#compound that with the fact all my extended family is states away from me and growing up i only saw them once every few years

[rigginsstreet]

why do older family members get mad when you have no relationship with them like sir *i* was the child for the bulk of your time knowing me and you made zero effort to foster any sort of long lasting relationship dont be mad when we're not close now that im an adult

[baeddel]

discussion on this post, @horatiovonbecker asks @otatma their opinion about extended families as an alternative to the nuclear family. @otatma replies that it is “a good thing to strive for” but “depends hugely on the family being nontoxic.” true enough!

as it’s my activity feed and they can’t stop me i’ll butt into the conversation. i grew up in an extended family. i lived with my mother and my maternal grandparents, and my aunt would live with us some days out of the week. all of this was accomplished in a 2-bedroom bungalow. i had very little privacy and i hated it; when i was 15 i ran away. my mother pleaded with the council and we managed to secure a terraced house in a socialized housing estate with a bedroom for each of us, plus a spare room (almost unthinkable today). we live near our grandparents and they visit every day.

when i was 16 i met my absentee father. he had been homeless in England and imprisoned in Scotland and when he returned to Ireland that year i found him living in a rhizomatic extended family scenario spanning four generations and three households. they were always being chased out by landlords or paramilitaries and relocating and, in any case, one could never predict who would be living in which house at any time; children would live with grandparents one month, parents the next, aunts and uncles the next, and so on. even husbands and wives did not always share a home.

[long post: 3k words, on the historical development of family structure in Ireland and England and what it means for monogamy, the family and anarchy]

based on this i believed the extended family to be an Irish institution. this is an assumption i shared with most sociologists and historians until about the 1990s (Seward et. al., 2005, pg. 2). the standard narrative was that, world-over, families historically lived in large, three-generation households and that thanks to the industrial revolution this was deteriorating. “Max Weber himself implies in his magisterial way that the rise of capitalist organisation was associated with 'the household community shrinking' ” (Laslett, 1974, pg. 7). Ireland was traditionally conceived of as an exception to this process of deterioration as, on this account, the extended family remained dominant while the rest of the world was going nuclear. it turns out to be the reverse in both cases: the extended family was never the dominant family structure anywhere (ibid. pg. 2-3; Vann 1974, pg. 3-4), except for in Ireland beginning in the 19th century, where over the course of the 20th century it did deteriorate (Laslett, 1974 pg. 34; Gibbon & Curtin, 1978).

the reason for this is embarassingly obvious once you realize it. the fact is that not all families in a society can be extended families. if all children remain in the family home along with their children into perpetuity this house will soon have the population of a small town. this is actually the origin of society proposed by Filmer in Patriarcha (1680), where parental authority becomes the “fountain of all Regal Authority” as their progeny multiply, until humanity is scattered about in the Confusion of Tongues (pg. 11-15). without a Confusion of Tongues to interrupt the exponential increase (and millions, rather than thousands, of years to account for) we have to imagine another sort of family structure. the 19th century sociologist Frédéric Le Play proposed that a new family structure emerged out of ancient patriarchy which he called the Stem-Extended Family. on this account one son was selected to inherit and he remained at the family’s residence; the other siblings were dispersed (Gibbon & Curtin, 1978 pg. 2-3).

to the extent that this form of family organization did exist, it could not have been the dominant form. in a family with three sons, two of them would have to go and form nuclear families with their spouses. they might go on to build their own extended family, or they might not. in many societies the extended family was indeed considered “a good thing to strive for”, and this was the position adopted by the conservative Catholic Le Play, and later accepted by the Catholic Church, who lobbied for policy interventions that would stem the tide of nuclear proliferation in Ireland, particularly by limiting employment opportunities for women. For example, women were barred from civil service positions until 1973 (Seward et. al., 2005, pg. 7).

if this is the case, how could the extended family become the dominant form of family structure in Ireland in the 19th and early 20th centuries? the most significant factor was the reorganization of agriculture carried out by English colonial interests; after the infamous Potato Famine the population of Ireland almost halved (after already more than halving after Cromwell’s genocides), as well as the almost constant state of war that Ireland was submerged in (continuing into the 90s in the occupied North). in the aftermath it was necessary for families to consolidate (Seward et. al., 2005, pg. 3). on top of this, fertility was exceptionally low and emigration was exceptionally high (in the North it remains very high, especially among Catholics). as a result, more generations could live together, and children were more likely to leave the country than disperse elsewhere in Ireland (Seward et. al., 2005, pg. 14). throughout the 20th century, as industry and free secondary education were introduced to Ireland, more children began to move from country to town and nuclear families rapidly replaced extended ones  (Seward et. al., 2005, pg. 6).

my family tree more or less follows this narrative along. in the chaos following the Land War my great, great grandmother was the head of a large intergenerational family involving aunts and uncles, as well as an adopted street orphan. my great grandfather met a homeless woman possessing a child out of wedlock and fell in love with her; they moved to this town and rented a house while he sought work as a street sweeper, starting a new nuclear family. in the 40s my grandmother worked in factories until she married my grandfather, a sailor, and they began their own nuclear family in the same town, renting different little apartments until, thanks to the state of the housing market in the 80s, they purchased the modest accomodations aforementioned. by the 90s this arrangement threatened to become a new Stem-Extended Family (with my mother and i playing the role of inheriting sons), but it proved inoperable in the new context of the 21st century’s mechanized Ireland, and we spilled over into our own single-parent home. given that both me and my aunt are infertile, the maternal line terminates here.

does it follow that we ought to give in and admit that the nuclear family is the natural unit of human society, and that the extended family is possible only in the middle of an ongoing genocide? despite what we’ve just said, there doesn’t seem to be good evidence for this either. while Gibbon & Curtin characterized a debate where Laslett “advanced the iconoclastic [proposition] that there had been little essential historical change in family structure” (1978, pg. 3) this doesn’t seem to actually be Laslett’s position. Laslett argued that family size has not changed considerably throughout history, but on the very first page of his landmark Household and Family in Past Time (1970) he emphasizes that he is “not concerned with the family as a network of kinship” and instead defines his area of research in terms of “coresident domestic groups”, which might bear little relationship to kinship structures. in the past the household very frequently involved not just blood relatives but “lodgers, boarders and visitors” (Vann, 1974, pg. 5) as well as slaves and servants. Vann quotes Etienne Hélin's caution that “[a]rithmetic means, although they varied so little covered a whole series of different situations” and describes how post-industrial English households had twice the number of blood relatives per house as pre-industrial ones, but fewer lodgers, and thus about the same mean. the difference between historical and modern families might not be one of size but of an increasing emphasis on blood relations.

it may come as a surprise that, as a matter of fact, Old English has no word for family. they have a word for relatives in general (sibb), for tribes (cynn, the root of Modern English kin), but the basic social unit known to the Anglo-Saxons was the hiw (and its many compounds), which might be translated ‘household’ (or, indeed, ‘coresident domestic group’). who belonged to a hiw? it was somewhat nakedly a property relation. it was not only a man’s wife and children but also his servants, his slaves, as well as his animals (Stanley, 2008, pg. 1). the Textus Rofensus makes only one distinction between members of a household, that they be “slaves or free” (ibid. pg. 7). it could also refer to a monastic group, involving the whole cloister. Stanley notes (and it seems true to me) that there is a virtual absence of family relations in the corpus of Old English literature. in fact i cannot think of a single example, except perhaps for the monster Grendel and his mother. in the mournful Wife’s Lament and the passionate Wulf and Eadwacer the emphasis is on completely personal affections and seductions, and in any case both depict forbidden relationships outside of the hired.

correspondingly, we find that the average Anglo-Saxon home was a large one; typically they were a single room which measured about 50 square meters and “could have accomodated up to about a dozen or so people” (Hines, 2003, pg. 139). there is no reason to suppose that this was to accomodate several generations of blood relatives; the Anglo-Saxons had many, now very unfamilliar, relationships to populate their houses with. there was husband, wife, and concubine, along with their children; there was slave and hostage (Lavelle, 2006), including many orders of slaves with different status (such as the relatively respectable title of bryti, a sort of ‘head slave’); and indeed guest, visitor, boarder, and in the case of lords and aristocratic thegns, perhaps retainers. in Beowulf about thirty thegns sleep with their lord in Heorot, pulling aside the bench-planks and replacing them with straw beds at night (and when the Geats arrive they incorporate them as still more visitors). we know that at least some beds were placed in recesses in the walls and had curtains (Wright), perhaps to accomodate private intimacy between husband, wife and concubine or, indeed, guest, retainer, hostage, slave, or (why not?) animal. even when husband and wife are the only kin relatives in residence we would hesitate to call this arrangement a ‘nuclear family‘, or indeed an ‘extended family’ should it include a grandparent.

why has industrial modernization corresponded with the narrowing of the productive unit of society to the nuclear family (or, increasingly, the single parent family)? why have non-blood relations become so systematically excluded from the household? these seem like open questions to me. our own experience leads us to suspect conditions placed on family structure by the labour market together with city planning. until the 70s in Ireland, as we discussed, it was typical (and indeed lawful) for wives to stay at home and husbands to work; today very few workers could afford to keep their wives at home, even without children. houses are also too small to sustain extended families (nevermind concubines, hostages and the rest). old council houses such as ours have two bedrooms, one for the parents and the other for the children, along with a room for guests. today they do not include the guest room. there are, in addition, only two common rooms: a family room and a kitchen. it is not only difficult to accomodate three generations in these houses (the small guest bedroom is a poor substitue for the reitrement room of many 19th century Irish houses), it is difficult to accomodate even two generations. teenagers will already complain about sharing a bedroom, and one sibling might take up the guestroom. but we know of women with six, seven, as many as twelve children who live here. as adults they could fill at least three of such houses. all of this is possible only on the theory that as the children grow up they will move out into their own homes.

so. it is tempting to analyze the family situation abstractly, counting up the merits and dysfunctions of different systems and comparing them. for example, using Hirschman’s well-known framework of “exit” and “voice”, we might ask how effective the different forms of family structure are at responding to dysfunction (abuse, neglect and so on). the extended family, we might say, gives a child better access to “voice” - they can turn to parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and siblings for help. your mother might answer to your grandmother who is therefore well poised to address parenting issues, while your father can probably smoothe things over with your uncle if you quarrel. this means that you actually have to worry less about “toxicity” in the family compared to a nuclear family where parents aren’t accountable to anyone. however, in case of a family wide problem, you may have much less room to “exit” compared to a nuclear family, where exit is expected.

which one is better? you might reply that the extended family sounds better. it very well might be; but in reality you’ll never get to act on this exercise in judgement no matter how much striving you do. the nuclear family does not predominate because of the tyrannical thirst for the awesome power of parenthood (no matter how much we do find this thirst satisfied), but because of the given conditions of labour, housing, inheritance and so forth. this is why @horatiovonbecker can reply that all of this is “fair enough” but that they ”don't think it follows that discouraging monogamy will help.” no, surely it does not follow. especially now that we know that family size and kinship relations are not essential features of domestic organization. why was monogamy ever implicated in the first place?

now it seems like a curious slip of the tongue that when Goldman and Parsons disagree about monogamy they do so by attacking and defending the family by turns. but at that time monogamy was not so easily separable. free love was not really polyamory. it was this and also the abolition of both marriage and parenthood, as they understood both as property relations: “marriage slavery”, as even Parsons called it, and parental ownership of children. it was also the abolition of sex work, which they understood as the "public” expression of the subjugation of women which finds its “private” expression in marriage (Marx & Engels, 1848, pg. 24-25), ie. that women are dependent on men’s property and must acquire it by marriage or by sexual labour. as a corrolary they advocated for divorce (which became an immense priority to later Soviet planners who designed mobile, modular homes which would allow couples to separate and cohabit arbitrarily). it was also access to contraceptives and to abortion, as well as, believe it or not, very often the advocacy of eugenics (on the account that with abortion, contraceptives and the freedom to select partners, the previously blind and mute force of sexual reproduction would become domesticated to the rational will; see the anarchist journal Moses Harman founded in the 1880s, Lucifer the Light Bearer, later renamed the American Journal of Eugenics).

this constellation of problems no longer appear all together. after most women entered the conventional work force we could no longer as easily see monogamy and marriage as a relationship of slavery. as we say in the previous post, for many women the struggle is that they are too independent, saddled with childrearing and wage labour and housework with only the cold comfort of the day-care for assistance. for this reason sex work no longer appears as anything special compared to the other forms of labour women do out of necessity; “sex work is work” is the guiding catchphrase of militant sex workers. contraceptives and abortion still appear as a leading issue in feminist agitation but we no longer imagine they have the power to transform the everyday life of the household (nevermind summon forth the genetic Ubermensch). all together the abolition of marriage was replaced, as @birlinterrupted​ reminds us, with its extension: gay marriage. as of right now monogamy and marraige are still inseparable (i can now marry one of my girlfriends but not all three), but we think it need not always be. all together the program fragmented as its success was realized in pieces and none of them were actually irreparably fixed by the property relation (even if they did emerge from it).

Engels actually believed that a true equality of the sexes would, “according to all previous experience,” result in monogamous men and polyandrous women (Engels, 1884, pg. 43), but he admits that we can only conjecture about “the way in which sexual relations will be ordered after the impending overthrow of capitalist production.” he finishes this thought with this remarkable little statement:

[W]hat will there be new? That will be answered when a new generation has grown up: a generation of men who never in their lives have known what it is to buy a woman’s surrender with money or any other social instrument of power; a generation of women who have never known what it is to give themselves to a man from any other considerations than real love, or to refuse to give themselves to their lover from fear of the economic consequences. When these people are in the world, they will care precious little what anybody today thinks they ought to do; they will make their own practice and their corresponding public opinion about the practice of each individual – and that will be the end of it.

the straightforward correspondence between property, economic dependence and monogamy is still here, and which to us now seems insufficient to the problem (ie. the problem still persists after these given conditions are eliminated). broadening the question from questions of marriage, sexual access and economic dependence to the more general question of the organization of the household in general and the necessary social and economic conditions proper to it would clarify what’s really at stake in domestic oppression, the organization of reproduction, and so on. but it remains true that we can only remain sensitive to trends, to those of us organizing new experiments with the household, and where new opportunities might open as the present conditions dig their own grave.

Let’s give the final word to an old friend. What is the Family, Renzo Novatore? Why, nothing but “the denial of life, love and liberty.” Nevermind his entry for Love, which is a “deception of the flesh and damage to the spirit, disease of the soul, atrophy of the brain, weakening of the heart” and so forth.

[the-family-fortune]

Earlier today Cali asked me quite possibly the worst thing you CAN ask me

And boy howdy did I have some thoughts. 

idk if ive mentioned it here before or not but I have a lot of feelings about the idea of redemption in psy2. I LIKE the idea that no one is beyond redemption, that people can be good and that we are all, at our core, just hurting. and those are the themes that psychonauts plays with. mental illnesses that are seen as "scary" like the inmates (though the inmates themselves are rarely presented as scary, with maybe the exception of Edgar because he's just. huge.) - bipolar mood swings with inexplicable rage, Edgar's anger issues and sheer strength combined into an intimidating figure, and the stigma of multiple personalities like how Fred acts meek one second and then on the warpath the next when he "switches". All of these oooh scary mental illnesses are literally just people grappling with trauma. Edgar's OCD and the trauma from high school, Fred's... weird genetic memory issues, and Gloria's inner critic and the death of her mother. These things are like, Normal People Problems (sorry fred idk what the fuck is up with u buddy ur on another level all together) and really contextualize the inmates' mental illness in a way that emphasizes the main theme of empathy. 

I intentionally leave Boyd out of this because while the root of his mental illness is schizoaffective paranoia, his ROLE as the Milkman and in fact his entire mindscape is the product of Oleander's hypnosis.

So like, I VIBE WITH THAT, its a really really interesting take on the conversation about mental illness and how these things do not make people inherently bad or scary!!

But I feel like, BASED ON WHAT WE KNOW RIGHT NOW, that the Galochios - or, at the very least, Zalto on his own - fall into a different kind of category.

The Galochios from the start are jealous people. They're jealous of the Aquato's fame and think that they deserve more recognition which in and of itself isn't a bad thing per se - wanting to feel appreciated and recognized and seen is just a basic human desire, I think. But jealousy isnt a mental illness. Jealousy is a natural human emotion that we, as rational and empathetic people, must make the conscious choice to deal with in healthy ways. The Galochios don't, and they let that consume them from the start - where they allow themselves to hate the Aquatos for their fame, where they allow themselves to ostracize Marona, where they drive her out of the family and where they attempt to drag her back, it's not the product of mental illness destroying relationships like someone in Edgar's position might experience, but pure pride and jealousy directed towards the Aquato family.

And like from there its just all downhill

And I could argue that from this point things compound to create a mental landscape that maybe isnt the picture of health in the Galochios, because grief can really, really fuck you up, and regardless of how they acted, losing a daughter or a sister when Marona died, could not have been easy.

But I cannot read "the Galochios crowded around the tank to gleefully watch Lazarus's decapitation" and be like "aw they're just hurting 8(" because mental illness is not synonymous with undue cruelty.

Like the Galochios at every turn are presented with A Choice and by god they're determined to make the wrong one. Whether or not this is motivated by grief or jealousy or whatever doesnt matter, because even when you are mentally ill it is still the bare minimum to not gleefully watch someone you dont like get decapitated, u know?

That is, I think, them consumed by jealousy and hate and seeing nothing wrong with it because it benefits them and hurts people they dont like. Thats. that's not mental illness that's just being an asshole

So while I absoLUTEly vibe with Psychonaut's theme of empathy and compassion and understanding that mental illness isnt bad or scary, and that we're all struggling with something, I think that narrative has two sides to it, and the same way that "we're all struggling with something" lends to the idea that we need to extend compassion to others, the Galochios being so stubbornly cruel as to be irredeemable in the narrative of psychonauts two lends to the equally important theme of "but you can not sacrifice yourself for people who do not WANT help"

Because of the nature of the things the Galochios have done (and perhaps, are still doing, as we move into the secrets behind the RoR and Psy2 narrative) I think that it would take a LOT. A LOT. for the writing to pass off a Galochio redemption in a meaningful and complete way, because of the nature of the choices they make. From what I know about them right now, these are not the actions of people who are... hallucinating grandeur or some greater purpose who believe in some hidden agenda like Boyd. From what I can gather and what we already know about the Galochio backstory, this is just the kind of people they are. 

 Now, taking into account Zalto specifically, I can without a doubt see him having some major psychological damage. Like I said earlier, grief can really, really fuck you up, and Zalto experienced more grief than reasonable, all at once, with the tank accident. He was already not the most stable person. ("But Daisy!" I hear you cry, "Augustus lost his entire family in a year and didn't snap like that!" True but look me in the eye and tell me you think he's coped with it in a healthy manner. Augustus experienced unreasonable amounts of grief and as a result his ten year old thinks he wants him dead.)

So if that turns out to be the case, and we see a level where we actually do deal with that grief in a healthy way (which imo would be very interesting to see the trauma of grief treated the same as mental illness - even though we all experience grief at some point, sooooome of us dont quite take it as well as others, whoops!) we could see the baseline path to a Zalto redemption.

But really it all boils down to responsibility for their actions and how they handle their trauma and the fact that eight Aquatos were murdered does not automatically become sympathetic because Zalto was dealing with grief. I personally, would be really interested to see the Galochios as villains end the game as villains and for that stubbornness and unwillingness to accept empathy or help be shown as their downfall, because irl its incredibly unhealthy and self-destructive to refuse help or refuse to SEEK help when you very clearly know that something is hurting you, and that you are in turn hurting others.

I also REALLY don't want them to be given the Oleander treatment.

As much as I love Oleander, I feel like a lot about his character was mismanaged, and he was turned into comedic relief in RoR.

like. A lot of my thoughts on the psy2 narrative as a whole relies heavily on the li-po document of course but the story that we were given IN psy1 vs the story that we are told in the document are so STARKLY different.

"Oleander wants to take over the world because he's angry at tall people from that time from that time his dad killed his bunny, which traumatized him" is NOT the same as "Oleander spent his formative years FIRMLY BELIEVING that his father saw him as a burden because he was small, thought he was nothing better than pig slop, and witnessed the death of an animal that he had a psychic connection to, after which he spent his entire life attempting to make his father proud only to be rejected by every branch of the military. By the time he was finally a Psychonaut and felt he would be able to make his father proud despite his stature, both of his parents died horribly in a meat grinder accident while he was away training." 

 NOT THE SAME HOLY SHIT.

Oleander had so much POTENTIAL but he was kinda shoehorned into a very two-dimensional role. Idk if it was because of budget or time or what, because the production of psy1 was very..... not great. But its absolutely a SHAME to see such a heartbreaking backstory reduced to "short and angry about it"

And it absolutely cheapens his redemption, too.

The fact that Oleander's story was so heavily pruned COMBINED with the fact that - while it's hinted at in game, its honestly INSANELY difficult to put two and two together imo because of how its presented, Ford outright tells us that Oleander's assignment to whispering Rock was the cause of his mental break (the camp sits on a motherload of psitanium. It makes psychics more psychics, and unstable people more unstable.")

that's never once brought into the resolution of Oleander's character arch and the processing of his trauma and how the psychonauts directly contributed to his deteriorating mental state that led him to try and take over the world because they so deeply misunderstand psitanium but decided to build a kids summer camp training facility on top of it

thats like... early experimentation with nuclear materials before we understood the dangers of radiation. Not to stay topical or anything, but its a clearly dangerous substance that the Psychonauts treat very blase.

But to get back on track there, I really hope that if the Galochios DO receive a redemption arc in psy2, which seems likely given the overarching theme of the games themselves even extending to Loboto of all people... I hope they don't butcher it like they did with Oleander's. Given that they've had five years and a LOT more experience with this genre and its storytelling conventions (plus the fact that they're just excellent storytellers to begin with) I have a cautious optimism that whatever happens with the Galochios it will at least be a satisfying conclusion. (For comparison, Oleander's butchered redemption is still kinda held together by the satisfying conclusion of the game, in which Raz actually becomes a Psychonaut so that isnt to say that psy1 didnt have a satisfying conclusion) 

and at this point im sure you're regretting telling me to talk as much as i want because if there's one thing you ought to know about me by now its that i never shut up about the Galochios and honestly I've had a lot of thoughts about them and the themes of Psychonauts and the general structure of storytelling in the Psychonauts games overall.

As for the Galochio family themselves, I'm fascinated to see exactly who survived and what the power structure of the remaining Galochios is. If Zalto makes the final cut, I want VERY badly to know how he treats his family and if his anger has kinda pervaded what was probably a long time ago a relatively tight knit family. I want to see the individuals involved in this, how far they're each willing to go and where that lies in relation to Zalto. Like everyone has their moral limits, and if Zalto is utterly consumed by his goal to either obliterate the Aquatos or resurrect his family (shudder) his tolerance for atrocities may be much higher than that of his family members, which would automatically sow dissonance within the family when one by one people start deciding this is too much, this is too far, we cant keep doing this.

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 69: Making Short-Distance Calls

Keith and Lance make some calls back to the Imperial Compound.

Also, because I’m incredibly mature... Nice

First  Previous  Next

“Hey.” Keith peeks around the bedroom entryway to the main room, where Lance is stretched out on the floor in just a pair of pants, reading on his datapad. “Could you go take care of the elk and make breakfast? And take a little while? I need to speak to my mother.”

“Is everything okay? Are you alright?” The Altean rises to his feet, brushing dust off his pants.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” Keith manages a smile for his concerned mate. The Altean’s frown only deepens, clearly not convinced. “I just… want some privacy, okay?”

“Sure, as long as you’re alright.” Lance sets a tablet aside, kisses his cheek, puts BleepBloop on his shoulder, dances outside to play with Bruna and the bull elk.

Summoning his courage, he settles into his father’s old chair at the small work table, a breeze teasing his loose hair. He turns his gaze briefly through the glassless window into the open clearing, where Lance is petting Bruna, scales, dark skin gleaming in the sun.

He takes a deep breath. He makes his choice. He calls his mother.

“Hey, sweetheart! I tried calling you last quintant.” Krolia smiles. “Did you have a nice time with Lance?”

“Actually, that’s what I need to talk to you about,” Keith whispers. That hurt he’d felt simmers to the surface again.

Krolia’s brow creases with worry. “Is everything alright?”

“Well… No. It’s not.” Keith squares his shoulders, drawing on what he’s learned from his time on Altea. He allows himself to be a prince. “I saw how you looked at Lance at the Sanctorium. I don’t appreciate it in the least.”

“I see.” Krolia lifts an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should talk to him. He recommended we keep it between ourselves, for your sake.”

“Lance isn't the problem!” Keith snaps. “You’re the only one who has a problem.”

Krolia averts her gaze. “You’re right. He bears me no ill will.”

“We’re starting a family,” Keith states. “In a movement.”

“Your trust in him-” Krolia begins, warning clear in her voice.

“Is more than deserved. More than earned… Lance has done nothing but defend me against his people and protect me, even despite immense pressure from his father, who expected him to rape me, pushing and pushing and pushing us for phoebs.

“He cannot have you around him if you pose a risk to his reputation. He deserves the respect of his people. He deserves the respect of his kits. What happened at the Sanctorium cannot happen. Ever.” He sighs, ears wilting just a bit. “I need you to actually try, Mom. Not passively, to appease me. I need you to actually try, so that you can be a part of my kits’ lives.”

Krolia stares at her son, quite suddenly disturbed. “King Alfor expected him to-”

“Yes. but you never thought of that, did you? You assumed that Lance just didn’t feel like mating with me because I was too young! You didn't think at all about what that cost him! Or me, for that matter!”

“You didn’t-”

“Why would I?! You think that’s what I wanted to tell you about when I finally got to see you again? That I was sexually abused by my mate’s father? No! I wanted to tell you about how happy Lance makes me, and how important he is to us all, and about the work that I’m doing! Because I am happy, and I wanted to share that with you!" Keith takes a moment, composes himself.

“Regardless, we can’t have anybody undermining his influence. Especially not now, when we’re about to start enacting major changes on Altea. You're the Imperial Advisor. You have power here. Not only could your lack of respect lessen our influence, but it could put us in actual danger. If we’re going to have kits, I cannot allow that. Ever.”

Krolia’s staring at her son, visibly distressed. Keith hates it, hates the look on her face thinking of what he’s experienced at the hand of King Alfor. He hates that he made her feel that, that he’s broken her heart yet again. But she needs to know exactly what kind of person Lance is, and exactly what kind of person he himself has grown into.

“Forgive me, Keith. I didn’t know- I should have given the boy a better chance, like I said I would.”

“Yes, you should have. But you didn’t. And now, here we are, with an ultimatum. Learn to behave, or you can’t see my kits. Or me.” Keith sets his hands down on the table. “I’d better go. I gave Lance a couple chores to do, so he’s probably forgotten all about them and fed himself to something… I love you, mom.”

“I love you too, kitten. I’ll see you soon. I’ve gathered some things you might need for your season. I’d best talk to Lance, too.”

“Thace will talk to him. He’s a physician.”

Krolia’s ears droop. “Okay. ‘Bye, kitten.”

“‘Bye.” After he’s hung up, Keith rests his head on the edge of the table, lets out a chirp. He isn’t surprised. He’s distressed enough. He feels worse when Lance comes running in.

“What was that? Was that you?”

“Yeah…” Keith sits back up. “I spoke to my mother. About how she treats you.”

“Civilly? I mean, she hates my guts and wants to rip them out through my throat, but...”

“She’s not civil when you’re not looking.”

“Ah. That’s problematic.”

“I know. I’ve taken care of it, but it really sucks.” Keith’s ears are drooped, practically limp on either side of his head. “She has power and a station. We don’t need people to see us all butting heads.”

“I’m sorry, beloved.” Lance rubs the base of his ear, like he used to do before, when Keith had trouble sleeping.

“Not your fault… It just sucks.” Keith leans into that old comfort, letting his chemistry take over as soothing hormones travel through his system. “What else do we have to do today?”

“It can wait-”

“No. We have stuff to do. What’s next?”

“Calling Adam and Shiro. They’ve been collaborating.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Keith gives a ghost of a smile.

“Collaborating only in the professional sense, I believe. Adam is… We’ll say extremely cautious. Come here.” Lance guides him to his feet, gives him a hug. “Let’s do the next one outside. It’s nice and warm out. I know you like the sun.”

Keith nods, humming his assent into the crook of Lance’s neck. He lets his mate guide them outside into a patch of sunlight. BleepBloop parks himself in Keith's lap for pets.

Adam’s walking when he answers the call. “Your majesties! What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I just wanted an update on your work. We haven’t seen you hardly at all since we arrived.”

“That’s hardly my fault,” Adam remarks, smirking as he settles on a couch next to Shiro. The large Galra immediately puts an arm around him. “As I understand it, you're finally getting your house in order. Tell me, do you plan to expand said house?”

“Why do we keep you?” Keith mumbles, rolling his eyes, ears tipping back with the motion.

“Because you’d be dead without me. Quite literally.”

“Oh, yeah. How has our work been coming along?”

“We’re handling it,” Adam confirms, leaning into Shiro’s side a little more. “Now, as I understand it, you have not been invited to join the Imperial family for dinner?”

“Not at all,” Lance confirms.

Adam and Shiro glance at each other, visibly troubled. Shiro frowns. “How unusual. That is the tradition. In ancient days, when a chief of another tribe visited, they were immediately invited to dine with that tribe’s chief and their family. It could just be because they know your concerns are elsewhere, but the invitation should still have been extended..."

“I wonder if Lotor and Allura could tell us anything,” Adam muses. “Or Pidge. They’ve all been running around together. In the meantime, we have found something that might interest you. Do you remember that shipment with the weight discrepancy?”

“I don’t,” Keith grumbles as Lance nods. He fixes his mate with an annoyed gaze. More secrets. He really will strangle this idiot.

“Seriously, Lance? You didn’t tell him?” Adam shakes his head. “Nevermind. We’ve discovered that it’s happened multiple times, over the last two decaphoebs. Someone is smuggling on the regular, and someone else is making sure it’s not discovered. These records are not flagged. They’ve been approved and archived, but have no name attached to inspection. The ships hail from Ariel, Pollux, Feyiv, Senfama, and Marchanda. Twenty-three in total.”

“So these are not our assassins,” Lance clarifies.

“Well, they certainly aren’t all your assassins,” Adam agrees.

“Sending assassins to Daibazaal and then on to Altea is stupid,” Keith says, still sulking. “It would only make it easier to trace the client. Unless the client wasn’t Galra at all.”

“Yes. But now we have multiple shipments, which suggests something else entirely. Anyway, we’re still looking into it. We’ll let you know if we find anything. Otherwise, assume no news is no news.”

“Understood. Thank you, Adam. Shiro.” Lance smiles. “Keep up the good work.”

“Always, your Majesties.” Adam bows his head, ends the call. Brief, but informative.

The ensuing silence falls heavy.

“Beloved?” Lance murmurs.

Keith’s leaning away from Lance, not looking at him. “This is becoming a habit, Lance,” he warns. “I don’t appreciate it.”

“I… I didn’t realize.” Lance pales, color washing from skin and scales. “You’re right. It is becoming a habit.”

Why didn’t you tell me? Why are you keeping secrets?!” The tone and loudness of Keith's voice send BleepBloop running from his lap, screeching with irritation from a nearby tree.

“I didn’t want to trouble you.” Lance studies his hands in his lap, guilty.

“Why do you think I mated with you or started a relationship with you at all?!” Keith’s on his feet now, ready to give a right and proper scolding. “I want to be troubled! I want to be there, and help you, and share your burdens! They’re my burdens, too! I don’t have secrets from you! Don’t you dare keep secrets from me! Ever!” Keith sighs, shoulders drooping, anger turning to something softer. “No more. Please.”

“No more. I promise. I’m sorry.” Lance tugs on his hand, pulling Keith back down next to him. “I actually don’t know how to do this very well. I know how to get along with you, and look after you, but I don’t really know relationships that well... I just want you to be happy.”

“Lance, I’d rather know what’s going on around me and be absolutely fucking miserable than wander around happy and ignorant. I mean, not telling me about my mother not liking you is one thing, not telling me about your deal with Alfor is another, but this? Lance, someone tried to murder us! In our sleep! Don’t I deserve to know about that?”

“Yes… You do. I’m sorry.”

At Lance’s miserable face, Keith softens a little. “I want to be with you in everything, Lance. Even the stuff that hurts. Especially the stuff that hurts.”

“I understand… I’m sorry, Keith.”

“You’re forgiven.” Keith kisses his mate’s cheek, right over his dulled scales. “I trust your intentions. Promise we’ll work on it? I'll help.”

“I promise,” Lance whispers, voice fervent and strained.

“My good man.” Keith smiles, presses a gentle kiss to Lance’s lips. “We should call Lotor.”

“Okay.”

Keith leans against Lance, talking over the comms device, calling his cousin. The half-Galra is glistening, shirtless, a loose bit of silvery hair clinging to his forehead.

“Oh, thank the gods! An excuse!” The prince wipes his face with a rag. “I think Kolivan was actually trying to kill me!”

“More like trying to save you from sympathy weight,” the Galra grunts, his sons snickering behind him.

“Pfft. I am a prime specimen. I don’t gain sympathy weight. Or any kind of weight, for that matter.” Lotor grins at his coach. “Go beat up my generals for a bit so I can speak to my cousin and brother.”

Kolivan bows, fist over his breast, his sons doing the same on either side. Once they’re gone, Lotor turns back to his comms unit. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“Your medical records. I need them,” Keith states, not bothering with niceties.

Lotor frowns. “My mother said she gave them to you.”

Lance shakes his head. “She refused us. Why would she lie to you?”

“I don’t know… Well, perhaps my medical records will tell us something.” The prince shrugs, good-natured and mischievous. Ancients help Allura with their children, because clearly, Lotor is going to be no help at all. “Ah, Mother. I love her dearly, but… Science isn’t a warm discipline, if you know what I mean.”

“I… have not idea what that means,” Keith mumbles.

“It means she’s emotionally distant and more likely to use logic than kindness,” Lance summarizes.

“Pretty much.” Lotor drinks from a flask, leaning against an old wall in the shade. “Have you learned anything of our assassins?”

“Nothing for certain. But there have been several incoming cargo ships that did not pass inventory inspection, but were approved anyway. No signature from the inspector. They appear to be coming from five planets in Galra territory.”

“So these might not be our assassins, or even the client, but it is a problem. Which planets?”

“Ariel, Pollux, Feyiv, Senfama, and Marchanda,” Keith recites.

“Ariel is a mining planet, populated. Pollux is a verdant planet, with farming communities, self-sustaining. Feyiv is polar, but its surface harbors organic materials used in some of our biomechanics. Senfama is lush and green, a rich source of medicines. It is also where we tested our Zaiforge prototypes. Marchanda is a mining planet like Ariel, but devoid of life.”

Keith wonders briefly if his uncle knows all of this. He doubts it. he has his son to know it for him.

“This is definitely problematic,” Lotor decides. “I’ll discuss with Shiro and Adam, see if I can be of assistance. I will keep you apprised, and I will ensure that your delightful little associate gets hold of my records for you.”

“Many thanks, dear brother.” Lance smiles. “And do tell Pidge I said hello. I hope that our run-in with the kronil didn’t scare them too badly.”

“On the contrary. We carried it home and dissected it together. Allura nearly gutted us for it.” Lotor chuckles. “I’ll take my leave of you. Good day!”

“See you!” Keith waves his cousin out of the call, throws himself back with a groan.

“Ready to be done?”

“ So ready.” Keith sighs, snuggling in against Lance’s chest to listen to his heartbeat. “I know we only called three people, but I am exhausted. There was so much.”

“I know. We haven’t even called Thace and Hunk, yet.”

“Hm. I think we should talk to Alfor too. About plans in case Altea is attacked.”

“Do you think it likely?” Lance strokes Keith’s hair, enjoying the loose strands between his fingers.

“I don’t know. But Altea wants peace. My people want peace. If some faction is out there preparing to rebel and bring chaos, then I want to be able to stop them.” Keith closes his eyes. “I haven't lived at the compound or my village very long, but I’ve seen awful things, Lance. The things nobody wants to talk about. Bearers, summoned to do their service onlu quintants after giving birth. Sires, leaving pregnant mates behind, never knowing their kits… Kits always get caught in the middle. They’re the collateral, and then later, the next generation of fodder.”

“You’re not fodder, Keith.”

“I’ll gladly be fodder, if it means my kits won’t have to be.”

Lance is quiet for a moment, then- “Me too. But we can’t just go jumping into battles. We have our own responsibilities: to live, and build a better world.”

“Power and influence?”

“Power and influence. Rest assured, though. If it comes time to raise arms for us, I will. For Daibazaal and Altea.”

“For me, and you,” Keith whispers. “And everything we have between us.”

[supernaturalteenwolf14]

Cora’s Brother

A/N so I had this stuck in my head for a while and figured I’d put the story to use and actually write out when my head has been trying to tell me so here it is. So basically this is about the pack Cora had stayed with when everyone thought she was dead. It’s in my OC’s POV.

OC x Derek Hale

Words:3430

Might be a series....depends on how it does. Let me know what you guys think, the romance won’t start till a little later I just wanted to build the chemistry first. Plus this is after Jennifer and I don’t think Derek would hop into a relationship that fast. 

I’ve always thought Derek should be with a fellow werewolf instead of a human or something else. 

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

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

I had heard that Cora was coming back very soon, I’m excited to see her again to say the least. I had been worried about her ever since she went on her own to find her brother of whom we all thought died in the fire like the rest of her family. I remember that day years ago, we were planning to visit the Hale pack because their alpha, Talia wants to know how we ran things so well in our town. When we got to the Hale house there were firefighters putting out the massive fire. I remember my mother calling my name as I got out to see if there were any survivors. She was worried that who’d ever set the fire was still out there. 

“Riley we have to go, who ever did this might still be out here” She had told me. 

“There might be survivors mom, we have to look” I said ignoring her. Traveling into the woods I followed a scent that I had caught. I remember the rate at which my heart sped up as I saw a little girl covered in burns on the woods ground.

“Help” She struggled to get out. I ran up to her and knelt down next to her. 

“Shhhh I’m here to help” I told her. I grabbed her hand and started to take her pain away once she was finally able to pass out I carried her back to the car. Sebastian will be able to treat her better back at home, while I could start the healing on the way, but I’d rather do it when my life won’t be at risk. I was happy to see that my mother was also looking for survivors. 

“Anyone?” I asked her once I got the girl into the car. 

“No firefighter said there was no survivors” She told me. “Come on you can heal her on the way” 

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

So I have a ability that most other werewolves don’t have. Regular werewolves have the ability to take away someone’s pain. I can take more. See my grandma is one of the very first werewolves, and she’s still alive, in fact, she’s the alpha of our pack and one of the oldest werewolves. She may not be the strongest anymore but she sure is wise. The very first werewolves had extraordinary abilities that evolution unfortunately got rid of. Healing was one of them, my mother can’t do it but I can. The only down side is the fact that it takes a lot out of me. The amount of burns that covered that little girls body at the time, healing her would put me out of commission for about a week.

That little girls name was Cora Hale. Since then we’ve basically became sisters. I helped teach her control during her shifts and had been somewhat of a mentor to her. About around the time she had left we got word of a newly emerged alpha, when I heard the name Hale I had told Cora right away that someone else from the fire might have survived and she was eager to find them. I went with her to find him but we were ambushed. I was knocked out and when I had woken up I was locked in a cellar of sorts and I couldn’t get out. It took a week for my pack to find me but Cora was missing.

After a couple days of trying to search for her she called me and said she was safe with her brother and she would keep me updated. 

“And you’re safe?” I asked her. 

“Yeah I promise, I’ll call you later okay?” She said. 

“What about the alpha, were we right?” I asked her curiously. 

“Yeah, it was my older brother, he’s alive” She said. “I gotta go”

I couldn’t get much more information out of her. I knew something must have happened, she did call me a couple more times explaining about how the alpha pack had took her and wanted her brother to kill her and his other pack members, of course she told me everything after it had already been dealt with. She said she didn’t tell me because she didn’t want me to get involved, which I would have. Our last phone call she told me her and her brother Derek were coming up. She said he wanted to meet and thank us. 

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

Today Cora was coming home, whether or not she was staying though wasn’t up to me. As much as I hoped she woulds, her brother is alive now, she may want to live with him. 

I was doing what I normally do. Training. Being the granddaughter of the alpha, and the daughter of the next alpha, training is basically a 24 seven thing. Fighting, shifting, and dealing with town issues is basically second nature to me on top of working at the school where I am a counselor, it’s a nice job, but the only reason I have it is to keep on eye on the young beta’s of the pack. 

I was kicking Joshua’s ass in the fighting ring. “Alright, alright I tap out damn” He told me when I had pinned him to the floor. “So the student becomes the master” He said. I smiled at him and helped him up.

“Is he Riley?” I heard an unfamiliar voice ask. 

“No, Riley is a she and that’s her” I heard Cora answer. I looked up at her voice and smiled. 

“Cora!” I yelled and then grunted when Joshua took my feet out from underneath me. “Cheater” 

I got out of the ring and ran up to her and engulfed her in a hug. “Hey Riley” She whispered. “You stink” She said. I rolled my eyes and stepped away from her. I looked to the man to her right and smiled at him. He had black hair and green eyes. You could tell the two were related. He was handsome I’ll give him that. 

“You must be Derek” I said extending my hand for him to shake. “I’m Riley” 

He took my hand firmly and shook it. “You’re the one who found my sister after the fire?” He asked me. 

“Yeah” I said softly. His eyes softened and he gave me a slight smile, which is something I don’t think he does very often. Realizing our hands were still connected I took it away. “Listen let me clean up and I’ll meet you guys at dinner. My grandmother would love to meet you. Until then you two check the place out” I said walking away. 

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

I was helping my mother bring the food out to the table. We have probably thirty wolves in the compound but they have their own cooks for those who choose not to cook them selves. We always eat as a family up here, my grandma, my mother, my brother and me along usually with Cora, sometimes we invite guests, like today since Derek is eating with us. I set the rolls down on the table across from my grandma. 

“Hey” She whispers at me signaling for me to come closer. I got close to her and she waved me closer to where my ear was to her mouth. “Did you see the ass on that Hale” 

“Grandma” I shunned and shook my head. This isn’t unusual of my grandmother. “Whispering is pointless we are all wolves here” 

“Oh I know” She told me I chuckled and went to get the last of the food. 

Everyone had their food and we were all eating. “Derek, if we knew about you sooner we would have brought Cora to you as soon as we could. We thought she was the only survivor” 

“It’s no problem, besides it seems like she was in good hands here” He said. 

“Ah yes, Cora wasn’t the first stray we took in and most definitely won’t be the last. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need” My mother said. 

“Thanks” Derek replied.

“Is Beacon Hills as crazy as it’s always been?” My grandma asked. 

“Worse” Cora replied.

“I swear that town is cursed. When we came to visit your mother wanted to discuss about how to handle it, especially since the nematon still had some juice. Our town here is all supernatural and we all coexist with eachother” My grandma stated. 

“How does that work?” Derek asked. 

“Our town is made up of five different creatures we have wendigos, kitsune’s, werecoyote’s and of course werewolves, then the humans. They all have their own side of the town.” I replied “If one steps out of line we handle it, and if we can’t” I said looking to my mother. 

“We get the hunters involved. We’ve had an agreement with the hunters in our area for hundreds of years, if we can’t handle the situation then they can handle it” My mother finished for me. 

“And they agreed?” Derek asked shocked. 

“After a lot of persuasion yes” My grandma said “Unfortunately not all hunters are as negotiable as ours like the Argents, and the Calaveras, those crazy bastards” My grandma stated. 

“It’s peaceful here” Cora told her brother. “You deserve a break from Beacon Hills, I’m sure Scott can handle it” 

“He’s still just a kid” Derek replied. 

“Must be a special kid” I said taking a bite of my food. “For him to be a true alpha”

“Yeah but he’s still learning” Derek said. “I can still teach him a few things” 

“Our door is always open” My mother told him.

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

The next morning my mother had sent someone to say to meet her and my grandma. Once I got up there they had told me that there was a murder in the woods last night. By the photos they showed me it looked to be an animal attack, except we all know it’s not, a werewolf or a werecoyote most likely. 

“I’ll talk to the neighboring packs and see if they have any out of control betas” I stated.

“You should bring someone with you” My mother said.

“It’s fine I can go alone” I stated.

“I’ll go with her” I new voice said, a voice belonging to Cora. We all looked up at her and her brother standing next to her. I smiled remembering how nosy she was. 

“You just got back” I stated. 

“There’s nothing to do anyway” She stated. I shook my head and followed her out. I noticed her brother following too. 

“Okay I don’t need the both of you, In fact I don’t need either of you” I said. 

“Oh come one, we can show Derek the town along the way” She said. I let out a breath and looked up at Derek. 

“Think you can handle an out of control werewolf?” I joked. 

“It’s second nature” He stated. 

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

After talking to the surrounding packs no one has recently turned anyone or had anyone missing last night. “It doesn’t even make sense, last night wasn’t even a full moon” I stated. 

“Let me see the picture again” Derek asked. I handed him the picture and he studied it. “It doesn’t look like it was done in a frenzy maybe out of defense” I walked to his side and saw what he was talking about. A werewolf in a frenzy wouldn’t leave just one set of claw marks on their victim, they would be mauled. 

“He’s definitely not a hunter” I stated. “If it wasn’t a werewolf then maybe a werecoyote.” 

“What about an omega, a wolf without a pack?” Cora asked. 

I shook my head. “When an Omega passes through town they usually try and find us, we haven’t taken in anyone new, and we would have seen them by now surely” 

“Maybe try to catch a scent?” Derek asked. 

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

We were tracking down the scent in the woods. “Still trying to get used to being a beta again?” I asked Derek seeing as he was visibly struggling with keeping the scent. 

“Yeah, kinda a drastic change” He stated. 

“Well it was brave what you did, not very many people would give up being an alpha, especially when someone is trying to kill you” 

“I did it for her” Derek said looking at Cora who was ahead of us. “She said you have an ability to heal? I’ve never heard of anyone able to do it” 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m the last one. My grandma was one of the very first werewolves, and it was said that they had that ability on top of other things. My mother didn’t have the ability but somehow I did.” 

“How do you do it?” He asked me. 

“Like taking away pain just a little more. Takes a lot out of me, I was out for probably a week after I healed Cora. Even then she still wasn’t a hundred percent. Must be nice, seeing her after all those years” 

“She said I was a disappointment” He stated. 

“Sounds like her” I laughed. “She hated me too, she was honestly kinda scary” 

“I can hear you too” Cora said loudly. “I don’t hate either of you anymore” 

“Good to know” Derek said. 

“This is taking too long the scent in fading. I can track better if I shift” I stated going behind a tree and started to take my clothes off. 

“So shift” Derek said confused. 

“About the ability to heal, the first werewolves had another ability to fully shift into a wolf, I got that too” I said as I felt my back start to shift the cracking and breaking of my bones being heard. “Ah!” I yelled as more of my bones broke and morphed. Once I was fully shifted I followed the now clear scent.

“Pretty cool isn’t she?” I heard Cora say to Derek before I was out of earshot. 

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

I shifted back and grabbed one of the cheap dresses I keep buried just in case I ever need to shift and I rip my clothes doing so. I’m hoping Cora remembered to bring my outfit I changed out of. 

“Coyote den” I stated as the two caught up with me. “Time to talk to the coyote’s” 

Out of all the creatures in this town the coyote’s are probably our closest ally. They respect our authority unlike the wendigos who are mad at us for not letting them eat living humans, instead they have to settle for the already dead. 

“So are there any humans in this town?” Derek asked. 

“They are all on the other side of town, most the humans kinda know to stay out of this side, call it a gut feeling” I stated. 

“Does this type of thing happen a lot?” He said gesturing to the attack. 

“Rarely, but it happens. Out of control omega, wendigos especially. Never really had a problem with kitsunes” I stated. 

“Aren’t they tricksters?” Cora asked. 

“The dark ones are, it’s their mission to cause all the chaos, strife, and pain they can so that they can get stronger, they can even possess someone, we’ve never dealt with one, and hopefully we don’t” I stated. 

“Kanima’s?” Derek asked. 

“Just one, but we got it under control before it could find a master. Just a kid.” I stated remembering what was done. 

“You couldn’t save him?” Derek asked me. 

“We tried, we couldn’t get to her, the hunters eventually intervened. That’s why I was impressed about Jackson” I stated remembering how Derek talked about the Kanima at dinner.   

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

After talking to the coyote’s we found out it was a sixteen year old girl who had gone missing about a year ago, ran off with her boyfriend. She had gone along with it but when he had tried to hurt her she defended herself. She was in control, but she was scared so she hid out in the woods until her sister found her. 

“Please don’t send me to the hunters” Charlotte, the kidnapped girl said. 

“Show me your eyes” I told her. When she did they were a golden color, a color that means she didn’t take an innocent life. 

“We’ll talk to them, they are pretty lenient when it comes to self defense, but Charlotte, that wasn’t very smart, especially when you’re still learning control” I stated. 

“I didn’t think he was going to hurt me” She told me. 

“It usually happens when you least expect it” I told her. I looked at her mother “I’ll keep you updated” 

“So what now?” Cora asked as we were walking back. 

“My mother will talk with the hunters” I said. “Try to convince them it was self defense.”

“What if she can’t?” Derek asked. “She’s sixteen” 

“I know! If they don’t agree then I’ll think of something” I stated. 

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

Derek and I were waiting patiently for my mother to finish talking to the hunters. Cora had decided to go to bed. I let out a sigh of relief when I heard that they will let this one slide but if it happens again then they would have to step in. 

“Thank God” I whispered in relief. 

“That was easy” Derek said both relieved and confused. I looked at his questionably “Something like this in Beacon Hills wouldn’t have ended so soon” 

“Are you gonna go back?” I asked him. 

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t like the idea of leaving Scott alone to be the alpha, with the nematon having it’s power back that town won’t ever be safe” He told me. “I just wish I could ask my mother for advice, she would know what to do” 

“What if you can” I told him. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked curiously. 

“Here follow me” I told him as I lead him into the study, a door that can only be opened by my family. “I know it’s a little morbid, but my father died years ago from a werewolf wanting his power, my father won but the wolf that wanted his power poisoned him in case he lost” I said as I grabbed the jar that held his claws pouring them on the table. “My mother spoke with him with these” 

“Spoke with him?” Derek asked. 

“An alpha’s claws are very powerful and there’s a ritual you can perform to talk with the person of who’s claws they are.” I told him. “But you can only do it once”

“Well there’s one problem” Derek said looking at me “My mother died in the fire”

“Talia from the stories I’ve heard was a very powerful alpha, her claws wouldn’t wouldn’t be something that would just burn away in a fire” I told him. 

“Even if they didn’t I wouldn’t know where they would be” He told me. 

“There’s a hunting family based in mexico called the Calavera’s if your mothers claws survived the fire and were found they would have it.” I told him. 

“How do you know that?” He asked me. 

“Because they had my fathers, it was like they had a collection of powerful alpha claws, and I think your mother might of been one of them” I told him. 

After I had explained how the ritual worked I walked Derek out of the study. We were in the door way. “Thank you” He suddenly said. I looked up at him. “you’re welcome” 

“Not just for this but for Cora too. This is the only place I would feel comfortable leaving her with and she wouldn’t shut up about you on the car ride here” He said. 

“I’m nothing special” I stated. 

“No you are, you can not only heal other’s but you can shift into a full wolf. You’re special” Derek told me. “I understand why she didn’t shut up about you”

I smiled and broke eye contact with him closing the door behind me. “If you do plan on going the Calaveras you shouldn’t go alone. They’re pretty dangerous. I can go with you” I told him. 

“No, you should stay here, plus I have someone in mind who will help me” He said. 

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

Derek stayed for about another week then decided to leave to find his mother’s claws. He had said bye to his sister already and walked up to me to say goodbye. 

“Thank you again” He told me. 

“Stay safe out there” I told him. “Will you be coming back?” I asked trying not to sound hopeful. 

Derek let out a breath and looked at me “Maybe” 

“I’ll take care of her” I told him

What Derek did next shocked me. He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight as I slowly hugged him back. “I know you will” He whispered then let go and walked out into the darkness

[jbbarnesnnoble]

Stealing Cinderella

Summary: You bring Bucky to meet your parents

Features: Fluff and lots of it; protective father 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Notes: I was listening to Brantley Gilbert’s ‘Bad Boy’ and Chuck Wicks’ ‘Stealing Cinderella’ which brought this about. I might write a second part

Companion to the ‘Operation Happily Ever After’ series which is Steve/Reader. Two different readers. I was working on the first fic in OHEA and realized they would be perfect companion pieces 

Series: A Wedding for Winter

Word Count: 1595

It had been a long time since James Buchanan Barnes felt nervous about something so trivial. But, he supposed, it wasn’t all that trivial. The first big step in your relationship. Meeting your family. More specifically, your parents. It was only dinner with your parents. He tried to calm himself by reminding himself that technically he was older than your parents. It backfired, causing a new wave of panic at the realization that though he was somewhat close in age to you in nearly every sense, he had been born in 1917, long before either you or your parents or even your grandparents have been a thought. Most of the time between then and now, he was on and off the ice as Hydra required. He didn’t live those years. He survived them. 

“James? Bucky? You ready?” your voice came, breaking through his train of thought. He looked at you and nodded. You had driven the pair of you to your parents’ home. You weren’t an Avenger. You were a civilian, one who he had fallen for, unexpectedly. It had started as a friendship. You were friends with Natasha, something about a yoga class. Bucky couldn’t imagine Natasha doing something so ordinary, so normal. It had thrown him when Natasha had brought you to the compound one day. You had had a day out with Natasha and Wanda, ending with watching romantic comedies on the couch in the shared common area and poking fun at the tropes. 

He snapped out of his thoughts when the front door opened. He had barely registered getting out of the car and walking up to the house. A dog excitedly jumped on you as you laughed. 

“Sweetheart, we’re so happy you could make it. This must be James,” your mother said, looking at Bucky. She was sizing him up. Whatever she was looking for, she must have found it, because the next second she was asking if it was okay to hug him, catching him off guard.

“Please, call me Bucky,” he said as your mother pulled him into a hug. Your father was another story. Bucky was almost certain you’d had to threaten him into leaving a shotgun in a gun safe or something with the way he was looking at him. 

“Nice to meet you, son,” your father said extending his hand. Bucky shook it, taking note of the strength. Yeah. Your dad was not a fan. Once you all entered the house, Bucky took note of the decorations. Photos sat on the entertainment center. One was clearly your high school graduation, you in your white cap and gown as you stood in front of the house, balloons with your high school colors on one side and the colors of your college on the other. Next to it, a photo from your college graduation, both your parents beside you. 

“Oh my god, why do you have this picture up? Mom!” you exclaimed grabbing a photo off the shelf. Bucky caught a glimpse of it before you did. You were covered in mud, your hair a mess with a group that was in a similar state. What caught his eye most was that you had to have been around fourteen in the photo. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Rory Anderson’s thirteenth birthday. There was a water slide, except by the end of the afternoon, there was a giant mud puddle at the end. I swear everyone’s parents flipped out. Not mine though,” you said, laughing. He smiled at you. Your father sat quietly, appraising the scene.

A few minutes later, the four of you sat down for dinner. It was quiet until your mother broke the ice. It was going fine until your father asked about Bucky’s parents.

“Dad,” you said sharply.

“What? It’s a reasonable question,” your father said. You glared at him.

“You know what,” you said. 

“It’s fine doll. Really. What would you like to know sir?” Bucky asked, maintaining eye contact with your father. You couldn’t decipher the look on either man’s face. It seemed like a challenge had been issued and neither wanted to lose. Bucky spoke about his mother, about his sister. He spoke about how he made an effort to see Rebecca as often as he could. She was nearing one hundred, and he was determined to make the most of the time he had left with her. You could see your father relaxing a bit as Bucky spoke. 

“What’s it like being so close with Captain America?” your mother asked. You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. To you, the night had been a disaster.

“He’s still the same punk kid from Brooklyn I grew up with. He’s just less breakable now,” Bucky joked. 

While you were helping your mother clean up after dinner, Bucky sat in the living room with your father. He had insisted on helping clean up, but your mother wouldn’t have it, insisting you and her needed to catch up. 

“You love my daughter,” your father said. Bucky blinked before clearing his throat.

“We haven’t--,” he started to say before your father held a hand up.

“Doesn’t matter. I can see it. The way you look at her. She’ll kill me if she knows I said this. But you hurt her, I end you. I don’t care how much training you have. She’s my little girl. She’s had her heart broken real bad before, son. And I’ll be damned if I let you get away with breaking it too. I’ve never seen her look at someone the way she looks at you,” your father said. Bucky swallowed nervously. He had taken on enemies much bigger than your father, and yet your father was one of the scariest things he’d faced since he joined the team. 

“I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt her,” Bucky said. You father sighed.

“It’s not the intentional I’m worried about, Sergeant Barnes. Your work is dangerous. She could get pulled into it. I’m not sure my baby girl could handle losing you. And I’m worried about the danger she’d put herself in for you,” your father admitted.

“I know,” Bucky said. There wasn’t much else he could say. He knew the risks, the dangers that being with him brought to your life. And yet, you accepted them, no questions asked. You worked out with Natasha regularly, and part of that included training so you could defend yourself if you needed to. You’d taken to practicing archery with Clint for the hell of it. 

“You’re good for her. Despite all that. I can tell. She’s the happiest she’s been in a long time. We worried about her, when she moved to New York. But then she met you, met your friends. When the time comes,” your father said trailing off as you and your mother entered the room with coffee for the four of you. You sat down next to Bucky, smiling at him. 

A year later, Bucky found himself back at the house, this time without you. You’d been together a year and a half. He knew. He’d managed to pick out a ring without it being splashed on social media, despite Steve and Sam coming with him when he was picking a jeweler to design it. A beautiful white sapphire ring, white gold. The center stone was modest, with smaller stones in the band. He knocked on the door and waited. Your father opened it, ushering him inside and into the living room. Your mother was out of the house. She couldn’t keep a secret from you and Bucky’s appearance at the house would tip you off at just how imminent a proposal was. You’d talked about marriage. You knew a proposal was coming, you just weren’t sure if it’d be next week, next month, or next year. 

“Sir,” Bucky started to say. Your father held up a hand, grabbing a bottle first.

“I’ll let you say what you want to say, but first, I think we could both use a small drink,” your father said. Two glasses with ice were already on the table as he poured a small amount of whiskey into each before handing one to Bucky.

“I want to marry your daughter,” Bucky said.

“I know. I knew since the day I met you,” your father said, a small smile on his face.

“She uh, she knows I’m planning on asking you for permission. I love her. More than anything,” Bucky said.

“I had my reservations when she told us who she was dating. The fact that you aren’t just older than her, you were born several generations before her. But her mama talked some sense into me. You’ve been through a lot. You deserve happiness and if that happiness brings my daughter happiness too? Who am I to stand in the way and kick up a fuss about it? You’re both adults. As much as it pains me to admit, she’s grown up. And I know she’s safe with you. I suppose that’s all a father ever wants. Is for their children to be safe, to be loved. And she has that with you,” your father said. 

The anxiety Bucky had felt started to melt away. Him doing this had been one thing he refused to compromise on. You’d found it endearing. It didn’t take much to convince you to let him do it. 

Leaving your childhood home, Bucky had only one thing left on his list of things to do, and that was get things set for the proposal.

[berlysbandcamp]

Force Majeure is an uplifting suite of real, soulful comfort music – an album that cathartically encapsulates an all-too-familiar human experience of 2020. Featuring 11 pieces performed by bassist Dezron Douglas & harpist Brandee Younger across a series of live-streamed shows from their living room in Harlem, NY, the album was self-recorded by the duo using just a single microphone. The same day Governor Andrew Cuomo shut down “non-essential” businesses throughout the state of New York, Douglas & Younger set up a window to the world that would prevail as a weekly musical reprieve over the devastating weeks and months to come. As the early effects of covid-19 plagued the citizens of New York City, Douglas & Younger did as we were all ordered to do — shelter-in-place. From their apartment in Harlem, their reflex as players and community-builders was immediate. Broadcasting via social media and spreading the word to friends and family, the duo hosted “Force Majeure: Brunch in the Crib with Brandee & Dezron,” a Friday morning live stream where they performed songs, said “hi” to friends tuning in, and passed a digital tip jar. The name “force majeure” — known to diligent contract-readers as a seldom-invoked bit of legalese that voids commitments in event of “extraordinary circumstances” — was, for Douglas & Younger, a reference to the sudden loss of livelihood that they and their musician peers suffered in the wake of covid-19. “We vowed to become a part of the resiliency of this city,” says Douglas. “You can take the work away, but you can’t stop musicians from being creative. Live streaming is just a part of it. The world as a whole saw that arts & entertainment is an integral and vital part of this ‘service’ city. We, musicians and creatives, are as essential to this city as the MTA is. The NYC community responded with love and honesty on a high level. Expression became vital for people to make it through the day and, at the same time, listening and watching expression became vital.” The success of Douglas & Younger’s initial live streams turned their series into an ongoing weekly ritual for a fast-growing audience of supporters. For most, it was a momentary musical break that helped ease the stressful weeks of lockdown, even as the weeks turned into months and the re-opening date extended further and further into the future. In late May, as the country erupted over the compounded murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and countless other Black Americans, Douglas & Younger continued to connect from their Friday morning platform, uniting with more and more people through the healing power of playing, sharing, and listening. The series got attention from NPR, The Wall Street Journal, Boiler Room, Downbeat, and others; but regardless, finding the creative energy to devote to the project was a regular challenge for the two musicians. “Sometimes it was hard to be creative because the mood in the world was so dark, but every Friday we felt compelled to give back and allow GOD to heal through vibration,” says Douglas. Not only was the human connection vital, the duo felt a responsibility as stewards of music’s future. “Whatever the next thing is, I will make it a point to be involved because Music saved my life, saves lives, and must be taken care of.” The repertoire that Douglas & Younger performed began with standards they knew and music they wanted to learn (or “get inside of,” as Douglas often said), but evolved on a week-to-week basis to incorporate shifting emotions, milestones, and special requests from friends and family. Younger recalls: “In choosing the repertoire we played, it was definitely more organic and personal. When we realized a birthday of a certain artist or holiday was coming, we'd do something in dedication… Sometimes we'd pick the rep based on our mood. On those very dark days that Dez mentioned, we'd play “Sing" to perk up the mood. Something about that song just brings smiles all around. It was very hard to fake when the mood was dark, though. Marvin Gaye helped us out a lot during that time, as did some spirituals.” With what became their brunch staples they covered a broad range of memories and sounds, including classics by The Stylistics, The Jackson 5, Alice & John Coltrane, Pharoah Sanders, Kate Bush, Sting, and The Carpenters, as well as a co-written original composition with which they ended every set, “Toilet Paper Romance.” From the earliest sessions, the duo worked alongside International Anthem to review the weekly recordings; together they compiled, edited, and eventually arrived at the stream-to-songbook of Force Majeure. Between the choicest takes of tunes chosen for the final album sequence, they put excerpts of their sometimes cute or comedic, often profound banter. Notably Douglas’s voice ends both side A and side B with off-the-cuff variations of: “Black Music cannot be replicated, it can only be expressed.” Like poetic bookends for Force Majeure, his words could also serve as foundational principles for the work, underscoring the importance of authenticity and integrity in music. Douglas elaborates: “Black Music, no matter what genre, is exactly what it is — Music created by Black Musicians for the sake of vibrating on our own frequencies of understanding and empathy. I love all music, but I also recognize that music is a cultural and regional vibration. You don’t have to be Black to play Black music, but if you are out here making money off of Black Culture and have no empathy for the People and the Culture then you are even more part of the problem. Black Lives Matter because for a long time our lives didn’t matter and it was Normal — normal to society and normal to us as Black humans. What’s different between then and now is the fact that the Virus has given people time to focus on the current social media platform used to document evil in this world. The filming and documentation of the loss of human life to evil is more powerful than Politics and Government. It’s LIFE showing us how Inhumane we are as a Human Race. Yet we still haven’t figured it out yet. Let’s hope we aren’t the catalyst for this planet to implode. That would be unfortunate considering we have the chance to fix it. We have the chance to do right by Mother Nature and we have the chance to do right by each other. We always have a chance. Change is inevitable, but is evil and selfishness and self-righteousness a part of change? Certainly! Is Love and Empathy and Humanity a part of change? Most definitely! What side are you on? We are on the side of Love.” Douglas & Younger understand that the revolution begins with a transformation of the heart. And for the heart to be transformed, it must be lifted up. “This album is a testament to the power of music to uplift us through the most challenging times,” says friend, collaborator, and fellow International Anthem recording artist, Makaya McCraven. Force Majeure is an uplifting suite of real, soulful comfort music – a spiritual salve, emanating warmth from the hearth of a Harlem sanctuary. - bio by Joe Darling & Scott McNiece - Bassist, composer, bandleader, and educator Dezron Douglas has established himself as a major force in contemporary creative music. A protégé of the great Jackie McLean, the Downbeat Magazine 2019 Rising Star is known for his work with Pharoah Sanders, Ravi Coltrane, Cyrus Chestnut, David Murray, Louis Hayes, and also with piano legends George Cables, Eric Reed, Mulgrew Miller and Benny Green. Douglas has recorded on more than 100 albums, contributing to the artistry of numerous bandleaders and maintaining an integral presence in the sounds of his peers, which include Keyon Harrold, Jonathan Blake, Melanie Charles, and Makaya McCraven. He is an active music educator, currently on the Jazz Studies faculty at NYU Steinhardt. He has released 6 albums as a lead artist and maintains a variety of projects that he uses as platforms for his compositions. His band, Black Lion, released their latest single “COBRA” in October of 2020. Harpist, composer, educator, and concert curator Brandee Younger is known for her work with Ravi Coltrane, Moses Sumney, Lauryn Hill and producer Salaam Remi. The New Yorker has described her instrumental craft as “radiant playing ... as cogent on hip-hop and R&B albums as it is set against classical and jazz backdrops.” Her work often extends to illustrious heights, featured by Beyoncé in Netflix’s concert documentary Beyoncé: Homecoming as well as Quincy Jones and Steve McQueen in 2019’s “Soundtrack of America” series. She recently joined the harp faculty at NYU Steinhardt and the New School in Manhattan. When Alice Coltrane passed away in 2007, her son Ravi Coltrane asked Younger to perform at the memorial. Her performance “moved me and everyone in attendance from the first glissando,” Coltrane told the New York Times. “No harpist thus far has been more capable of combining all of the modern harp traditions — from Salzedo, through Dorothy Ashby, through Alice Coltrane — with such strength, grace and commitment.” Younger recently signed to Impulse! Records, with whom she has a new album planned for release in 2021. Douglas & Younger are long-time companions in life and in music. The two East Coast natives met early in life and have accompanied each other, personally and professionally, through equally prolific careers. “Brandee and I met in college, University of Hartford, Hartt School of Music, back in 2001,” remembers Douglas. “Her practice room was across the hall from mine. We began a friendship instantly through music and Black culture. We would jam a lot in college when she wanted to practice ‘Jazz.’ She was a Classical Harp and Music Business double major and she was heavily influenced by Jazz and Black Music so I sort of became an outlet for her to walk on the wild side in the eyes of University and Classical politics.” To this day, Douglas and Younger often accompany each other in the ensembles they lead, respectively. The two have played together in the Ravi Coltrane Quartet, with The Baylor Project, and in sessions for Makaya McCraven’s 2018 release Universal Beings, on which they are both featured artists. Force Majeure is their first release as a duo.

[the-daily-tizzy]

ITALY’S COMMUNIST RECIPE FOR DISASTER

Published March 24, 2020 |  By Giacomino Nicolazzo

Montecalvo, Lombardy, Italy. 

As I sit here in my involuntary isolation, it was just reported that overnight 743 more people died and 5.249 new cases have been reported. This brings the total cases of infection to 69,176 and the body count to 6,820. We take relief in knowing that 8,326 people have recovered so far. ( Numbers as of 3/24, 8:30pm in Italy.)

Most towns here in Italy, from the upper reaches of the Alps to the ancient shores of Sicilia and Sardenia, while not deserted, are closer to being ghost towns than the bustling centers of tourism, business and daily life they were just a few weeks ago.Stores and shops have been shuttered. Restaurants and coffee shops no longer serve customers. Schools, universities, sporting arenas…even our museums and theaters…all closed. Even the Vatican City has closed its gates and armed patrols monitor the 20 foot tall walls that protect it!

Streets and roads are now empty for as far as the eye can see. Normally they would be filled with crazed Italian drivers in tiny cars and scooters (the ones that sound like demonic insects) darting here and there, reaching the limits of centrifugal force on our roundabouts. In the piazze of our towns and cities, there are now officially more pigeons than people.Many of us know someone who has been infected and recovered. Some of us know someone who did not recover…now they are dead. But everyone knows someone who has been affected by this microscopic monster in one way or another.

Sixty million of us are in lock-down…it is like a war zone here. We are being held prisoner in our own homes by an unseen enemy that sneaked in unnoticed…by most of us. As you will read in just a few more minutes, there were those who knew something like this was coming…or at least they should have.So who is to blame? With all this craziness swirling like a whirlpool at our feet, I just had to find the blame answer. And so I have spent my free time (of which I have a lot in these days) digging and researching. I was literally shocked to discover how this has come to be.I am not going to bore you with talk of Patient ‘0’ who spread it to Patient ‘1’ and how mathematics efficiently explains the rapid expansion of infection. No…I am going to tell you how (as I see it) the virus came to Italy.It has everything to do with communists. Allow me to explain.Beginning in about 2014, Matteo Renzi, the imbecile ex-mayor of Firenze (Florence) acting as the leader of the Partito Democratico (synonymous with the Italian Communist party), somehow managed to get himself elected as Italy’s Prime Minister. To give you a proper frame of reference, Matteo Renzi was so far left, he would make Barack Obama look like Barry Goldwater!

At the same time that Renzi was leading Italy into oblivion, strange things were happening in Italy’s economy. Banks were failing…but not closing. Retirement ages were being extended…for some reason the pension funds were dwindling or disappearing. The national sales tax we call IVA (Value Added Tax) rose from 18% to 20%, then to 21% and again to 22%.And in the midst of all this financial chicanery, the Chinese began furiously buying up Italian real estate and businesses in the North.Now the reason I mention Renzi and the Chinese together is that strange things were also going on between the governments of Italy and China. A blind eye was being turned to the way the Chinese were buying businesses in the financial, telecommunication, industrial and fashion sectors of Italy’s economy, all of which take place in Milano.

To be brief…China was getting away with purchases and acquisitions in violation of Italian law and EU Trade Agreements with the US and the UK…and no one in either of those countries (not Obama in the US or Cameron in the UK) said a thing in their country’s defense. As a matter of fact, much of it was hidden from the public in all three countries.In 2014, China infused the Italian economy with €5 billion through purchases of companies costing less than €100 million each. 

By the time Renzi left office (in disgrace) in 2016, Chinese acquisitions had exceeded €52 billion. When the dust settled, China owned more than 300 companies…representing 27% of the major Italian corporations.The Bank of China now owns five major banks in Italy…all of which had been secretly (and illegally) propped up by Renzi using pilfered pension funds! Soon after, the China Milano Equity Exchange was opened and much of Italy’s wealth was being funneled back to the Chinese mainland.

Chinese state entities own Italy’s major telecommunication corporation (Telecom) as well as its major utilities (ENI and ENEL). Upon entry into the telecommunication market, Huawei established a facility in Segrate, a suburb of Milano. It launched is first research center there and worked on the study of microwaves which has resulted in the possibly-dangerous technology we call 5G.China also now owns controlling interest in Fiat-Chrysler, Prysmian and Terna. You will be surprised to know that when you put a set of Pirelli tires on your car, the profits are going to China. 

Yep…the Chinese colossus of ChemChina, a chemical industry titan, bought that company too!Last but not least is Ferretti yachts…the most prestigious yacht builder in Europe. Incredibly, it is no longer owned by the Ferretti family.

But the sector in which Chinese companies invested most was Italy’s profitable fashion industry. The Pinco Pallino, Miss Sixty, Sergio Tacchini, Roberta di Camerino and Mariella Burani brands have been acquired by 100%.Designer Salvatore Ferragamo sold 16% and Caruso sold 35%. The most famous case is Krizia, purchased in 2014 by Shenzhen Marisfrolg Fashion Company, one of the leaders of high-priced, ready-to-wear fashions in Asia.

Throughout all of these purchases and acquisitions, Renzi’s government afforded the Chinese unrestricted and unfettered access to Italy and its financial markets, many coming through without customs inspections.

Quite literally, tens of thousands of Chinese came in through Milano (illegally) and went back out carrying money, technology and corporate secrets.

Thousands more were allowed to enter and disappeared into shadows of Milano and other manufacturing cities of Lombardy, only to surface in illegal sewing shops, producing knock-off designer clothes and slapping ‘Made In Italy’ labels on them. All with the tacit approval of the Renzi government.It was not until there was a change in the governing party in Italy that the sweatshops and the illegal entry and departure of Chinese nationals was stopped. Matteo Salvini, representing the Lega Nord party, closed Italy’s ports to immigrants and systematically began disassembling the sweatshops and deporting those in Italy illegally.

But his rise to power was short-lived. Italy is a communist country…socialism is in the national DNA. Ways were found to remove Salvini, after which the communist party, under the direction of Giuseppe Conte, reopened the ports. Immediately, thousands of unvetted, undocumented refugees from the Middle East and East Africa began pouring in again.

Access was again provided to the Chinese, under the old terms, and as a consequence thousands of Chinese, the majority from Wuhan, began arriving in Milano.

In December of last year, the first inklings of a coronavirus were noticed in Lombardy…in the Chinese neighborhoods. There is no doubt amongst senior medical officials that the virus was brought here from China.

By the end of January 2020 cases were being reported left and right. By mid-February the virus was beginning to seriously overload the Lombardy hospitals and medical clinics. They are now in a state of collapse.

The Far-Left politicians sold out and betrayed the Italian people with open border policies and social justice programs. One of the reasons the health care system collapsed so quickly is because the Renzi government (and now continued under the Conte government) redirected funds meant to sustain the medical system, to pay for the tens of thousands of immigrants brought in to Italy against the will of the Italian people.

If you remember the horrible earthquake that decimated the villages around Amatricia, in the mountains east of Rome in 2015, you would also remember how the world responded by sending millions of dollars to help those affected.

But there is a law in Italy that prevents private donations to charitable Italian organizations. All money and donations received must be turned over to a government agency, who in turn is to appropriate the funds as needed. But that agency is corrupt just as are all the others.Most of the money never reached a single victim in the mountains. The Renzi government redirected the vast majority of those funds to pay for the growing immigrant and refugee costs.

As the economy worsened under the burden of illegal immigration, compounded by gross government spending and incompetence, unemployment rose quickly…especially among young people. The unemployment rate for men and women under age 35 is close to 40%.

So more money was diverted from the health care system and used to pay what is known here as guaranteed income. Whether you work or not you are paid here, especially if you belong to the PD! The government simply raises taxes on those who do work

.Let me give you a quick example of the height of insanity to which Italian taxation has risen.

If you live in a building that has a balcony or balconies…and any of those balconies cast a shadow on the ground, you must pay a public shadow tax! I will say no more!

The point I am trying to make here is that not only did the Chinese bring the virus to Italy (and the rest of the world) it was far-Left politics and policies that facilitated it.

This should hopefully be a warning to Americans that while they work to rid themselves of the China Virus, they should just as vehemently endeavor to rid their government of any politician that circumvents the Constitution and ignores the laws of the land…plain and simple.

Giacomino Nicolazzo  is one of Italy’s most beloved writers.  Born and raised in Central Pennsylvania, he lives in a small village in Lombardy where he writes his books.

[retrobhaddie]

The apocalypse

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: You’re the only one left after everyone died because of solar flares, after 6 years of living alone and surving you meet Peter who says he came from long before the apocalyps.

Warning: death, soltitude, angst, fluff, language, mention of blood, suicidal thoughts

A/n: Since this is something about the future I made somethings up. Electric plasma doesn’t exist but there will most likely be no oil left and I needed a liquid fuel and biofuels were no option.

word count: 1580

It’s the year 2193, meaning that it happend six years ago. You remember the day like it’s yesterday.

“Y/n hurry up we’re going to miss the train” you mother says. “I’m coming mom” you grab your phone and shove it in your back. You quicky descend the staircase. “Let’s go honey” your mother walks out the door, but something isn’t right. Her skin starts to burn the moment she touches the light. An agonizing shreek errupts from her and she falls to the ground. “MOM! MOM! Are you okay? Mom please” You try to shake her awake but nothing happens.

You look around and see that all the houses are burning to the ground and a wave of screams hit your ears. It was the beginning of the end.

That day everyone you ever knew died, nobody was left except for you. In all those years you haven’t seen a single human being, so it was obvious for you that you are the only person left.

You slump back in the beach chair that was still usable and grab a glass of wine. Thank god that foodstorage is mostly underground else you would never survive.

“Ahhh” a content sigh leaves your lips, the red liquid feels nice filling you up. Some might say you drink too much but there’s nobody to say that so you keep drinking. You hear a rumbling from a few meters away. You grab your gun and walk stealth mode to the origin of the noise.

“What the fuck” you mutter under your breath, from all the things you’ve expected to see it wasn’t a man in a skin tight red suit. “Who are you?” you demand the answer from the stranger. He turns around, his head is covered as well. You raise your gun protectively.

“Woah woah miss please put that down” the man holds his hands up in surrender and only now you know that he’s around your age. “Who are you?” you seeth not showing any sign of the fear that is building up in your chest. “I’m Spider-man” he says making you furrow your eyebrows.

“Who?” you tilt your head. “Spider-man? I can climb walls and shoot webs” you shake your head slightly. “Awh come on” he huffs in defeat.

“Take off your mask” you tell him. “What no! What if someone else sees us?” he exclaims. “Someone else? I’m the only one left, or so I thought” you whisper the last part. “What do you mean? What happend?”

“What I like to call ‘the apocalypse’ solar flares killed everyone” you explain to him. “You mean everyone is dead?” he looks hurt. Who wouldn’t he just found out everyone he ever loved died. “Yup it happend in 2187, six years ago” you mumble. “What but that would mean it’s 2193”

“Yeah so” you squint your eyes and look at him for an explanation. “I’m from the year 2019” his breathing starts to be ragged and his chest is heaving. He rips of his mask showing you a boy your age, more beautiful than the upcoming sun.

“Hey it’s okay” you try to soothe him, but 6 years of solitude aren’t great stimulators for social skills. “I’m going to help you get back okay” you run your hand through his soft curls. “How will you do that?” he snicks. “Do you really think I haven’t been trying to go to another time?” you smile. “You have a time machine?” he asks happy. “One in progress, I need your help with it”

~2 weeks later~

“Hey Y/n” Peter says from his chair. “Yeah what’s up” you down your glass of scotch. “How come you drink so much” You hoped so much that he wouldn’t mention that. It would mean you would have to explain how it felt to see your family and friends die in front of you and you’re not sure if you could do that without crying. “To forget” you mumble softly. “To forget what?” he doesn’t seem to notce that it’s a touchy subject for you, but you dont blame him. “Everything. What happend, who died, how it happend and that I was the only one left” a tear threatens to fall.

“I’m sorry” Peter apologizes. “No it’s not your fault. It’s mine. They are all dead. Why am I the one who had to survive/ Why couldn’t I just die with the rest” He places his arm around you and gently holds you while you sob in his shirt.

~1 month later~

“Pete! Can you hand me the screwdriver” you shout from below the machine. “Sure thing” he hands you the object. “So y/n,,, I was thinking” Peter nervously stumbles over his words. “Yeah Peter?” you push yourself away with your car creeper and a big smudge of electric plasma on your face.

The fact that you look so adorable doesn’t help Peter with his stuttering, in fact it only got worse. “So I uhhh,, thought,, we know eachother for a month”

“Hey Peter it’s okay just say it” you softly place your hand on his shoulder and a soft reassuring smile covers your lips. “Do you want to go on a date with me” he blurts out in one time. “I would love to” you jump up, almost falling in the process, and kiss Peter’s cheek making him blush.

That night you and Peter have your date. It wasn’t near perfect since there is a lack of proper food, but you make it work.

“Peter, can you tell me more about your home?” you ask him soft, after the time you know him, he told you a lot but you love the stories. “Sure. Well, uhm, after I first met Mr. Stark he tried to open the door for me, but I thought it was a hug, so I hugged him. It was one of the most embarrassing things to happen to me” Peter chuckles at the memory with his mentor.

“I can’t wait to meet him” you bite your lip, you never really thought about how it would be to meet them. You’re from the future of course there is a little bit of information about the avengers but after them a lot of other heroes came. So there is a lot you don’t know as well.

Peter’s arm extends over the table to grab your and you gladly accept. You give his hand a gentle squeeze, “We’re going to get you home”

He slowly leans over the table and you follow, your lips are a few milimeters away from eachother. You lean a bit closer and let your lips brush with his. He quickly reconnects them in a long passionate kiss. His tongue slides along your lips and you gasp making room for his tongue to enter.

It’s not like you mind it, but it was a shock that the sweet guy you met was immediately kissing you like this on the first date. After a while you slowly back away needing your breath. “Wow” you breath out making Peter chuckle. “Was that okay?” he asks nervous. “Okay? Holy shit that was good” you wave your arms around. “You’re overreacting” Peter shaked his head. “I guess I will need a refreshment to know for sure” you wink at him. “S-Sure” he stutters slowly coming your way again. After you share another deep kiss, you pull away and mutter “nope it’s still really good” against his lip.

~3 months later~

You twist and turn on the ground. A layer of sweat has formed on your forehead. “No no no, please don’t go, please” these few words you keep saying on repeat. All the movement and mumbling wakes Peter up. He looks over to where you’re laying. It doesn’t take long for him to figure out that you’re having a nightmare. Peter gently shakes you awake. You jump up and look around with your eyes filled with fear. “Y/n, it’s okay, nobody will hurt you. you’re safe” Peter says with a soothing tone and eventhough those words had nothing to do with the dream you relax.

~1 year later~

“Peter! We’re done” you shout happy. You run up to him and give him a peck on the lips. “You can almost go home” you smile. “Yes and we can have some normal food” Peter chuckles. “I love you Peter” You look at him lovingly. “I love you too y/n” he connects your lips again and it’s something that would never grow old. “Let’s go?” you ask him. “Let’s go” he nods his head. Both of you take place in the so called time machine and you set the correct time. This way you’re back at the exact time Peter disappeared. Peter hits the big red button and the machine does his thing.

Soon enough you find yourself in an building that looks new but seems old. “Are we here?” you ask your boyfriend. “Yeah we are this is the avengers compound” he states.

“Hey Pete what are you doing here? Who’s that? What are you wearing?” a man with a goatee and sunglasses walks in the room. “Mr. Stark” Peter runs up to him and engulfs him in a hug. After he lets go Peter says. “This is my girlfriend y/n, I met her in the future”

Taglist: @mega-trash-cringe

Masterlist

[shadowanalyst]

Red Republic - Duty and Honor

He lay still against the wall, ears ringing and his head throbbing. The klaxons of the compound were shrill but barely a low hum against the pain he felt. It was never meant to be an easy mission. Indeed, he suspected it would end in something similar to this but he had to take the shot. The opportunity had arisen and if they did not take it when might another? If he and his master did not act, who would? Magne’s brow furrows in pain as a grimace overtook him. Pain rocked his senses once more as he was forced to sit upright again. It had hardly been an hour of this and yet nothing had ever felt it had lasted so long.

They had come to the planet to fight a pitched battle. Tying up the Puritans would permit a more surgical strike in the galaxy elsewhere to go unnoticed for as long as possible but they had not expected Ungeran to be on the world. In a way, it was a boon. Though their forces might face him in the field it meant his expertise could not be used against them once the feint was seen through. Magne and Irdiarrar took it upon themselves to seize upon this as a chance to hunt the man down. The Puritans were so heavily dependent on him and his strength that his death would no doubt cause infighting and give the Vanguard a chance to recompose or even come together after their schism. Magne would not leave the front weak but he knew well enough this was their true chance to strike at Ungeran and was forced to move ahead even as the situation outside was not wholly secure.

He shifts upwards and rests a hand on his stomach only for the arm to act as if it fell through him. His eyes trail downwards and he cannot help but stare. He had forgotten he had lost a hand in that fight. Another cough rocks him and his eye trails across the now abandoned arena. Pieces of tech and fallen detritus littered the well designed structure thanks to the duel that had preceded this moment. He could not find his other hand but he was certain the lightsaber that had belonged to it was broken in a corner illuminated by the warning lights above. It was hard to tell, his vision so frequently going in and out of focus, but it was something in the moment to hold onto. His leg was a mess of metal and electronics with portions of it pulled free and cast into the middle of the room and his cape burned at the fringes.

He can easily recall how the battle began. He and his master came across Ungeran in the command bunker of the planet after causing havoc within it for a short while. Cutting their way from one of the main entrances and through the defensive forces drew the attention and ire of the Pureblood. This was most certainly the intent and he came to meet them in combat. Magne did not know the original purpose of the room with simple electronics filling out its walls and flooring but not in enough density to make it some command or crucial room. Perhaps it was auxiliary in function but whatever reason it was built it would take time to rebuild. Blades had danced amongst the design here and as lights had been destroyed and terminals cleaved it was but the Force, their instinct, and years of practice that led them through the combat. The blades gave off enough light to see one another but the mood of the room was grim. Irdiarrar’s saberstaff alongside Magne’s ferocity and twin blades did not slow Ungeran. The Puritan was tested that day and he had proved himself not only a worthy foe but one that could instill fear in any Sith capable of sense and foresight. When he should reasonably be forced to remain reacting he somehow created openings for himself and kept them both from being able to be proactive.

Another round of blaring from the klaxons drew him from his recollections and his eye turns back down to his removed hand. He had been in a similar state to this much younger. In fact, the odds of surviving then were equally low, but instead of feeling that same fury and outrage as he had as a young apprentice, he now instead only felt exhaustion. He should have felt something that would drive him to survival or victory, as all Sith should, but the circumstances were different now. He and his master had placed themselves in such a dangerous situation and they had no one to blame for it but themselves. His posture had been slipping again and this time he was not going to correct it. His legs would not move and his other arm had finally fallen limp. Things were colder. The klaxons were becoming white noise.

His master had been the first to be removed from the fight, a horribly efficient choice by Ungeran. While Magne was a capable warrior and undoubtedly tall enough to stay toe to toe with the Pureblood, Irdiarrar had been someone whose whole life surrounded mastering the different forms. He had been a duelist for longer than his apprentice had been alive and the twenty years of experience always had the Zabrak on top. Here however, Ungeran kept him at bay with a burst of lightning before the cyborg lost sight of his master in the haze of sparks and billowing cloaks. Ungeran no doubt made use of the pits scattered at the corners of the room as his attention was swiftly turned upon Magne proper, no longer needing to threaten him with the Force to keep him at a distance. Over their bond, he felt the old man still alive but could not see or hear him, focus soon dominated by the Pureblood set against him.

His head hangs and his eye closes, the cybernetic eye throwing up warnings of bodily harm and possible death without treatment. By the Force, he knew. All these years the idea had been helpful in preparing for combat or surviving but in this one moment all he wanted was silence. It had been so loud in their fight with blades clashing and sparks flying free. Without his master to assist him it had been up to the Darth alone to face down the horror only for the man to renew his anger against Magne. He had been so used to being on the offensive that Ungeran’s assault stole his confidence. Two minutes. Three minutes. Five minutes entirely on the defensive. It was as if his years of fighting meant nothing. He saw with he lost his hand but he could not recall when his leg had been destroyed. He could still feel it but that was simply a phantom pain. Decades of having cybernetic limbs and he could always still feel the flesh that had been long lost. In his mind, he could still hear Ungeran’s declarations.

“You were a foe deserving respect yet you debase yourself in this hidden assault! You deserve no warrior’s death! You deserve no more consideration as a peer! You have betrayed your race, your Empire, and your morals! I shall fell you as the creature you are.” He could feel the burn across his body and see his lightsaber thrown aside. His leg was rent from him and a hand was extended to throw him against a wall. It was where he lay now. It was where he was dying now. The Pureblood stands triumphant over him with a sneer of derision painting his demeanor. A man so strong had fallen so far, in his eyes, only to fall even further. His lightsaber is doused and his attention turning elsewhere now with heavy footfalls taking him away from the fight. There were greater problems to handle and he was above striking down a man who had resorted to trickery. That was the responsibility of a lesser.

Magne was once known as Stormlord. A title given to him in his youth in some form of a survival ritual in a family fearful of the world outside of their swamp home. How he had survived in such a horrendous storm was by chance but it had wreaked havoc on him now in recompense. Cybernetics were failing from the onslaught of Force lightning used against him before. He had been able to channel much into his blades but time and persistence had battered down his defenses. Fitting, then, that his fate was so reminiscent of his past but turned grim by one last failing. He could feel himself slipping if he did not focus and his mind was but a haze now.

Footsteps draw him from his stupor and his chin lifts to face what might come his way, defiance spreading across his visage as if he could still fight at all. Approaching him was Irdiarrar. How pathetic the cyborg must seem, slouched and near limbless. His master had a hand to his stomach but nothing was missing and the stain surrounding his hand was not so horrible. No doubt the wound was far from fatal. Their eyes meet once more, the old man looking as stern as he could but something in his expression said defeat.

The silence was broken by the man on the floor, his posture adjusting to better address his master. “Not the first time you found me like this, master.” He manages a grin, coughing all the same. Indeed, it was not the first time. It was how the Zabrak had taken him as an apprentice originally. What a way to be reminded of it. What a time for it. With a hand removed, a leg demolished, and a visible deep gash across his side this was indeed a grim sight for anyone to find.

For a moment, the expression did not change, but a laugh from the old man came in return. Recollecting the past, even in a situation such as this, put a distance between them and reality. It was rare they saw one another and even rarer to reflect like this. The tension he felt in the air was palpable in such a grotesque way but he would seize upon this moment now that the time had presented itself. “You were laid out by that old woman,” was the start, a wry, if detached, smile accompanying it. “Such a foolish boy, leaping over a woman many decades his senior in experience and practice. Cost you a great deal, and yet you survived long enough to lose it all again and again… tell me, do you recall our hunt on the border of Republic space? We had been told intelligence had been leaked and we were too meet with-”

“-The Jedi Master Ulv’arr, yes. He took my hand and you his head. His apprentice was fierce but he did not check his footing.” Magne laughs in return, wincing as pain flares up in him once more. His smile wanes as he watches the old man. In his trembling hand was his prized dueling lightsaber. Good, Magne had thought. It would be a shame if it had been destroyed.

“It is clear when someone practices only their bladework but not their footing. Sernpidal was an interesting time. Lord Vellaix and her harrower, permanently in dry dock because of you. You did not have to drag your lightsabers through every hall, you know.” His hand clenches in the futile attempt to calm it. His apprentice had been battered before but this was not the normal. He forced his smile to stay. If only time could be held still by some strong sense of justice or revenge. How the galaxy would freeze for the old man. “Do you recall how Lord El-”

The klaxons were still blaring above them. The bunker was still on alert. It was simply drawing closer and closer to time for reinforcements to arrive. “We cannot put this off any longer, master.” Magne presses back into the wall as he speaks, righting himself somewhat. His posture was uneven and angled but he had to assert his point. They both knew what was to happen. Stars did they ever know. He refuses to look away and his jaw sets. “Tell Revela I love her. Tell her I am proud of her.”

Once more, his master stares in disbelief as he had when he had found Magne, eyes finding his apprentice’s gaze. Pleading was in his expression. He did not desire this as terrible a fate as it had become, but the alternatives were all so terribly grim and time was short. Footsteps could be heard echoing through the attached halls. Irdiarrar’s expression softens and the old man ignites his blade. “We had a good run, my boy. Find your peace.”

His apprentice’s eye closes one last time as he accepts his fate. His heart slows and the chaos around them is truly lost in the moment. He recalls the starlight. How he wishes to see it again…

[siriuslytiff]

Somewhere In-Between Ch. 5

Harry Potter Fic | Romance/Drama | Charlie/OC

She wouldn’t let him see her cry. He’d seen it plenty of times before – for multiple different reasons. He’d seen her cry tears of joy after winning the cup second year. He’d seen her cry angry tears when Snape had unfairly failed one of her essays. He’d seen her cry out of grief when she got a letter from home letting her know the passing of cousin she’d grown up with and was close to. He’d even let her cry on his shoulder that time while he rubbed her back, telling her everything was going to be fine. But she wasn’t going to let him see her cry because of him.

Read on FF.net or Ao3 or HPFF

The Reserve - 1996

“I just don’t understand,” Charlie started again as he walked through the heavy iron doors of the sanctuary hub, “Why I have to be the one to show her around?” He gave a cursory wipe of his hands on his trousers, not truly accomplishing anything.

“Because,” Doris Runcorn sighed again, as if she were dealing with an unruly toddler. “You’re our most experienced researcher here, Charlie. She’s going to decide if we can get additional funding from Gringotts.”

“This just seems like it’s a better job for Walliams. Or Spicket. Those two love to hear themselves talk, it’d be perfect,” Charlie tried to argue. They’d walked through another set of doors and into an office of sorts.

“To be honest with you Weasley, you’re the only one I trust here with this. You’ve more than proven yourself over the last five years. And I know you’ve been having to take some time for family reasons lately but that doesn’t change the fact that we need you here,” Doris pinched the bridge of her nose as she sat behind her desk. “Honestly, Charlie, I can see you in more of a position like mine someday. But you have to be hereto do that. This will go a long way to showing your commitment to the Reserve.”

“I don’t have choice do I?” Charlie sighed.

“Not really.”

“Alright,” he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against one of the walls, “So when do they get here?”

“Should be any minute now, actually,” Doris said as she checked her watch. And right on cue the fire flashed green and someone stepped through.

Charlie’s body went rigid when he recognized the form that had walked from the fire place. It had been half a decade since he’d seen her disappear in a crowd at Platform 9 ¾. Her hair was shorter now and styled to be curled, rather than the long straight locks he remembered. She had a pair of glasses pushed up into her hair that he never remembered her wearing in school. But the short frame and sharp blue eyes hadn’t changed. Her tepid smile was the same. And how she clutched a notebook in one arm while the other held tight to a trunk was so reminiscent of his school days he couldn’t help but gawk a little.

No, it was true. Amelia Rutledge hadn’t changed all that much in the last five years.

“Ah, Ms. Rutledge – right on time,” Doris stood and walked until she was in front of Amelia. She extended her hand to the younger woman. But Amelia hadn’t taken her eyes off Charlie yet. Doris looked over her shoulder to her senior dragonologist who stood tightly wound and back to Amelia. She cleared her throat slightly awkwardly and Amelia finally turned back to look at Doris.

“Oh, yes,” Amelia dropped her trunk and stuck her hand out to meet Doris. “It’s nice to meet you Ms. Runcorn. Thank you so much for hosting me. The Bank so looks forward to this ongoing relationship.”

“And we’re glad for your interest,” Doris said amicably. “I’m going to have one of our senior researchers show you around the compound – Charlie –“

“We’ve met,” the two of them said at the same time. Charlie moved to stand next to Doris, arms still crossed.

“I thought you were out running around the world still?” Charlie asked flatly. He honestly hadn’t heard anything since Bill dropped her name two summers ago when he was visiting for the Quidditch World Cup.

“Put in for a transfer,” Amelia shrugged. “Thought your brother might have mentioned it.”

“It apparently slipped his mind,” Charlie said.

Doris stood looking between the two, eyebrow quirked at their exchange. “Okay, well, Ms. Rutledge I’m going to be setting Charlie as your escort while you’re here. He’ll be your main contact here on the reserve so if you need anything, Charlie’s your man. I thought we’d give you the day to get settled in and tomorrow we’ll get started showing you around and showing you the workings of the sanctuary. If that’s all agreeable to you?”

“Yes, sounds great,” Amelia smiled. “Mr. Weasley, do you mind to help me with my trunk?”

“You’re a witch aren’t you?” Charlie asked coldly.

“Weasley,” Doris hissed. “You’ll help Ms. Rutledge with her bags. Now.”

“Right this way, Ms. Rutledge,”Charlie said.

They traveled in silence as Charlie levitated the trunk in front of them. He maneuvered through the offices and onto the grounds without so much as looking at the newcomer. He never stopped to introduce her to anyone along the way.

It wasn’t until they were on the grounds that Charlie finally acknowledged her. He stopped abruptly, causing Amelia to nearly crash into her own trunk.

“What the hell is going on here, Amelia?” Charlie asked. Amelia looked sidelong around the grounds – no one was close enough to hear but there were a handful of onlookers from what looked to be a supply shed.  

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, Mr. Weasley,” Amelia tried to play this professional.

“Oh, cut the shit,“ Charlie rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. Her trunk thumped to the ground and a few more eyes shot their way. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been sent by Gringotts,” Amelia said, crossing her own arms.

“You just so happento be assigned our case?” Charlie accused, “I don’t believe it. Bill would have told me.”

“Maybe Bill didn’t tell you because he knew you’d act like this,” Amelia shot back.

“Yeah? And how am I acting?”

“Like a hot headed teenager again,” Amelia hissed out. “Like you haven’t grown up one bit.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” Charlie waved his wand and her trunk jerked up again and he sat off at an even quicker pace. “Speaking of ‘not growing up’ – I see you’re still just as good at keeping secrets from me.”

“Secrets? Charlie we haven’t spoken in five years,” Amelia was trying to keep up with Charlie, and even though he didn’t have much height on her, he still forged on ahead at a brisk pace.

“Still, post can be delivered, even in Romania last I checked.”

“You are absolutely impossible,” Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Did we really have to start off this way?”

“What did you expect?” He scoffed, “That you’d come out of that fireplace and what? Jump into my arms? That I’d be ecstatic to see you? That I’d forget the fact that you haven’t spoken to me in five years?”

“That I haven’t talked to you?” Amelia knew she was speaking in a stage yell but she couldn’t contain her sudden flare of rage, “Charlie – I sent you –“

But he’d stopped suddenly again, this time in front of a small canvas tent.

“This is your stop,” he said as he lifted the flap and walked in, not bothering to hold it open for her. When she walked in, like she was expecting, the interior didn’t match the miniscule exterior of the tent. There was a double bed in one corner, a desk along one wall, a small fireplace and a chest of drawers for her to use. It looked sterile and unused. He levitated her trunk next to the bed and let it fall just a hare to far from the ground so as to give everything inside a good jostle.

“I’ll let you get settled. I’ll be back at half four to show you the grounds and take you to the mess for dinner,” Charlie grumbled, not looking her directly in the eye but instead at some point over her shoulder.

“Sounds fantastic,” She answered with no enthusiasm.

When he left the tent without a second look, she collapsed bonelessly into the desk chair.

“What have I gotten myself into?” She questioned out loud. With one last look at the tent flap she let out a deep sigh and moved towards her trunk to start unpacking the few items she brought with her.

Later that evening – 1996

At promptly half past four, Charlie showed up outside her tent. He announced himself by simply stating “You ready?” not bothering to knock or attempt to enter Amelia’s tent.

She walked out of the tent ready for the scowl she knew would greet her on his face but was still slightly disappointed to find him, arms crossed, brows furrowed and nearly glowering at her.

“Ready,” she said simply.

He gave her a once over, taking in her travel robes she hadn’t changed out of and flat shoes. “You’re going to need a pair of boots if you want to last longer than a week here,” he grumbled out.

“I’ve got a pair of boots, thanks,” she said. “Just haven’t unpacked everything yet.”

Charlie rolled his eyes and started walking off to the right of her tent. She walked briskly to keep up with him as he gestured vaguely back to the tent they’d walked from. “This is the residential area – everyone’s tents are over there. Over there,” at this point he motioned to two identical tents about fifty feet away from the cluster of residential tents “are the bath houses. Yours is on the left.  Beyond that if you keep going you’ll get to some of the caves and corral. When we go out tomorrow you’ll see more of that. All the offices were in the head tent you came in at. And… that’s about it.”

“That’s it?” Amelia looked unimpressed. “You’re seriously done?”

Charlie crossed his arms and shrugged down at her. He’d had never been the tallest lad at school and that hadn’t changed since moving to Romania, but with Amelia still being at least a head shorter than him he was still able to glower down at her. “You’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out as you go along.”

“Charlie,” Amelia’s eyes turned soft and she looked imploringly at him. “I’m going to be here for at least a few weeks – can we at least try to keep this professional?”

“Professional?” Charlie scoffed, “Of course, what else would you like to see, Ms. Rutledge?”

Amelia glared back at him at the honorific. She tore her eyes away from him after a moment and looked off past him. Fine, she thought, she could play this game too.

“Thank you for your tour, Mr. Weasley. And the Mess was where?”

“That tent there,” Charlie turned and nodded to a nondescript tent not far off. Without another word he turned heel and started walking towards it. When they entered, to her surprise, it was almost full. There were all types of dragonologists sitting around. Some old and wizened while some looked like they’d just arrived the night before, still green with a gleam in their eye. Amelia wondered if that’s what Charlie looked like when he arrived five years ago.

She noticed as well that most people had stopped what they were doing when she entered and turned to openly stare. She nodded in the general direction of the crowd but followed Charlie to a small window where trays of food were being presented.

“Oi, Weasley,” came a grunt, “Who’s the bird?”

Charlie looked over his shoulder but kept walking forward and spoke to one of the older handlers, “It’s the birdwho could maybe get 10,000 galleons brought into this place, if you behave Spicket. And you’ll call her Ms. Rutledge.”

“Amelia’s fine,” she amended, shooting a look at Charlie and then sending a smile to Spicket. Charlie grabbed a tray of food and moved to sit at a table with no more available chairs. Amelia opted for a spot in the corner – away from most of the others. She could still feel eyes on her the entire time she was seated but she didn’t let that intimidate her. A handful of the dragonologists stopped by to greet her. Spicket formally introduced himself before he left but insisted on calling her “Birdie”. Grady, a young girl with wire rimmed glasses, shook her hand and welcomed her to the reserve. She told Amelia she worked mostly in the head tent with Doris. The last to introduce himself was a younger man, maybe early thirties, named Jace. She noted almost absentmindedly that he had a handsome face and a dangerous smile.

She observed some of the other handlers returning their trays to another window and she did the same. Before exiting the tent she stopped by Charlie who was laughing with a group of other handlers.

Before he noticed she was approaching, she heard one of the women at the table hiss, “She was really like that in school? Blimey, Charlie, how could you stand it?” Charlie sniggered and shrugged his shoulders in return.

She cleared her throat loudly and Charlie turned to face her. She noticed the tips of his ears and apples of his cheeks were rosy – whether from embarrassment of being caught or the ale he’d been drinking she couldn’t tell. “What time should I be expecting you in the morning?” Amelia asked.

“Half five,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes.

“I best get an early night then. I think I can find my way back. Thank you for the tour, Mr. Weasley. I’ll see you in the morning,” and after nodding to the rest of the table, who Charlie couldn’t be bothered to introduce her to, she made her exit.

Amelia did find her tent just fine. She quickly gathered the few items she would need and set off for the bathhouse, hoping to relax for a little bit before bed. She navigated there without a problem and thought back to what Charlie had told her earlier. Women’s on the left, men’s on the right.

So she entered the left tent flap confidently.

And was promptly met with the sight of a nearly naked Spicket. When he caught site of her she was sure his expression mimicked hers.

“I don’ know if it’s different where yer from,” he began as he lifted a towel for modesty, “but out here we still have a little modesty. Yer s’posed to be on the other side, Birdie.”

“I am so sorry,” Amelia said, covering her eyes. “Goddamn it – Charlie told me-“

“Aye,” Spicket answered, “Weasley likes ta play that joke on newbies. No harm done. But ye best be gettin’ over to yer own.”

“Of course,” she said and turned quickly, but not before muttering, “Fucking Weasley… I swear…”

“Oi, got quite a mouth on you, little Birdie,” and Amelia was sure she heard appreciation in his voice. Amelia entered the other side of the tent and continued on with her shower and evening routine, and could anyone blame her for the slight smile she couldn’t quite erase from her lips after hearing the slight praise in Spicket’s voice?

[chanoyu-to-wa]

Nampō Roku, Book 3 (16):  the Jizai [自在] and the Kusari [鎖].

16) The jizai should be used in the more wabi settings¹, and it is employed in the 4.5-mat room along with the fukuro-dana.

    The kusari can also be used in the 4.5-mat room².  Moreover, the kusari must also used [when suspending the kama over the fire] at a no-gake [野ガケ] and [gatherings] of that sort.

    There are [various] things to which one must be sensitive [when using a jizai or a kusari], and in this regard there are [a number of] ku-den [口傳] that [address these issues]³.

    The jizai was seen by Jōō in the countryside⁴:  originally it was hung up in [roadside] chaya⁵.  Sōeki discussed whether it might not be good [to use] in the 4.5-mat room [with Jōō]⁶, and so it came to be hung up in the 4.5-mat room.  This is how [the story] is told.

_________________________

◎This section was included in Kumakura Isao’s Nampō Roku wo Yomu [南方録を読む], though without any attempt at explaining the ku-den (the oral teachings alluded to in the text).

¹Jizai ha wabi no kata ni mochi-iru [自在ハワビノ方ニ用ル].

    Wabi no kata [ワビの方]:  ...no-kata [の方] means “more,” “toward.”

    Therefore, “the jizai* is best to use in the more wabi [settings].”

    Notice that the word wabi [ワビ] is written with katakana -- as it always was in documents written before Sōtan introduced the use of the kanji wabi [佗] (which he defined as meaning “rustic simplicity” and ideas of that sort†).  Various theories have been proposed by scholars to suggest how Sōtan arrived at his meaning; but it seems that these are all after-the-fact positivizations of what was originally a painfully negative sentiment (one of abject loneliness, or societal rejection)‡.

    It appears, however, that the original meaning of the word was wabi [我美], which -- as has been explained here before -- means something like “my own sense of aesthetic propriety” (the practice of wabi originally consisted of using non-standard objects** that nevertheless appealed to the host’s sense of beauty; and later came to encompass the notion of using things that were rejected or wasted by others). __________ *This kanji, which seems to have originally been used (exclusively) as a surname in China, came to be employed (as an alternate form of tā [他]; which is also pronounced ta in Japanese) to mean “that one,” “another (person),” “he/she” (the pronoun that refers to an unnamed individual).

†The jizai can easily be made by hand.

‡Though the expression is usually traced to a poem by Ono no Komachi [小野小町; c 825 ~ c 900], in the Kokin Waka Shu [古今和歌集], that begins with the words wabi nure ba [わびぬれば], the source seems more likely (in the case of Sōtan and his machi-shū adherents, in any case) to be the poem (by Prince Motoyoshi [元良親王; 890 ~ 943]) that is quoted in the Ogura Hyaku-nin Isshu [小倉百人一首]:  wabi nure ba ima hata onaji Naniwa naru miotsukushi te mo awan to zo ‘mou [わびぬれば今はた同じ難波なるみをつくしても逢はむとぞ思ふ] (“I am so forlorn, at this extremity, that, like the stakes that lead [a boat] through the channel at Naniwa, I am drawn on to meet [you]”).  Because Jōō sanctioned the use of the Ogura shiki-shi (albeit with the caveat that “only poems written on shikishi that first had a scene painted on them by a different artist were acceptable” -- a restriction that was being ignored more and more by the beginning of the Edo period, once unmounted poems written on illustrated paper were no longer available) for use as kakemono that could be displayed in the tearoom during a chakai, it was likely in this way that the poem (and its keyword) came to Sōtan's attention.  The idea that they understood from the poem seems to have been that “being forlorn” or “having nothing” (the two main senses of the word wabi [佗]) is a catalyst that spurs one to creativity.

    For the record, Komachi's poem reads:  wabi nure ba mi wo uki-gusa no ne wo taete sasō mizu ara ba inan to zo omou [わびぬれば身をうき草の根を絶えて誘ふ水あらばいなんとぞ思ふ], which translates “I am so forlorn, my body is like a floating grass whose roots have died away:  if there is a water [current] that draws me onward, I think I would not resist [its pull].”  Prince Motoyoshi’s poem is not the only one in the annals of Japanese poetry that was inspired by Komachi’s effort.

**Which is to say, objects that did not conform to the teachings of kane-wari.  When a set of non-standard utensils was carefully selected by someone acquainted with the teachings of wabi, a smaller-than-proper chawan could be compensated for by using a slightly larger chaire (or vice versa), so that the relationship between the utensils remained the same, even when they did not exactly match the kane.

²Kusari mo yojō-han ni hi-yō* [クサリモ四疊半ニ被用].

    When Jōō first began to use the ro (which was in the 4.5-mat room covered with inaka-ma tatami that he constructed at this time), the only way to arrange the kama in the ro was by suspending it from the ceiling (since the gotoku large enough to support a kama† had not been invented yet).  Homemade jizai of various lengths are what seem to have been used in the farmhouse kitchen, though chains (of various sorts) had also been used to hang pots over the cooking fire in more affluent households since ancient times.

    Jōō's kusari was technically what was known as an inu-kusari [犬鎖]‡, meaning the chain with which a watchdog was restrained (it had a ring on one end that was secured to a stake, and a latched-hook on the other that was attached to the dog’s collar).  These chains were commonly available, ready-made, in the market; and Jōō used it essentially as it was (though he removed the latch, and added a small side-chain that would enable him to adjust the height of the kama).

    Shibayama Fugen states, as the first sentence in his commentary on this entry, that “the kusari is gyō [行], while the jizai is sō [草]”:  but apparently Jōō, himself, held that both were sō.  The differentiation of things into a system of shin-gyō-sō [眞行草] was a philosophical argument that appeared in the early Edo period, as a consequence of the importation of neo-Confucian thought from Korea. __________ *The kanji compound hi-yō [被用] can also be read (or, rather, interpreted) as mochi-irareru [用いられる].  In either case, the expression means “used (for a certain purpose).”

†The idea for the gotoku came from a miniature (Chinese) stand on which the saucer of oil was rested in a night-light (elevating the flame gives better light).  However, originally they had to figure out a way to rest the gotoku on top of the ash in the ro (and, later, the furo) so that the ring would be above (as it was in the night-light).  This was done by adding broad, flat “snow-shoes” (scored with small, parallel lines, to keep the feet from slipping) to the ends of the three legs.

     When arranged in a mayu-buro [眉風爐] the gotoku’s ring was hidden behind the mayu (“eyebrow”) at the front of the furo.  But when Dōan created the first Dōan-buro [道安風爐] (from a discarded mayu-buro whose mayu had been broken off -- this was still while Rikyū’s family was desperately poor) he resolved the problem of the front edge of the ring sticking forward and getting into the host’s way while performing the sumi-temae by cutting it off (this gave rise to the name go-toku [五徳], as a play on the name for a monk’s outer robe, to suggest one that had been torn apart, as well as on the original name of the gotoku, which was ko-joku [火卓]).  Only many years later (1582) did Rikyū turn the gotoku over, so that the ring was buried in the ash.

‡The use of this kind of chain to hang the kama over the ro in itself was an exercise in wabi -- since Jōō was elevating the status of an object originally made for a more humble purpose.  (As has been mentioned before, the philosophy of wabi -- which means something like “my own sense of aesthetic propriety” -- was to take things that were being neglected, and use them for some important or significant purpose.  An illustration of this is when the large chawan, which originally was used only to clean the chasen with cold water at the end of the temae, came to be used for serving koicha to the important guests.)

³Ku-den ari [口傳アリ].

    Tanaka Senshō understands the kuden to refer specifically to the case where the kama is suspended on a chain during a no-gake no chakai (a gathering held out-of-doors)*, but that is not necessarily so.  Indeed, it is not clear (from the way the sentence is punctuated) that this statement refers exclusively to the chain at all (and, from the context† it more likely refers to the collection of ku-den relating to both the jizai as well as the kusari).

    According to Rikyū's densho (and the other writings associated with him and his teachings‡), there are a number of points that would have traditionally been passed down orally from teacher to student.  These include:

- if the ceiling is high, it is better to use a chain;

- the ji-zai is appropriate only to an extremely wabi setting, where the ceiling over the utensil mat lowered below that over the seat assigned to the shōkyaku**;

- when the ceiling of the room is especially high, a hempen rope, tied into a loop, may be used to extend the length of both the kusari and the jizai††;

- the hiru-kugi (the hook from which the kusari or jizai is suspended) should be oriented so that it opens toward one side of the ro; and the opening should be opposite to the direction in which the ji-zai will be pulled when the hook is lowered to rest on the mat during the sumi-temae‡‡;

- when the kama is suspended on a chain, the chain should be raised upward during the sumi-temae so it will not get in the host's way; but when the kama is suspended from a jizai, the jizai should be lowered (so that the hook touches the mat on one side of the ro);

- when the kama is suspended on a chain, it should be raised by two links before the kama is lifted up out of the ro (and after removing the kama, the chain should be raised still further; at the conclusion of the temae, the chain is again lowered, in the same way);

- the kagi (hook) on the end of the jizai is formed by taking the top of a young pine tree, and using the terminal as the stem (that is inserted into the hollowed-out kan), while one of the branches is retained and carved into a hook;

- the ko-zaru of the jizai should extend toward the katte, while the kagi (hook) should open toward the host;

- when performing chanoyu with a kama suspended on a jizai or a kusari, it is important to stop the kama from swaying:  the best way is to use the handle of the hishaku to still the movement of the kama, but this should be done carefully (so the handle of the hishaku will not be loosened, making it drip);

- when performing chanoyu with a kama suspended on a chain, tea should be made with the kama hung at the proper height***; and,

- with respect to both the jizai the kusari, when setting things up it is better if its length is such that the mouth of the kama is 7- or 8-bu – or even 1-sun – below the ro-buchi; but when the guests have arrived and the host is serving tea, the mouth of the kama should be elevated so that it is 6- or 7-bu higher than the ro-buchi†††. __________ *Tanaka Senshō states that the kuden are those previously quoted in Book One of the Nampō Roku, which are related to the no-gake [野掛け] gathering:

1) the host must take care that everything associated with the gathering should be especially clean and pure (his implication is that “wabi” -- as exemplified by the jizai -- is inherently somewhat dirty); and,

2) that the host should make an effort to use quality utensils on such an occasion (the handmade jizai was worthless, while even the most basic chain -- the inu-kusari -- had to be bought from a craftsman; and could then be handed down and treasured by subsequent generations).

†While this statement occurs in the middle of the entry, as it is found in the Enkaku-ji manuscript, it appears that originally this was the end of one section, and the remainder of the text constituted a subsequent entry (see the following footnote).

    If this was actually the case, the statement ku-den ari, as a conclusion to the entry, would refer to the contents of the entry as a whole -- that is, ku-den related not only to the kusari, but to the jizai as well.

‡Some of this material is found in the commentary appended to the Three Hundred Lines of Chanoyu (Chanoyu San-byak'ka Jō [茶湯三百箇條]).  While this material was added by Sen no Dōan and his disciple Kuwayama Sōzen, the source of the teachings was Rikyū himself.

**Some go so far as to say that the ceiling over the utensil mat should be lower than that above the shōkyaku’s seat by fully 7- or 8-sun.

††The rope is first tied into a loop, of the length necessary so that the hook (on the lower end of the chain or jizai), when fully extended, is slightly lower than the top of the ro-buchi.  One end of the loop is hung on the hiru-kugi (the hook from which the kusari or jizai is suspended).  Then a piece of iron is bent into an “S” shape, and this is used to connect the chain or jizai to the lower end of the hemp loop.

‡‡The jizai is “parked” on the mat (the hook is drawn out of the kan until it just touches the mat at the side of the ro-buchi) near the far corner on one side of the ro or the other.  The hiru-kugi generally opens toward the lower seat of the room, but the precise orientation should be determined by the demands of the host during the sumi-temae -- the hook should be lowered in the opposite direction from that toward which the hiru-kugi opens (so the jizai cannot slip out of the hook and come crashing down onto the mats).

***Even in Rikyū's day, there were certain machi-shū chajin who made use of the fact that the gotoku was not present in the ro to lower the kama closer to the charcoal (to make it hotter), and then raised the kama up to a more normal height when it was time to prepare the tea.  Sometimes they even did this during the koicha-temae (while the host performed the first chasen-tōshi).

    Rikyū held that this should not be done:  the kama should remain at the same height throughout the gathering, just as if it were resting on a gotoku.   (Certain modern schools, however, perpetuate this practice of raising and lowering the kama during the koicha-temae in their official teachings.)

†††In other words, the length of the jizai or kusari should be such that, when the kama is suspended on it, the mouth is up to 1-sun lower than the top of the ro-buchi.  Then, after the charcoal has been put into the ro, and the kama is returned, it should be hung so that the mouth is higher than the ro-buchi.  It remains at this height throughout the gathering.

    The reason for the mouth being oriented lower when the room is being set up is so that there will be some slack in the chain (or excess length in the handle of the jizai’s hook), so the thing on which the kama is supported does not seem as if it is being used to the limit of its capacity.  The chain should have a small loop of slack, while the retractable neck of the hook on the jizai should end high enough that there is no chance of its slipping out of the kan (stem) of the jizai when the hook is lowered to the mat.

    For the chain, or the jizai, to appear to be insufficiently long is definitely a mistake.

⁴Jizai ha Jōō inaka ni te mi-tatete [自在ハ紹鷗田舎ニテ見タテヽ].

    In Tanaka Senshō's teibon [底本] -- which consisted of the notes taken by Tachibana Jitsuzan with the Shū-un-an documents spread out in front of him -- this brief history of the jizai represents a separate entry from what has gone before.  Precisely why Jitsuzan later combined them into a single entry when he was drafting the Enkaku-ji manuscript is not known, though doing so makes the meaning of the whole less clear.

⁵Hajime ha chaya ni kakerare-shi wo [始ハ茶屋ニカケラレシヲ].

    Chaya [茶屋] means (in this case) a roadside tea booth.

    While a jizai was certainly used in the farmhouse kitchen*, Jōō’s “discovery” of the jizai was at a tea booth -- such tea booths were found along the highways, as well as along the wharf at Sakai -- makes much better sense. __________ *The whole idea of the “farmhouse kitchen,” that is repeated again and again in the historical account perpetuated by the Sen families, is difficult to accept.  Farmhouses did not have such an elaborate layout where the kitchen was a separate room:  they were mostly a single room, part of which was earth-floored, while the other consisted of a raised wooden platform on which mats were spread.  The mats circled a fire-well, which was used both for cooking and to heat the room during the colder months.  The occupants of the residence sat and ate their meals around the fire pit (helping themselves directly from the pots in which the food was cooked), and usually slept on those mats as well.  At most, there may have been a single enclosed room at one end of the structure, for storage (of valuables, such as money), and that was sometimes used as the master's quarters.

    Cooking pots were hung over the fire pit on jizai -- which were easily made from a length of bamboo, the top of a young pine tree, and a length of cord.

⁶Sōeki yojō-han ni shikaru-beki yoshi sōdan arite, yojō-han ni kakerare-shi [宗易四疊半ニ可然由相談アリテ、四疊半ニカケラレシ].

    Whether or not the statement that Rikyū was responsible for fostering the use of the jizai in the 4.5-mat room is true*, it appears to be a fact that, during Rikyū's lifetime, the jizai had all but replaced the kusari in the 4.5-mat room setting (and, of course, in the smaller rooms as well). __________ *According to his kaiki, he usually used a jizai even in the 4.5-mat room, though there were several occasions when he used a kusari (apparently for very specific reasons):

- on the 29th day of the Eleventh Month (the anniversary of Jōō's death), when the kama was suspended on a Jōō's inu-kusari, and the fukuro-dana was used for serving tea;

- on the 17th day of the Eleventh Month (during a gathering given for two senior clerics, who were also imperial princes, and one court noble), the kama was suspended on Jōō's inu-kusari, and tea was served with the fukuro-dana;

- on the 3rd day of the Third Month, when the kama was suspended on Rikyū's azuki-kusari (an elegant sort of chain with very small links), and tea was served using the kyū-dai daisu.

    It seems that the chain came into use in the early days of the ro -- and so was associated with the kyū-dai daisu (the daisu that was sanctioned for use only with the ro, because the legs prevent a furo from being arranged on the ji-ita).  The fukuro-dana came into use later.  Both of these events occurred during Jōō's middle period (during which time Rikyū had no influence of Jōō's practices -- indeed, he was abroad for most of this time).

 The jizai, on the other hand, was not used until much later (probably not until 1554, after Rikyū returned from his sojourn in Korea), suggesting that Rikyū, indeed, had a hand in promoting its use in the wabi 4.5-mat room setting.

[letitbefiction]

Iron heart and a spider shaped key- chapter 22

LAST CHAPTER

A/N: AfGkdlxkxhzgggsha IT IS TIME! It is THE END! I hope you all like it..I really do...thank you for reading this I cannot thank you all enough for all the love and support I got for this fic.

Feel free to read more of my fics: (X)

(I personally really like A Little ODD)

Warning-lap dance, drinking (mentioned) sexual touching (???) Peter almost being demolished by the avengers.

Paring- Peter Parker x stark!reader

Type: fluff

Word count: 8.1k

Staring at your mirrored figure, your dress was beyond beautiful. Sure it was slightly extra but it’s your birthday and it’s you, and if anyone had a problem with it you didn’t care.

Your light pink dress fitted perfectly to your y/s/c skin color, the lace detail extending the length about five inches after your fingertips and your cleavage is showing just the right amount a seventeen year old should show. “You look beautiful...” a familiar whisper crossed your mind, turning around you saw Peter. His chocolate eyes scanning you up and down with aw before locking eyes with you. “Thank you” you trailed sweetly before approaching the boy.

You approached the boy and ran your hands over his blue flannel, a light blush coated both of your cheeks. “Cameras...” you suddenly mumbled with a sigh, pulling your hand back to hold it with your own over your chest. But he still stood there, completely lost at your sight, you were beautiful. Your makeup was done on a professional level and hair was pulled into a half up half down ponytail with a few loose strings to frame your face, “Peter you’re staring..” You giggled embarrassed, nudging the boy with your elbow before taking a step back to sit on your bed.

Immediately snapping out of his thoughts he began mumbling an apology to which you laughed at, he was adorable and flustered, turning completely red when he stumbled trying to follow behind you. “My god..Peter just..sit down” you shook your head and he let out a small chuckle “I’m sorry it’s just...wow..y-you’re just..wow and I-uh..wow..” he trailed with aw. You closed your eyes with a soft smile as the mattress next to you sank a bit, He was close but not as close as you wanted him to be. Knowing that, he simply dragged his hand over to yours shyly a question rolling off his tongue hesitantly “when are we going to tell them?” “Can we just..run away?” You answered sarcastically.

Peter smiled at you, he knew you were nervous..which was a bit strange, but he knew because he was too. For days he had spent with your dad in the laboratory he was terrified he’ll be compromised or get too nervous and blabber it out, a small moment caught on security cameras or simply a text could send his ass flying from the Empire State Building! Yeah..he knew.

“Maybe tomorrow?...like..I don’t know..I—“ you started but he quickly cut your thoughts when he reached for your hand “hey..you tell him when you’re ready..until then I’m as quiet as a bug!” “Like a mosquito maybe..” you giggle and he pushed you away playfully, a sweet chuckle escaping his pink lips sending your heart racing even more.

-

“The Spider child is in her room!” Thor boomed “I know he’s in her room!” Tony retorted, eyeing the character beside him, covering his right ear as a soft ringing sound echoed in his mind. Then another blond one appeared on his left side “Should we call them in—?” “What are they saying?” Natasha spoke from behind interrupting Steve “I don’t know—“ “do you think they’re together?” Bucky cut tauntingly before being elbowed by Wanda “That’ll be so cute” Sam grinned causing Tony to tick with annoyance “that won’t be cute because she’s my daughter and—“ Wanda cheers cut, a large and teasing grin appearing on her lips “oh! when they’ll have children do you think—“ “NO ONE IS HAVING KIDS!” Tony burst, making the room go quite in an instant.

With a huff he turned to his teammates, immediately closing the tab that was monitoring the two of you, even though it was pure and innocent he couldn’t help but get slightly nervous of his little girl growing up.

“How did any of you got in here?!” He hissed, not sure to which member it was intended, Vision took the obligation to answer “They followed me sir.” He answered politely. Tony shook his head desperately, placing a hand over his eyes before looking at his creation with annoyance “really jar—vision. Really?” He caught himself, hoping no one would notice. No one did they all just spread out and began exploring on their own while the two walked off into a more quieter space. “Apologies sir.” He started “but maybe we should put all of our theories for a test?” Tony looked shocked at even the possibility of doing so, maybe he was a bit too arrogant to admit to himself that he might need to loosen up the grip. “What?” Your father asked rhetorically “I overheard a conversation y/n had with one of her friends. They were talking about going to a girl named Maddie after the party.” He answered quickly, “hey don’t touch that!” Tony pointed towards a confused Sam who touched some undeveloped tech, he scratched the back of his hairs before looking back up at Vision slightly confused. “Go somewhere? Why would she want to go—“ “I believe she said ‘just a few hours without any cameras around! That’ll be the best birthday gift ever’ “ he cut coldly.

A twitch of guilt stung your old man’s heart, yes you did say those words, but it was just because you were frustrated..having to hide even in your own house.

-

A few hours later, guests started to arrive, from your usual pretentious preppy teenagers to the sloppy lazy ones, all decided to try and dress up in a shallow try to impress one of the superheroes.

You had a special area in the compound specifically for parties only and that’s where you met everyone. Some people you weren’t sure you knew, they gave you presents in an attempt to gain your likeness, but presents nonetheless so you didn’t mind. Music blasted in your ears as your father and the rest of your family promised to stay away just for tonight.

More and more people began crowding the living area as dark settled in nicely on the velvet sky. Flashing red blue and green lights covering the walls while dancing shadows roamed within the room.

When finally seeing your friends you ran into each others arms with a squeal, compliments going back and forth with delight.

“This place is HUGE!” Jack yelled wide eyed, “Yeah well..thank you?” You giggled awkwardly, not sure how to answer the obvious fact and turned your attention to Maddison who laced her arms with you. “You’re —- coming — my hou— after —.. extra—-” she teased, her voice yelling over the loud music but still difficult to hear “what?!” You yelled dragging her away into a more quiet side of the room while the group left you so they could dance.

“I SAID—!” “Ow!” You cut, pushing her away for yelling in your ear. “Sorry” she giggled unapologetically “uh huh..” you rolled your eyes with a slight smile. “I asked if your still coming to my house after this?” “Oh yeah of course!” You answered excitedly before dragging her out to dance.

Music was getting louder, and somehow kids got drunker. Your eyes drifted away from the scene in front of you, your laughing friends mixing with the background as you locked eyes on your boyfriend. A slight jealousy sparked in you when you saw a girl approaching him.

She was a brunette tall girl, a royal blue tight dress hugging her curves. Her eyes flattering with heavy mascara that you can see from a mile away.

You tried to ignore it, you really did, just dancing and having fun with your friends and trusting him as your mind boomed with your favorite songs.

But things change and while the DJ replaced a song to one of your friends requests, you managed to hear a few words escaping the glossy mouth. “Wow Peter..you work out?” She asked sneakily, squeezing his arm making him feel more than uncomfortable and making you angrier by the second.

Why were some girls like that? It’s still a mystery to you and many others.

Peter felt really awkward with her touch, it felt..weird, empty and forced and above it all, it felt wrong that it wasn’t you.

His heart beat fastened, Ned was standing only a few steps away but he couldn’t see a thing. Peter was holding his apple juice cup in one hand, nerves pricking on the back of his neck. “I uh..I don’t r-really..can..you stop..?” He asked embarrassed, words tumbling out of his mouth awkwardly. Looking over his shoulder he managed to see you looking at him and then escaping his gaze, his heart beat stopped in an instant. Quickly and very annoyed, he moved the girl’s hand away harshly before turning to find you walking towards the hall.

“Peter!” You shrike as he put his hand over your mouth and dragged you into a small closet. “What?” You whispered raspy when he lowered his hand, a big grin crossed his lips “can I kiss you?” He mumbled confidently and you smiled.

He wanted to show that you’re his, and you weren’t going to stop him.

“you’re out here looking for danger boy..” “danger is my middle name!” He smirked with a playful smirk “Your middle name is Benjamin.” You teased before pulling him by his collar to close the gap between the two of you. Your butterflies were swirling inside with excitement, a smile creasing your lips as he pulled you close by the waist. You didn’t say anything but you could feel his bulge through his jeans, what? he was a teenager and so were you.

“Ok ok I have to go..” you cut shortly with a smile, your heart beat chanting in your

his hands slowly moving to your core and drawing small circles unintentionally as you slid your soft hands off his chest. He let out a slight whine of disappointment as you told him to wait a bit before getting outside, to give off at least a slight chance of not getting caught.

-

“Hey there Peter” Bruce called as he passed by when Peter opened the door. Wide eyed Peter was beyond flustered “h-hey Doctor Ba-aner..hehe uh I wh-what are uh what are you doing here I uh..” the scientist simply shook his head with a hidden smile behind his mouth “why are you in there Peter?” He questioned knowingly, after all he saw you leave that closet too just moments ago.

Peter felt like a doe caught in headlights, his heart was thumping loudly in his chest and it wasn’t you to blame this time. “Uh was just checking for uh snacks so..” his brown eyes scanned the closet they were in quickly, realizing it’s full of cleaning supplies. “I uh..tide pots! Yeah yeah well hehe..it’s uh it’s here so we’re good” he gave a thumbs up with a nervous laughter running from his as fast as he escaped Banner’s questioning eyes. But no such luck, he was lectured for maybe 15 minuets straight about the obvious dangers and toxicity of the product and that it’s not a joke, but peter was more than lost in that conversation seeing you swaying your hips to the music with your friends.

“Close one. Banner.” Peter whispered loudly to you as he passed by, his raspy voice sent slight shivers down your spine. You turned around but he was gone, approaching Michelle and Ned who sat by the couch and ate pizza with a whole lot of unopened snacks that you wondered where did they steal them from.

-

The night went on, and on..and on.

You had your birthday song played in the background when your three level cake was rolled in, all your friends by your side while other recorded it. But non was as close to the feeling you had feeling Peter hand reach for yours from behind, and that smile, the smile he gave you made you happier more than any cake or party could.

But of course, some idiot brought alcohol to the party.

Unlike Liz’s party, which you only heard from Michelle once, when the oh so expensive vase was shattered on the floor a loud alarm went off.

You can only imagine how everyone had reacted, teenagers scattered around, music stopped only to be replaced by the sound of yelling and screaming mixed with rushing steps.

Lucky panicking teenagers escaping your rushing superhero team.

“What Is going on?” Your father yelled, the loud alarm overcoming his voice as a teenager run towards the exit by him.

He searched for you in the crowd but you were gone, yelling your name while the rest tried to show everyone the right exit or help search for you and Peter.

You were quite difficult to find, having hearing the alarm breaking the music you rushed in an attempt to shut it down, and when that didn’t work you searched on why it happened.

Your friends rushing after you into the room where the vase was shuttered to the floor, panicking because damn this is one expansive vase.

In seconds the alarm stopped you looked up, “fuck” You muttered knowing damn well who was the only person who could shut it off.

“It’s fine it’s fine he..he won’t be m-mad right?” Emily said with a shaky voice to which you only paniced more. Yor friend mixed voices came in and out of your ear as you tried to come up with an idea..or rather an apology. “Y/n!” You heard your dad called and ran towards his voice “dad! I am so so sorry I swear someone must have—“ “oh my god your ok!” You father cut, creasing his hands over your arms with unsettled eyes. “Uh..yes.” You mumbled, escaping his touch slightly awkward when feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “What happened?” “Some idiot broke the vase in the—“ “wait. Please tell me it’s the one in the living room and not the guest room.” You kept quiet with an apologetic puppy eyes “not my 6000$ vase..!” He whined dragging his hands over his face before taking a deep breath “it’s fine I’ll..at least you’re ok..” he huffed and bring you into a tight hug.

-

“so...can I go to Madison?” You asked your dad innocently, turning briefly to look at your friends having a fan moment with your family. Peter stood by the other side of the living room, Michelle and Ned by his side.

“Take Peter.” He ordered and began walking towards the rest, cue for your whining and annoyed act. “but dad!” You trailed, following his steps with a pout. “He’ll just ruin everything!” You fake whined, but your father remembered his so called agreement with his teammates and he knew that if he’ll break it he won’t hear the end of it.

“Someone tell my kid I’m right” he spoke with a grin, the group turning their attention to him before looking at your annoyed attitude following behind. “What about?” Sam asked, placing his hands in his pockets while standing up.

“She needs to take Peter with her.” “No.” You crossed your arms, glaring at the others with anger. Steve simply agreed with your father, stating a simple “Yes.”, your stomach swirled with nerves and you turned to “Bucky! Help!” “Sorry kiddo I have to agree with —“ “ugh fine!” You cut. Inhaling frustration you yelled “PETER!”, the young boy popped his head nervously seeing your angered face but seeing the rest made somewhat sense in his mind. “Wh- uh what do you want?” He mumbled “You’re going with Y/N to uh..” your father trailed with forgetful eyes “Madison.” You sighed and he turned to the group with searching eyes. “who’s Madison?” He asked and your blond, and slightly intimidated friend raised her hand. “No drinking. No smoking and no drugs.” He ordered and they all nodded as a promise.

Your father clapped his hands with a proud grin “Great! I’ll call happy!” He grinned and left the room, only to return moments later “Peter..a word.” He raised a brow as they all exchanged looks.

-

The curly headed boy followed timidity after his mentor, both approaching a side room before Tony closed the door behind them.

“Pete” He started, placing an over protective hand over Peter’s slightly terrified shoulder. The young boy could be tackled by Steve and it’ll be less nerve racking than this conversation, “yes Mr. Stark?” He gulped, “you keep her safe. and you keep your hands to yourself. Am I clear?” Tony said coldly, Peter being too scared to notice the suited man was fiddling with his jacket simply nodded quickly with wide eyes.

“Good” Tony patted the boys back and left the room, leaving poor Peter anxious, heavy breaths of relief escaping his mouth.

-

While Peter disappeared you stared nervously at the closed door, you were nervous but only one seemed to notice.

A set of hands startled you, one is colder than the other as they rested on your shoulder. Turning your head around you were met with a pair of blue eyes, they seemed calm and understanding as the brushed your hair from your eyes “they still don’t know..” he whispered with a smirk and you simply sighed with a smile “thank god..” you muttered.

Bucky was the first, and only avenger who found about your secret. It happened by accident really.

-

Sitting in the lab you concentrate on fixing your boyfriends web shooters, your y/e/c eyes squinting at the small screws. “Hey y/n—“ a voice called and you let out a yelp, turning around you saw a very shocked and apologetic Peter standing in the entrance.

He was slightly blushing but non the less happy to see you.

“Sorry babe..” he mumbled rubbing the back of his neck as you rolled out off your chair with a delightful smirk, hearing him calling you babe just made your heart flatter what can you do?

It was the first day he was in the tower so you didn’t even noticed that the first thing was giving him a pack on his lips quickly before you two continued a conversation of nothing, perfectly sweet nothing.

It was about an hour later, he swung his legs back and forth, from time to time spinning the chair while staring at his phone quietly as you asked. You needed to work, but having him around just made it more easier.

Finishing explaining the new web combinations you added, he led you to the kitchen to a much deserved snack time.

You sat on the cold marble island as he leaned on the counter in front of you, both of you rudely snacking on someone else’s treats. Your mixed laughter was to be heard from a distance, that’s why Bucky approached it in the first place.

He was a mad shipper, a 100 and something year old super soldier wanted two teenagers to be together like he had nothing else to do in his life. And he was slightly proud of what he saw.

Peter teased you with one of Wanda’s Pocky sticks and placed on end in his mouth and one end empty for you. “Peter no..” you trailed with a tempt laughter “come on! I saw it in a some Chinese show once pwease?” He mumbled with puppy eyes and you had to give in, taking mental note to ask about why he was watching it in the first time.

“Jeez..Parker you’re going to be the death of me..” you giggled before biting onto the delicious pretzel like stick.

A few bites in and your lips met, his lips were sweet and had a slightly sour taste to them because of the gummy worms he had a few seconds ago. he came in closer, one hand held you by the waist and the other cupped your cheek delicately. You broke the kiss slightly just so you could swallow the pieces of sweetness, a soft smile creeping onto his lips when he stared at you lovingly. He closed the gap again and this time you wrapped your legs around his waist, you felt as if you were floating mid air and his touch was the only thing grounding you. It was right before he deepened the kiss that a cough made you both pool away, both shocked and embarrassed you turned in horror to see Bucky’s folded arms leaning over the door frame.

His eyes darted between the two of you quietly, you didn’t know what to say, or how long he’s been there. panicking you jumped off the marble surface with a plea “Please don’t tell anyone!” You begged, Peter quickly following your steps with the same helpless puppy eyes. “Please Mr. Barns I uh..I..” The young boy always felt slightly terrified of the long haired super solider, his heart beating increasing with fear as drops of sweat began forming on his forehead when the soldier simply raised a brow at him.

“I won’t.” He suddenly spoke, a kind smile appearing on his pink lips, slightly taken back you felt doubtful of his reasons. “Why?” You muttered, sure you were glad he won’t say a thing but why not.

“Cause you will”

“What?”

“You’ll tell them. Just tell me when cause I have a bet to win!” He winked and brushed past you and Peter, “uh..what?” “A bet?” You both asked dumbfound.

“A bet yes.” He smirked and tried to find something to eat in a way to disguise the fact they’re the reason in the first place he followed into the kitchen.

Not sure how to react you turned to Peter who simply reached to your hand nervously.

“And Parker!” The man called warningly, giving both of you a heart attack as he was about to leave “You hurt her. I will hurt you. Don’t think I forgot how to hide bodies.” Bucky hissed, scaring the living hell out of the boy before ruffling your hair and leaving with an apple in his hand.

“He won’t kill you..” you trailed before cracking a smile, looking briefly behind your shoulder.

“I hope..” “you hope?!” Peter exclaimed as you dragged him back to the lab with a nervous giggle.

-

“You’re were supposed to tell them today” he reminded and you looked at the ground “I know I..I’ll tell them later” you scoffed and he raised a brow at your tone “you have up until the end of the day or I’m telling them kid.” He instructed before turning back to the rest.

Panic took over your mind, how the hell were you supposed to do that?! “What? Come on Buck!” You frowned, big doe like eyes begging the super solid to keep this secret for a while longer.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to you with a smirk “it’s for your own good! Because sweetheart...” he trailed with a shrug “you are being too obvious anyways” he chuckled “I am not!..” you trailed but he looked at you unimpressed, his finger pointing to his cheeks “you’re blushing doll face” he taunted with a nod “oh fuck..” you muttered “language” “bite me barns” you retorted quickly. “isn’t it Peter’s job?” He snickered and you turned completely red as you stormed off to your friends, but stopped mid step to see your father returning to the room with a shaky Peter behind him.

-

And so, this is how you found yourself walking to the car, you leading first and Peter strolling behind. “Bye sweetheart! Stay safe!” “Bye dad..” You giggled before motioning to Peter to close the door.

In an instant, the seating changed, Peter was by your side his hand shyly resting on your thigh drawing up and down strips.

You smiled at him and plugged in your phone, letting your friends play whatever song they chose to.

Time passed, and you arrived to her empty house quickly. Immediately taking off your jackets and throwing them messily in a closet room you each sprinted to the couch to get a good spot.

“Princess?” Peter bowed teasingly and motioning you to sit in the middle as he took a seat next to you “I’ll beat you up Parker” you shook your head, a laugh being held back behind a tight smile. Your legs automatically swung over his and he placed one of his hand over your thigh and the other over your bare shoulder. “Easy with the whole pda kids!” Bridget teased, throwing a bag of sour gummy worms towards you, only that Peter caught it moment before it hit you with a shy smile. “Nice reflexes Parker!” Adam commented before slamming himself next to Madison who almost dropped her bowl of popcorn to the floor.

After ten whole minutes of arguing what movie you should watch you decided on the incredibles, simply just to tease you for living with actual superheroes..and dating one. Not that they needed to know that.

You spent most of it focusing on the glowing screen, eating, laughing and even starting a food fight with each other.

And when saying mostly that you did those things, was because Peter’s hands were all over you, and yours was on him.

He rested his curly hair on yours as you laid across his chest, his fingers fiddling with your y/t/h hair as you drawn small circles on his chest. When the movie ended, the black and white credits rolled and everyone started starching, He looked down at you for a moment and smiled, your hair was slightly tangled in his hands but your lips were a vibrant color of magenta, practically inviting him to kiss you. He took your chin gently in his fingers and placing a heaven like kiss on your delicate lips.

Emily smiled devilishly at you first, not that you noticed, and then at the rest, who definitely noticed and mirrored her thoughts.

Her sudden movements grabbed your attention as you watched her rushed into the kitchen, everyone exchanged amused looks and quickly sat on the floor, you did the same, even though you were slightly confused.

But it all made sense as she brought back an empty bottle, a big grin on her face as she took the seat in front of you.

“Ok ok ok..we all know the rules right?” Adam asked, eyes directly moving to you and Peter “what level?” Bridget asked calmly, still looking at her phone.

“Level?” You, Peter, Michelle and Ned asked in unity, eyes darting towards each other with confusion. Madison turned to you with an awkward smirk, not sure what words to use “Uh yeah you know how..uh..well..” she trailed and your eyes widened “oh...OH!” You exclaimed, realization hitting your mind.

Turning to Peter you whispered to him that it means how sexual it might get. Heat rushed through his whole body, his neck ears and face turning a bright color of red.

-

Meanwhile in the avengers compound, your father sat in his office and stared at the large screen, his fingers tapping fast on a plastic keyboard in an attempt to fix the small camera.

The small device was one of the new spidercam Tony wanted to add to the suit, eight metal legs hit the wooden floor as he stared ahead at the small crack of light coming from beneath the door.

“What are you doing?” A voice startled. “Non of your business Rhodes..” He retorted, brown eyes still fixed on the camera movement. A small disbelieving chuckle was heard from behind before snarky words were to leave his lips “your spying on your own daughter man!” “Who’s spying on who?” Natasha stormed in with a smirk, Bucky trailing behind her quietly.

“Why are you in here again?” “Movie night Stark. Vision insists on you being there” she emphasized with jazz hands.

A pair of icy blue eyes scanned the screen, a group of teenagers sitting comfortably, their faces illuminated by different lights coming from an animated movie. “are you spying on y/n?” Bucky suddenly commented, eyes still fixed on the live video in front of him.

“No.” Tony slammed the laptop screen and with that the live video stopped. He crossed his arms with daring eyes but his judging friends kinda saw through him at that situation. “Okay yes I am-“ he said lifting back the screen “-but I’m just watching over her. You said it yourself! I don’t know those kids and—“ “ok cool can we watch this instead of Vision documentary!” Natasha grinned towards a very confused Tony.

-

After maybe a twenty minutes persuasion by The two most dangerous people in the compound, Bucky and Natasha won over your father stubbornness.

They were all getting snacks and drinks prepared to see what were you up to, while the true reason was to win the ongoing bet, that by now the price had gone up to 300$ to the winner by each participant.

They stared from behind at your illumined figures, not wanting to get too close and might risk the fact that one of you will smash it to pieces. They all simply enjoyed half of the movie you chose, trying to guess which one of those shadows is you and failing..sort of. They actually thought the couple cuddling on the couch was Emily and Jake, except for Bucky who knew damn well.

Bored out of his mind, Stark left the room for a moment, exactly missing the shared kiss, to fix himself a glass of scotch and answered a call from Pepper.

You already started playing though, silly dares really, ones that all the avengers laughed at and even tried mimicking you. Everything was fine until a very...unique one was heard through the muffled speakers.

“Uh..” Thor trailed, slight amusement in his voice followed by Loki more sarcastic tone “no...”.

“What? what did I miss I-oh HELL NO!” Tony yelled at the screen, his scotch almost slipping off his hands as his brown eyes widened feeling his overly as his overprotective father mode activated. Completely ignoring the avengers seating all comfortably and full of themselves at your father reaction to the spinning bottle. “Relax Tony..it’s just truth or dare.” Natasha grinned, maybe she was slightly nervous, you were after all a teenager...and a the daughter of Tony Stark so...but she managed to hide the fact she heard the are you were asked to do obviously.

Tony shot her a look, he wasn’t an idiot and he knew damn well what could happen if you choose to accept whatever they’ll tell you to do.

They all stared at the green bottle spinning in the middle of the giggling teenagers circle.

Tony immediately reached his phone, he knew that you won’t answer and neither will Peter, so he tried and get a better view for the planted camera and a better way to hear the muffled teenagers. Moments past and the screen finally stopped moving only to stop directly on you and Peter, leaving to another room.

“Tony?” Steve called, protection in his voice as he stood up from his spot “Shut up.” Tony called, his eyes still fixed on the small movements on his phone screen. “Tony.” Bruce was one to call this time to which Tony only huffed “I’m busy.” He grunted before smiling proudly to himself for perfecting the camera position “You might want to see this...” Steve trailed and just in time your father managed to see Peter entering a room and closing the door while your beloved friends howled in the background.

Realizing that you were no where to be in the circle, concern and anger fueled his body “oh he better not.” He hissed, eyes glued to the screen before seeing the group rushing from their seats to pin their head to the door.

They all had very pleased grins and giggled escaped their hand covered lips.

When the door opened again in less than 3 minuets, they all took a step back with anticipation and anxious eyes.

“We’ll do it.” You said shyly, peter holding your hand nervously but shrugging with fake confidence.

-

It started silly really, you don’t know how you ended up with a dare like this when only the game started. “Do an impersonation of Donald Trump” that Adam got, and preformed perfectly! “Go to the neighbour’s house and ask for a banana” which Madison got, and man it was a lot more funnier than it should have been. “Close your eyes and send a blind text to a random person” was something that Jack got, and thus is a start on how he’ll have to explain his aunt why he asked for a booty call, which was just....priceless as you can imagine!

Your stomach hurt with laughter, eyes flickering with tears of amusement. Peter’s laugh was rolling off his tongue with delight, even chocking when he tried to calm himself down.

But then..the bottle spun, and you stared with fear and anticipation as the object dizzied your y/e/c eyes.

Shit.

“Truth..or Dare y/n..” Madison trailed. You gulped nervously, you had to choose dare! You just had to, you can’t break this unspoken rule and choose truth when everyone else chose dare, and the fact they’ll ask something about you and Peter just made you more nervous. Exchanging looks with the group you suddenly turned to Peter, his soft smile calming your nerves before your turned back to the dare devil.

“Dare.” You smirked, fake confidence shadowing you immediately. They all exchanged amused smirks as ideas were to be whispered to the blond girl. Her eyes twinkled with delight when Adam whispered the perfect dare, “do a lap dance.” She smirked and your eyes widened with embarrassment, heat rushed to your whole body and your eyes darted to the floor “On Peter obviously.” She insisted and you immediately looked at your boyfriend embarrassed.

Peter, felt a rally going inside his mind. Anticipation, fear, nerves, lust, embarrassment and awkwardness was showing with red heat on his pale skin. He didn’t look at anyone at first but feeling your gaze upon him he turned around immediately, and seeing your nervousness he had to do the right thing and calm himself down, or at least fake it.

He stood up, his shadow falling over your small character “give us a moment?” He spoke, his hand reaching for yours to walk you to another room.

He placed his hands on your back with a soft smile “you don’t have to..” he whispered, closing the door behind him. pulling you to his embrace.

Your stomach knotted with nerves, mind racing at the possibilities of the outcome. “I..uh it’s fine..” eyes locked at your shifting feet you finally spoke, breaking the anticipating silence. His soft hands reached for your tensed shoulders, grabbing your attention in an instant as butterflies unknotted the feeling inside. He smiled kindly at your wide eyes and brushed a hair our of your cheek quickly “y/n..you don’t have to. I’ll say it’s my fault” he smirked but you shook your head, feeling a slight blush creeping up on you “Peter..” “you don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” He stated before roaming his hands to hold you by your waist, you unknowingly moved your hands over his shoulder with a slight grin “I love you” he whispered, his cold minty breath brushing agains your lips. “I love you too” you whispered and closed the gap.

You then held him by the hand and opened the door, a few of your friends stumbled inside and you had to bit your lip so you won’t laugh. You darted your eyes between all the characters before giving in “we’ll do it.” You said confidently.

Peter felt his heart pound heavily, fearing you might do it out of pressure. “Y/n?” “I am comfortable as long as you’re with me..” you answered quickly, giving him a small pack on the cheek and leaving to your friends.

-

“Ok go pick a song! Peter stay.” Jack instructed and you nodded, cringing at the instructions slightly.

“Wow..peer pressure. Thank god I don’t have many friends.” Michelle called from behind as you searched for your jacket.

You turned to her with questioning eyes, “it’s not peer pressure.” You insisted. “Is it not though?” She taunted, but truth is, she cared. And you knew it. “It’s not. because I’ve talked to Pete..and..I’m actually ok with it..” you shrugged, slightly lying but that’s just because you were nervous, not scared.

Finally finding the device you searched for a needed song, but she blocked your screen forcing you to look up at her.

“You don’t have to.” She stated again, her eyes trying to keep cool but failing to hide the care in her voice. “It’s ok chip. I promise.” You smiled genuinely and she let put a huff “fine..I’ll make sure no one will record this” she rolled her eyes, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

After maybe 4 minuets of finally finding a song, the two of you opened the door and turned down towards the living room.

-

“What’s going on?” “Why are they telling him to sit?” “Why is he standing up now?” “Why are they laughing?” “What the hell did my daughter agreed to?!” Those were just a few of Tony’s questions, his and the teammates eyes glued to the screen like it was the gospel.

“Don’t worry Peter. I’m sure you’re going to enjoy it!” One of the guys called, patting on the shaking shoulder of the boy before slamming himself on the couch in front of the camera.

There was a big sofa left empty, Peter’s profile was seen through as he wiped his hands over his shirt nervously. “You ready y/n/n?” Madison giggled, and when you yelled back a yes they slightly dimmed the lights so the song could start.

(Song: strip that down-liam payne)

The beat started quickly, your mind came up with combination of choreographed music videos as you thought ahead before letting your body move.

Your eyes glanced at the group of teenagers and then turned to lock eyes with Peter while taking a few strides forward, your heels making a clicking noise over the wooden floor before coming to a halt. You swung your hips to the beat, hands slowly running over your curves. Your hands created an X over your waist before moving to circle your chest and go down to your core while leaning closer, your ass slightly swaying to the beat. You circled the chair he was sitting in with lustful eyes that drove him insane (like your family who was watching from the other side, but for other reasons). He licked his lips and bit the inside of his cheek as a reflex, his brown eyes following you with a mixture of nerves and anticipation, after all you were both hormone filled teenagers. Slowly tilting his chin to force him to look at you, you smirked devilishly and ran your hand in his curly hair before letting your thumb crease his bottom lip. With a flicker of his eyes you started face away from him, taking a few steps forward then flipping your hair as you lowered your ass to the floor, sending Peter a wink while rising up slowly, letting him have a good look as if you were all alone.

Swinging your hips to the beat you let yourself sit in his lap, your back to his chest so your ass is pressed against his growing bulge. He put his hands on your hips and your rose like scent made his head dizzy as his hands ran slowly over your unbelievably soft skin and incredible shape.

Slowly leaning back, you let your shoulders hit his chest and wrapped your right arm around his neck. He tried fighting it but he was defeated and gave in to look into your cleavage, that from the angle gave him a perfect view of your lacy bra.

You slowly arched your back and turned to kneel down, your big eyes scanning his features change as you ran your hands over his thighs. He gulped nervously the closer you got to his crouch, a sly and devilish smirk appearing on your lips as you stopped mid action.

You flipped your hair to the side and quickly straddled him, you could see him turn a bright shade of red as you bit your lip. A smirk appeared on your lips as you felt him hard beneath your dress. You run your fingers through his curls and slowly down his neck before leaning closer to connect your soft lips with his sensible skin. A quite moan accidentally escaped to your ears causing you to stop your actions.

He seemed embarrassed but your simply smiled devilishly, your hips beginning to press against his crouch while rocking back and forth. You could see him biting his lips as you stared into his eyes, and the moment he looked into you, you closed the gap between the two of you and gave him a passionate kiss as if no one was there.

A smile intoxicated your lips as you moved to his ear “you can go lower if you want..” you trailed before looking at his wide eyes, your movements not stopping for a moment. He slowly ran his hands down your thighs and you raised a brow hinting him a place to go.

And he did. His warm fingers tailed up your dress and reached down your ass. You could feel your heart beat increase with every second in a very bad, best way.

The song slowly came to an end with you kissing the very flustered boy, you simply smirked and shrugged at everyone’s applause as you all rearranged your seats. They threw some cheeky comments at the both of you, you simply rolled your eyes but Peter seemed to be in a different world. That was until Michelle stood up and pulled a small device from her pocket.

-

“Uh..” Michelle hand captured the small camera in her hand, thank god it was only one way hear or else she’ll be able to hear the shrike coming from the avengers. Her face coming extremely closer to the camera, fingers lightly pressuring the pieces making the screen twitch before she scanned the small device with careful eyes.

When showing the group the small, spider like metal device you almost, well, no. You had a heart attack the moment you saw it.

And sure, seconds after that, your driver seemed to have a hard time keeping his cool as he motioned you and Peter to go get your coats, “we’re leaving.” He spoke, oh fuck.

-

“Bucky?” “I just want to talk to him” he answered Vision motionless, his eyes glued to the now blackout screen. Nat slowly rose from her seat and glanced at the blond solider who’s leg was jumping up and down, “Steve?” She called, her hand reaching for the man’s tensed shoulder as if he was a beast. “We just want to talk to him.” He rose quickly, his bright blue eyes hooded by a dark shadow and a tight smile crossing his lips with hidden anger.

Finally Rodney turned to his friend, he saw Tony mad before, angry, frustrated, hopeless anxious depressed he’d seen it all...but not this, this was stone cold and undeciphered. “Tony?” He called, “I just want to shoot him.” He stated, quickly rushing to his feet and turning to leave “What?” “You can’t shoot him Tony he’s a kid!” “Did you see how he-ba dthen he reached for her.. and what why was he smiling like this huh?! And he looked down at her dress! I’m not an idiot! He’s dead!” “Tony. He is a kid. Let it go we can—“”Yeah well so is she.” He said coldly, the room stayed quiet for a few minutes, all exchanging looks not sure what to do.

(Except Bucky who was now over a 1000 dollars richer and planned on going to get some pizza after killing Peter).

“It was a dare. not much come on” “do not tell me how to raise my child Natasha” “if I may interject” “you may not” “I do know a way where we can insure y/n’s well being and also stabilize...their behavior.” Vision spoke, having a slightly hard time to process the very tensioning situation. “Oh yeah? Enlighten me then” your father hissed, a sarcastic smile planted on his lips as his eyes through dagger around the room.

-

“the fact I am accepting it does not mean I’m ok with that” Tony muttered as FRIDAY announced that your car had arrived.

It was a very...awkward and frightening ride for the two of you. And though Peter was extremely turned on, knowing he was watched and is going to die seemed to make it disappear slightly.

“Children.” Tony spoke, Happy’s hands resting on Peter’s and yours shoulder, squeezing it tight so you’d be unable to escape from your father just yet. You quickly locked eyes with Peter, both of you being consumed with fear.

“Y/n. Care to explain?” Your father spoke, both of you knowing damn well what he meant. You could feel the palm of your hands sweating with nerves as you tried to comment something smug on why had he followed you, your words rolling out of you lips with a shake. “W-why d-did you follow us huh..? A-and I uh..” “wow. Ok next.” You father shut, and you didn’t seem to fight it.

“Peter Parker.” His voice seemed so loud, even though in reality it was a normal volume. “You reached down..my daughter’s..skirt.” He hissed.

Happy let the two of you go and took a few steps back, not quite feeling like ruining is suite with blood. You darted your eyes between your talkative family and your quite boyfriend before whispering “Run.” He seemed to be the only one who heard you because in literally seconds you two sprinted into two different directions.

-

“Parker. Get off the wall!” Tony yelled, peter was standing ok the ceiling, his hair dangling upside down. Your heart beat was still having a hard tile settling down from running, it was a stupid idea but worth it if it gave Peter a few more seconds of being alive.

“Sir. Listen. It wasn’t what it seemed like—“

“Get off the wall!” “No no you have to listen I swear I treat her right please don’t kill me!”

“I can’t kill you! You are on the freaking wall!” Tony shook his head, his eyes drifting to his feet briefly and then looking back at the teenager “And also May would kill me..” He muttered, earning a snorted laugh from Natasha.

You quickly made your way to the “Papa..” he indicated a finger to your lips, with a brief glare before turning back “hush. We’ll talk about this later.” His eyes still locked on Peter’s form glued to the wall, almost falling as Sam tried to tickle him with a broomstick.

-

“You’re dating.” Your dad declared as you and Peter sat next to one another in the kitchen table. Behind his were your entire family, even Loki, all throwing you mixed looks. Some had amusement and a blessing while other planned on murdering Peter for reaching down you skirt. “Yep.” You answered quickly, eyes slowly drifting to Peter who seemed as terrified as anyone had ever been. “Yes..” he finally answered, swallowing hard as if someone was choking him. Your heart beat booming in your brain with every breath that left your lips “I’m...” your father started, taking a deep breath and looking to his sides before looking back at you. “not fully ok with..this.” He continued twirling his finger towards the two of you before pinching the bridge of his nose. “But fine.” He huffed with a hidden smile, and that word “fine” was enough for you to feel happy. You brushed your fingers over Peter’s as a soft smile tugged at both of your lips, but maybe it was slightly a little bit early to celebrate.

“Y/n. Go upstairs for a moment will you?” You both darted your eyes away from each other and looked at the group fearfully. “The guys and me want to have a private conversation with Peter.” Your father smiled tightly and you nodded nervously. “Good luck” you murmured as the girls escorted you to your room, and yes, like your friends, they too teased you about your ‘hidden’ skill.

-

“I have 10 condoms,25 more ruled we’ll need to follow and over 300 ways your family will kill me if I hurt you....” peter trailed shakily, his form leaning against your door frame as his eyes locked at the foot of your bed. You shook your head with a smile a shy chuckle rolled from your lips “good..I think” you smiled, slowly swaying your hips before pulling him inside with a kiss.

-

-

-

-

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[elvendara]

Hello! I love your Werewolf AU so much; you're an awesome writer! Just curious as to what Saeyoung will do with the pack he got after winning the match? Thank you so much and I hope you keep writing for the fandom! 😆

WHHHEEEEHOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes yes yes!! Thank you for the encouragement! I will FOR SURE keep writing for this fandom! And OMG it’s been so long since I’ve written for my fabulous Werewolf Choi Twins! This was great! And I may, perhaps, kinda, sorta, per chance....have gone a little overboard with this ask!!!!!!!!!!

For those who haven’t read it, or who need a refresher of what the Anon is talking about, here you go: Keeping the Pack Safe

Most of this is under the cut because....over 3k words...

Saeyoung made his way into the living room. He didn’t even botherto try and hide the fact that he was not at a hundred percent health. They werehis pack now. The room was full, men and women sitting on the sofa’s thekitchen table and the stools, even some on the floor. They’d found the food andwere stuffing their faces. Shit, now he was responsible for feeding all thesepeople!

The noise fell instantly as the pack realized he stoodbefore them. All eyes were on him. One man came forward, his long brown hairfalling past his shoulders, his grey eyes dark and stormy. Saeyoung recognizedhim as Maccon’s second.

He nodded to Saeyoung, “I am Mason, Maccon’s second, I willmake a strong second for you as well.” He capitulated.

“I appreciate that, but, I already have a second.” Saeyoungnodded towards Saeran, who stood by Yoosung, arms around each other. MC steppedup next to him and slid her arm around his waist. He was grateful, needing herto lean on so he wouldn’t collapse.

Mason eyed Saeran, his eyes flicking back to Saeyoung, “Nooffense, but you will need a stronger second. This pack knows me and if youwant to integrate it fully, completely, and seamlessly, you will need me.”

“Why don’t we take this outside and see just who is thestrongest!” Saeran challenged, stepping forward. Yoosung grabbed his arm andtried to hold him back.

Mason snorted, “That’s right, listen to your Beta, sheobviously wears the pants in the family.” He snickered.

Yoosung sighed and let go of Saeran’s arm. It was no usetrying to contain him now. Saeran’s protective instincts were always high whenit came to Yoosung. It both thrilled him and frustrated him.

Saeran’s nostrils flared at the jab at Yoosung, his claws extended,and he took several menacing steps towards the taller werewolf.

“Enough! You will treat each and every member of this packwith respect, or you will deal with me!” Saeyoung pushed away from MC andbetween the two men. His voice carried the command of the alpha and every earpricked up at its use. Both men stood down, had they been in their wolf forms,their ears would be downcast in shame.

“Now that I have your attention…no offense…” Saeyoung began,mimicking Mason’s words, “but this pack belongs to me and they will do as they’retold. I am the alpha and what I say goes!” he finished and was mortified by asmall chuckle behind him. He turned his head and saw his wife tryingdesperately to stifle the laughter bubbling up inside her. His eyes narrowed ather and she bit her lower lip, but the look of shear amusement on her face wasa beacon for all to see.

“All right, fine. So what I say doesn’t always go.” He relented.“This isn’t a pack like you’re used to.” He shooed away a young werewolf, who couldn’tbe more than 16, if that, and sat on the vacated seat with a satisfied sigh.

“While I am the alpha, I don’t dictate. The only reason whySaeran is my second is because of stupid shit like what your previous alphamade me do. We work like any normal family. And yes, my wife, my beta, is moreoften than not, the boss.” He grinned, holding out his hand for MC to take. Shedid and sat on the arm of the chair next to him.

The pack exchanged glances, unsure of how to react.

“No listen up. I don’t know any of you. I’m not even sure Iwant to. I was happy with the size of my pack, unusual as it is. I’m not surewhat to even do with you! My house is big, but not big enough for all of you.However, I do have enough property to make a compound I suppose. However, Ihave another option if you’re willing to hear me out?” he asked.

The question left them even more confused. An alpha didn’task, they told. Saeyoung waited patiently until Mason sat on the coffee tablein front of him and nodded. It was enough of an assent for the rest.

“It seems as if you already have an alpha. What I purpose,is that Mason lead your pack. Whoever wishes to leave with him, may, whoeverwishes to stay as part of my pack, may.”

“Saeyoung…” Saeran protested. Saeyoung held his hand up tohis brother to stop him.

“They are part of our pack Saeran, I will not turn any ofthem away if they wish to stay.” Saeran grumbled, but at least he was sureMason would take the opportunity to become alpha and leave. But he couldn’t helpbut wonder how long it would be before he came back with a challenge of hisown.

“You’re giving me the pack?” Mason was dumbfounded, that wasnot how things were done. Saeyoung had been victorious, he’d shown the greaterstrength, and now he simply wished to give away his prize? Maccon was right,this pack did not deserve to exist. But if he was fool enough not to see hismistake, Mason would take what was offered.

“One condition however.” Saeyoung sat up, his elbows at hisknees.

“What condition?” Mason asked suspiciously.

“I am not gifting you anything. You can be the alpha of yourpack Mason, but, you will always be mine to command.” He declared.

“What?” Mason was taken aback, perhaps he wasn’t as stupidas he’d thought after all.

“What the hell kind of deal is that? How is it any differentthan just being under you?”

“The difference is that you can run your pack any way youwant without ever seeing or hearing from me gain. The only reason you would, isif you brought attention to yourself that goes against the rules.”

“Werewolf rules, or yours?” Saeyoung looked away, he knewhow ruthless werewolves could be. He didn’t like it, but it was not up to himto set the rules for the entire race.

“Werewolf rules.” MC squeezed his shoulder, she did notapprove he could tell, but it was the only way he could see to keep their ownpack out of other packs crosshairs. He would not impose his own beliefs onthem, that would lead to tragedy.

“You will, for all intents and purposes, be the alpha, withall that it entails. That also means that you can be challenged, if the pack gainsa new alpha, of course I will need to be made aware. If, after a time of mychoosing, things go well, I will relinquish my hold. Those are my terms, thoseare your choices. Considereing the circumstances, it’s the best you’re likelyto get.”

Mason looked back at the pack.

“Go ahead, talk to them.” Saeyoung stood with MC’s help, theboy who he’d shooed away stood from where he had been sitting on the floor andwalked up to them.

“I want to stay.” He blurted. He was shorter than Saeyoung,but not by much, his hair was a blue black he was sure came out of a box, hiseyes were sharp grey, so reminiscent of Jumin he was startled. The boy’s gazeflittered to Saeran and Yoosung, back to Saeyoung and MC, then down at hisshuffling feet. He was rounded in on himself. He jerked, as if hit, when Mason’svoice thundered through the air.

“Rikken!” he grabbed the boy’s arm and MC smacked him on thearm. Mason growled his teeth elongating but the woman did not back down. Shepulled the boy towards her and held him close, she felt him shiver and theanger inside her erupted.

“You touch him again and I won’t need the ‘Alpha’s’ permissionto rip your throat out!” she hissed. Mason glared at her, expecting Saeyoung tointerfere, he did not. In fact, the man looked amused. Mason stepped back, hisglare falling on the boy, another weakling, better that he was not part of hispack anyhow.

“Take him to the dinning room will you?” Saeyoung asked MC.She nodded and led the boy away, he was in good hands. SAeyoung hadn’t missedthe look he gave his brother and Yoosung, he was fairly sure he understood whyhe wanted to stay.

It did not take long for Mason and the rest to come to a decision.

“I accept your offer.” He held out his hand. Saeyoungnarrowed his eyes at it, then lifted them to the man’s grey eyes, they wereeager. Saeyoung felt a moment of resistance, this was not a good man. Perhapssome day he would need to deal with him more permanently, but for now, this wasfor the best.

Mason ground his teeth when he realized Saeyoung would nottake his hand, he would never be the man’s equal and Saeyoung wanted him toknow it. He bristled with the knowledge, but he would retreat, regain morestrength, and some day, deal with him more permanently.

“You may leave now!” Saeyoung stated, using the back of the armchair to hold him steady. “Unless there is anyone else who wishes to stay.”

A tall thin woman with light brown hair, large dark browneyes, a strong nose and a frightened look on her face scurried towards him.

“I…I want to stay.” She pleaded, her eyes wide.

“No!” Mason bellowed. Saeyoung sighed, was he going to dothis for everyone who wished to stay? “Belladonna is my beta! She remains withme, there is no other way.”

Shit, he was right, if the woman was his beta, she wouldneed to remain with him. It was rare that a beta would even want to leave her alpha.Very few reasons were enough for a break like this.

“Yoosung, take her into the dinning room with MC.” Yoosungmoved swiftly, taking the woman and physically moving her.

“You cannot do this!” Mason growled.

“I will speak with her.” Saeyoung looked away. He did notwant to send the woman back if she did not want to go, but if he granted herwish, he would be separating an alpha from his beta and it would be yet anotherreason for Mason to hate him. He felt a headache coming on, his throat aching. Hejust wanted to go back to bed.

“Anyone else who wishes to remain, Saeran will show you theway to the dinning room. I will meet with each and every one of you to makesure you understand the difference between my pack and those you have known inthe past.”

He waited, only three others separated from the pack, onewas a young woman whose mother tried to restrain her, but she peeled herselfaway with a glare at the woman and stalked after Saeran. When Saeran came back,he helped Saeyoung into his office.

“You should really rest before you do this.” His brothercriticized.

“I know, but, better to get it over with now. When I’m done,can you make sure rooms are made available for those who stay?”

“You really want them in the same house as us? The samehouse as your pregnant wife?” Saeran scowled.

“If they are to become part of our pack, we’re going to haveto learn to live together, you know that! A pack is a family, we do not turn oneach other.”

“These people are not family!”

Saeyoung simply stared up at his brother, unable to argue. “Bringme Rikken.” Was all he said. Saeran walked out without another word. He wasagainst this whole thing. All he wanted was for them all to leave. His family,his pack was perfect the way it was! He would have to barricade their bedroom tonightand make sure the security system was turned back on so he could make sure noneof these new comers were going to try anything. He walked into the dinning roomand glared at the boy.

“You, come with me!” he growled, unable to keep his anger incheck.

Yoosung’s lips thinned out and he took hold of the boy whohad shrunk into the chair he was sitting in at Saeran’s harsh words.

“What?” Saeran asked, confused by the look Yoosung wasgiving him. He only gave him that look when he’d done something wrong. What hadhe done?

“Come on, everything’s going to be fine.” Yoosung calmed theboy as they made their way to Saeyoung’s office. Yoosung left the boy alonewith him and Saeyoung tried to be as pleasant as he could be.

“Rikken is it?” the boy nodded. “Your parents?” he asked,assuming they might be part of the pack. The boy simply shook his head. Deadthen, no need to ask how it had happened. “I see. You’re gay aren’t you?” heasked bluntly, there were no secrets in a pack, how he had managed to keep thatone was a mystery.

His grey eyes flashed, tears welling in them before theybegan to fall silently and slowly.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Obviously you would not havesurvived much longer in your pack. You are welcome here. There is no judgement.Have you been going to school?” he asked suddenly, changing the subject.

The boy shook his head again.

“Well, that will have to change. You will be enrolled inschool.”

“What?!” the boy looked aghast at the thought.

“Have you thought of what you want to be when you grow up?”Saeyong felt like an idiot with these questions.

“N…no…in the pack, you’re just put with someone to learn atrade.”

“You can do that as well if you wish. But I’d like you to takethe next couple of years and really thing about what you want for yourself. Youare not indentured to the pack. The pack is here to help you, to protect you,to encourage you to be the best you can be.” Now that really sounded cheesy.

“I…thank you…” he whispered.

Saeyoung dismissed him and had Belladonna brought in next.

“Please please, do not send me back with him!” she pleadedbefore she was even completely in the room. She knelt at Saeyoung’s side andgrasped his hands. Yoosung eyed her but did not try to pull her away. Saeyoungwaved him out and settled the woman on a chair opposite him.

“Calm down. You know I can’t just sever a bond like that. Ineed a reason.”

“There is no bond! We aren’t even married! He took mebecause Maccon told him he could! Our first night together he raped me, it wasnot consensual, it has never been consensual! If you send me back, I’ll killmyself! I can’t, I can’t keep living like this!”

He could see she was being truthful and he hated that werewolfsociety allowed things like that still. It was barbaric and disgusting. He allowedher to stay, what else could he do? He allowed the others as well, the youngwoman had made him promise he would never promise her to anyone without herconsent, as her parents had done, promising her to a man she did not want to bewith. The others simply were tired of the constant fury and anger a packconsisted of. They had seen how serene and peaceful Saeyoung’s pack was andwanted that kind of life.

He let the pack know his decision, those staying were keptin the dining room with MC as Yoosung made sure to get rooms ready for them inthe house. Thankfully there were enough. Mason was outraged that he would notgive Belladonna back to him.

“You have no real claim on her. You’re not married, and thebond wasn’t completed. If it had been, she would not find it so easy to separate.You are untethered, and can find another beta, perhaps one more suited to you.”

Mason bristled at that and gnashed his teeth. He turned onhis heels and walked out, the rest filing out behind him. Saeran caughtSaeyoung as he collapsed. He picked his exhausted brother up and placed himback in bed. Then he made sure everything was locked up tight and watched asthe entire pack left the grounds. He closed the gates they never used at theend of the driveway and electrified the fence. He wasn’t taking any chances.

It took Yoosung a long while to go to bed and Saeran wasstill awake when he did.

“I thought you’d be in the control room.” Yoosung bitscathingly.

“You know I don’t like it when you’re angry with me. Whatdid I do?”

“Saeran! You of all people should have been the nicest tothat boy! How could you scare him like that?”

“What are you talking about? Why should I be nice to him? Idon’t know him. I don’t like him, I don’t want him here, I don’t want any of themhere!” he retorted.

Yoosung’s shoudlers sagged and he shook his head indisappointment.

“You aren’t going to make me feel guilty Yoosung. Not thistime. I have every right to be angry! And afraid!” he shot.

Yoosung’s eyes softened. He crawled onto the bed and cuppedSaeran’s face with his hands.

“Of course you do. I’m sorry babe. I know you’re scared.This is all knew for all of us. It isn’t something we were prepared for buthere it is, and at least with Saeyoung’s solution, we don’t have to incorporatean entire new pack. Just a few broken toys, like us.” He grinned and kissedSaeran gently.

“You know that’s going to come back and bite us in the ass,don’t you?”

“Yes, but, at least we’ll see it coming.” Saeran smirked athis beta, Yoosung was much smarter than people gave him credit for because ofhis youthful innocence.

“About Rikken…” Saeran rolled his eyes and turned away fromYoosung, pulling the covers over him.

“Saeran!” Yoosung pressed against his back, his fingers playingwith the soft fur he normally sprouted at night. He liked how Yoosung would runhis finger over it and through it. Now he retracted the fur and Yoosung bit hisshoulder in consternation. Good, now they could both be annoyed!

“The boy is gay.” Yoosung whispered. Saeran’s eyes sprangopen. How had he missed that? “You of all people know what it’s like to be agay werewolf. He’s going to be looking up to you. Looking for a way to survive.”

Saeran turned back around to stare into Yoosung’s beautifulamethyst eyes.

“I can’t be that person! I only survived because of you!”

“Then I guess you’re going to have to teach him how to findthe best thing to ever happen to him!” Yoosung grinned. Saeran scoffed androlled his eyes. Life had just gotten a bit harder, but maybe, a bit bettertoo. He would have to wait and see. He let the fur grow again and Yoosungpractically purred as he dug his fingers into it.

[ugh-supersoldiers]

Under Oath - Part One

Under Oath Masterlist

Characters: Bucky x reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson

Summary: The people called for justice, the state answered. The trial of State v. Barnes is set to begin, and the odds are most certainly not in favor of the not so beloved ex Winter Soldier. That’s where you come in, the quick, smart, and all too brave lawyer set on defending and saving one Bucky Barnes from legal prosecution. The only problem? He’s not so sure he’s worth saving at all.

Warnings: Swearing, some angst, guilt ridden!Bucky (that’s gonna be a constant in this entire fic), slow burn

Words: 2560

A/N: FIRST PART!!!!!!!!! I can’t stress this enough but please please please REBLOG AND LEAVE FEEDBACK IN THAT REBLOG OR IN MY INBOX. You have no idea how much it helps me navigate my writing!

It had been an entirely normal day until the phone call. 

The phone call that might have all but shattered every shred of hope that Bucky Barnes had left at achieving any inkling of normalcy.

Seemingly, things were getting back to about as normal as they could be given the remarkably abnormal circumstances. Bucky had moved into the Avengers tower after the wake of the coveted war that had left the team divided was officially laid to rest. It had been at the request of Steve Rogers of course, and if there was one thing Bucky couldn’t do it was say no to his best friend after everything he’d had done for him.

Bucky had almost settled in. Almost.

You see when you’re an assassin for as long as he’d been, getting comfy with your surroundings doesn’t come all that easy. Staying in one spot for an extended period of time wasn’t a thing that he’d done in a while. Neither was trusting people but he was making progress as best he could - even with Tony.

The fateful call had broken up a rather entertaining morning’s antics. Sam had decided to put salt in the sugar bowl - again - which caused Steve to chew him out in front of the entire team - again. Of course, watching Steve’s face go beat red in a mixture of anger and just a hint of betraying mischief was one of the few things that put a dauntingly tight-lipped smirk on Bucky’s face. 

He wasn’t quite ready to smile, not yet at least. Smiling meant letting go. Smiling hinted at some sort of underlying fulfillment that he was certain he did not have. Smiling meant accepting the context of your life enough to be comfortable and, in turn, be happy.

Maybe Bucky wasn’t quite ready to be happy yet.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to smile, it was just that he felt he wasn’t sure he deserved that right. The right to be comfortable; carefree.

Nevertheless, listening to the borderline childlike interchange between Steve and Sam was enough to irk that signature as-close-as-it’s-gonna-get lip curl out of him.

Just when it was really getting good, the high pitch shrill of Steve’s phone blared into the room.

Bucky was bad with sudden loud sounds, so he couldn’t help but jump out of his seat a little at the upset, but Steve was quick to snatch it up off of the kitchen counter and answer it.

“Hello?” He said, still trying to calm the chuckle that remained in his chest from just a moment earlier, a slowly fading smile still present on his face.

But it vanished in an instant.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Sam and Bucky exchange a glance. Steve was the resident appointed swear police around the compound - and Bucky could validate that fact given that he was the resident potty mouth and was on the receiving end of the bad language scolding more than anyone else - so hearing Steve drop the almighty F bomb so casually meant something was bad. Very bad.

“That makes absolutely no sense! Why now? Why not months ago when he first- No, sir. Yes, I understand that. Well, come on! What do you take me for, an idiot?”

Steve’s brow was invaded by a heavy crease. Sam stood frozen in his spot, eyes wide at his friend. Bucky observed with the same blank expression that he usually held, but he analyzed like he always did. The truth was, neither Sam nor Bucky really knew what to do yet.

Steve wasn’t antsy, but something about what the caller was saying had driven him completely up the wall.

“Listen to me very carefully: I am not going to stand by and watch you put him on trial for something that was out of his hands, do you understand?”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. A trial? For something that Steve believed wasn’t the accused’s fault.

He sucked in a breath, epiphany hitting like a baseball bat to the face in a back alley. Bucky was the presupposed him and the hundreds of bodies that had been left in his wake from his time at hydra were the entailed something.

The blood drained from his face fast enough to cause him to feel lightheaded at his seat behind the kitchen island.

The rest of Steve’s heated phone call faded to mere background static to the all to familiar intense pounding that began ringing in Bucky’s ears. How could he not have seen this coming? How could he have let himself believe that he was going to somehow escape this?

It was stupid really, he thought.

Life had a sick sense of humor, and the life that Bucky had lead was proof of that. It was all a demented game of cat and mouse, and Bucky always ended up as the mouse - even if evidence suggested otherwise.

That was when his legs started to shake, his vision blurry, heart racing at a rate just a little too high. His breathing picked up and he put his hands on his temples, rubbing harshly to try and stop what he knew was coming.

Bucky had gone a decently long time without a panic attack; about three weeks now. It was slow, but he’d come a long way since coming to the tower and now all of his hard work was going right out the window.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath, but not quiet enough for the likes of Sam Wilson not to notice.

“You alright, man?” He asked as Steve still badgered the caller. Bucky might have pitied the sap on the other end if he wasn’t entirely consumed by panic.

All he could do was shake his head, no. Bucky’s attacks were never explicit. Always quiet, always almost unnoticeable to the untrained eye. Sam wasn’t untrained.

“Could to ten,” Sam said quietly, “But do it out of order.”

It was a strategy that seemed to work for Bucky, Sam knew this. His brain wouldn’t focus on panic if it was focusing on trying to sort out the pattern of a random sequence of cardinal numbers.

“Four…” Bucky inhaled, trying to begin his numbers.

“Nine…” He attempted to picture something peaceful while he counted, but the only things he could see were the faces of those he’s killed.

“Seven…” Blood is everywhere. There’s screaming, too. Someone begs for their life to be spared as a metal hand wraps tightly around their throat.

“One…” But the Soldier can’t show mercy, he isn’t programmed to understand it. Mercy would diverge from a mission. He’ll keep squeezing until his target stops moving.

“Three…” He sees a car hit a tree with a loud crash.

“Eight…” He’s at the side door, ripping it off of its hinges.

“Two…” The face of Howard Stark flashes into his mind, and a taunting whisper of his name. It was a recognition of an old ally, a friend. He’d called out to him seconds before the Soldier had bashed his face in.

“Five…” The tears trailing down his cheeks surprise him, he didn’t know he’d even started to cry.

“T-ten…” Maria Stark is next, perhaps one of the most innocent of them all. And he’s all too compliant to feel her pulse under his thumb until he doesn’t anymore. 

“Si-ix…”

Steve hung up the phone just quick enough to barely catch Bucky before he slid off the stool he was on and onto the floor into a heap. Sobs were uncontrollably wracking his chest at a rate even Steve hadn’t seen.

Guilt worked like poison in the bloodstream.

“Buck…” Steve reasoned, “We gotta go down to the station. We gotta- We gotta make out way down there now.”

Bucky heaved out what could only be described as the midway point between a deep exhale and a muffled scream. He tried so hard to calm down, told himself to stop being so fucking weak until it finally worked.

He let Steve and Sam collect him off of the floor and escort him into a car. He aimlessly stared out the window as they drove, counting the trees they passed and hoping his eyes weren’t still red by the time they arrived.

Bucky Barnes had blood on his hands. No matter how hard he tried to wash it away, to scrub it off of his skin, it would always remain. He always had a sneaking suspicion that his past would catch up with him, he was even surprised it had taken so long for it come knocking.

“So let me get this straight,” Steve said to the man standing at the other end of the interrogation room turned holding area, “You’re going to try him for the murder’s done by Hydra?”

“With all due respect Mr. Rogers-”

“Captain Rogers.”

“Captain Rogers,” The suited man adjusted his honorific as he desperately tried to remain calm. Steve only ever corrected people like that when he was outright pissed, “Your friend has been an active assassin for the last 70 years-”

“As if that was his choice.” Steve said, a bitterness that Bucky wasn’t used to lacing his tone liberally.

“-And with that in mind, the people are pushing the state to pursue a trial so that justice can be served for the victims and their families.”

“If they want justice so badly they should be going after Hydra, not Bucky.” 

From the seat that Bucky sat on in the middle of the room, he couldn’t help but feel like he was watching a tennis match. He was constantly looking back and forth at either man on opposite ends of the rather small space that had been provided at the local precinct. 

The man standing across from Steve was well enough dressed to have money, young enough to be labelled as successful at an early age, and most definitely transparent enough to be read like a book. Bucky knew very well this man was terrified to be delivering this news to the likes of Captain America.

“Captain Rogers,” The man choked out, “I’m merely a representative of the state. Try not to shoot the messenger.”

Steve sighed and massaged his temples, closing his eyes.

“Sorry,” He breathed, “You’re not the one I should be speaking to.”

“You’re right,” The state representative said, “The one you should speak to is the best lawyer money can buy.”

He brushed past Steve, handing him a file, before twisting the knob of the door and exiting the room, shutting the door behind him with a loud thud.

It was strange seeing Steve in Mother Hen mode, it was a side of him that he never really exuded publicly like this. Perhaps if the circumstances weren’t so dire, Bucky would have made fun of him for it.

Time and place, Barnes.

The thing was Bucky wasn’t upset about this, in fact he was relieved. He deserved this, after all. He’d killed countless people with his bare hands to serve Hydra’s vindictive agenda. He should be tried and convicted for all of it.

“I called Tony earlier, he said he’d get us an attorney we could trust.” Steve said, pulling out his phone and reading what Bucky assumed was a text message from Stark.

In a strange way, Bucky realized, Steve was trying to comfort him. He didn’t need comfort, what he needed was to quench the thirst of guilt that went unsettled in his belly.

“Apparently, he’s pulling up out front now with them.” Steve concluded as he looked at the screen.

Bucky merely nodded aimlessly at the nothingness he stared at straight ahead of him.

Silence enveloped them. The type of silence that made you question if it was a comfortable one or not. Bucky felt fine, but he was feeding off of the nervous energy that practically radiated from Steve’s skin.

He felt bad for his friend, he really did. Steve probably had this twisted version of the future in his head of the two of them being just like they were before all of this, and now he was watching it all crumble in his palm.

A knock on the door stopped his thoughts in their tracks.

Steve opened it, allowing Tony Stark to march into the room, dressed even better than the state rep that had nearly run out of the room.

You followed in behind, dressed in a black pencil skirt and matching blazer. Your hair was pinned back behind you. There were several case files in your hand from the hours of reading up on the Fist of Hydra himself post phone call with Stark.

Bucky looked at you intently. He had been expecting some old man with hair grey as ash who stood at 6 feet that could intimidate the hell out of any witness. You were none of these things. He instantly doubted his chances at winning, which brought a sick warmth of comfort into his bloodstream. 

“Barnes,” Tony said as the door shut, “Meet (Y/N) (Y/L/N), your only hope at making it out of this trial alive.”

“Let’s not get too cocky,” You said quietly, tucking a fallen piece of hair behind your ear, “I can’t promise a win, but I can promise the best fighting chance that any lawyer in New York could give you.”

Bucky almost admired your naivety. To believe there was a shot in hell at getting him out of this was at best a distant dream, and at worst a career nightmare. Bucky wasn’t in the business of ruining lives; at least he tried not to be anymore.

“Look,” Bucky began, “I know you’re doing what you think is right but this is a stupid move.” 

You locked eyes with him, taking in his words. 

“I disagree.” The phrase rolled off your tongue too easily for his liking.

His nostrils flared, he needed you to understand that getting involved with this case was going to absolutely end any sort of prospects you had for a reasonable future.

“Mr. Barnes, I’m not here because I have my eyes set on winning a globally covered case,” You said to him, “I’m here because I believe you shouldn’t be convicted of the crimes you’re accused of commiting.”

“Well isn’t that just fucking idiotic of you.”

“Buck.” Steve warned, muttering a quick apology to you.

Bucky didn’t really want to be so rude to you, but he couldn’t think of another way of getting you to drop his case. You seemed nice enough, determined and bright. He didn’t want to be responsible for trashing your career before you even got a shot.

“It’s alright,” You said with a smile at Steve, “That residual anger is something we have to work through together, you and I.” Your attention was now back on Bucky again, “And your efforts to turn me away have all but failed miserably, Mr. Barnes.”

“When do we start then, Ms. (Y/L/N).” Bucky’s eyes rolled before he could stop them.

“We start just as soon as I negotiate a select few terms with the prosecution. I need you to stay put for a minute or two.” You nodded at Bucky and smiled softly.

Your kindness didn’t irritate him as he’d hoped it would, it more disheartened him. He’d tried to deter you and had failed miserably, and now he was going to have another thing to feel guilty about after he destroys your life with his hell-past.

“Thanks, (Y/N).” Tony escorted you out the door and right before it shut he whispered rather harshly, “Get your shit together Barnes and be ready when she comes back. You’ve got a lot of work to do.” 

Bucky was now aware that there was a schedule to obey, there were now rules to play by, there was now going to be light shed on every nasty little thing he had done in the last 70 years.

And now the world was going to find out that the one person who believed most in the world that Bucky Barnes wasn’t worth salvation was the very man himself.

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[armoured-iron-geek]

Tony’s Final Choice: Part 2

Follow up to Tony’s Final Choice

As requested by @pinksaphira11

It was Rocket and Quill who found Tony in the dust on that lonely cluster of leftover planet, broken and bloody and bruised...his heart beating no longer. The Iron Man suitcase armour dropped hopelessly from Quill’s hand, far too late to save and protect it’s creator.

As Quill stepped forward to further assess the body, Rocket raised a shaking paw to the communicative device in his ear that he and Tony had built their quick friendship over creating together. He passed along the grave message to Strange, who then spoke onto his own ear piece.

For the fighters in Wakanda, the planet seemed to stop spinning for a brief moment, a thick tension quickly building then bursting in a wave of shock as Strange’s voice reverberated through their very souls.

 “Iron Man is down. Repeat: Iron Man...is down.”

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

Thanos had backed down for the time being, biding his time despite having nearly all of the Infinity Stones in his possession. No one was quite sure why he had decided that this break was necessary, but they weren’t going to waste an opportunity to lick their wounds, re-group and, most importantly, lay their loved ones to rest.

In some morbid way, the Avengers could be considered lucky to have only lost a single member of their team while entire families had been ripped apart and entire planets had lost their populations. And in another morbid way, Tony was lucky to remain an individual, to keep his name and not just become a figure in some statistic logged in a government file. He remained Anthony Edward Stark:

Genius. Billionaire. Husband. Philanthropist.Hero. Martyr.

Two weeks after his death, he and his beloved Pepper, who had perished in the act of evacuating Stark Industries during the initial invasion, lay peacefully side-by-side in a closed double-casket made from gold titanium alloy. The funeral itself was worthy of Mr and Mrs. Stark’s status, but there was a simplicity to it’s elegance.

The service was held in Green-Wood Cemetery, among the oak trees and upon freshly mowed green grass. The attendees gathered close to each other, a fairly large group, but restricted to distant family, friends, colleagues and members of the Stark Industries board. Memorials and makeshift candle-light vigils were held in the US and all around the world for the fans and admirers who wanted to say good-bye in their own way. People sang, danced and prayed, some clad in black, others in red and gold.

As both Tony and Pepper were openly atheist, there were no psalms or passages from any religious texts to be read, just stories and memories to be told and cherished. Eventually, it was time to lower the Starks into their final resting place, a melancholy song called River crooning them downwards.

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

Several miles away, a solemn teen rested against a mountain of pillows in a hospital, limbs in casts, IV’s in place and the steady beeping of a heart monitor for company. His aunt had disappeared to run a few errands, promising to return as soon as possible, but in all honesty, he was glad for the loneliness. No one can pity you if they don’t see you crying.

His sobs weren’t caused by any physical pain. His healing factor had kicked in perfectly and if it weren’t for the fact that his legs had been shattered so badly, he’d already be up and out of there. No, this pain was far worse than any broken bone, stab wound, bullet wound or burn could ever muster. It could only be brought about again by losing the one thing he seemed incapable of holding onto.

Family.

There were many wonderful things Tony Stark had taught Peter Parker. Their  original conversations about science, engineering and superhero antics had gradually extended into general life, Tony passing on the wisdom and logic that could only come from a mind like his.

Peter would always remember his favourite conversation the mentor and protege engrossed themselves in one night, digging into greasy pizza in the Compound’s workshop.Tony had been taking Peter through the framework of each of his AI’s and robots, demonstrating how they were entirely different, but still connected through various characteristics. It had sent Peter on a vaguely related train of thought.

“It’s kinda like me and Ned,” Peter had pondered aloud.

Tony had sent him an inquiring look at that statement, giving him a ‘go on’ gesture since his mouth was currently shut together by an excess of cheese.

“It’s just- I mean-Ned and I are so different. We have different ethnic backgrounds, different living situations, we don’t have the same interests in different areas of science, but none of that matters in the end,” Peter clarified.

Tony smiled softly, seemingly happy to divert the original conversation by prodding further. He hastily swallowed his current mouthful, “It’s the few things that you do have in common that counts.”

That was neither a statement nor a question.

Peter nodded, “Yeah, I guess. I’ve known Ned since I was little-”

“You mean more little than you are now?”

“Shut-up, you’re barely taller than me,” Peter lightly huffed, grinning at Tony’s laughter and giving him a playful shove, “Ned’s been my friend since forever and it’s gotten to the point where we do stuff for each other without questioning it. We help each other with homework, build Lego sets, I help him talk his parents into letting us go and do stuff, he helps me with Spider-Man stuff-”

“Right, he’s your guy in the chair. How could I forget? He’s only reminded me three billion times.”

“Hey, he just wants you to recognise him, “ Peter chuckled, “Having Tony Stark’s number in his phone is kinda a big deal for him.”

“I’m sure it is. Doesn’t mean I’m not second guessing whether I should have given it to him in the first place,” Tony teased, readjusting himself in his spot on the couch. He was silent for a few moments before shooting Peter a meaningful look, “Ned’s like a brother to you, isn’t he?”

Taken aback by the sudden mood-shift, Peter shrugged it off before replying, “Yeah...I suppose he is.”

Tony gave another soft smile, a rare occurrence. Quietly, he admitted, “Kinda like me and Rhodey. Couldn’t possibly tell you how many times that poor bastard’s had to haul my sorry ass back to safety. I’m telling you now, Kiddo, the people who are willing to save you from yourself no matter how bad things get- they’re the ones you hold onto. I’ve had to learn that the hard way.”

For a few moments, Tony went silent, a sobered look passing across his features as his eyes suddenly set on the storage cupboard Peter knew held Captain America’s shield. Peter was keen to move the conversation forward, but Tony bet him to it. 

“The important thing to remember though,” Tony pressed on, “is to remember to give back. It took me longer than I care to admit to realise that and I nearly lost everyone. Never half-ass family, Peter. I’m sure I don’t actually need to tell you this, but at the end of the day, blood and genetics mean nothing. Especially for people like you and me. Our families consist of those who are just as weird and broken as we are because we need each other.”

Peter couldn’t help but grin at the genius’ honesty. The teen could have sworn, Tony was blushing, clearly not used to being this open in a single conversation. Peter decided to give something back. Like Tony said, you don’t half-ass it.

“You know you’re apart of mine, right?” Peter stated, causing Tony to swivel his entire body towards him in shock, “You came out of nowhere and gave me a chance to pursue something I was starting to think was far bigger than I could handle. Not only that, but you never left. Too many people have....”

Out of all the reactions Peter was expecting to get, a few moments of silence before abruptly being pulled into a tight hug was the best and most welcome of them. Tony never verbally responded, but Peter got the general idea.

“You’re apart of mine too.”

But now that precious part of Peter’s family was gone and just as irretrievable as those who had gone before him. Peter twitched in his bed, groaning and using his one good hand to wipe away the tears. He was bitter that the funeral was happening without him, but simultaneously relieved that he wouldn’t have to bear the memories of it.

A sharp glint of light was caught in his eye as the sun shone through the window. Grunting, he shifted his head to gaze at the ever-present sentry in the corner of the room. The Prime Iron Man armour hadn’t left his side, F.R.I.D.A.Y opting to stick to the final direction given to her by her creator. K.A.R.E.N had engaged her in a heated conversation, even attempting to take over the armour, declaring she was quite capable of caring for her directive, but Tony’s A.I was having none of it. Peter now had two bickering intelligence's at his disposal, much to his chagrin.

Their continuing arguments and constant doting frustrated him, but at least they were a distraction, preventing him from having to deal with his loss for a few moments at a time. He didn’t want to remember the moment of shock and the numbness that followed in the wake of being told his father-figure was dead. He wanted to escape the guilt that left him drowning and kept him awake at night as he tried to stop himself from screaming. He knew that wasn’t want Tony wanted of him, but how could he prevent himself from feeling what was true to his core?

A few weeks later.

Still stiff, but thankfully mobile, Peter sat by Aunt May on a leather couch across from one of the Stark lawyers in Stark Manor. The place was freshly cleaned and returned to it’s former glory, a bit stuffy and cold for Peter’s liking, but that could easily be changed if he wanted it to be so.

After all, the Manor was now his. As was several more properties across the globe, half of Tony’s intellectual properties and a third of Tony’s wealth and controlling shares of Stark Industries. Another third was split between Rhodey and Happy.

The final third of Tony’s wealth and the other half of his intellectual property was being bequeathed to another kid his age, someone Tony had told him about but never had the chance to meet before now. Harley Keener was seated with his mother and sister on the only other leather couch in the room, looking just as melancholy and nervous as Peter felt. That alone was enough to prompt him to approach the other teen once the formalities and paper work had been dealt with. 

The two Stark heirs accompanied each other to the Manor’s pool area, settling down on old deck chairs, content to be next to each other in the silence for a while, just enjoying the cool breeze grazing their faces. Peter was happy to lay there for longer, but eventually Harley got curious and turned towards him, tilting his head.

“So you’re Spider-Man, huh?”

Harley gave a weak chuckle at Peter’s jerk reaction, giving himself away before he could even try to deny it.

“Don’t worry, Tony never blabbed. He would never do that to you. I kinda hacked into F.R.I.D.A.Y and found your file. Tony was both pissed and impressed by that...”

Despite himself, Peter laughed, hardly caring after several weeks of emotional turmoil,”Just don’t go spreading it around, yeah? Once we both turn 18, we’ll be sharing ownership of the same company. Best to not go pissing each other off.”

Harley chuckled again, “True. Shit. That shouldn’t be hard, should it?”

“What?”

“Owning the biggest tech company in the world. One of us is gonna have to run it eventually.”

“Ugh, I really don’t want to think about that right now. I don’t care,” Peter sighed, “I can’t even think about putting my suit on at the moment. Tony made that, y’know? He put so much effort into it...Parachute....Heater....A.I...Over 500 ways to shoot a web, how did he even...?”

“He cared about you, that’s how,” Harley stated as if it were the most obvious fact in the world. It probably was, “Just like how he tutored me in engineering despite not being able to visit me that much.....I’m gonna miss it...”

“Yeah,” sighed Peter. 

The two heirs fell back into their shared silence again for several minutes before Harley once again broke it.

“Tony was closer to you than me.”

“What makes you say that? You knew him longer than I did.”

“Yeah, but you got to see him every week....I was just...”

“Family. You were his family. Tony said so.”

Harley looked apprehensive, but hopeful, “Did he really say that?”

Peter gave a grim smile, “Well...not directly, but it was implied. He said that his family consists of people who are just as weird as he was....”

“....You’re calling me weird?”

Peter chuckled, “Is that a bad thing?”

Harley considered it for a moment, “Nope, it’s not a bad thing at all.”

“Good. I guess....I guess we’ll just have to keep being weird together without him, right?”

“Right.”