… creatures. My my… we have a lot of work to do.”

“I’d imagine,” you agreed, not having a clue how to do this and where to start.

The woman looked at you over the rim of her glasses, her smile kind, in the Stark contrast to her loud cry only few second ago.

“…you don’t have any experience with PR at all, do you?”

“Nope,” you admitted, accenting the P and looking away, ashamed that Tony threw you into this without giving you anything helpful.

Now Tamara had to deal with the scandal and with you trying to help. That woman was worthy of some serious pay raise (though you had no doubt Tony paid her enough for her to own a villa or something, exactly as much as she deserved for dealing with his shit).

“I’m gonna kill Anthony, I swear…. Okay, let’s get this shit on the road. Also, Jarvis? Tell Antony to get the freakin’ wine ASAP.”

Oh yeah. You would actually adore Tamara, you were sure of it.

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Part 2

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Here we go! The final part of the series. Admittedly, I’m not sure about quality of this thing, but I’m trying.

Chapter titles are taken from the chorus of Les Friction’s What You Need

Thank you for reading ♥

(I’ll be tagging my Errare Humanum Est taggies, if you don’t want ot be taggged anymore, let me know)

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samwilsonsbabymama · 5 years

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Reassurance

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Black Reader

Summary: Everyone needs a bit of reassurance sometimes.

Warning: angst, a little bit os smut, and lots of fluff

A/N: So this is a mashup of a prompt that I got a while ago (I’m sorry it took so long! and I hope you like it!) and a fic that I started writing last year... or back in January, I can't remember which lol Huge thanks to @tgigoldie for being a huge help 💖

Anon request: There was this interview a few years back with Anthony Mackie on Wendy William, and he said “You better make daddy a sandwich” and I can’t stop thinking about Falcon maybe saying that? With smut? Thanks boo love all your work🖤

You watched as Sam and Steve laughed together across the room. It had been almost four months since you had last seen Sam, and fuck did he look good.

“You could just go over there, you know?” Natasha said when she walked up next to you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Natasha,” you grumbled before you turned to walk out of the room.

“Sure, y/n,” she followed you, obviously intent on having this conversation with you. “You know you’re going to have to tell him soon, right? You can’t keep it a secret for much longer.”

“Nat, please stop,” you begged. You weren’t ready to have this conversation or any conversation that revolved around Sam right now. You had done a great job avoiding him up until this point and you wanted to keep it that way.

“Y/N, he deserves to know,” Natasha tried to reason with you. “He would be there for you. You know that right?”

You quickened your pace in a feeble attempt to get away from her, but Natasha was quicker. She sped around you before turning to face you. “Look, Y/N, both of you are my friends and we all know that your last relationship didn’t end well, but Sam is a great guy and he deserves to know.”

You were fed up, it’s not that you weren’t going to tell him, you were, you just didn’t know how to tell him. “Natasha, please drop it? I’m going to tell him. I promise. I just need to do it in my own time.”

Natasha nodded and let you pass.

You made your way towards the elevator and pressed the down button. You knew Natasha was right and that Sam was a great guy, you only needed time. This wasn’t a conversation that should be had out of nowhere. You needed to prepare what you were going to say. The ding of the elevator drew you from your thoughts, and when you entered, your eyes landed to the man now standing next to Natasha. You attempted a smile, but you knew it didn’t reach your eyes, and you dropped his gaze as the elevator doors shut.

A few days passed since Sam had returned from his mission, and you were actively avoiding him. It was harder than you thought it would be since you weren’t even an Avenger, you were a part of Research and Development, but somehow Sam was always in your department. Whenever you saw him coming or heard his voice, you quickly made yourself scarce. It was almost as if he knew you were avoiding him. However, you knew you wouldn’t be able to hide from him for long.

After a particularly rough morning, you’d finally made it to your office only to find it occupied with the one person that you were avoiding. You stood frozen in your office doorway as Sam sat in front of you, seemingly relaxed in his your chair as he smiled up at you.

“Why are you here, Sam?” you asked, pretending to be calm, but the butterflies in your stomach told a completely different story.

He smirked at you. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he stated matter of factly.

You didn’t even try to deny it as you moved around your office.

“Y/N, stop,” Sam said as he stood. You stopped with your back towards him, but you felt him as he moved closer to you. He stood behind you close enough that you could feel his body heat, but far enough away so that he wasn’t touching you. Without thinking, you leaned back into his chest. You sighed when he wrapped his arms around you, the simple touch brought back vivid memories of that one night.

~~~

Sam tightened his hold on you as his thrusts quickened. Your breathy moans filled the room before you pulled him into a deep kiss.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Sam grunted. His hips began to move even faster than before. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. I knew from the moment we met that you were made for me, fuck.”

He bounced you up and down his hard length, the backs of your thighs hitting the tops of his.

~~~

You turned in his embrace and buried your face in his chest. The butterflies in your stomach calmed the moment he touched you. “I’ve missed you so much, Sam.” you didn’t know how much you missed him until you were back in his arms.

“You missed me so much that you decided to avoid me? That makes sense,” he chuckled. You smiled when you felt the vibrations from his laugh.

You refused to answer; this wasn’t how you imagined telling him, so you kept your mouth closed.

“I know my leaving was a shock to you, and I absolutely hate that I didn’t get to say goodbye,” Sam offered. “But I would like to make it up to you. Let me take you out to dinner tonight?”

You thought about it for a few moments, maybe this was how you would tell him. You pulled back and smiled up at him.

“I would love that,” you replied.

The smile that lit up his face filled your heart.

“Great!” he beamed. “I’ll pick you up at eight.” He placed a kiss on your cheek before he headed out the door.

Your day went by slow; slower than usual, and you despised that. Your visit with Sam brought back many memories from that night. Ones that had played in your mind over and over while he was away. Memories that kept you up all night some nights. Hearing his voice reminded you of why you fell into bed with him all those months ago.

You inched through your day, daydreaming about exactly how you were going to tell him. You thought about every possible way he could respond, and before you knew it, it was time for you to go home.

Eight o’clock rolled around quicker than you thought it would when you got home from work. You were hopping around trying to put on your shoe when Sam knocked on your door. With one last look in the mirror, you grabbed your jacket and headed out the door.

You’d always known Sam was funny and charming, but when he fully turned on the charm, it was damn near impossible to resist him. The night had been going swimmingly. Sam had taken you to a nice restaurant, ordered a bottle of champagne for the two of you (which you politely denied), and listened as you filled him in on the past four months.

He listened as you talked, offered insight when appropriate, and was genuinely interested in everything that you had to say. You wished that you could ask him about the mission, but you knew that he couldn’t share.

“Ready to get out of here?” you asked after you had realized that the two of you had been talking for more than three hours.

Sam stood and rounded to your side of the table and helped you out of your seat. He laced his fingers with yours and led you out of the restaurant. The two of you made it back to your place in record time, and before you knew it, you were standing in front of your door.

“Would you like to come in?” you asked.

Sam chuckled but shook his head, “Not tonight, Y/N.”

Your heart plummeted.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he added quickly. “Because I do. I just feel that I need to take things slow with you.”

You snorted at the irony before you pulled him closer and kissed him. You felt his hands grip your hips and pull you closer.

When Sam pulled away, he looked into your eyes. “Y/N, I don’t want you regretting this in the morning.”

“I won’t,” you whispered just before you pulled him into another kiss.

Waking up in Sam’s arms was everything you had dreamed. He was warm like you remembered and his body seemed stronger than the last time. He had a few new scars, but that was to be expected given his job.

You snuggled closer into his embrace as you slowly woke up. His hands freely roamed your body, and you laughed when his stomach growled loudly.

“You think that’s funny?” Sam grumbled, his voice full of sleep?

“Yupp,” you smiled as you popped the ‘p’.

“If it’s so funny, then go make daddy a sandwich,” Sam replied giving you a hard slap on your ass.

This was it. This was your opening. You propped yourself up on your elbow and looked into his eyes.

“What?” he asked as he watched you chew your lip.

“I need to tell you something, and I’m afraid of how you’ll react,” your voice was quiet, just above a whisper.

“I’m listening.”

“The reason, why I was avoiding you when you came back, is because, well I had only just figured it out a few days before you got back, and then Natasha found out and she wanted me to tell you right away but I couldn't bring myself to tell you because I didn't know how you would react and honestly I reacted poorly myself so how can I expect you to react any better than I did?” you took a deep breath and opened your mouth to continue.

“Y/N?” Sam interjected. “You haven't actually told me anything, and I’m beginning to worry over here.”

You took another deep breath and exhaled. “Sam, I’m pregnant. Just under four months.”

Sam was quiet and you didn’t dare look into his eyes.

“So when I said, ‘make daddy a sandwich,’ that can be taken more than one way?” Sam joked causing you to slap his chest.

“Sam!” you cried before you burst into laughter. “So I take it that you’re not mad?”

“Not mad, just surprised. I had planned on being able to enjoy each other for a few years before we brought children into the world.”

“Wait, what?”

Sam smiled, “Y/N, I had been trying to get you to notice me for months before we hooked up. I had it all planned out. I was going to woo you and make you fall in love with me, it was going to be beautiful. But we got drunk and slept together and then Tony sent me on an unexpected mission the next day which threw off all my plans.”

You peered at him in awe. “I didn’t realize that you had a crush on me,” you joked.

He laughed, “That’s all you got out of that?”

“Pretty much,” you responded.

“Honestly, this changes nothing about how I feel about you, Y/N. This only makes my feelings for you stronger.”

You snuggled back into his arms at his words, and you felt calm once more.

Sam’s stomach growled once again. “Now, about that sandwich,” he joked, before he rolled out of the bed, and headed towards the kitchen himself.

You watched silently from the hospital bed as Sam paced in front of the window. You had been in labor for more than 12 hours now and you were becoming a bit impatient. You’d noticed that he had been quiet over the last couple of hours, but you also knew that he would open up when he was ready. You groaned as another contraction took over your body and Sam came rushing over to you to check if you were alright.

Once satisfied that you were truly alright, Sam climbed into bed with you and pulled you into his arms. You could feel his heart beating fast against his ribcage, faster than usual and it worried you. You looked up at him and smiled before placing a quick, gentle kiss on his lips, encouraging him to open up to you. After a few moments of silence, Sam spoke.

“What if I’m not good enough?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

“What do you mean, Sam?”

“What if I’m not a good father?” he clarified.

You lifted your head to look at him and noticed that he wasn’t looking at you. You called his name and when he looked at you, you noticed the tears in his eyes and your heart sunk. Sam had been the strong one in your relationship. Ever since you told him that you were pregnant all those months ago, he’s been the one that’s held the two of you together. And to find out that he’s been holding these feelings inside nearly broke your heart.

“Sam,” you whispered again. “You are the most amazing man that I know, and you are going to make an amazing father. From the moment I told you that I was pregnant, I knew that you were going to be a great father. You are full of so much love and it radiates out of you every day. Our baby will be the most loved baby because of you.”

Sam closed his eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“In just a few short months,” you continued. “You have shown me what kind of man you are, Sam. You have shown me so much love and I often wonder why I was ever afraid to tell you in the first place. You give me hope, Sam, and we will raise this baby together. We will mess up, but we will learn from our mistakes and we will grow from them. Together.”

Sam was quiet for a few moments before he kissed you on your forehead. “You fill my bucket, Y/N. There is no one that I’d rather be with right now than you.”

She was beautiful. The most beautiful little girl that you have ever seen. She had your eyes, nose, and complexion, and she Sam’s lips, cheeks, and chin. She had all ten fingers and all ten toes and you couldn’t get enough of her. After 15 hours of labor, you were finally able to hold your baby girl and you couldn’t be happier. You wanted to hold her as much as you could, but the exhaustion of the last couple of hours caught up to you and sleep claimed you.

When you awoke, you weren’t sure how many hours you had slept, but it was now dark. Your body was still tired as sore from giving birth but your heart was full. You blinked your eyes a few times trying to adjust to the darkness when you heard Sam’s voice. When your eyes were fully adjusted, you spotted him near the window as he swayed and rocked your baby girl.

“... and your uncles Bucky and Steve can’t wait to meet you. They’ve called me at least ten times already. You’ve got nothing to worry about, kid.”

You listened for a few minutes as Sam continued talking to your daughter. You knew that he still felt unsure of himself as a father, since he had only been one for less than a day, but you knew that with time, he would become more confident in himself. There was nothing in this world that Sam Wilson couldn’t do.

“And your mother over there is the strongest woman that I know. You wouldn’t believe it, but while she was giving birth to you, she was comforting me. She was comforting me when I should have been comforting her,” he paused and laughed when your baby gurgled. “I’ve been wanting to give her something for a while now because I’ve been waiting for the right moment, and I think it’s finally here and I was wondering if you would help me out?”

She grunted and you watched as Sam nodded his head and made his way over to you. He didn’t seem shocked that you were already awake, it’s almost as if he knew you had been awake. When he made it to you, you reached up and he placed her in your arms before he sat down beside your bed.

As you held her, you looked into her brown eyes and fell even more in love. Your heart soared as you watched her yawn and a beaded silver chain caught your eye. The chain was tucked into her blanket, and you looked at Sam skeptically but you only received a shrug in response. You pulled the chain a little and Sam’s dog tags slipped out. You froze.

“Keep pulling,” he prodded. So you continued to pull and when you reached the end, you froze once again.

“Sam?” you whispered, your voice not strong enough to convey the emotions you were currently feeling.

“Y/N,” Sam said as he kneeled next to your bed. “I know we didn’t start our relationship off in the most conventional way, but I’ve known since the day that we met that you were the one for me.”

“Sam,” you whispered, but he cut you off.

“Y/N,” Sam continued before he took your hand in his. “You’re it for me, and you’ve given me more than I could ever ask for. I know that together we will be great, and I want to spend my forever with you.”

You sniffled as he slipped the ring from the chain.

“My bucket overflows when I’m with you, and you’ve brought peace to my life. What I’m trying to say is, will you marry me?”

Your heart thudded against your chest and your grip on your baby girl tightened. This is what you wanted, the family you’ve always wanted was right here for you. Waiting for you to reach out and grab it.

You felt your tears start to fall from your eyes as you nodded your head. “I love you and I like you,” you whispered just before he pressed his lips to yours.

#sam wilson x reader #sam wilson needs more love #sam wilson x black reader #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson x plus size!black reader #sam wilson x black!reader #maree writes

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bigfan-fanfic · 4 years

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How would Thor, Steve and Bucky react if his boyfriend liked to wear shorts, very short, around the tower, would they get mad that some other avenger would see him or what would they do?

Thor: Sees no problem with it. Except for when he gets jealous if Tony or someone makes a comment about liking to see so much of you.

Steve: Is a little scandalized and asks you to wear more appropriate clothing.

Bucky: Teases you about it. “Oh, am I not the only one who gets to see these gams of yours, Gorgeous? Maybe I oughta take you home and mark you up? Bite ya so that everyone knows who you belong to?”

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tonystarkbingo · 4 years

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Tony Stark Bingo Party Prompt Meme

http://generatorland.com/usergenerator.aspx?id=25057 -- we took tags from this random generator and then made up more detailed prompts from them. These prompts are open use, even if you’re not participating in the bingo, but please tag us if you write one, we’d LOVE to see what you did with it! nonsense + everyone is gay + denial : Tony+harem - Tony, while an incorrigible flirt, does not believe that anyone actually likes him, let alone as many as do. They come up with increasingly ridiculous ideas to ask him out or at least let him know they like him, while he innocently thinks they're all just such awesome friends superpowers + bodice-ripper + sad Stuckony - something set in the Regency(ish) era but with secret superpowers as an added bonus. Let’s of angst over trying to hide their secret powers, and wanting to save people without revealing themselves and also cause they’re gay. clones + nighttime + wishes Coulson/Strange (StrangeAgent? AgentStrange? DrAgent?) - Coulson ends up spending the night in the NY Sanctum. Some of the artifacts happen to be particularly sensitive to subconscious fantasies... and isn't it lucky that cloning himself happens to be one of Strange's powers? cruising + flashbacks + bad boys Winteriron possible future Stuckony - small warning for drinking mention - Tony is driving around to distract himself so he doesn't get drunk. He gets in an accident because he is not actually in a state to drive. The accident is comparatively harmless, the flashback to his convoy being attacked in Afghanistan is less so. When Tony wakes up in the hospital he learns that the person who dragged him from his car to safety is one James "Bucky" Barnes, resident motorbike riding bad boy heartthrob and friend/visitor of Steve "regular ER customer" Rogers, who's his hospital roommate. room service + lifeguards + sharing Tony is a lifeguard who takes his job very seriously. He's attending a convention-slash-training seminar at a posh uptown hotel, but then there's a knock at the door. He opens it to find two room service carts, both with order slips on them that indicate they're actually destined for another room. Rather than call the obviously harried and beleaguered bellboy back, he pushes them down the hall himself and knocks on the door... which is answered by none other than the hot beefcake fellow-lifeguard that's been distracting Tony all day. They end up sharing the enormous amount of food... and then maybe some more. :wink: overthinking + pity sex + customer service Tony just turned 40, he's been friends with Bucky and Nat for forever, and they'd been each other's marriage backups for the longest time, like, if they weren't married at 40, they'd marry whoever wasn't married either in their little trio. Only, two years prior, Buckynat became husband and wife and so he's having a little pity party on his floor at the Tower, drinking virgin mojitos and seriously consider a particular customer service to cheer himself up in one way or another - might as well get an orgasm, as shitty and sad as it may be, it's his birthday ffs - but then Bucky and Nat appear in his elevator, and they pull him off the couch he's been sprawled on for three hours, and Nat is the first to kiss him, and he's too stunned to react much but when he does question wtf is happening, Bucky shushes him and Tony lets him. The next morning he is evidently convinced it was all just pity sex, or a kink of theirs or whatever.... certainly nothing to do with the fact that they've been courting him forever and got tired of waiting for him to step out of ObliviousStarklandia. Of course not. wolves + romantic friendship + wigs Okay, so, someone has been doing an excellent job of hiding his baldness from someone else, with whom he's been in a long term best-friends-but-in-love not-quite-relationship. He's got an elaborate series of wigs, and over the years he's gradually been replacing them with slightly more grey ones so that someone else doesn't realise. Aaaand then someone gets bitten by a werewolf, and when he shifts for the first time he is completely bald and the secret is out. accidental relationship + butt dialing + warlocks Tony Stark is not happy with today's mission, not like there's an occasion to enjoy dealing with magic. But now he's in a relationship with Bucky, which is not bad, that man is gorgeous, but this is not the way. He's ranting about it to Jarvis and doesn't realize that he sat on his phone nor that he dialed the other supersoldier in the team until he hears a muffled laugh beneath him. He's going to kill that warlock smuggling + fear + road-trip okay, a Star Wars AU. Farmboy Peter is fleeing from stormtroopers who found out his parents were Jedi. He runs into smuggler Tony and they take off in Tony's ship for an extended road trip in space. possession + loving marriage + gardens & gardening Pepperony, Morgan insists there's a spirit possessing the garden because she's seen the plants dancing. Turns out they've accidentally created sentient plants and Tony is like nope, call somebody else, I do mechanical engineering and they call Dr. Cho to fix it. The marriage is in there somewhere I promise idiots in love + bonding + resurrection Ironhawk - Clint tries to get Lucky back after he goes over the rainbow bridge, but he can’t actually read latin and ends up bringing back Tony from the 18th century. And poor Tony gets Clint as his guide to the 21st. Shenanigans and eventual fluffy ending improv + cultural appropriation + shield maidens After the Battle of New York, Tony's interviewing Thor about Asguardian tech and learns that they have all kinds of shielding devices, and gets interested in trying to replicate what Thor describes just in case aliens decide to pay a call on Earth again. Thor, for his part, is kinda shocked that Earth doesn't have any such shields, though on the other hand it is Midguard, so. You know. Tony gives it a shot and a couple weeks later he's launching the satellites into orbit for a preliminary test of the shields. He intends to test them with SI tech developed from seized Chitauri tech, but before he can get the chance an alien army shows up, guns blazing and very mad about something. The shields hold, thankfully, and the aliens send a strongly worded letter informing him that he has infringed upon their religious and cultural traditions by putting the Stark logo on them. Their planet was visited centuries ago by time-travelers that greatly influenced their culture, religion, government, etc. These time travelers carried devices with that same Stark Logo on them. The Stark Logo has become a complex cultural symbol over the centuries, and they don't appreciate him using it on war tech, even if on shields. Eventually, they figure out that the time travelers' tech was Tony's tech, and agree to leave in peace, but only after Tony spends a terrifying couple of days trying to improvise his way through a diplomatic disaster with an alien power. vampire family + slapstick + loss WinterIronWidow: So, Natasha's been a vampire for a long time, and she's lonely, so she decides to take on some mates, enter established relationship WinterIron. She vampirises them, which leads to Tony having fits about GARLIC and my god, I'm ITALIAN, you horrible woman! And Bucky's like "I'm... CATHOLIC?? OM-- I can't even say G-- now??" awkwardness + chatting & messaging + shyness Tony doesn't understand why everytime Bucky comes into the lab, Dum-E tends to drop whatever he's holding and go hide in his charging station. Dum-E's always a bit clumsy and silly but this is more than usual and Tony's worried that Dum-E doesn't like Bucky or something like that. Anyway after much discussion, with JARVIS as translator and go-between, it turns out that Dum-E has developed a bit of a crush on Bucky's fancy robotic arm. Which ends up of course being a hilarious & awkward situation for all involved. candles + explosions + blind date tony gets bullied by pepper to go on a blind date to get out of his funk, she insists that this Matt Murdock character is the perfect date and Tony will like him. reluctantly tony goes to fancy restaurant and meets Matt Murdock and they hit it off instantly the little snarky assholes. they have a nice dinner by candle light and it's all going so well up until dessert when they order some kind of chocolate lava cake which was tragically not cooked properly and ends up exploding on both of them and bam they fall in love and live happily ever after skeleton puns + reincarnation + deus ex machina A snap, that was all it took to snuff out something so bright amidst the rubble of what was once New York City, and, with Tony gone for good, the living seem rather, well…dead. Until, one day, someone they all thought long dead returned to them, a blue cube glowing in his grip and a sweet promise of a new beginning dripping from his lips. But of course, no new beginning comes without a price laundry + tenderness + dialogue “I hate laundry,” Morgan declared after trying to refold her sweatshirt for the seventh time. “Me too kiddo,” Tony whispered back, sneaking a glance over his shoulder to Pepper who was putting clothes into the wash. “But that’s why we do it together. It gets done and we don't have to do it alone.” world domination + paranoia + everything hurts Tony knew what was coming, he knew. He’d seen the future and he knew. The Kree were coming - why would no one believe him? Not his husband, not the team, not even his own son. He kept convincing them they had to suit up and defend the planet and Steve and Peter kept telling him that a engineering professor from Cal Tech can’t do that, that this suit he talks about is only in his delusions. But he’s not paranoid. Or crazy. Or any of those other words. He is Iron Man. He just has to convince everyone else. feels + useless lesbians + Santa's workshop Toni doesn’t think anyone could accuse her of overflowing with Christmas spirit. That hasn’t stopped the rest of the Avengers from turning the “festive cheer” dial up to eleven, and Toni thinks she might just have to spend the whole next month hiding in her workshop. (Hey, she let DUM-E wear a Santa hat – that has to count for something.) Too bad Jamie Barnes – cyborg superassassin extraordinaire, Captain America’s best friend, and Toni’s big gay crush – has gotten the exact same idea. Now the rest of the team thinks they’ve got a “thing,” and Toni can’t decide which is worse: putting up with the Avengers’ not-so-subtle attempts at matchmaking, or spending all her time with the woman she loves and who she is absolutely, 100%, totally certain doesn’t reciprocate. Getting through this holiday season without having her heart broken might just take… a Christmas miracle. shapeshifting + secret organizations + nurses “C. Barton - Orderly.” That’s what his tag said. But only a very few people knew exactly what kind of hospital Saint Natalis actually was, and just how busy they could be during the full moon. kissing games + pirates + book stores Tony always thought that the shop had a mind of its own. The books were one thing, whispering their secrets to patrons who managed to find their way to it. Jarvis always did warn him not to touch any of the artifacts. The "DO NOT TOUCH" signs plastered all over the crates. So maybe it was his fault that he managed to summon 'Buccaneer Barnes' after touching the shiny pirate sword. "Let's play a game. If you win, I'll help you put all those runaway monsters that jumped out of the books. If I win, you owe me a kiss. Whatdaya say Stark?"

#TonyStarkBingo2020 #prompt meme #party games

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mustardprecum · 5 years

Note

Hi! If you’re taking harringrove prompts: fake dating. One of my fav tropes lol

This is a minor au where Billy and Max showed up from Cali, but there were no monsters and no confrontation at the Byers house.

Billy had been completely silent since Steve started talking, his eyes were half lidded and sleepy looking, which Steve didn’t know how to read, so basically he just kept talking and talking in the hopes that there would be some positive sign.

“－so yeah, I have no fuckin’ clue why my mom thinks I’m gay, but she’s really excited. And it’s weird, and it’s worse because my dad is really excited? Which is weirder? I don’t know what’s happening. But I got a D on my last math test, and I panicked, and I don’t know why announcing that I had a boyfriend made it suddenly okay, but it did, and now my parents want to meet my boyfriend, but I don’t have a boyfriend. And now it’s going to be Friday, tonight you know? And I’m not going to have a boyfriend to bring to dinner, and they’re going to get mad at me and, and, and,” Steve choked on his own spit and started coughing.

Billy was in much the same position he’d been in when Steve approached him in the school parking lot. Leaning against his car, unlit cigarette lazily hanging between his lips.

The silence was deafening; Steve was deafened. Then, Billy smiled, it was way worse than the blank stare. How could someone look so incredibly, gleefully, mean with such a pretty smile?

“So you want me to be your boyfriend.”

“Yes!” Steve paused. “I mean, for tonight. For pretend.”

“Uh huh,” Billy finally lit his cigarette and saunted toward Steve. “What’s in it for me?”

“I mean, the fact that I have money is one of my few redeeming qualities,” Steve said. Dustin had said it once as a joke, it had hurt, but he thought Billy might appreciate the joke.

Billy snickered; Steve was a genius.

“So money, $200,” Billy ticked off his fingers ignoring Steve’s splutter. “What else?”

“What else, what the fuck, $200 isn’t enough?” Steve raked his hands through his hair. “What else could you want?”

“You drive my shitty stepsister to and from school.”

“Fine.” Steve didn’t point out the fact that after joining the gaggle of middle schoolers who followed him around, Max ended up getting rides from him most of the time anyway.

“If I ever use you for an excuse, you go with it no matter what.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, brain concocting several worst case scenarios that could happen. Begrudgingly, he nodded.

“Great,” Billy did that thing with his tongue that Steve didn’t know how to react to. He held his ground as Billy stepped up to him and offered his free hand. “You got a boyfriend.”

“Oh thank god,” Steve shook Billy’s hand. “Thanks man, you’re saving me.”

Billy hummed and dropped his cigarette. Then he yanked Steve closer and purred, “so what should we practice?”

“Practice?” Steve squeaked.

“Every movie I ever seen says they’re going to make us kiss at some point,” Billy’s eyes practically glittered.

“I’m pretty sure my parents aren’t that weird.” Steve tried to pull his hand back but Billy held fast. “Oh god, you’re going to be really weird about this, aren’t you.”

Billy threw his head back and laughed. Steve edged back a couple steps until Billy stopped and looked at him mirthfully. “Yes. I’ll be at your place in an hour.”

An hour later, Steve was listening to his parents in the kitchen. He was completely baffled by them. The moment Steve was assumed ‘gay’ all the fighting suddenly stopped. Suddenly his dad wanted to help in the kitchen. Suddenly his mom was following the directions on her pill bottles. SUDDENLY STEVE WAS ALLOWED TO GET A D ON A TEST.

He was reeling, with his face pressed to the window, listening for Billy’s loud ass car. Asking Billy had been a mistake, Steve knew that now. All he’d been thinking was that he was desperate and Billy was from California, and people were supposed to be cooler in California or something, right? Hence why Steve’s grandpa refused to vacation in San Francisco.

Steve yelped when he heard Billy’s camaro, and he heard his mom comment that he sounded ‘excited’.

Stupid Billy had taken off so fast, Steve hadn’t gotten to coach him on what to say, how to act, or how to dress. He hurried out the door as Billy got out of his car. He looked...nice, actually, in his red shirt that was buttoned up like a human, and jeans that were fitted but not nearly as tight as Steve knew Billy’s jeans could get.

Billy swagged up to him with a lazy smile. “Hey Princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” Steve wrinkled his nose. He never thought he’d miss the derisive ‘King Steve’.

“Boyfriends have pet names,” Billy leaned in and Steve let him out of sheer curiously until Billy kissed his cheek.

Steve’s cheek burned where Billy’s lips touched but he managed to keep his composure. “Boyfriends don’t use pet names that the other boyfriend hates,” he said in a bratty voice. Christ, Billy smelled nice, why did he always reek of cigarettes and hairspray if he could smell like this?

“This one does,” Billy brushed past Steve and smacked his butt. “Introduce me to your parents,” he said over Steve’s squawk.

Billy was going to ruin everything.

Billy was incredible with parents. It was unnerving, bringing him inside and introducing him, only for Billy to dial up the charm to 11. Pretty smiles, respectful behavior, appropriately bashful as he took Steve’s hand.

Before that night, Steve would have never expected his dad to get along with someone like Billy. But there they were, sitting at the patio table, chatting about baseball while Steve’s mom asked for his help bringing in the food.

“He’s gorgeous,” she whispered happily, pinching Steve’s cheek. “I always knew you inherited my taste.”

There was a joke about her taste in marrying his dad on the tip of Steve’s tongue. Instead he smiled and settled on, “I never thought I’d bring him over.”

“I’m glad it’s all out in the open,” she sighed dreamily. “Your father and I love you. You know that?”

“I love you too, mom,” Steve followed her back outside with a big summer salad. It was a nice day out.

Billy had come up with a story all his own about how they started dating. It was better than Steve’s so he went along with it. He kept his leg pressed against Steve’s while he spun lies around Steve’s parents.

“Do you parents know?” his dad asked.

“No,” Billy’s voice dropped. Steve looked at him, his face was solemn. “And they can’t. My father is...not open minded that way.”

Steve’s parents made the appropriate sympathetic noises, and Steve rested his hand over Billy’s. He’d heard some horror stories about Neil being an asshole from Max, it wasn’t until just then that he considered how Neil might have reacted to Billy being with a boy.

Billy took Steve’s hand and swiped his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. When he smiled, it was soft and sweet like cotton candy. “I was really happy when Steve said how supportive you both were.”

If there was any doubt before that, it was completely gone. Even his dad looked teary eyed.

At the end of the night, after so much fawning that it made Steve sick, he walked Billy back out to his car. “So,” he drawled proudly, “you were wrong.”

Billy raised an eyebrow.

“My parents aren’t creeps who made us kiss in front of them,” Steve clarified. Billy kept his eyebrow raised, which was annoying because it made Steve less victorious. “Anyway, so, see you at school?”

“Yep.” Billy pushed Steve up against his car and crowded against him. His eyes shifted all over Steve’s face, and his hand moved slowly as he grabbed Steve’s chin.

Were his parents watching and Steve hadn’t noticed? Was Billy just messing with him? Steve was very unprepared for Billy’s behavior the whole night. Most of their interaction was Billy heckling him at basketball practice and at parties.

Steve stayed relaxed, expecting a short little peck.

Billy kissed the way Steve expected, forcing Steve’s mouth open and practically kissing the life out of him. Steve was overwhelmed, he’d never had so much tongue and teeth in a first kiss but by the time Billy pulled away Steve was panting, blushing, his knees were shaking, and he felt like a swooning heroine.

“Christ,” he whispered as Billy pushed him harder against the camaro. They kissed again, this time with more participation from Steve.

He’d been single for a long time, hadn’t realized quite how much he missed making out with someone. Billy was really fucking good at it. His body felt so different from Nancy, so much broader than Steve’s, hard and so stronger that the camaro actually rocked when Billy ground against him.

“Stop fucking with my hair,” Billy muttered against his mouth. Steve may have had both hands tangled in the blond curls. He tugged for good measure and Billy bit his cheek.

Then Billy stepped back so suddenly that Steve almost dropped. He pushed his hair back, casual as though he wasn’t very visibly hard. Steve had his eyes on it as he adjusted himself.

That was confusing; Steve was confused.

“See you Monday, Princess,” Billy reached around Steve to open the drivers side door.

Pushing away any thoughts that were hard to process was something Steve could do. “Have a good weekend, uh, pookie?” He winced at Billy’s dumbfounded look.

Then Billy laughed, “abso-fuckin-lutely not.”

“Whatever.”

Billy left and Steve went back inside, unsure he actually had a boyfriend or not.

#harringrove #idk why i did that with his parents #i just thought it would be nice #THANK YOU #I still love getting prompts just so yall know #even tho i got a wip that i am... haha not working on rn #Anonymous #mp answers

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elisaphoenix13 · 5 years

Text

(FT)Accidents Happen

Guys, this idea came to me in a dream, and after some positive feedback on it, I decided to write it. This is connected to Supreme Family Chaos but is not officially part of it. This is kind of a 'what if' situation and possibly future canon. If you would like to see more of this, let me know! Any rude comments will be ignored and reported.

**FT stands for Future Timeline**

_______________

A whole freaking year. That's how long they managed to stay under the radar after he and Cassie ran. Why did they run in the first place?

Fucking Parker luck.

It didn't matter that Peter changed his last name and took Tony's, he was still a Parker and he still had shitty luck. Granted, it wasn't all bad, at least so far, but it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped. It was a miracle they were able to hide this long but that was only because Peter knew how far Tony's reach was (everywhere electonically), and he and Cassie had both taken precautions to destroy or dispose of their hair so Stephen couldn't use that tactic.

The problem though? Peter had gotten Cassie pregnant. They definitely used protection, but the damn protection broke, and so they panicked. They ran. They were both afraid of their parents combined wrath and Peter wanted to be able to take responsibility before Scott killed him. Peter juggled three jobs that paid him under the table so nothing could be tracked to them and so Cassie and the baby wanted for nothing. He, on the other hand, needed to eat more and get some sleep. With three jobs and an infant, sleep was a luxury. He always got up to help with the baby though and Cassie was starting to worry about his health (though he didn't know it).

When they went off the radar, so did Spiderman. Peter hated the idea that he wasn't doing something good with his powers, but his family was more important. Besides, being Spiderman just made his metabolism even faster and it he could barely keep up with it as it was. Peter had a new appreciation for what May and Tony had done to keep him fed. It was expensive.

"Peter."

Brown eyes snap open and Peter rubs his face before looking up at Cassie from his position on the couch. "Yeah. I'm awake. What's wrong?" He asks, his voice gravelly after his unexpected nap.

Cassie sits on the edge of the couch and brushes back a loose lock of hair from the male's forehead. "...maybe I'll just go to the store by myself. I can take Emma with me so you can get some more sleep."

"Nope." Peter sits up with a groan. "What do we need?"

"Food if we want to eat dinner. Unless you want a carrot and mayonnaise sandwich."

"That sounds disgusting. Grocery store it is."

Peter rubs the last remnants of sleep from his eyes as he gets off the couch and goes into the bedroom to retrieve their daughter. To his surprise, Emma was awake and gurgling happily so he didn't feel as bad scooping her up. When she was first born, Peter had been terrified to hold her. It took a lot of reassurance on both his and Cassie's part before he finally did and he was hyper aware of his strength whenever he did. Even now. He was always careful even after three months had passed.

After a diaper check, he holds her against his shoulder as he grabs the diaper bag and rejoins Cassie out by the door. She trades him his wallet and keys for the bag and they leave their one bedroom apartment, locking it up, and head out of the building and to the parking lot.

A car was one of the first things they got after they ran. Peter had cashed out his savings account, which was thankfully nothing to sneeze at since his father was a billionaire, and it had gotten them a reliable car and a small apartment. Everything was always paid in cash though, and whatever was left over was put away for emergencies. Or in their case three months ago, the hospital bill and something extra so Peter could hack into their system and keep the baby's birth certificate from Tony's (FRIDAY'S) grasp. The lock on the file wouldn't last long if Tony did come across it, but it would at least last long enough that they would be able to tell their parents themselves. It also helped that a birth certificate would be one of the last things they looked for.

He and Cassie may legally be adults now, Peter being nineteen and Cassie eighteen, but they didn't want to run forever. He just wanted long enough to prove that he could support his family despite the toll it was taking on Peter's health. If he hadn't been bitten by the spider, he was pretty sure things would be a lot easier.

Maybe he would only have to juggle two jobs instead of three.

____________________

"Tony." Stephen calls softly.

The engineer snaps out of his daze and looks up from the cold cup of coffee in his hands, sighing as he throws it into the microwave to heat it back up. "Sorry. Kind of clocked out there. Were you saying something?"

The sorcerer sighs. "No. I..." Stephen sighs. "I'm feeling useless again."

That was the norm for them nowadays, but it bothered Stephen even more because he felt like magic should have been able to track down Peter and Cassie. Nothing worked though. The kids had been thorough about hair and erasing their tracks and Tony didn't even know why they ran in the first place. Peter was happy. He was accepted into MIT and he planned on staying at the tower and using Stephen's portals as transportation, just so he could continue to see his friends and Cassie. Tony had tried to get him to move into the dorms, but the teen didn't have any interest in that so the engineer didn't fight him about it. Especially since Mama Bear agreed to the portals. Peter would only have to drive out if Stephen had some Sorcerer Supreme things to attend to and wouldn't be back to open a portal for him.

Cassie was happy as far as they knew too. Scott knew about the kids relationship and it took Steve telling the ex-criminal that it was better Peter, someone he knew, than a random teenage boy. Scott had relented and agreed that it was the better situation but he still hovered every once in a while.

Then they left? Nothing made sense.

"Babe...we talked about this. I get it. I do. Don't you think I feel useless too? I should have been able to find them on cameras or something months ago but--"

"This is Peter we're talking about." Stephen finishes. "I know that. I'm just worried." He whispers.

Tony sighs. "I want some kind of sign that they're okay too. I'm telling you, when we find them, I'm grounding Underoos forever. I'm going gray way too fast."

"My magic doesn't work like it used to."

Because he was upset, but that didn't need to be said again. Tony already knew. Wong had to take over Stephen's Sorcerer Supreme duties recently because of it. Another thing his husband was kicking himself for.

The microwave beeps and Tony takes out his coffee and sips at it. "Boss." FRIDAY's voice filters through the penthouse.

"What Fri?"

"I've found an image at a grocery store north of the city. I've confirmed a person in it to be Cassie Lang."

Tony's eyes widen and he abandons his coffee on the counter as he asks his AI to put the image on the television in the living room. Stephen follows him and the couple freeze when they look at the image. It was definitely Cassie, and the boy beside her was unmistakably Peter (they knew those brown waves anywhere) but his back was to the camera.

"FRIDAY, is there a recording?" Tony asks.

"Playing back now."

Everything seemed normal. The teens were shopping for food, Peter grabbing things for Cassie whenever she pointed something out, but Tony noticed that the boy's other arm remained in one position. Just as his mind was coming up with a possible explanation, Peter turned toward the camera and revealed the bundled burden in his arm.

"Oh my god." The engineer gasps out.

Stephen gapes at the repeating video for a few moments before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Well now we know why they ran. Do we tell Scott that we found them?"

"We have to." Tony says. "We'll just keep the little detail about the baby from him for now. He's going to be mad enough at Peter as it is. Fri, have Scott come up. Tell him we found the kids but don't say anything about the baby."

"Yes, Boss."

____________________________

"Pizza's on its way." Peter says as he puts down his phone. Something he put under a fake name and also paid for in cash.

Cassie looks over the couch. "Okay. I fed the baby and put her back down. Maybe you should get some sleep until the food gets here."

"Yeah...okay. I'm too tired to argue." The older teen says as he walks over and gives his girlfriend a kiss. "Wake me up if you need me beforehand."

Cassie nods and goes back to watching her tv show when Peter retires to the bedroom, and he faceplants into the bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but no matter how tired he was, he always kept an ear out for Cassie and Emma. It was a habit he made as Spiderman and it wasn't one he was going to snuff out. It was extremely useful, especially if his spider senses didn't warn him of any danger. There never was danger since his hearing usually only picked up when the baby woke up and started crying, but he was always prepared otherwise.

That's why he was able to react when he heard Cassie scream. He was out of the bed (and the bedroom) before he even blinked away the haze caused by sleep, and had tackled whoever was outside the open door.

"Peter! Wait!" Cassie says as she grabs the arm he had raised to punch the intruder.

The older teen blinks up at her before looking down at his victim, and his stomach churns when he finds himself looking at Tony. "D-Dad?!"

Peter scrambles off of his groaning father and Tony rubs the back of his head with a grimace after Stephen helps him to his feet. They weren't the ones that had Peter worried though. It was Scott. He was with them too and he was fuming. It was really the appropriate response, but this wasn't how they wanted to do things. He and Cassie weren't sure how to approach their parents, but this definitely wasn't on the list of ideas. At least Emma hadn't been woken up by her mother's scream. Scott probably would have been pummeling him by now.

Not that it wouldn't happen anyway. Peter was expecting to be beaten within an inch of his life.

"H-how...how did you find us?" Peter finally asks with a gulp.

"A camera at the grocery store." Tony replies and thanks Cassie when she invites them in.

Peter turns white as a sheet. There was no way they didn't see the baby, but that wouldn't explain why Scott wasn't trying to kill him yet. Unless the ex-criminal wasn't there when Tony and Stephen saw what the camera did and they didnt tell him.

"Remember what I said to you four years ago? Don't do anything I would do and definitely don't do anything I wouldn't do?" Peter opens his mouth but his father holds up a finger and gives him a warning look. "You had a little gray area to work with, and what did you do? THE COMPLETE FUCKING OPPOSITE!"

Even his mother was glaring at him. "You left without a single word. Do you realize how worried we were? You've both been missing for a year. I can't..." Stephen trails off with a frustrated huff and rubs his face.

It was silent for a few moments, but that was short-lived when the diaper bag caught Scott's eye. "What...the fuck...is that?" He seethes through clenched teeth.

That was when the other shoe dropped. Emma woke from her nap and started crying, and Scott snapped. Peter was so sleep deprived that he didn't see the man coming until he was already pinned to the nearby wall with a hand around his throat. Normally he would have pushed Scott away, but this was a long time coming, and he wasn't as strong as he usually was due to his poor diet. So he let the ex-criminal wail on him with his free hand, cursing Peter for 'knocking up' his daughter, and it only came to a stop when the obvious sound of a rib cracking echoed through the room. Peter gasps out in pain and slumps to the floor when Tony finally pulls Scott away, and he notices through blurred vision that Cassie was nowhere to be seen. She was probably in the bedroom soothing their daughter.

"What the hell is wrong with you? I know you can take more than that!" Scott yells from Tony's grasp.

"Daddy! Stop!" Cassie yells from the bedroom door. "He's tired and he's weak!" She stands between Scott and Peter with Emma against her shoulder, only allowing Stephen to pass when Peter coughs up some blood. "He's been working three jobs to make sure me and Emma are taken care of, and he only eats once he knows I've had enough. There's plenty of food leftover but it still isn't enough for his metabolism. So he's barely eaten enough....he's barely getting any sleep..." Cassie's eyes mist over. "I almost called Mom because I was starting to worry."

They knew by Mom, she meant Stephen, and her admission to Peter's health had Scott deflating. His anger left almost soon as it came on, and Tony waited a few moments before releasing him. Stephen had healed the small amount of internal bleeding and cracked rib that Peter had, but had left the forming bruises as his own form of punishment for worrying them. He still hated to see Peter hurt, so it took a lot of willpower on the doctor's part not to heal the boy completely.

He did help Peter back to his feet though as Tony answered the front door when there was a knock, and the engineer pays the pizza guy after sending him back with a larger order. Cassie helps Peter to the couch and he sits down on it with a slight wince as their parents join them. Tony walks over with the two boxes of pizza and sets them down on the coffee table in front of the kids and points at them while looking at Peter.

"Eat."

Peter's reply was instant. "Cassie eats first."

"Peter, it's fine. I heard him order more so I can wait." Cassie reassures him but he still hesitates. "Please."

Peter sighs. "At least take a couple of slices."

Tony holds out his hands. "Gimme." He smiles when Cassie hands Emma over to him so she can eat. "Hey you."

Scott frowns. "Why does Tony get to hold her first?"

"Because you beat the crap out of my boyfriend." Cassie sasses. "He also asked first, otherwise Mom would have gotten her."

Scott sniffs. "I see how it is. By the way, you get to tell proper Mom."

"I'm not worried." The girl responds dryly.

The storm had settled after that. Scott was still a little angry, but he seemed to accept the fact that Peter stepped up and took care of the girls with less regard to his own health. He also respected the fact that the teen temporarily retired his suit to do so, but he wasn't about to admit it out loud. Stephen was the next to hold Emma and it amused everyone in the room when Mama Bear came out full force. Tony actually had to pry the baby away so Scott could have his turn.

When the second order of pizza came, Peter whole-heartedly dug into the food until he got his fill for the first time in months. It didn't take much longer after that for him to fall asleep with his head in Cassie's lap, and the rest ate quietly as they watched tv. The relief on the girl's face was enough to make the older men keep their mouths shut when it implied how worried she actually was. What she said Peter did for them sounded accurate anyway. Peter always put other people before himself.

"We want you back at the tower." Tony starts and Cassie looks up at him. "Peter can focus on MIT and Spiderman if he wants to put the suit on again. You two don't need to worry about money."

"Thank you...I think he missed Spiderman anyway. No matter how tired he was, he was always restless."

Tony nods. "Sounds about right. Once we're done eating, Mama Bear can portal you home with the baby stuff. I'll have some movers come pack up whatever you want to keep."

"You might as well stay in Peter's room...as long as that's okay with your father." Stephen adds.

Scott sighs heavily. "I'm not about to separate the baby from either of them."

"Then it's settled. We'll have to get Peter back to the tower before he wakes up though. Otherwise we'll have an argument on our hands." The engineer looks at Cassie. "Fair warning, Nat will probably steal the baby for a bit."

Cassie giggles. "She'd have to fight Mom for her."

Stephen blushes and Tony and Scott laugh at the accuracy before the ex-criminal suddenly freezes with wide eyes. "Holy shit...I'm a grandpa."

Tony and Stephen still at his words.

#peter parker #cassie lang #original female character #mama bear stephen strange #stephen strange #tony stark #ironstrange #supremefamily #scott lang

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theimaginesyouneveraskedfor · 6 years

Text

Not Him (8)

So things are moving a bit quicker than I intended but whatever, I’m the one who can’t read my own handwriting. Anyhow, chapter 8 is here and soon! you will get to choose which way to go. Please enjoy and leave some feedback as well :)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

You awoke next to Bucky. His dark hair fanned out on the pillow, his metal arm bent across his bare stomach. You smiled to yourself as you admired his peaceful profile and shimmied closer. Your movement stirred him and he opened his eyes, looking over at you with a groggy smile. He spread his arm out to pull you to him and you rested your head on his shoulder, the vibranium surprisingly warm.

“It wasn’t a dream,” He breathed, kissing your forehead softly.

“Thank god,” You agreed, stretching your arm across him. You sighed, completely content. How many times had you imagined waking up like this? “So, before we got distracted, you never did say much about how your mission went.”

“Well, nothing serious really. At least, not from the enemy,” His metal fingers tickled your side as he traced circles along your skin, “It was...tense though.”

“Tense?” You echoed, “How so?”

“Well, I’m used to it just being me and Steve. Sometimes Sam too but...Thor’s a nice guy but his brother is, um, difficult.” He explained and you stiffened against him, “I don’t really know how to explain it. I mean, he wasn’t really mean or anything but he wasn’t exactly friendly.”

“That’s just the way he is,” You said darkly. You were suddenly less than content thinking about the trickster and his entitled attitude. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for how he treated Bucky. It was likely that it was due to your previous run-in with the Asgardian. “Well, you’re back now. No need to think too much about it.”

“Yeah…” Bucky’s word floated in the air as you tried to wipe the trickster from your mind. Did he have to ruin everything? You closed your eyes and recalled that night, in this very bed, when he had pretended to be the same man you laid beside at that moment. You sat up sharply and your eyes snapped open as the memory sent a wave of rage through you. “Y/N?” Bucky pushed himself up, touching your shoulder gently.

“I’m fine, sorry, I just…” You looked around, glancing the bathroom door, “I gotta go.” You smiled at him shyly before pulling away, feigning the panic which came from a full bladder as you fled to bathroom. You closed the door behind you and swore under your breath. Don’t let him ruin it, you told yourself, not now.

You sat in the lab, bent over some of Tony’s new sketches. He and Bruce had left to test one of their more explosive gadgets in an appropriate place and you had set to poring over Stark’s endless trove of genius. Your elbow was planted beside the folder and your lips moved subtly as you read the words, referring to the lines and circles drawn carefully by their author. You shook your head, knowing much of bringing this to life would be left up to you.

Your lower back began to ache and you sat up, stretching your arms above your head with a groan. You hated these stools Tony had in the lab but standing was worse as it strained your neck. You flipped the page, playing with the corner as you tried to keep your mind at the task at hand. You could easily retreat to your room and read the sketches but you expected that your co-workers would soon return and expect an in-depth discussion.

You bent the corner as a knock came at the lab door and your head popped up in surprise. Maybe Bucky had come to bug you again. It had become a habit since the beginning of your relationship, you were only thankful that he had started to do it when Tony wasn’t around to glower at you. You swiveled the stool, nearly toppling it as you saw who your visitor was. You stared dumbly at the door as Loki stood on the other side of the glass.

He attempted a smile and slowly opened the door, pushing inside carefully. “Um, may I?” He asked and you watched him silently. You slipped off the stool and crossed your arms. “I apologize if I’m disturbing you but, I, uh...Y/N,” His eyes searched your stony features. “Please, I need to talk to you.”

“About what?” You hissed.

“I...I want to apologize to you. Genuinely. What I did, I shouldn’t have done it.” He clasped his hands together tightly, keeping his distance as if he feared he would scare you away. “I don’t know what possessed me but it’s besides the point. What I did was wrong. Worse, it hurt you deeply and I am so very sorry for my actions and for the pain it must have caused you.”

“Am I supposed to believe you?” You snarled, shaking your head. “Really, you must think me dumber than that night I fell for your stupid trick.”

“Please, Y/N, I’m not lying to you. I mean every word,” He sounded convincingly desperate as he dared to step a little closer. “You don’t understand. I’ve been beating myself up over this ever since. I can’t stand the thought that I hurt you.”

“Loki, I don’t even know you. You don’t know me. And if you expect me to take you seriously, you’re out of your mind.” You scoffed, “You’ve been beating yourself up? Really? You don’t know the nights I’ve spent hating myself because of you. Questioning every little thing because I frankly can’t tell if it’s real or not. You’re a fucking joke.”

“I…” He sighed, his forehead wrinkled as he grasped for words, “I want to know you, Y/N. I just--I didn’t know how to...I didn’t know how to approach you and so I made a mistake. A big one. And I’m not expecting you to embrace me with open arms but I at least hoped you could accept my apology. Forgive me even for I am truly sorry.”

“You’re not sorry. You’re despicable,” You were so angry with him, your head hurt. You had held it in for so long that having him here before you, delivering some hollow apology had unleashed it. You shoved his chest as hard as you could, the act taking even you by surprise as he stared back agape. “You can’t even know what you’ve done to me. Ever.”

“You--You’re as stubborn as a mule,” He caught your arms as you tried to push him again, quickly releasing you as he backed away. “I’ve come here in all sincerity and all you can do is linger on my mistake. You can’t see past yourself for what I’m trying to do.” His own anger burst through the uncharacteristic earnestness which had masked him before. “I should have known you were like every other Midgardian. Too simple for reason.”

“Get out!” You shouted. “I mean--”

The door interrupted your next warning and you looked over to find Bucky entering the lab. He glanced between you and Loki who had turned to him as well. You rubbed your forehead, trying to brush away your scowl. “What’s going on?” Bucky asked.

“Nothing. Loki’s just leaving,” You said, resuming your stool and swiveling back to your work. “I have work to do.”

You heard the door open again and lithe footsteps faded as it closed. Bucky approached tentatively and leaned on the desk, looking down at you as you tried to feign concentration. He touched your shoulder and you realized you were shaking. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” You said quietly, pushing away the folder. “I just--Are you hungry? I’m hungry?”

“What--Uh,” He looked back at the door before slowly nodding. “Okay, let’s go get some lunch.” He stepped back so that you could climb out of your stool, collecting the folder and taking his hand.

“Let’s go somewhere outside the Tower,” You said as you led him to the door, “Somewhere I can think.”

Later that night, you sat in bed with folder in hand. You had failed to finish it by the time Tony returned and he hadn’t cared much anyhow. He and Bruce were too distracted by the device they had been testing all day. You wrote small notes in pencil along the margins in case they were useless anyhow, the warmth beside you tempting you away from your work.

“Don’t you ever stop?” Bucky teased as his hand found your thigh underneath the duvet.

“In an hour,” You promised him for the third time that night.

“You keep saying that like time is going to stand still,” He said, his fingers lightly grabbing the corner of the folder. “Come on, you can read the rest tomorrow when you’re actually on the clock.”

You looked over at him and sighed, relenting as you closed the folder reluctantly and placed it on the nightstand. You wriggled down so that your head was on the pillow and you nestled closer to Bucky as he wrapped his arm around you. “Much better,” He purred. “So, are you going to tell me what was going on earlier?”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“With you and Loki. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so upset,” He mused, “What did he do? Plant a whoopee cushion on your stool?”

“I told you, I don’t want to talk about it,” You bristled, turning so that your back was to him. You didn’t want him to see how even the mention of Loki riled you. He pressed closer, his body flush against yours as he hugged you, his chin nuzzling against your shoulder.

“You’re going to have to tell me eventually, Y/N,” He said, “Or I’ll just ask him myself.”

“No.” You grabbed his arm tightly, “No, please don’t bother him.”

“Y/N,” He sat up, “Jesus, what in the hell did he do that’s got you so worked up?”

“I…” You pushed yourself up to meet Bucky’s gaze, “If I tell you, you have to promise not to get mad.”

“Why would I--What did he do?” His voice turned dangerous and you regretted your last question. “Tell me.”

“Swear to me you won’t do anything,” You begged.

“Fine, I won’t do anything but you have to tell me what’s going on.” He took your hand gently. “Please.”

You exhaled and pursed your lips, searching the room as you mustered your strength. “Back, um, you know before me and you--well, Loki, he, uh…” You blinked, trying to find the right words, “He pretended to be you and tricked me and I fell for it...He was apologizing today but I guess I’m still pretty mad about it.”

Bucky released your hand so quickly you barely had time to react as he climbed out of bed. His vibranium fist was clenched at his side as he started for the door in nothing but his sweatpants. You struggled to escape the tangle of the duvet and ran in front of the door just as he reached it. You blocked him with your body, your hands up as you tried to get him to back up. “You said you wouldn’t do anything.” You bartered, “Bucky, please, you don’t have to--”

“He humiliated you,” He grabbed the handle, his arm under yours, “What exactly did he do when he pretended to be me?”

You looked away embarrassed and he turned the handle, pulling open the door so that you were forced out of the way. He marched out of the room before you could stop him and you stared at his back in fear as he continued down the hallway. You hurried after him when sense returned to you, struggling to keep up and dreading what exactly he had in store for Loki.

#loki #bucky barnes #not him #series #fic #mcu #marvel

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occasionalfics · 6 years

Text

into you // p. 16

Summary: Just as Steve begins to wonder why he’s been sent on a mission well below his pay grade, a mysterious, unscented woman steps in and does his job for him. He’s immediately drawn into her allure, and he needs to know who she is, why she’s on a mission to take out some of the city’s most powerful alphas, and why he can’t get her off his mind.

A/N: Uhhhhhhh so I had this scene stuck in my head pretty much since the beginning. I always knew I wanted exactly what happens here, just had to get there...for fifteen previous chapters.

Also sorry it’s late! I was busy like two days in a row (which never happens?) and almost forgot about this!

Warnings: Mild NSFW stuff mentioned, mostly fluff and Steve bein way too cute.

Word: 1,861

The view from the balcony is gorgeous, though it has nothing on her. Especially as she looks out over the city.

Paris. Not even Paris lives up to her. He looks at her now, her back covered only by the silk robe she bought the night before. She’s framed by the Eiffel Tower, and Steve doesn’t even care how cliche indie movie that is.

He thinks about her friend in the flat below them, the girl with the alpha boyfriend and omega brother. They’re all here now, hopefully adjusting to the new life Steve and (Y/N) have given them.

Because that was her only condition. He had to help her get them all out. With Ophelia out of commission, those girls - girls who had no idea they were working for Hydra’s former favorite - had nothing. No jobs, no safety, no family. Well, not much family anyway.

He knows she’s worried about the girls. They’re hers now. She’s their keeper, because she’s the only one that knows the extent of Ophelia’s madness.

Steve gets up from the bed and goes to her. Even though she was in bed with him all night, he’s missed her. He misses her all the time, so he keeps her close when he can. When she lets him. And she lets him more often than he thinks he deserves.

He presses in behind her, slides his arms around her waist, and easily finds his favorite spot along her neck with his lips. It’s still a little swollen, but it’s fresh and pronounced. He likes it that way, would keep it like that forever if he could so that everyone would know she’s his. He’d do the same for his own mark, if he could.

He’s not exactly looking forward to the day when the swelling goes down, the skin heals, and just enough of a mark is left to let everyone else know she’s made her choice. That Steve is her choice.

“Morning,” he says, breathing in ocean salt and jasmine. It’s not quite as overwhelming as it once had been, but she’s on suppressants again. Not as high a dose, and not for the same reasons as before. Now it’s just so that they’re not taken off guard by heats and ruts and consequences of those things.

It’s not the right time for that yet.

He was relieved when they agreed that the dose Helen was comfortable prescribing would help them have a sense of normalcy, privacy, and intimacy. All things Steve has never really considered for himself; he’s Captain America, after all. The world will always need him. He doesn’t really get to have a life of his own.

Except for when he decides he does, it turns out.

He’s learning, day in and day out, that he does deserve happiness. That he deserves to take a break from world saving - although that’s not accurate for what’s happening now. This is just a smaller, more specific form of world saving.

Her hands skim his arms, and she sighs and leans into him. “Good morning,” she says quietly, still looking out at the skyline of one of the most gorgeous cities in the world.

He kisses her mark and she shivers, both of them smiling and knowing the other is smiling, too. “It’s early,” he tells her. “Come back to bed.”

“I wanna see Paris,” she responds. “And since we have to leave tomorrow, I’m taking as much of it in as I can.”

“We’ll come back,” he says, lips not drifting far from her skin. “Once they’re all settled, we’ll come back. Promise.”

She nods. “I know. But just…” A sigh comes out, then she’s placed all her weight back on him. Steve chuckles at her dramatic flair. “Just lemme look at it.”

His eyes lift and he sees what she sees. The sun is barely up now, just rising over the buildings they’re facing. The morning is cool - not cold, but not hot or humid - and people are just starting to mill about on the streets below them. The smell of fresh baked pastries lift from the patisserie across the street, and Steve makes plans to head over in a little bit for breakfast.

But for now, he has (Y/N) in his arms, and that’s all he wants. All he needs.

He’s been so scared that he won’t be able to tell her what he’s thinking, so he’s been telling her everything lately. Even before they marked one another, he wanted to tell her everything. So it’s no surprise to either of them when he trails kisses up her neck and into her hair before telling her, “I love you. So, so much.”

She preens at his affections, and he can feel warmth fill her neck and cheeks. His body skips a beat - a pulse - when she leans her head back so her lips reach for his ear. She whispers, “I love you, Steve.”

With half a thought on the warm bed behind them, his hands trail and bring her arms up and around his neck. He knows she’s rather bare to the city below them, but she makes no move to cover herself. His fingers move over her sides once more, one hand reaching further down between her thighs, gripping the soft and supple skin until she lets out a soft gasp.

He’d throw everything away to drown in that noise. Her airy breaths, the way her body reacts to his in perfect harmony, the knowledge that they belong to one another officially is more than he could have bargained for when he first saw her in that bar. But by whatever power is watching over them, pulling and planning for them, this is his reality, and he is so unbelievably grateful.

He runs a slow, short path through her folds with one finger, breath hitching at how warm and welcoming she is to him. Then he remembers that he is the alpha, or at the very least, that he has a plan.

“I’ll make coming back to bed worth your while. Promise,” he whispers, which is much easier with her head resting against his shoulder. He hardens in the cotton briefs he’s wearing, as if to emphasize his point. As if he has control over that.

Her moan at his words reminds him of the night before - of him below her, tasting all of her, watching her writhe over him whenever he had the occasion to open his eyes. It’s enough to bring a low rumble up from his chest.

Steve grips one of her hands and slowly steps back from her, almost going back when she whines. He might be the alpha between them, but she knows exactly what her calls for him do. She’s impossible to resist, impossible to deny. Always has been, he knows.

She follows him back into the flat, back over to the bed where, just as she had last night, she straddles him. Last night, her knees grazed his ears; this morning, they knock softly into his sides. He feels her bare body against his, and he absolutely has plans to remedy the pressure in his briefs - but that can wait a moment.

“What was so important that you pulled me away from Paris, Steve?” she asks, palms splayed on his chest, eyes trained carefully on his face, even though she couldn’t possibly conceal the desire in her pupils if she wanted to.

It’s difficult for him to pull his attention from her, but he has to. He leans over the edge of the bed, rifles through his duffle bag, and pulls out a small velvet drawstring pouch. Her hands slip to his lower stomach as he sits up below her. He holds the pouch out to her, and she stares at it for a moment.

“This,” he says simply, watching her face carefully.

Her fingers slowly reach for the pouch, and when she takes it, she runs the fabric between her thumb and forefinger. She gasps, probably because she can feel the shape of the thing within. Without meeting his eyes, she pulls the pouch open, turns it over, and lets the little, simple silver ring fall into her opposite palm. And then she stares at it.

He knows she’s wondering why would they need a ring if they’ve already marked one another. It’s taken over his thoughts before, too, but something has been telling to give it to her anyway.

“My father gave this to my mom before he left for the service. She used to tell me it was the only wedding ring he ever gave her.” Now Steve’s looking at the ring, too, instead of at (Y/N). He just wants to see the moment she picks it up, or if she will at all. “She gave it to me before she passed. Howard kept it safe for me, I guess.”

Her eyes lag, but eventually, she catches his gaze with confusion and something...not quite like embarrassment, but something close.

Steve lifts a hand to her chin and shakes his head. “You don’t have to wear it. I just thought-”

She brings the ring in toward her chest, closing her fist around it, eyes widening as if she’s offended he would even suggest taking this thing from her. He realizes that, other than his shirts on occasion, this is really the first meaningful tangible thing he’s given to her.

His whole body warms at how she’s protecting his mother’s ring as if it’s the most precious thing she’s ever held.

He chuckles and gently pulls her arms out. He kisses every inch of her skin until she’s loosened her grip, then he picks the ring up and turns her hand over. “Would you like to keep this safe for me?”

She nods frantically, as if she doesn’t know the right words to respond with. Her fingers flex, and Steve slides the ring onto the appropriate digit. It’s a perfect fit, and once the metal is settled, she brings her hand up to examine it.

His arms circle her waist, reminding her that he’s there with her. She glances over her hand at him, smiles, and throws herself at him. Their lips collide as he falls back onto the bed, both of them laughing, which turns into soft moans as she deepens the kiss.

Steve has no idea how long they stay like that, wrapped up in one another, (Y/N) wearing his mother’s ring as just another sign that he is hers and she is his. That they’re in this together, for good. He doesn’t care how much time has passed, either, except that he knows that they still have work to do. They still have Reapers to relocate. Former Reapers.

They have people that are depending on their strategy, their protection and promises. So as much as he would much rather be treating Paris as a honeymoon destination, as much as he would love to stay in bed and make love to her all day and night, he knows better.

And besides, there’s time for that after they’re done saving the world, one down-and-out omega at a time.

Tags!

Global: @wonderlandfandomkingdom @samanthasmileys @sunigyrl @mysweetcookie99 @punkrockhufflefluff @lady-thor-foster @the-resal10 @rogrsnbarnes @xxashy999xx @badassbaker @frenfics @feelmyroarrrr

Steve: @girlwhoisfearless @mrsdeanwinchester19 @cherrysfandom @captainradicalpassion @patzammit @coffeebooksandfandom @angryteapot @eyesfixedonthesun22 @theirmidgardian

Series: @whatdoyxumean @part-time-patronus @theunsweetenedtruth

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #into you fic #captain america x reader #alpha!steve x reader

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imagine-loki · 6 years

Text

fear and other related emotions

TITLE: Fear and Other Related Emotions

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter-23

AUTHOR: latent-thoughts ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine meeting Loki to interrogate him while he is incarcerated in the Helicarrier glass enclosure. He initially tries to scare you away but then becomes interested in you as you keep talking to him. RATING: NC-17/ MA NOTES/WARNINGS: Warning for explicit sexual situations and violence (combat/fighting/interrogations).

A/N: Here’s a longish chapter, hope you guys enjoy it.

________________________________________

“What are you doing, brother?”

“Freezing the damn thing.”

“Loki, what does that mean?” Thor asked, sounding panicked now. “How are you going to do that?”

“I don’t have time to explain, just get everyone all off this block!” Loki snapped, feeling his anxiety growing with every moment. Now that he had committed himself to this mad idea, he was going to have to follow through. Even the usually headstrong Tony Stark was desperate enough to do as he asked, just to ensure that he succeeded in stopping Ultron.

“Fine, just don’t do anything reckless.”

“That’s your forte, brother, not mine.” He nodded to Stark. “Let’s get this done.”

“I’m not sure what we’re getting done, but okay. Off we go!” He lifted into the air with Loki hanging off his arms. “You can put your feet on top of mine; more stability.”

Loki did as he suggested, ignoring the awkwardness of the situation in order to do the needful. He was already feeling the pinpricks of regret with his decision, but he knew that someone had to do something here. There didn’t seem to be any other solution, unless they were prepared to risk the lives of several thousand mortals.

“Ain’t this romantic,” muttered Stark as they flew to the edge of the block and then started descending.

“Keep your focus, Stark, and under no circumstances should you let go of me.”

“I’ll admit, it’s very tempting, especially when I’m not sure what the hell you are doing.”

“Everyone off the landmass?” Loki asked, concentrating on his magic to summon the Casket of Ancient Winters.

“Not yet,” Rogers replied. “Give me a few seconds. These things are trying to get off the land too.”

“I don’t have time! Thor will take care of them.”

Thor grunted in affirmation. “Aye! Go and jump into the hellicarrier, Steve.”

“Then go ahead,” Rogers stated mulishly, “I’ll walk it off.”

“You can’t! You’ll get frozen.”

“Yeah, been there, done that. Go ahead!”

The casket materialized in Loki’s hand then, and he saw his fingers turning blue in response to the inherent Jotun magic encased in it. He closed his eyes and tried his best to ignore the odd sensation spreading through his body. He knew that when he’d open them next, they’d be deep red.

“Reindeer Games, are you… what the fuck… you’re turning blue.” Stark’s grip faltered, and for a moment Loki was certain that he was going to drop him.

“Shut up, Stark, and don’t you dare drop me,” he snapped, having run out of both patience and gentility in the wake of taking on the skin he had been taught to hate.

“You expect me to shut up in this situation? While you’re turning into Papa Smurf right in my arms? Not happening, dude.”

Stark’s jabbering actually helped Loki in ignoring the dread that was taking over his mind. It kept him in the present; and the present demanded certain actions from him regardless of how he felt.

Taking a deep breath, Loki adjusted the casket in his hands and willed it to shoot the coldest, hardest ice that it could.

“Thor! Off the block, now!”

“Whoa… what fresh hell is this?” someone rasped into the communication device, and Loki knew it was a response either to him or to the ice.

Intuitively working with the casket, Loki coaxed it to build both upwards and beneath the piece of land, knowing that the moment the machine came to a halt, it would start to fall freely. Even without the thrusters it would cause a lot of destruction.

He also sent in all of the seidr that he had within his reserves, making it meld with the ice to work against the machine.

“Sweet mother of god…” Stark exclaimed behind him as the casket worked, his metallic arms holding on to Loki tighter than before. “I’ve never seen something like this before. Is this what all the hoopla was about… well, about you being a Frost Giant?”

Loki ignored him for now, he had more important things to focus on.

The ice spread quickly, covering the base of the machine in an instant, then traveling up to cover the rest of the block. He glanced up to see Thor flying off it, with Rogers tucked under his arm. He’d have laughed at that sight had he not been so damned anxious.

The spread of ice happened almost like a flash of light, forming a solid pillar beneath the flying land and heading straight down to the hollowed out ground.

Just as Loki had calculated, the machine jammed under the intense cold, causing the piece of land to begin its descent downwards. However, the presence of the pillar of ice beneath it stopped the descent immediately, forcing it to hang in the air.

“Dude, this is phenomenal. Friday, get me the stats on this block of insta ice, please.”

Loki wanted to roll his eyes at Stark’s awed words. He just hoped that he’d not want the ‘stats’ on his Jotun form.

“Lower me further towards the ground,” he instructed, and immediately, Stark followed without a word. That was indeed satisfying.

He used the casket to thicken the ice further, stabilizing the pillar to make sure that it didn’t crumble under the weight of the block.

“Impressive. What exactly are you planning to do with that?”

“Not let anyone die.”

“How?”

“I’m going to slowly melt the pillar and have the piece of land fall back into its place. Then, we’re going to find a way to take apart Ultron’s handiwork… “ Loki took a deep, cleansing breath to collect his thoughts. “…while the others can take care of the thawing automations. I’m not sure how well they’d be functioning after being imbued with ice, but I’m not about to take my chances.”

“Right. I suppose everyone’s in on it.”

The affirmation from everyone was heard through the communication device, and that made Loki relax just a wee bit.

————————————————-

The block of land was resting on the pillar of ice, high up in the sky. It was a wonder reminiscent of one of the artificial moons of Vanaheim—one that had been made of nothing but massive masses of rock and soil, held together by gravity and magic. The Vanir had grown lush gardens and groves even there, and to travel from one landmass to another there were special bridges and walkways. Often, he had stayed over with Frigga and Thor, and the power of magic the Vanir had wielded had called out to him.

There was nothing magical about this mass of land, though. Up in the sky, detached from its realm as it was by ice, it looked rather out of place. Hence, it was imperative that it be brought back to its initial position.

Loki stood at the base of the icy pillar, studying his handiwork while trying to gauge how to melt the ice in order to slowly bring the block down. The pillar itself was now thicker than the landmass it was supporting. He knew enough about the dynamics of naturally formed land to know that his icy pillar, if it remained in place for long, might cause problems for the supporting land beneath it.

“Loki?” Thor’s voice was uncharacteristically soft when he called his name, surprising Loki enough to break his concentration.

He didn’t know for how long Thor had been standing behind him before speaking. Usually, he’d have known the moment he stepped into his general circle of awareness, but right now, his awareness of his surroundings was very brittle and marred with exhaustion.

“Loki…” Thor called again, his voice almost a whisper now. His hesitance was palpable, and Loki knew well why. It would’ve given him an almost perverse sort of satisfaction to see Thor so uncomfortable, had he himself not been feeling the same way.

He was, after all, not himself right now. He was what he had been taught to hate most of his life…

Very reluctantly, he turned around to face his brother. He kept his eyes cast down on the Casket of Ancient Winters, which he still held in his hand. He was quite sure that his crimson gaze would be horribly unsettling.

“Yes, Thor,” he managed to force out, feeling an intense sense of unease upon being seen by Thor as a Jotun. It was the first time… it could be the last.

“Brother…” Thor mumbled, and Loki heard the tell-tale thump of Mjolnir hitting the ground as Thor rushed to him. The move surprised Loki, who took a few steps back and finally looked up at Thor’s face.

“You should stay back,” he warned, his own voice feeling weighed down.

“Why?” Thor asked, still advancing on him, his face solemn and determined. “You’re not binding ice.”

“I’m not…”

Thor’s face broke into a grin then, as he reached Loki and grasped his shoulders. “You did great, brother. You stepped in and did something I couldn’t have. You saved the day.”

Loki remained quiet and still, unable to absorb what Thor was saying. His mind was still caught up in the thought of Thor seeing him as a Jotun… and possibly being disturbed by the sight.

As he looked at Thor’s bright face, he realized that he couldn’t clearly see. His vision was blurring, and he recognized it too late that his eyes were getting watery.

“Brother… Loki.” Thor shook his shoulders a bit. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m Jotun.” The blasted tears slipped out of Loki’s eyes as he stared at Thor in disbelief, feeling as though he’d burst out of his own skin.

Thor appeared to be baffled for a moment, but then his expression cleared, and he smiled wide. “Yes, I know. I’ve known that for a while now.”

“I’m Jotun right now,” Loki snapped, wondering how Thor was not reacting appropriately… as an Aesir ought to.

Why was he not showing the overt disgust that all of Asgard harboured for the Jotuns? Why was he not shocked enough? Why was he… staring at Loki as though he was precious to him?

Thor grew solemn again, and his grip on Loki’s shoulders tightened. “You’re still you, you’re still Loki, still my brother.”

“Are you sure?”

“There was a time when I wasn’t, I admit.” Now, Thor’s eyes grew watery as well, and they both stared at each other betwixt tears. “It was because of my own prejudices than anything else. The prejudices of our culture and upbringing. But yes, you are my brother. You’re my brother of heart, even if our flesh is inherently different.”

Loki couldn’t quite believe the words flowing from Thor’s mouth, but he knew that he wasn’t lying. He was too good at detecting deception, especially from Thor.

“You don’t find me abhorrent?” he asked, pure wonder lacing his voice.

“No.”

Still, the urge to test Thor prevailed, and Loki brought his hand up to touch his cheek. Thor didn’t flinch, but his warm tears flowed over Loki’s cold fingers, adding another layer to the stark contrasts between them.

“I just…” Loki swallowed and tried to will himself to stop crying. It didn’t work. “I find myself abhorrent.”

Thor pulled Loki in for an embrace then, thumping his palm against his back. “I cannot say that I know how it feels, but you have my support and love, brother. It is indeed a bit jarring to see you like this, but it’s most certainly not abhorrent.”

Loki let go of the casket, then, and slumped into Thor’s arms, feeling the terrible drain of the situation. Thor stiffened in response, but he kept his arms firmly around him as his Aesir form reinstated itself.

“Brother?”

Loki nodded, not willing to speak, worried that his voice might break under the tremendous burden of anxiousness.

“Loki?” Thor prompted again, and this time Loki had to utter a low grunt in response. “If I may say so myself, you look rather fetching as a Jotun.”

“Shut up.”

Thor laughed, and then, so did Loki, the burst of warring emotions making it sound almost hysterical.

A creaking noise came up from behind them, and Loki quickly turned back towards the ice pillar, a sense of latent panic flowing into his nerves. “I have to melt it slowly to bring the block of land down. If it melts on its own, it’s going to cause problems.”

Thor approached the ice and touched it, his eyes keen and curious. “Isn’t Jotun ice stronger?”

“It is. But it will still melt under intense sunrays. Midgard’s sun is certainly stronger than the sun of Jotunheim.”

“How would you melt it?”

Loki shrugged. “Seidr. Unless you have a better solution.”

Thor pursed his lips as he stared at the ice, seemingly out of other solutions for tackling it.

Just as Loki was about to mention how he planned to melt the ice, Stark flew in and landed right in front of Thor, who had to step back a bit. “So, I hate to break the brotherly special time, but I have to butt in now.”

“What is it?” Thor asked, looking back at Loki as though making sure that he was still standing there with him.

“So, the Snow Queen here created quite a stir with the ice magic and what not. Fury is holding back the press for now, but it won’t be long till they’re pouring in. I suggest that we deal with this impressive ice sculpture quickly and efficiently.” He opened his helmet and gave Loki an assessing look. “I didn’t know you could do that, by the way. Care to share the knowledge for a bit of climate change mitigation and reversal?”

Loki glared at him for a bit, but then turned away. He was not in the mood to expend his already drained energies on Stark. Banter had a place and time, this wasn’t it.

“What? You’re not talking to me now? Hey, I’m the one who carried you while you spread your winter cheer all over the place. I even forgave you for playing with my heart as Luke.”

“I don’t want unnecessary exposure,” Loki ground out, giving Thor a meaningful look before turning back to inspect his icy creation.

“Well yeah, I’m not sure that SHIELD is yet capable of stopping the media coverage of this spectacle.” Stark came forth to study the ice as well, forcing both Thor and Loki to step aside and make room for him. He raised a hand up and started scanning it with his equipment. “It’s a miracle that they even assisted in the rescue of the CERN staff here. I wasn’t expecting that, given their recent collapse with all the project insight bullshit.”

Loki tried not to flinch as Stark stepped closer to him, eyeing him calculatingly. He didn’t feel threatened by the man, but his scrutinizing eyes were causing him a bit of disquiet. He had, after all, seen Loki in Jotun form, and was, in all probability, thinking about that experience.

While it was one thing to show his brother his Jotun form, it quite another to present the same to someone who didn’t even consider him a friend. He hadn’t planned on sharing that part of himself with Stark of all the people in the Nine Realms.

“Honestly, Reindeer Games, I suggest you get used to the media coverage. Sooner or later, the cat is getting out of the bag. And it’s perhaps a good thing for you, since you just managed to save the world. Kinda evens out what you had done earlier.”

Loki took a deep breath as he tried to use his seidr to start melting the ice. There wasn’t much of it left now, and he knew that he needed to be careful with it. “The memory of bad deeds is stronger than the celebration of good ones… such is my experience thus far, Stark.”

Stark shrugged. “I can’t say that you’re wrong there. But still, the media loves a good redemption story. They would’ve gobbled it up had you made a sacrifice as well, like, of your life or something.”

“Tony, enough,” Thor growled, “we’re not having this discussion. You know what happened in Svartalfheim.”

“Oh yeah… well, I didn’t think about that.” Stark sounded a bit contrite, but Loki couldn’t be sure, as he was trying to concentrate on the ice. “I was just speaking from experience, you know, back when I threw that nuke at that grotesque Chitauri spaceship.”

Loki’s hands glowed as he directed his spell over ten different points on the pillar, generating a low heat to begin the melting.

He could feel both Stark’s and Thor’s gazes upon him as he worked. Furthermore, he knew that he’d soon be the focus of the innumerable stares from the others in the team, who were standing at a distance. It was a good thing that he was resilient enough to be able to ignore all of that and get on with the task at hand.

There was a crackle in Stark’s communication device then, and he started with a low curse. “What the hell? Why would they come here?”

“What is it?” Thor asked, and Loki heard the unmistakable pulsation of Mjolnir flying to his hand.

“Uh… the prince and princess of Wakanda are coming here,” Stark replied, sounding mistrustful. “I’m not exactly sure why, but they’re saying that they want to help.”

“Wakanda…? Is that not the place where your indestructible metal comes from?”

“Yeah, that’s the place.”

“Then these people ought to be knowing more about it than others here.”

“Well, I guess…” Stark sounded as though he was doubtful about it.

“What is the meaning of that, Tony?” Thor sounded slightly annoyed now, echoing Loki’s feelings.

“Well, they’re essentially a third world country. I’m not sure that they know the full potential of their vibranium reserves, that’s all.”

“What’s a third world country?”

“Yeah well, that’s a discussion for another day. Basically, a country that is economically weak and poor.”

Loki decided to impose upon the conversation then. “I believe that’s not actually where the term comes from, Stark. Wasn’t it the result of the division of Midgard’s pillars of power?”

Stark made a distinct noise of irritation in his throat. “Yes, you nerd, I’m picturing you with your nose buried in all the Cold War related books and stuff.”

“It happened before my eyes. The books came later.”

“So that’s true,” Thor stated, aghast. “You did sneak around and visit other realms even though father had forbidden it for us.”

Loki nodded, smiling fondly. “Mother was my secret keeper.”

“She did encourage you in your wayward endeavours.”

“Don’t speak as though she didn’t cover up your misadventures. At the very least, I covered my tracks.”

Both of them chuckled, but then a solemn silence fell over them. Loki turned his head to look at his brother, and found him staring off into empty space, his eyes carrying the weight of unspoken grief in them.

He wanted to hold him and speak soothing words of commiseration to him, but Loki stood frozen in his spot… the pretext of melting the ice kept him from moving.

They had never truly grieved together for the loss of their mother, and it was still a sore spot in many ways.

Their moment of silent reflexion was interrupted then, as a flying machine landed nearby, announcing the arrival of the Wakandans.

“Keep working, Reindeer Games, I’ll talk to them.”

Loki bristled at Stark’s words. He had all but forgotten that he had been standing nearby, witnessing all that had just transpired between him and Thor. Nevertheless, he nodded and kept working with his melting spell.

Thor came closer, watching the melt water that was beginning to flow from the glacial pillar. “You look exhausted, Loki. Tony may not notice, but I do.”

“Since when did you become so perceptive?” Loki couldn’t help asking, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

“Since I lost half of my family.”

Loki sighed, all the sarcasm gone now. “I do feel drained, but I need to finish this task. I started it.”

“Ultron started it, not you. You’re still recovering. Those apples can only help so much, brother.”

It appeared as though Thor wanted to say more, but he desisted from it as Stark came back with the newly arrived company.

“Their royal highnesses, prince T’Challa and princess Shuri,” he announced, adding a bit of deliberate pomp in his voice. “Blessing us with their hallowed presence on this fine day.”

“You’ve never announced my arrival like that,” Thor commented, just as Loki halted his spell and turned around to face the Midgardian royalty.

“You have enough going with your sparkly rainbow beam and lightning, no need for intros there.”

Thor ignored that comment and went to shake hands with the prince in a mimicry of the Midgardian greeting. Loki approached the princess and took her hand to buss her on the knuckles, introducing himself. She was but a wee child, but he saw a roaring intelligence in her bright eyes.

“I saw your hands glowing. Are you using some sort of nanoparticle heat generator?” she asked him without preamble.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” he replied with a slight smile, trying to gauge if she and her brother were actually there to help or if they were there to spy.

“I’m sure I can grasp it.” She nodded, turning to observe the pillar. “But first, we need to form a temporary canal system here. The water from that ice behemoth would flood this area if it’s let out too quickly. I’ll make a few quick models with T’Challa to resolve this issue and then deploy the best solution. Are you in?”

“I am,” Loki replied, deciding that he liked the little princess and her no-nonsense attitude.

————————————

“You know, ours is not the first such union, where a Jotun wedded a person from another realm” Idunn stated carefully while Reva and Jane listened. “Thjazi’s cousion, Laufey, took an Alfan councilwoman as his wife, much to Asgard’s chagrin. Her name was Lady Ingirúna, daughter of Lady Freyja.”

“Wait, Laufey?” Jane stared at her in surprise. “The King of Jotunheim Laufey?”

“Yes, the boorish King who brought nothing but war and disrepute to the Jotuns,” Thjazi answered, tapping his foot on the floor. “He didn’t have the favour of the people when he ascended to the throne, but he ruled with an iron fist and there was little anyone else could do to resist him. He was, after all, the legitimate heir to the throne, and the Jotuns respect tradition more than anything else. Well, at least the elders in the council do.”

There was a lot to unpack here, and Reva was amazed at all these new revelations regarding Loki. The problem was… the more she learned, the more confused she grew.

“Wasn’t it out of tradition to marry someone from a different species?”

Thjazi smiled at Reva, and even though his sharp teeth unsettled her, she didn’t show it.

“Some traditions are harder to break than others. Queen Ingirúna brought certain special assets with her, something that the royal Jotun lineage had lacked.”

“And what was that?”

“She was a seiðkona.”

Reva and Jane both looked at him blankly.

Thjazi sighed, giving Idunn a sideways glance. “She was a wielder of magic; a powerful one.”

“Oh…”

“And… I’m guessing that she was Loki’s birth mother?” Jane asked, raising her eyebrow in curiosity.

Thjazi nodded, while Idunn shuffled behind him, her eyes furtive.

So that was where Loki had apparently inherited his magical prowess from…

Reva was still lost in thought when Jane spoke up. “So… that makes you Loki’s uncle, right?”

Idunn muttered something under her breath, and Thjazi simply shrugged. “I suppose, yes. That’s a pleasant revelation.”

Reva wasn’t sure that Loki would respond to it in a similar way. Usually, he didn’t take surprises that well. And quite honestly, she couldn’t even blame him for it. All of this information was bound to be quite rattling.

Though, given how sneaky and secretive he had been with her, she couldn’t help but consider it as just desserts for Loki. She knew she was being petty and spiteful, but she couldn’t help it. She had been through a lot, all thanks to Loki.

Jane giggled then, causing everyone in the room to stare at her.

“Sorry, I just can’t help it.” She fidgeted under everyone’s regard, shifting in her seat awkwardly. “I’m imagining Loki calling you ‘uncle’ and trying to show respect. It’s not gelling well in my head.”

Thjazi frowned at her comment, and Reva surmised that he didn’t quite understand the humour here. She gently touched Jane’s arm, trying to silently get her to stop laughing. Perhaps the weirdness of the situation had gotten to her…

Right as she was about to try and refocus the discussion on Loki’s biological parents, the overhead speakers blared with the voice of Friday.

“Everyone urgently move to the panic room. We’re under attack. I repeat, everyone urgently move to the panic room. We’re under attack.”

The way she was sagely relaying the message was quite contradictory to the sheer panic that it launched into the room.

———————-

“Reva, get to the panic room! Didn’t you listen?”

Reva was running… she wasn’t listening. Jane kept calling after her as she was dragged by Drax towards the panic room on the lower floors, but Reva wasn’t responding.

No, hiding wouldn’t do right now, not when others were trying to fight and fend off the attacking bots. She would’ve loved to hide in the panic room with Jane and Groot, but she knew what the attackers were after.

While Idunn and Thjazi tried their best to defend the infinity stones in their hold, Reva knew that the scepter was vulnerable.

Stark had kept it in a secret location somewhere in the tower, convinced that it was still influencing people around it. He hadn’t told Reva anything about it, and she knew that it was because of her association with Loki.

And now, she knew that Ultron’s hive minded bots were going to locate it sooner or later if someone didn’t retrieve it first.

So here she was, running on her newly superpowered feet and legs, feeling like an Olympian as she dashed for the scepter. Only she could gauge its tentative location, thanks to her strange bond with the thing. Others could only guess, and there was no time for that right now.

Reaching down to the fifth level of the basement, she was able to detect the faint hum of the scepter. It was being blocked by something, but not in its entirety.

She reached a thick door and tried to open it, to no avail. She wasn’t sure, but it looked like the door was lined with lead.

“Access denied!” The artificial voice spoke from the surrounding speakers as she tried to open it again.

“God damnit, Stark!” she growled, punching the door.

Much to her surprise, the punch was enough to put a dent in the door.

“What the…” Reva stared at it in shock. This was the second time she had punched a dent in something hard and metallic. “Well, shit.”

She gave the door a once over, wondering if she was about to put herself in the infirmary again with her next move. Sadly, there was no time to second guess or to find a better solution. She could hear the bots on the floors above, and she could hear that they were overwhelming the defenders of the tower and closing in on the scepter.

Hence, Reva drew back a few feet… and then ran straight at the door like a battering ram.

——————————–

When Loki landed on the helipad of the Stark Tower, panicked, as one his magical wards had been tripped, he was expecting an entirely different scene than what was transpiring before his eyes.

He had expected Drax and Rocket to defend the tower with Stark’s legionaires; he had expected Duna and Thjazi to defend the Infinity Stones in their hold.

What he hadn’t expected to see was Reva… standing in the middle of all the chaos, firing bright energy beams at all the attacking automations.

She looked utterly enraged as she took them down, standing over an injured Rocket in a protective stance, her hair out of her braid in a grand disarray.

She looked utterly magnificent…

For a moment, Loki simply stood still as a statue as he watched her. He was in awe.

But then he saw one of the machines approaching her from her blind side, and that was enough to galvanize him. Instantly, Loki took care of the problem with a flash of his seidr, alerting everyone of his presence.

Reva stared at him with frenzied eyes, still holding the scepter in a death grip. He put his hands up in a manner of declaring peace, worried, for a moment, that she might fire at him in her anxiousness.

Performing a quick scan of the area, Loki tried to detect if there were any other hostile machines left to deal with. There weren’t.

“Reva,” he spoke softly as he approached her, noting that she hadn’t moved an inch.

“You’re back,” she murmured, her gaze traveling from his head to toe.

“I am.”

Finally, she moved… but not in the manner he had expected. She stepped forth with the scepter and pushed its blunt edge at his neck, backing him up right into Stark’s coveted alcohol bar… the remains of it, that is.

“Reva, I’m not sure what you’re trying—”

“Shut up,” she muttered, still prodding him with the scepter.

It was humming wildly, and he wondered just what it was conveying to her. The prodding only stopped once he pretended to stumble and landed on his back; a gesture of surrender, so to say.

As she stood over him, she looked like a striking image of one of the goddesses of the olden Vedic people of Midgard. To Loki, she was stunning in her ire.

“I’m at your mercy,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he stared up at her.

He was proud of her, slightly shaken even, to see her like this. There was also a rather unexpected reaction down between his legs, but he was trying to ignore it for now.

The scepter was still at his neck, and he wondered just what she was attempting with it.

She took a deep breath before speaking, the fire in her eyes easing a bit. “You’re such a dickhead.”

And then she was on top of him, straddling him as her lips came crashing towards his.

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Submitted fic #submission #Chapter 23 #Fear and Other Related Emotions #Latent-thoughts

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amandajoyce118 · 5 years

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Friday Five: This Is A Black Widow Post

I know a lot of people aren’t thrilled with Black Widow simply because of the actress that plays her. And while I agree that Scarlett Johansson shouldn’t have taken on some of the role she has in the past, robbing women of color of what could have been their big break, Black Widow is one of my favorite comic book characters. So, this week, in honor of her part of the Avengers: Endgame puzzle, my Friday Five is built around her.

That being said, there will be spoilers for Endgame here. I’ve managed to go a week without posting/reblogging anything other than images/gifs from trailers. I’ve got this tagged as “Endgame Spoilers,” so if you’ve read al of this and blown past the tags, and you get mad at me for being spoiled at that point, it’s on you. You’ve been warned.

Here we go.

Five: The Black Widow Movie

There is a Black Widow movie on the way. A script has been drafted, rewritten, and people have been cast. It’s supposed to start filming this year - June, in fact. It seems pretty clear at this point that it’s going to be a prequel. Rumors have everyone from Taskmaster to Yelena Belova appearing in it. But you know what would be great? A Red Room movie. An actual prequel set when Natalia Alianova Romanova ended up in the Red Room and became the Black Widow, giving an up and coming actress the chance at a big role. Instead, rumor has it set in the late 90s/early 2000s before the events of Iron Man take place. Here’s hoping we get to see Natasha recruited to SHIELD since she was an agent for about a decade before she made her MCU debut in Iron Man 2. I mean, I’d also love to see what happened on that oft-mentioned Budapest mission with Clint Barton too, but I won’t hold my breath on that one since Hawkeye is getting a Disney+ series and Black Widow gets a movie.

Four: Where Are The Other Black Widows?

One thing that has long bothered me about the MCU is that we never see evidence that other Black Widows exist. In the comics, Natalia ends up becoming one of the best students after a difficult start. Initially, she’s horrible at everything and the leaders are set to wash their hands of her. Thanks to a bored Enchantress (as in, from the Thor comics), she ends up trying to escape and showing how tough she really is. She doesn’t make it out, but the teachers and military officials see the potential in her and invest more time in her training. There are 29 other girls in her Red Room class though. And we know that, at the very least, the precursor to the Red Room exists in the MCU thanks to Agent Carter and Dottie Underwood. Now, I know that because she hasn’t been the focus of any movie yet, we haven’t learned a lot about her background. The only person who’s crossed paths with her in the present who she talked about seeing in the past was the Winter Soldier. Even the potential of their being another Black Widow out there hasn’t been addressed as an Easter egg, and I’m curious why not. Where are they? Is the MCU going to go the route of her having to kill everyone else to be considered a graduate of the program? If so, where’s the new generation? I have a lot of questions about the Black Widow program, clearly.

Three: She Couldn’t Walk Away

Okay, here is where the more spoilery stuff starts if you ignored my warning and kept reading. You’ve been warned again.

One of the things I loved that Endgame did is leaving Natasha as the one holding down the Avengers fort five years after the snap. Captain America is probably the one we all would have expected to be stubborn and not let go, right? Tony was able to build a new life, and Steve found a new way to help people. Everyone found a way to adapt to the new world they were living in, even if they didn’t like it. But Natasha, she decided to live at the Avengers compound and stay in contact with everyone - world government leaders and aliens alike - to make sure someone was still there to stop the bad guys. In the scene where she has a conference call with Okoye, Carol, Rhoadey, and Rocket you can tell she’s desperate for there to be something she can fight. She wants that earthquake (which is likely an Easter egg, but we’ll talk about that another time) to be something important. She wants to get her hands dirty. And I love that the woman who was a spy, who always followed orders, and who always found a way to sneak around the truth, is the one holding on tight to being an Avenger and not letting go. I love that even when Steve tells her that maybe they don’t need someone sitting in the compound and coordinating schedules, she can’t accept that. She’s finally something other than a spy in the narrative, and I think that’s a great note for her to go out on.

Two: It Had To Be Them

The teamups for the time travel portion of the movie were really interesting to me. Nebula and Rhoadey - both people who had machine parts to help them survive, but also both people with extensive combat experience and completely different personalities, out to stop a single thief. Rocket and Thor - likely paired up primarily for comic relief, but also because Rocket was probably the only one willing to handle Thor’s guilty conscience at that point since everyone else was on board with the plan, but Thor was still stuck in his depression with seemingly no way out. Captain America, Iron Man, Ant-Man, and Hulk - the most power heavy teamup, but also the one that had the most obstacles to get through is, of course, the one that not only loses a stone, but takes the long way around to get it again, and it’s also appropriate that Captain America and Iron Man get the biggest nostalgia filled trip.

Then, of course, the reason for me writing this at all is that they pair up Black Widow and Hawkeye for the sacrifice mission. I want to know how that was decided. Nebula knew that someone had to die at Vormir, even if she didn’t know all of the details. Did she look at this group of people and go, yeah, which part of this group loves one another the most, and suggest them? Did Natasha and Clint volunteer for this part of the mission when they heard there was murder involved because they have the most “red in their ledgers” at that point and thought they were going to kill someone else? Or did Natasha get paired with him because she was the only one willing to wait five years to find someone everyone else thought had become a serial killer? I want to know how that decision was made.

From a writing standpoint, of course, I know how that decision was made. No other teamup would have worked for Vormir. There is no one else in that group who has the relationship that Clint and Natasha have. At the point the movie takes place, they’ve known each other for at least 20 years. He recruited her instead of killing her. She saved him from being brainwashed. She was the only person he trusted to know his family before the events of Ultron. They were partners. Now, up until the reveal that Clint had a family, would I have thought they were romantic partners? Yep. But the two of them as platonic soulmates works for the events of the movies. Other than his family, Natasha is easily the person Clint cares about most in the whole world. He’s also the first person Natasha is able to think of as family, so I think it’s easy to say the reverse is true as well. No other members of the Avengers team left have that bond. The people they were bonded to (Rocket-Groot, Steve-Sam-Bucky, Nebula-Gamora, Scott-Hope, etc) were all gone. The sacrifice had to be one of those two characters. Once you know it’s them going to Vormir, you know one of them is stuck.

One: Can She Come Back?

The language regarding the Soul Stone is pretty deliberate. You’re exchanging a soul for a soul, giving up that which you love. There’s a lot of talk about the exchange not being undone, but… look, this is a comic book universe, and there’s definitely some wiggle room here. I mean, what happens when the Soul Stone is returned to the dominion of death? (Also, side note: How do we think Cap reacted to seeing the Red Skull was the one he had to return an Infinity Stone to? I would have liked to see that scene.) If the stone is returned, and this a soul is given back, shouldn’t one of the souls taken be released? Wouldn’t that make sense? Why couldn’t Cap, on his trip to return Mjolnir and the six stones, say, “hey, since I brought this back, can you give me something in return? I’m readily giving you this soul. Why don’t you go ahead and give me Natasha’s back?” It doesn’t lessen the sacrifice because Clint still was forced to let her go. In theory, he never used his Pym particles or time travel GPS to go back to 2023 since he decided to live out his new branched timeline life, but someone else could have. Or, you know, there could be a Natasha flying around in space for nine years hanging out with aliens. Or, maybe the Red Room cloned her like they did in the comics, and there’s someone other there with her memories walking around still living the spy life. Who knows?

That’s it for this week! Avengers: Endgame Easter eggs will hopefully go up at some point this weekend if you’re interested in them.

#black widow #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #endgame spoilers #avengers endgame #friday five

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the-record-newspaper · 5 years

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The funeral of Rhonda Hinson Part 13

The now abandoned Kirksey's Funeral Home in Valdese, where Rhonda Hinson's family gathered to view her body and receive friends

By LARRY J. GRIFFIN

Special Investigative Reporter

For The Record

This is a thing many people outside your grief cannot understand: that you have not simply lost one person at one point in time. You have lost their presence in every aspect of your life. Your future has changed as well as your “now.”—Megan Devine, as posted by Judy Hinson

For only the third time—ever—she was wearing makeup. She was adorned in a dark-blue turtleneck that was part of an ensemble her mother previously purchased for her to consider wearing to an office Christmas party.

Her hair had been appropriately coiffed according to her preferred style by Georgia Barker—the only hairdresser she trusted to trim its length. But the otherwise blonde cascading locks seemed darker somehow on the evening before Christmas 1981. Her mother, Judy, and her best-friend, Jill [Turner-Mull] shared that opinion when they first saw her.

Yet, neither Father Bobby, Mother Judy, nor their son, Robbie, could escape the bleakness of a December’s eve realization that the Yuletide gift, that arrived 12 days before Christmas in1962, had forever returned to the ethereality from whence she came. And while families in Valdese and surrounding hamlets honed their plans for the next Momentous Morning—within an ambiance of carols, confections, and convivial conversations—a broken Father and Mother peered into the expressionless, lifeless face of the motionless form of what remained of their once-vivacious daughter—Rhonda Hinson.

What thoughts coursed through their minds? What scenes replayed themselves on their inward “screens,” like a pictorial loop of biographic photos? Doubtless, Judy played and rewound the scenario depicting the last time she saw her daughter alive.

“…She honked her horn three short times and looked over her shoulder through the back glass and waved—happy, full of life,” Judy has recounted on several occasions. “And then the next time I saw her was at the funeral home.”

Perhaps Bobby remembered fussing at her for the sand in the floorboard of her new Datsun before she left for the Hickory Steel Christmas party approximately 48-hours before. Possibly it was then, as he stood gazing down at his daughter’s face, that he noticed a “shadow” near the right side of her mouth that he has consistently maintained was a bruise. Or did he attempt to make sense of the enigmatic car ride Rhonda invited him to take with her about two-weeks earlier.

She told me that she needed to go into town [Valdese] to get some gas for her car and asked me to ride with her. So, I did. As she was driving she said, “Dad, I have something that I need to tell you about. But if I tell you, I know it’s going to make you mad.” Well I asked her, “Rhonda did you get a ticket or something?” She said, “No, it isn’t that.” I tried to get her to tell me; but, she just said that she would have to think about it. And she never did get around to telling me what was bothering her. I guess she just couldn’t bring herself to do it—I guess she was afraid of how I might react.

That which Rhonda wanted to divulge to her father remains—37-years later—a conundrum, wrapped tightly inside a mystery.

Maybe the astonishing asseveration that Detective John McDevitt had articulated, approximately 24-hours earlier while all were sitting in Son Robbie’s bedroom on the evening of Rhonda’s early morning murder, resonated to some degree within memory.

“There were people in just about every other room of our house. So, John McDevitt, Steve Whisenant, Albert Suttle, and Bobby and myself walked back to Robbie’s bedroom—he wasn’t in it at the time. McDevitt said, ‘I tell you right now who killed your daughter,’ and he told us,” reported both Bobby and Judy Hinson.

And it was the future sheriff of Burke County—Steve Whisenant—who admonished Detective McDevitt: “Well, let’s not jump to conclusions,” the Hinsons remembered.

“I heard what John McDevitt said; however, I always thought and did for a long time that someone else—other than whom he said—was responsible for Rhonda’s death,” Judy averred. Understandably, the grief-stricken family was desperately grasping for any explanation; but at that juncture, there were precious few to be found.

Friends, family, neighbors, former classmates, community members-at-large, and likely a few curiosity-seekers commenced to arrive for the public viewing and family greeting at Kirksey’s Funeral Home in Valdese.

“I was told by one of my friends that people were lined-up outside in the cold waiting to come in to see Rhonda,” Bobby Hinson remembered.

Jill Turner-Mull recalled that Christmas Eve and the multitudes that came to pay their respects to her best friend. “They were…” Jill agreed with Bobby; “they were lined up outside. So many people came that night.”

But the 18-year-old’s purpose for being there was not solely to give expression to her own grief—she had been assigned a task by investigators during her initial interview with them.

“They [law enforcement] asked me to observe the people who came through the door that evening and to report anyone or anything that might be unusual or strange, but potentially useful to their investigations. So, I stationed myself by the door—near the sign-in registry—and attempted to do what they asked me to do. You know, I really didn’t see anything.”

Curiously, however, there was a man with dark hair who approached Rhonda’s casket and attempted to raise her right arm—as if looking for something. One of her friends saw his attempt, walked to the casket, and stood there beside him. “Was she always like that?” he asked loudly enough for Rhonda’s friend to hear.

“No one that we talked to knew the man,” Judy explained. “And certainly no one knew what he meant by it. I often wondered if perhaps he was a neighbor who might have seen or heard Rhonda arguing with someone that morning and was trying to examine to see if she had some type of bruise on her arm from a fight. I just don’t know. No one else did.”

Reverend Charles McDowell attended the viewing; but, Judy Hinson doesn’t remember that he actually stayed in the family room with them. Instead, he roamed around the hallway from place to place. “My niece [Joann Glazebrooks] overheard him talking to someone she believed was his brother. He seemed to have been complaining that they had ‘yanked Greg up to question him’ about Rhonda’s death.”

But to her recollection, McDowell did not speak to either her or Bobby during the entire ordeal that evening. “Don Gilbert, a boy Rhonda dated before Greg, came and hugged us and told us he was sorry. It was only then that Greg came up and hugged us.”

Betty McDowell—the reverend’s wife—never spoke to them at all—at the funeral home or after the funeral.

“…The McDowells didn’t really show any emotion except something almost like anger toward us and Rhonda,” Ms. Hinson explained.

As Bobby Hinson was walking out of his Hillcrest home on Christmas morning, he remembered his daughter’s prediction. “Rhonda told me that it was going to snow on Christmas Day. We were always betting on when it was going to snow, and she told me that it would be on Christmas that year.”

Already there had been some moderate, late December snowfall in the Burke County Foothills; so, there was more than just a slight chance that Christmas 1981would be white. “…And sure enough—as we were leaving to go to church that morning, large white snowflakes started falling,” Bobby recalled, as he gazed into the middle distance of memory.

One or two of Rhonda’s classmates volunteered to secure a cadre of pallbearers for her funeral service at Wilkies Grove Baptist Church, located in the suburbs of Hickory. The task proved to be especially challenging since it was Christmas and so many potential candidates were out-of-town. Ron Lail—an acquaintance and classmate of both Rhonda and her boyfriend Greg—was contacted and agreed to be of service.

Wilkies Grove Baptist Church at which Rhonda's funeral was held on December 25, 1981. I snapped that one when I made a trip in March to find the church. Record photo by Larry Griffin

“It wasn’t an adult who called me about being a pallbearer; it was a young person, as I recall,” Mr. Lail recollected during a recent telephonic interview. “I guess my first thought was, ‘who would have a funeral at Christmas and so soon after Rhonda’s death?’ But I agreed to do it and was actually honored that I had been asked.”

The complement of pallbearers had assembled at Wilkies Grove in advance of the mid-morning funeral service. “We were waiting in a room for Rhonda’s body to arrive while an organist was playing.” But with the passing of time and without an appearance of a hearse, Ron remembered that the pallbearers were getting a little antsy. “I think that poor organist must have played that same verse about twenty times. We were getting nervous and a few giggles could be heard as we wondered aloud about how many times the organist was going to play that same verse before Rhonda’s body arrived.”

Finally the hearse pulled up to the church, and the pallbearers were able to carry the casket to its designated place in the sanctuary. “The church was packed,” Jill Turner-Mull recalled. When the family came in, they sat on the left-side facing the casket. I remember that Mark [Turner] and I sat on the right-side on the front row.”

Greg McDowell also sat on the right-side of the church away from Rhonda’s family. “Yes, he did sit on the other side as opposed to on the left with us. I just thought that he would sit with the family; but, he didn’t,” Judy mused.

Reverend Charles McDowell planned the service and arranged for a soloist to sing a song entitled, “He.”

He can turn the tides and calm the angry sea;

He alone decides who writes a symphony;

He lights every star that makes the darkness bright;

He keeps watch all through each long and lonely night;

He still finds the time to hear a child’s first prayer;

Saint or sinner calls and always finds him there.

Though it makes him sad to see the way we live,

He’ll always say, “I forgive.”

Reverend McDowell stepped up to the lectern to deliver the eulogy. Judy and Bobby Hinson both recalled that the service was very brief.

“Charles McDowell preached the shortest funeral I have ever heard and did not say one thing about Rhonda, except she ate with them a few times, and he remembered her beautiful smile.”

“Of course I knew that he was Greg’s father; however, I had never met Charles McDowell until the day of Rhonda’s funeral,” Jill Turner-Mull maintained. “But as I sat and listened to him talk about Rhonda, I thought to myself, ‘this guy must not like her.’”

Ron Lail remembered an uncomfortable unceremonious moment near the middle of McDowell’s discourse. “He started to talk about and question Rhonda’s salvation and whether or not she had ever made a profession of faith…Being a Christian then and now, I kinda understood where he was coming from; but I thought how uncomfortable this [discussion] must be for Rhonda’s family.”

Revonda Turner—Jill’s mother—recalled having similar thoughts about McDowell’s comments—one in particular that her daughter, Ron Lail, the Hinsons, and other astonished congregants recounted afterwards.

“I couldn’t believe it when I heard it then; I still can’t believe that a minister would say that kind of thing in a eulogy,” Jill incredulously remarked, as though she had just sustained a blow to the solar plexus. “McDowell said, ‘I do not know whether or not Rhonda went to hell….’”

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sophygurl · 7 years

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10,000 Worlds; 10,000 Feminisms: What Even IS Feminist Science Fiction Anyway? - Wiscon 41 panel write-up

These tend to be long and only of interest to specific segments of folk so click the clicky to read.

Disclaimers:

I hand write these notes and am prone to missing things, skipping things, writing things down wrong, misreading my own handwriting, and making other mistakes. So this is by no means a full transcript.

Corrections, additions, and clarifications are most welcome. I’ve done my best to get people’s pronouns and other identifiers correct, but please do let me know if I’ve messed any up. Corrections and such can be made publicly or privately on any of the sites I’m sharing these write-ups on(tumblr and dreamwidth for full writings, facebook and twitter for links), and I will correct ASAP.

My policy is to identify panelists by the names written in the programming book since that’s what they’ve chosen to be publicly known as. If you’re one of the panelists and would prefer something else - let me know and I’ll change it right away.

For audience comments, I will only say general “audience member” kind of identifier unless the individual requests to be named.

Any personal notes or comments I make will be added in like this [I disagree because blah] - showing this was not part of the panel vs. something like “and then I spoke up and said blah” to show I actually added to the panel at the time.

10,000 Worlds; 10,000 Feminisms: What Even IS Feminist Science Fiction Anyway?

Moderator: Julie C. Day. Panelists: Jackie Gross (ladyjax), Lauren Lacey, (Kini Ibura Salaam was listed, but unable to make the panel due to travel issues)

#10000Worlds - lots of livetweets if you want to see more, also lists of recs including stuff I’m sure I missed

Julie introduced herself, saying this was her first WisCon, she is a writer, and “I am weird.”

Lauren introduced herself and talked about teaching at Edgewood college - teaches contemporary speculative fiction and directs the women and gender studies program. She recently taught a class on contemp. global feminisms.

Jackie introduced herself as a writer of fanfic (ladyjax on AO3), and also teaches at UC Berkley. Used to work for a women’s bookstore. Motherlands was the first feminist book she read at age 13. She said she started out as a feminist, and then a black feminist, and then a lesbian black feminist.

Julie started off the questions about SF as feminism being a broad category, so make it personal, and asked the panelists to list off a couple of best/worst works of feminist SF.

Lauren said a not-fave of hers is Sheri Tepper’s work, specifically Beauty. Revised fairy tales are ways that SFF writers were re-appropriating fairy tales. As feminists, we should be asking ourselves what do we keep - not just in our fiction but in general (example: the institution of marriage - what’s good about it, what it isn’t, etc.).

Lauren listed Angela Carter’s work as an example of her favorite feminist SF.

In regards to Tepper’s work, Lauren said that instead of re-working fairy tales, Tepper was just doing the same things. She also talked about dystopian narratives as being about how everything sucks, and thinks the point of feminist SF should be about giving hope.

Jackie brought up Daughters of a Coral Dawn by Katherine Forrest, which she hates with the fire of a thousand suns. It was hyped up, but she thought it was bad, although she likes Forrest’s other works.

Julie talked about feminist fiction as a reflection of how things are vs. pathways forward to something better - not necessarily perfect but better as opposed to the dystopian/utopian paradigm.

Jackie discussed the idea of entry points where you find yourself in a narrative. She references Suzy McKee Charnas’ Holdfast Chronicles, which brings you from the past to the present to the future, and Shelly Singer’s The Demeter Flower - “we seem to go to the woods a lot!” It’s like something goes wrong, women pack it up and head for the woods. There are lots of similar stories, you read them to see how this story does this kind of narrative differently. Charnas has others in this genre, also Motherlands.

Jackie laments that dystopias now are for the sake of the dystopia vs. being commentary on where we’re going wrong and how to change that. [I disagree but get where she’s coming from]

Jackie tells us that the director of Moonlight, Barry Jenkins, shot a film series with the idea of slow dystopia called Futurestates.

Julie asked the panelists about the function of YA dystopias. The teen state is about identity and rebellion, coming of age and opposition to authority.

Jackie posited that there is a difference between a dystopia and a distaster.

Lauren said a story doesn’t have to be just a dystopia or utopia, it can combine elements of both. She mentioned Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood and Octavia Butler’s Parable series as dystopias that represent the hope of resistance/rebellion.

She also brought up the New Wave 70′s stories where there was this narrative of women just entering SF (when actually we’ve always been here). At this time, there were a lot of feminist utopias - all female societies where men show up. Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gillman is an earlier example of this type of feminist utopia.

Lauren talked some more about the timelines of these kinds of stories - the 90′s had an explosion of the more dystopian type, but they always existed as well. The dominate culture latched on to this kind of prepatory dystopia around that time.

Jackie said that she feels differently about Handmaid’s Tale now than in the 80′s when it came out. “All of this has happened to My people already.” Can/should the show give us stories of the people who were wiped out instead of just saying “they’ve killed all of these people” as part of the narrative. For example, in a conversation with a friend, they were wondering - how would the hood react when this started - because the hood is armed up.

She also talked about Womanseed by Sunlight, which has this idea of different people and groups of people who left society at different points eventually finding one another and joining up. Another example is Steve Barnes’ series that begins with the book Streetlethal about 2 different extremes of people working together.

Julie brought up Jane Eyre and Wide Sargasso Sea as examples where the narrative makes us relate to the main character so much that we’re pulled in to their reality. The real victim is the mad woman in the attic, but we don’t see that at first because of the point of view character.

Lauren said that a good writer will flag those silences so that we see who isn’t being represented by the main narrative. James Tiptree does this well. Literary theory asks the question - who can speak, and how can they speak.

Julie talked about feminist SF as being intersectional. An example is Ursula Le Guin’s Left Hand of Darkness and how reading this, she was exposed to ideas of gender identity much sooner than she would have otherwise. SFF leaves room for more expansion of ideas - gives permission for more and lets you experience things and transforms you in different ways.

Jackie emphasized getting away from the mainstream - especially look for gay and lesbian publishers. She mentions Return to Isis by Jean Stewart - things go bad, a new society develops, but there is war with others. Also Swords of the Rainbow, and Gilda Stories. Basically, seek out things that won’t get published by mainstream publishers.

Another example she gave was Space Traders by Derrick Bell, which asks the question - what happens when aliens show up and say they’ll solve all your problems if you give us all of your black people. It’s told as a fable that’s already happened.

She talked about how early copies of Octavia Butler’s Dawn featured a white woman, so it took awhile when reading the book to realize the main character was black. There was an another example like this that I missed the title and author of, but when the publisher was asked why they did this with the cover, the response was that 1) black people don’t read scifi [UGH] and 2) white people won’t read a book if there’s a black person on the cover [DOUBLE UGH].

Lauren brought up the fact that Indigenous fiction is sold as “Native American” fiction even if it should be put in other genres. She agrees about looking outside the mainstream. The mainstream is what publishes think sells, so we have to seek this other stuff out to find it, and also to send the message of what we want to see more of.

Julie talked more about gay and lesbian publishers still being very necessary.

Jackie added that Barnes and Noble might sell a book by one of these publishers, but it’s the only copy they have, and if it’s a book in a series they won’t have the other books, plus it will be shoved into the LGBT section in the corner. On the other hand, when Jackie was hand-selling books in a feminist bookstore, it meant being able to say “this is book #5 - do you want me to get 1-4 for you?”

Amazon’s name was taken from a woman’s bookstore - it’s important to remember our history. Mama Bear’s was the last woman’s bookstore in California.

Lauren brought up that on Amazon, it can be harder to find certain things because people can bid to be at the top of search lists. Amazon and Google are rigged - making smaller publishers and self-published books harder to find.

An audience member shouted out - “Library catalogs are not rigged!”

Julie stated that there are many narratives to tell and asked the panelists if things have changed?

Lauren said it’s dangerous to historicize the present, but there are ways in which the dominant popular culture has embraced SFF and it’s interesting to look at the ways that has contained the genre.

She added that we should check out WisCon’s Guests of Honor and Tiptree noms for examples of all of the great stuff out there right now. She said that 10 years ago when she was studying SF, people were surprised that it was a thing you could do - but now people are getting it more.

Jackie said she was fortunate to have studied the golden age of SF. She added that she was a Tiptree judge a few years ago - it’s not all necessarily feminist, but there’s a lot that is. She recommended All That Outer Space Allows by Ian Sales. In this story, women write SF but it’s seen as sort of housewife stuff. This ends up meaning that only women can see spaceships when they come.

Jackie also said that reading everything for the Tiptree judging showed her that while not everything she had to read was great - yes, there are indeed 10,000 narratives out there.

Jackie and Lauren discussed how people are looking for more Hunger Games-like stories, but that doesn’t work for everyone. Authors can’t keep telling the same thing over and over.

Julie discussed how publishers, editors, etc. may not connect to certain narratives, but that has more to say about them and their own biases than about the stories not getting published.

An audience member asked if there was a word for created societies that are neither dystopian nor utopian. Julie offered heterotopia. An example is Le Guin’s Dispossessed.

Another audience member said they are looking for publishers of contemporary feminist SF - not feminist fantasy and especially not romantic fantasy.

Jackie suggested Aqueduct Press, but also said not to discount the romantics. For example, Romantic Times reviews a lot of SF. Romance can be a gateway genre to SF.

An audience member brought up Woman on the Edge of Time by Marge Piercy as having a balance of dystopia and utopia, where the utopian society is based on reproductive technologies. (Either this audience member or Lauren on the panel - my notes aren’t clear which) stated that their students love that, as well as Octavia Butler’s work.

Another audience rec is Rachel Pollack’s Unquenchable Fire. Jackie seconds this rec and added that it’s a real mind bender.

Jackie said that utopias can get so boring, whereas many dystopias are like - well that’s kinda how life is.

An audience member said that as a male, he enjoyed the wave of feminist utopias because he found they were the only ones he actually wanted to live in - not like the male-written ones he’d previously read.

Jackie mentions The Wanderground by Sally Miller Gearheart as another in this genre.

An audience member asked Lauren about finding feminist SF on a global level. Lauren said it’s out there but in the US, we don’t tend to like reading stuff that comes from elsewhere, so it’s harder to find.

Jackie said that everything nominated for Tiptree is easily findable on their website. Also manga is get-able.

Lauren talked about how a lot of work from writers in India gets described as fantasy but there are genre issues there due to people writing about Hindu traditions and getting labeled “fantasy.”

Jackie mentioned the discussions that happened recently on twitter in regards to Justine Larbalestier and Magical Realism genre issues - post-modern female authors just tend to get labeled that way and it can be problematic.

An audience member brought up Starhawk’s The Fifth Sacred Thing. Jackie talked about it as coming from the SFF and woman’s spirituality movements, and added that San Fransisco SFF slipstream fic is a whole thing.

At this point of the panel a ton of recommendations got tossed out, but I’d stopped taking notes because I had to hurry off to the green room for my own panel in the next time slot. Do check out the twitter hashtag as the livetweeters were pretty diligent about getting those listed.

#10000worlds #wiscon #wiscon 41 #wiscon41 #wc41 #10000 worlds #10000 feminisms #wiscon panel write-ups #feminist science fiction

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nessietessimalnua · 6 years

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SCORE - research notes

SCORE: A FILM MUSIC DOCUMENTARY

Marco Beltrami - PIANO TUNES WITH THE WIND - MALIBU (LOOK INTO): Sound travels through the wire faster than the air, results in a reverse echo - no effect needed (find film used for) - The gunman - columba (instrument), intrigue - following a mystery,

ROCKY

Jon Burlingham, film music historian - Leonard something or other Bill Field, organist - Wurlitzer

MAX STEINER - king kong - orchestra music in a movie?? It completely changed the movie - what was before unexciting and studied became terrifying with the addition of music

ALFRED NEWMAN - horns and woodwinds - 20th century fox logo

David Newman - a flow, like speaking: it fluctuates

John Debney

James Cameron - spot session, trying to communicate the sound they hear in their heads, etc. - most directors don't know how to convert emotions into music, so the composer has to act as a 'therapist and go through the mish-mash

BEAR MCCREARY - try to figure out what their insecurities are first,

MERVYN WARREN

MYCHAEL DANNA

HANS ZIMMER - always the blank page,

RACHEL PORTMAN - change in the direction in the scene, often a prompt for when music will come in (quote);

CHRISTOPHE BECK -

Joseph Trapanese - invent a clever way of introducing something familiar

Motif - group of notes that might highlight what a film is (close encounters)

Beethoven - took a motif/theme, spin it out : 5th symphony

Simple hooks, feels like a pop song, casting them in different lights

HOWARD SHORE: "by using motifs, it helps you to understand the relationships in the story - when you hear a certain motif, you connect it, and it actually helps you follow the story." LOTR AS AN EXAMPLE "By the time you get to the end of the film, when you play that music in its full glory, it's already familiar to the audience. We're kind of building our way up to that main course."

ALEX NORTH - a streetcar named desire (background of ballets and shows - first film score incorporating jazz in writing)

The Pink panther,

JOHN BARRY - James Bond. Came from a band - band sensibility to movies,

big band was cool, swung, felt like a guy that could do anything - no spy/secret services without a reference to James Bond, just like Morricone with spaghetti westerns

ENNIO MORRICONE - Kill you with a melody - The good the bad and the ugly: guitar into the western environment - still the sounds of westerns 50/60 years later

BERNARD HERRMANN - THEME FROM VERTIGO: mystery - little phrases that circular madness to them that worked really well - everything driving you forward in a sick, disastrous way

psycho - tricked you into thinking you saw way more of the violent acts in the scene that actually occurred

TOM HOLKENBURG -

HEITOR PEREIRA

MARK MOTHERSBURG - rugrats on a toy piano

Any instrument is valid if it improves the music

Anything can be music

hurdygurdy - instrument

DARIO MARIANELLI

PARTICK DOYLLE

TRY TO FIND THE GENERAL RHYTHM IN THE SCENE - SEVEN MONTHS PRODUCING THE SCORE, DIFFERENT TYPES OF DRUMS (MAD MAX) - DRUMS UNIQUELY RECORDED, COMBINING TRACKS, AGGRESSIVE, - " don't care what it is, if I make a track, it has to i’ve me goosebumps myself"

"Goosebumps"

PROF. SIU-LAN TAN: different aspects of music are processed by systems in the brain - multifaceted - melody pitch, tempo and rhythm, -- physiological reaction - reward center, dopamine, react to music. Film music and orchestral music is of great interest to scientists because of it's ability to emote: film music isn’t something we pay conscious attention to and yet it has such a powerful impact on us - an audience's eyes can be drawn to different parts of the screen with music that matches certain characteristics being shown on the screen - for example a rising pitch with something that's rising: UP - first time we see the balloons - important visual motif and theme - interesting to see that music can be part of the choreography of our eye movements ET - Vast expansive music with the taking off of the space ship - go from big music to small - reminding us who's going into the spaceship, it's very sad, these are farewells - this fanfare that's very triumphant, saying we're looking at it from Elliot's view point, it's not a loss, it's almost like saying "Mission accomplished" - film music, so powerful, so un-captureable to scientists

QUINCY JONES - everything you see, you here (used to be) - eyes doing the same things the ear was doing

JERRY GOLDSMITH - planet of the apes: using modern techniques, reapplied it into drama - rubber balls being bounced in bowls, metal bowls, CHINATOWN - four pianos, etc. - ballsy

RANDY NEWMAN

JOHN WILLIAMS - jazz pianist - JAWS - crazy experiment - engine, accelerate - if we didn’t have that theme, we wouldn't know what was happening - spots and places music in the movie - only wanted music to announce the arrival of the shark STAR WARS - huge impact - theme - symphonic score, rediscovered the classical orchestral film score, good and bad, beautiful themes for romance and heroes, the Darth Vader theme - so marshal and broad - "oh boy there’s something not good here"; helps discern characters SUPERMAN theme - krypton theme: mysterious, av-ante garde, way of surrounding pieces with other pieces INDIANA JONES raiders of the lost ark - spends more time on those small bits of musical grammar so they seem inevitable - plethora of parts ET - film music has changed because film has changed, what it needs to do - end of ET - wide space of just music, JURASSIC PARK -

air studios - pick a studio ‘cus it's appropriate to the sort of sound you want to make - churches - haunted, etc. DAVID ARNOLD. - CASINO ROYALE - acoustics, choice - hundreds of mics - how close/how far you wanna feel from the music.

ABBEY ROAD STUDIOS - live sound, less absorbent material on the walls - great reverb, Beatles, Return of the Jedi, lord of the rings, mission impossible - different layouts for different sounds - Rogue Nation, changing music at different cuts to fix problems/change it up

film making styles have changed, so has film music

19702 - synthesizers and punk

DANNY ELFMAN - short musical ideas that become big musical ideas - Tim Burton, batman - only one rule: there are no rules -

THOMAS NEWMAN - difficult to develop what the sound it - like Danny elf man, developed his own sound - Shaw shank Redemption. American Beauty - marimba, sets the tone of the film, sets you a little off balance, captured the way of ding uncertainty - establish a key center, things will then weave in and around that baseline - creates a texture that lives behind the orchestra, yes could write orchestral scores, but sometimes a film needs something more intimate. prevailing mood, slap it on an image and let it sit for 2 minutes - cold, emotive piano

HANS ZIMMER: unconventional rock swagger to film screen - GLADIATOR - brutality, violence where the notes are placed, intensity - woman's vocals over the orchestra - shaped cinema - took the string section and made it like a guitar - they're playing rhythm - PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN - like led zepplin payed by an orchestra; DARK KNIGHT - blurred the line between giant symphonic and orchestral - constant pulse - powerful, exciting - INCEPTION - it's like a new morning, washes over you in waves, music just piles up - left with a big question.

People who aren't film composers being asked to make film scores - can bring so much authenticity to sound music - sounds are extremely contemporary - SOCIAL NETWORK - disturbing lyrical piano - human and technical, emotionally dark, - ATTICUS ROSS and TRENT RIZZLER

unconventional image and unconventional sound - so much greater than the sum of their arts beautiful chaos far more experimentation, freedom, Technology has made it possible for every composer to be a producer - at the core of it is the tune

STEVE JABLONSKY - Lockdown theme - first introduces french horns into the score, mixing them up a bit, bringing texture to the piece, you want your intention to be clear - the horns give it more of an emotional weight - you want to make sure the emotions you mean to grab the audience are strong enough, make bold statement

ALEXANDER BELSPATT

FOX STUDIOS - LA, stronger sound, London, softer sound -

HARRY GREGSON-WILLIAMS -

WARNER BROS. STUDIOS - JOHN (PAUL??) DEBNY -

music - the most human and emotive thing we have

ELLIOT GOLDENTHAL

BRIAN TYLER - if everything was perfect in music, everything would sound terrible - fast and furious 6 - you can feel when a cue is working the audience - goes to watch audience reactions when watching the movie, helps him for future films - get a sense of how did this work, do they scenes move people - will run into a bathroom stall, will see if anyone is humming or whistling the theme - feels like he affected them on a level they're not aware of -

TYLER BATES

MOBY - the one art form that doesn't technically exist - you can't put your finger on music - it's just air waves moving a little differently

Film music being used outside of film - Remember the Titans - Obama, whatever the audience felt in the theater was resonant again

HANS ZIMMER - LAST PEOPLE ON EARTH THAT FREQUENTLY COMMISSION ORCHESTRAL PIECES - WITHOUT THEM, ORCHESTRAL MUSIC WOULD DISAPPEAR, WOULD BE A CULTURAL LOSS TO HUMANITY, - we all have fragility, when i play you a piece of music, i completely expose myself, and that's a very scary moment - i love i love i love what I do -

music plays such an important role in a film

film music i one of the great art form of the 20th and 21st century

RYAN TAUBERT - SCORE

James Horner - titanic - sketch out on synthesizer

#research #research report #year 3 #ba3a

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asarenanews-blog · 7 years

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Masochist me? An Ars author's iPad-just workday How simple is it to finish a full workday while just utilizing the iPad?.

According to Steve Jobs, we've as of now entered the post-PC world because of the iPad, the iPhone, and other non-PC processing gadgets. Yet, have we? Of course, artists and craftsmen may get by doing their work on these novel gadgets, yet shouldn't something be said about those of us who do not have the ability to doodle New Yorker covers as a profession, driving us to perform more "typical" occupations?

When I surveyed the first iPad in the spring of 2010, I composed some portion of the audit on the iPad itself. Around then, be that as it may, applications for the iPad were couple of; engineers didn't yet have a full handle of what it intended to create programming for such a substantial non-portable workstation gadget. I composed the area of the survey in the iPad's default Notes application—message just, obviously—and did the organizing work, the pictures, and the substance administration framework (CMS) wrangling on a customary PC, as any rational individual would. Be that as it may, both local and Web applications have come a significant long path in the course of the most recent 17 months, making us ponder: is it now genuinely conceivable to do an entire day of work for Ars utilizing only an iPad?

The underlying suggestion appeared to be insane. I was certain it was impractical to work along these lines. My occupation as an author and editorial manager here at Ars relies on upon (excessively) genuine multitasking with different open windows. I didn't know I'd even have the capacity to effectively compose full articles with appropriate arranging, connections, pictures, and HTML utilizing just iPad applications. What's more, we should not discuss the Ars CMS—a large portion of us at Ars have endeavored to utilize it from our iPhones previously; it has constantly finished in tears.

So envision my unexpected when a day on the iPad really worked.

My devices

My occupation changes on a hourly premise, and must be depicted as "overseen disarray." I commonly utilize either a 27" iMac or a 11" MacBook Air, contingent upon what I'm doing or where I should be. My fundamental programming apparatuses incorporate a completely utilitarian Web program, an IM customer for speaking with journalists and different editors, some approach to get to IRC (the "workplace" some portion of our virtual office lives), an email customer, a Twitter customer, a RSS peruser, and a straightforward composition application that can trade clean HTML.

As those of you with iPads definitely know, Safari functions admirably for Web perusing; Mail, in spite of its different inconveniences, is alright to get the email work done. I had amazingly poor encounters in the past managing the official AIM application for iPad, so on high proposal from Twitter, I bought the $9.99 Beejive IM customer for iPad. A Web-based IRC arrangement as of now existed for me on account of Ars designer Lee "Speedy Draw" Aylward, whose Alice customer is so valuable to the individuals who switch gadgets consistently that it has turned into my fundamental IRC customer on my "genuine" PCs, as well. (The advantage here over another customer—even Web-based ones—is that Alice keeps you associated even while you're not on the page, so you can without much of a stretch load it up to perceive what's been happening while you were away doing different things.) Twitter was simple—I quite recently utilized the official Twitter customer for iPad—and I chose to forego RSS, in light of the fact that who truly needs to filter through a great many RSS things each hour of the day on any gadget?

The greatest test was finding a written work application to suit my—and the CMS's—tastes. On proposal from previous Ars author David Chartier, I chose to experiment with the $4.99 Writing Kit, which gloats Markdown support and clean HTML fares to my iPad clipboard or email. Shockingly, these components are as of now sufficiently hard to discover in an ordinary Mac application (I utilize MacJournal for this reason under OS X), so I was satisfied to discover something that in any event appeared to offer what I needed on the iPad.

My decide was that I couldn't touch a genuine PC throughout the day, however I used a remote equipment console with the iPad by means of Bluetooth. I assumed if Apple permits it without jailbreaking, I could permit it as well. I for the most part have no issue writing on the iPad's onscreen console for short things, however in the event that I would work throughout the day on the thing, I required the screen space and writing speed that an equipment console would offer.99 issues?

I left on my iPad-just workday one late Tuesday, checking in with alternate editors at Ars by means of IM and connecting with Ars giver Chris Foresman to discuss his scope for the day. (Beejive ended up being a not too bad IM customer that can send drive cautions to your iPad at whatever point you get an IM, and it won't log you off incidentally like the official AIM customer does.) I then entered the day's story arranges into our mutual Google Docs spreadsheet, which can now fortunately be altered by means of Safari on the iPad. I followed up on a couple story leads through email and started composing an article in view of an email meet.

I expected that exchanging amongst Mail and Writing Kit each other sentence would rapidly turn into an agony—this is a circumstance where I would ordinarily put my Mail customer by my composition application on the Mac and simply let the musings stream as my eyes flick forward and backward between the windows. As a general rule, it was a great deal less irritating than I expected; I wound up concentrating more on the real substance of the meeting while I was perusing the subject's reactions, then changing over to Writing Kit to aggregate things up.

Still, slight inconveniences started. As I wrote in the first iPad audit, utilizing an equipment console with the iPad is a testing UI encounter since some conventional Mac console summons deal with the iPad, yet not every one of them do. Along these lines, while I could utilize the console to effectively duplicate and glue, control the volume, tab through fields in Safari, and perform different assignments, I couldn't do the one thing I continued attempting to do decisively for 10 hours: switch between applications utilizing Command + Tab. Depicting this involvement in composition doesn't surmised the real sentiment madness I encountered as I hit Command + Tab intuitively, then surrendered myself to connecting and hitting the home catch twice so I could get to the iPad's application drawer. Each. Single. Time.

There were other, littler issues as well, yet nothing that put the brakes on my whole day. For instance, one perception I wrote into Notes amid my iPad workday was: "Essential! Ensure you know all passwords." This appears like an undeniable tip, yet with the coming and developing prevalence of secret key administrators like 1Password, it's normal for clients to have no clue what their passwords really are. What's more, unless you need to present an "overlooked secret key" frame for each site you use in a day, it's a smart thought to know which passwords you'll require or potentially make a point to have the iOS application (if pertinent) for your watchword director. For this situation, 1Password has an iPad application that you can use to duplicate your passwords out of and glue into the locales being referred to, so my bacon was to a great extent spared.

I was likewise uneasy about our Movable Type-based CMS, whose portable site has been famously non-utilitarian on Ars staff iPhones since, well, until the end of time. Luckily, the CMS saw the iPad as a typical PC and in this manner served up the standard Web page that I'd get on a portable workstation. What's more, to add icing to this great improvement, the custom picture transfer device made by Lee Aylward additionally chipped away at the iPad (scarcely). The interface is obviously intended to take a shot at PCs with expansive screens (I even had starting issues utilizing it on my 11" MacBook Air, however those have since been settled), and I experienced some dissatisfaction with covering components if the page got zoomed in too far on the iPad. In any case, the length of I didn't get excessively wild about zooming, the instrument worked fine and I could finish the last and extremely fundamental stride of the article creation handle: sparing it as a total work that was prepared for altering and after that production.

Everything went superior to anticipated

A few sections of my typical routine must be adjusted somewhat for the iPad, however at last I pulled it off fine and dandy. A hefty portion of my kindred collaborators at Ars didn't realize that I wasn't taking a shot at an ordinary tablet.

Dealing with a tablet made it more hard to always screen everything that occurs in a day, however there was a tradeoff: it was fundamentally less demanding to be profitable when really composing. Actually, I delivered marginally more the day I chipped away at the iPad than on an ordinary day, and I didn't miss any critical news—business related or something else. I felt as though I was to some degree detached from the world contrasted with my standard setup, yet I wasn't—I just couldn't see everything in the meantime, constantly.

Rather, I needed to settle on cognizant choices to change over to IM and react to a few people on the double, or go to IRC to perceive what whatever is left of the staff was doing, or backpedal to Writing Kit to commit one more hour to continuous composition. It's an alternate mental process for an average PC client, yet it worked out somewhat superior to anything fine if individual profitability was the metric.

Let's get straight to the point, however: there's a reason I (and the greater part of us at the Ars staff) didn't anticipate that things will go and in addition they did. Not everybody's occupation makes utilization of an indistinguishable apparatuses from mine, and not those instruments (or their substitutes) are accessible on the iPad. For instance, Ars Creative Director Aurich Lawson is certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wouldn't have the capacity to carry out his employment outlining for the site and making his acclaimed story illustrations—in any event not the way he likes to do it—on an iPad. Individuals who depend on Microsoft Office will have genuine issues (a few clients can change to Apple's variant of iWork for the iPad, however let's be realistic: those whose employments vigorously depend on Office for the most part can't do that switch). It's troublesome—however not absolutely inconceivable, contingent upon what you're utilizing—to oversee virtual machines from the iPad, or to play out any number of other IT-related errands. Indeed, even my own particular employment would be troublesome in the event that I needed to, say, try out some Mac programming keeping in mind the end goal to do a hands-on article.

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