#just realized how often I mention Vienna in this post | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years ago

Text

The Long Con Part Five

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 💕 Warnings: This is almost purely fluff. There’s some angst in there, but it’s just, like...A speck. And it’s covered over by fluff. Also I’ve never been to Austin, I did a lot of Googling for this bit, so if any of it is inaccurate, I’m sorry!! It seems like such a cool town and I don’t wanna do it a disservice! Lastly, I linked the museum and the art pieces mentioned in the chapter at the end of the chapter, under the tags. Summary: You’d stayed behind to get ready— but you didn’t know what exactly what you were be getting ready for.

While you and Marcus would be helping Marnie and the family out with wedding prep during the week, they didn’t have anything in particular scheduled for that day. After he’d had his breakfast, Marcus had showered, gotten dressed, and left to get the car that he’d rented for two of you to use that week. You’d stayed behind to get ready— but you didn’t know what exactly what you were be getting ready for. “I wanna show you around while we’ve got some time,” Marcus had told you between stealing sips of your coffee (which were solely permitted because the two of you were pretending to be together - if this had been under any other circumstance, he would not have gotten away with a single sip. His parents had found it adorable. You had found it a loss of coffee).

You dressed in casual clothing, things that you knew you’d have no trouble walking around in for the day. Marcus honked twice once he was outside in the rental, and you bid quick goodbyes to his family.

-- “So,” Marcus glanced over at you from behind the dark lenses of his aviator sunglasses, “We have a few options-- well, we’ve got a ton, but, I was thinking we could take a tour of the Capitol building, and check out the Harry Ransom Center -- it’s this massive archive and library. There are a few places we could hit for lunch, and then… I don’t know, the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center? And I thought we could finish with the Blanton Museum of Art?... Or is that, like, a no, since we’re both kinda around art all the time?” You watched him for a few moments, stunned. He’d clearly gone out of his way to think about what you’d like to do -- places that he knew and that you would like. He wanted you to have fun, and time out of the house - away from his family. Marcus was taking you out and about like… Like he probably would a real girlfriend. “That all sounds really awesome,” You admitted softly. Marcus grinned at you, and you settled back in your seat, facing forward again. -- Conversation came as easily as it had when you were in D.C. Marcus dropped the odd fact about Austin now and again (though it was nothing near his panicked post-flight info-dump), pointed out his old haunts, told you about his and Marnie’s childhoods. Even without his family around, you found that the two of you kept close. You reached for one another’s hands; Marcus drew you into his side when you were in crowded places; even when there was plenty of room, Marcus’ hand was on your shoulder, or your back. The contact was comforting; it didn’t feel forced. You found yourselves strolling through the Blanton with your fingers intertwined, speaking in hushed tones so as not to disturb the patrons around you. It was where the two of you wound up spending most of your day, discussing Fogel’s Conflict and Kern’s The Adoration of the Magi and Dorigny’s Diana of the Hunt. When you drifted into the Klimt pieces on loan from the Belvedere Museum in Vienna, and the two of you stopped in front of The Kiss, Marcus cupped your chin and leaned down, pecking the corner of your lips. You couldn’t help the stupid grin that took over your face, and you leaned into him, turning your head and hiding your face in his shoulder.

He just curled an arm around you, smoothing a thumb along your side as you let your sheepishness run its course. You turned your head as it ebbed away, finally, taking in the intertwined lovers, robed in gold and adorned with flowers.

“Okay, this… Is stupidly cool,” You admitted, looking around. “I was a little worried that you were going to stop at ‘stupid’.” “No!” You laughed, “I’ve never been anywhere like this.” Marcus had brought you to a bar with an arcade in Southern Congress for dinner. The two of you had ordered dinner and were looking for a few games to play before the food arrived. “They’ve got a little bit of everything. Pinball, Pac-man, Tron, Skeeball,” Marcus listed off. “Galaga?” “They’ve got Galaga.” “Perfect.” Marcus was exceptional at Pac-man and pinball, but you learned that you had the upper hand when it came to air hockey. You managed to play two games of it (both of which you won) before the food came. “Today has all been insanely awesome,” You told him after you’d polished off your pizza, “Thank you. I mean-- Seriously, you didn’t have to do this.” “I didn’t want you feeling like we were stuck at my family’s place all week, and...I mean I know we’re down here for Marnie, but you said you’d never been to Austin. I didn’t want you to miss out on seeing the city.” You and Marcus shared a smile before he added, “The whole day has been insanely awesome, huh?” “Yeah.” “Even in the kitchen?” “You mean when you were drinking my coffee? ‘Cause that put you on thin ice, mister.” “Right before that,” He corrected. The smile he was giving you was two parts bashfulness and one part coy. You folded one arm on the table, pillowing your chin on your other hand. “...Yeah, I’d include that. As first kisses go, it was…” You nodded a little, eyeing Marcus from under your lashes, “It was very...Very nice.” “‘Very nice’?” Marcus repeated, “I guess that’s not the worst review I’ve ever gotten.” “Don’t get all huffy,” You chuckled, ”I mean it, it was… I forgot what being kissed like that even felt like.” “What do you mean?” “I mean that...Was my first kiss in two years.” “Two-- How is that possible?” Marcus’ brow furrowed. You rolled your eyes a little bit, glancing away from Marcus as embarrassment swirled in your stomach. “The last person was my ex-fiancé. After that fell apart…” You shrugged, “I haven’t dated since.” You felt Marcus lean a little closer to get a better look at you. “Did you give up on finding someone?” “Not on purpose. I think I just...Built up some walls that I had torn down really quickly with them. And I built those walls up double. I prioritized work-- the devil I knew, you know.” “No dates, nothing?” “Nope.” “How many people did you turn down?” “What makes you think I turned anyone down?” Marcus tipped his head to the side, giving you a slight once-over as he muttered, “C’mon.” You shook your head, letting out a quiet, embarrassed laugh. “Well, how long after your engagement broke did you wait to date?” You asked. Marcus’ lips pressed into a thin, contemplative line before he admitted, “Five months.” “What made you get back out there? I mean… How’d you know you were ready?” “I wasn’t, but I was worried that if I waited until I was, the woman that had asked me out wouldn’t be available when I got there. I took a leap. It wasn’t a good leap, but it was a leap,” he chuckled, “And it made me remember that dating can suck and putting myself out there could be scary, but… Ultimately, it’s worth it.” You and Marcus regarded one another quietly for a moment. You couldn't even imagine what he was thinking. You couldn't understand how he was still so open to finding love when he'd been hurt the way he had. That sort of loss had only made you want to recede; it seemed to make Marcus even more determined to find love. Frankly, it was a wonder that he hadn't yet— he was the kindest man you'd ever met. You lowered your eyes to your empty plate as you realized that you were staring. It was easy to get caught up in his warm eyes; you’d found it happening more often lately, and it certainly suited the purposes of the lie you were playing up around his family. But there was something about all of it— his gaze, his smile, everything that the two of you had done today — it stirred up twinges or remorse. Lately you’d found yourself wondering if there ever could’ve been something real between the two of you, if you’d met under different circumstances. That was a very dangerous line of thought.

“If you’re finished with your food, we can go play some more air hockey.” You smiled at the offer, glancing back up at him as you asked, “I didn’t kick your ass enough the first time?” “Oh-- I was just warming up.” “Clocking all of my moves?” “Exactly.” “We’ll see about that.” (You beat him three more times.) (You let him win once.)

You flicked off the light before getting into bed, tucking yourself in beside Marcus. He yawned and mumbled, “G’night.” “Goodnight, what?” Marcus let out an exaggerated sigh, “Goodnight, supreme air hockey winner.” “Thank you.” “Mhm.” “I don’t ask for much.” “I know.” “Just that you steer clear of my coffee—” “Uh huh.” “And address me by my proper title.” You glanced over as you felt Marcus shift in the bed. Your breath caught in your throat as his arm wound around your middle, his hand dangling against your side as he rested his forehead against your shoulder. “Sleep,” He urged in a mumble, “Oh supreme one.” You settled down, resting one of your hands atop Marcus’ arm. It was a warm, comforting weight; a sweet touch that you could, if you weren’t careful, find yourself getting used to. “‘Oh supreme one’,” You repeated quietly, peering up at the ceiling, “I could get used to that.” Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long ; @spideysimpossiblegirl ; @blueeyesatnight ; @elen-aranel ; @yespolkadotkitty ; @artsymaddie ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @lunaserenade ; @winniedaboo ; @empress-palpat1ne ; @randomness501 ; @nutmeg-20 ; @leonieb ; @the-feckless-wonder ; @lou-la-lou ; @captain-jebi ; @supernaturalgirl ; @naturenebula21 ; @evelynseventyr ; @giselatropicana ; @heatherbel ; @marydjarin ; @annathewitch ; @absurdthirst ; @hnt-escape ; @writingletterstothefire ; @misswriter ; @bison-writes

Museums & Art Work

The Blanton Museum of Art

Fogel’s Conflict

Kern’s The Adoration of the Magi

Dorigny’s Diana of the Hunt The Belvedere Museum

Klimt’s The Kiss

#The Long Con #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike x reader #Marcus Pike x You #Marcus Pike/Reader #Marcus Pike/You #Marcus Pike fic

247 notes · View notes

sass-and-suspenders · 4 years ago

Text

Inquiry

GIF from plutoandpersephone

Pairing: Dr. Frederick Chilton x Reader

Author’s Note: In vain I have struggled …with the formatting of this story. Did I use html? Yes. Does it show up correctly when I preview it? Yes. Will it show up correctly when it’s posted? Knowing this website, probably not. I’m posting despite the (possibly) faulty formatting because I will snap like a stale rubber band if I have to fiddle around with it for a minute longer. That said, I hope you enjoy because this was fun to write (but not to format)

Frederick Chilton’s heart was beating far too quickly for something as mundane as writing an email. Normally, he could compose a message in a matter of minutes with little concern for how the recipient would react to his autocratic demands.

This time, however, you were on the receiving end.

And Frederick deeply cared what you thought.

It would have been easier if this was for a work-related matter. As the hospital administrator, Frederick often sent you updates about policy changes or questions regarding your patients. He wrote these emails effortlessly, addressing you like any other member of his staff while ignoring how his heart fluttered whenever your name appeared in his inbox. With the small exception of inquiries about your weekend (something Frederick never did with other employees), his correspondence to you remained strictly professional.

Until now.

It had taken months, but Frederick finally worked up the nerve to ask you on a date. It was non-traditional, asking someone out via email, but Frederick considered asking over the phone or in-person too risky; the chance of rejection was already high, he didn’t need to add to it by stumbling over his words or blushing in your presence like an imbecile. An email allowed Frederick time to organize his thoughts and select the right words to convey just how much you meant to him.

Writing may have been the safest medium, but it wasn’t the fastest. Fifteen minutes had elapsed and Frederick was still struggling with the salutation: ‘My dearest’ seemed too intimate, ‘Good afternoon’ too formal, ‘Ciao’ too pretentious, ‘Ahoy’ too …nautical.

Frederick fiddled with his pen and leaned back in his chair, refusing to acknowledge that he was out of his depth. His love life was preternaturally dormant, yes, but he was a man of science, not to mention a patron of the arts -he could write a simple email. He was just overthinking it, attaching too much significance to every word as if selecting the wrong one would result in rejection.

Sighing, Frederick left his desk to fetch some alcohol, a time-honoured cure for writer’s block. As he poured the amber liquid from the decanter, Frederick reassured himself of his literary prowess: he’d written a myriad of scientific articles, many of which won awards, and there was growing interest in a manuscript he was working on about the Chesapeake Ripper.

He sat back down at his desk with bolstered confidence and a glass of brandy. The opening still eluded him but, rather than dwell on it further, Frederick used a placeholder and began to work on the body of the email.

As he wrote, Frederick likened himself to a suitor in a Jane Austen novel confessing his fervent desire to his beloved. He only hoped that his prose would convince you to give him a chance since, considering the weather in Baltimore, he wouldn’t be strutting out of a lake anytime soon.

Inspired by this little reverie, Frederick soon finished. He took another sip of brandy before looking over what he had written.

To:

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Inquiry

[Insert salutation]

Ever since we met, I have ardently admired you. Your warmth, beauty, and quick wit are just some of the ways you brighten my day whenever I am graced with your presence. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner?

I await your reply with hopeful anticipation.

Yours,

Frederick

Satisfied, Frederick turned his attention to the greeting, lightly tapping his pen against his lips as he thought. It took a few moments, but Frederick finally settled on ‘Dear’, a classic opening. After switching out the salutation placeholder for ‘Dear’ followed by your name, Frederick read over the email one last time. He took a large drink of brandy before selecting your email address and pressing send.

Contrary to his belief, the beating in his chest didn’t slow once the email was dispatched. What if you rejected him? How would he bear to see you at work every day? Worse, what if you never responded, leaving him to perpetually wonder whether it was a silent rejection or a lost email?

The familiar ping of an email notification snapped Frederick out of his self-made purgatory. He took a few deep breaths, a half-hearted attempt to quell his rapid heartbeat, as he wondered whether it was a good sign that you responded so quickly. His eyes flicked to his inbox: there, sitting atop of messages from psychiatry journals and irksome colleagues, was a reply.

Only it wasn’t from you.

Frederick’s brow furrowed. Why was a nurse replying to the email he sent you? It didn’t take long after opening the email to realize his mistake: choosing the hospital’s listserv rather than your email address, effectively sending out his declaration of love to the entire hospital. He let out an almost inaudible whimper, knowing it was too late to retract the message.

Apparently, he could control the content of the message, but not its audience.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Inquiry

Ask them out in-person, you insecure little weenie!

Frederick hastily deleted the email, but two more popped up in its place like some sort of electronic hydra. It didn't take long for the wolves to respond, and Frederick could only stare at the screen in horror as the replies began pouring in. He swore he could hear laughter in the hallway and began debating whether he should move out of the country or just the state. Depending on how widespread knowledge of his blunder became it may even be wise to leave the continent. Vienna was supposed to be nice this time of year.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Inquiry

Girl, you can do better!

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Please remove me from this list. Thanks

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

EVERYONE STOP REPLYING ALL!

Sent from my iPhone

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

‘Ardently’? Who does Chilton think he is, Mr. Darcy?

Gillian Coverly, M.D.

Psychiatry Resident, BSHCI

[email protected]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

More like Mr. Collins, am I right? LOL

Jonas Dhavernas

Security Services | 555-3193 ext. 0315

Frederick harrumphed (he was definitely not a Mr. Collins) and made a mental note to schedule those two for the night shift for the foreseeable future. However, his indignation quickly gave way to woe as he continued to scroll through the other emails in his inbox.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

lol desperate much

Luis Torres, PhD

Director of Forensic Psychiatry

(Tel.) 555-3193 ext. 0583 | (Cell) 555-2391 | (Fax) 555-8942

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

I’d like to remind everyone that this listserv is for work-related emails only.

Please be professional.

Ralph Chlumsky, Patient Care Manager

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

SERIOUSLY STOP SENDING EMAILS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sent from my iPhone

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

As a member of HR, I would like to remind you that you are not obligated to say yes to a date just because Dr. Chilton is your superior.

Please let me know if you would like to file a complaint against him for harassment

Sincerely,

Judith Mulrooney

Senior Human Resources Manager

(Tel.) 555-3193 ext. 3598

Nothing is impossible. The word itself says ‘I’M POSSIBLE!’ – Audrey Hepburn

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Can everyone please stop replying all? Our servers can’t handle the load and might crash if this continues.

Thanks,

Your friendly neighborhood IT Department

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Hi, can anyone give me a lift to work tomorrow? I’m in Federal Hill

To: [email protected]

From: ellen.ostrowski @bshci.com

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Everyone please stop replying all! It’s not that hard, and IT said our server will crash if we keep on doing it!

Warmest regards,

Ellen Ostrowski

Administrative Assistant for Dr. Bryan Dancy

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Ellen, your “everyone stop replying all message” was also a reply all!

Ugh, I work with IDIOTS!

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Don’t get all high and mighty with me, Shawna, you also used reply all! Frankly, your use of reply all when the server is unstable is just what I’d expect from a lunch thief.

Warmest regards,

Ellen Ostrowski

Administrative Assistant for Dr. Bryan Dancy

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

FOR THE LAST TIME I DID NOT STEAL YOUR LUNCH!

A groan escaped Frederick’s lips. How could this have happened? He wasn’t a tech genius, but he kept au courant with the latest gadgets and even implemented smart technology throughout his house. Of course, there had been small mishaps in the past, like when his iPhone autocorrected his last name to ‘Chicken’ and he couldn’t stop it, but nothing of this magnitude. As much as he wanted to blame his snarky colleagues for his misery, he had only himself to blame.

His iPhone was right: he was a chicken.

Frederick was in the middle of researching jobs in Austria, the dramatic part of his brain having overpowered the rational part, when your name appeared in his inbox. His eyes flicked to the now empty glass of brandy on his right before clicking on your reply.

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

I would love to, Frederick. How about Friday?

-Your Elizabeth Bennet

P.S. Judith, no need to get HR involved

Frederick blinked, not quite believing it. Despite his cowardice, and the mortification which ensued, you’d said yes. A smile slowly spread across his face, unaffected by the multitude of emails flooding his inbox in reaction to your answer.

He was still smiling when the hospital’s servers crashed a few moments later.

Tag list: @madpanda75 @obsessionprofessional @madkingcrowley @im-like-reallythirsty @burningg-red @nikkijmorgan @misssirenlove @zoeykaytesmom @mommakat32 @thatesqcrush @southern-magnolia @evee87

#frederick chilton x reader #dr frederick chilton x reader #chilton x reader #frederick chilton #dr frederick chilton #hannibal

155 notes · View notes

the-little-shoebox · 3 years ago

Text

Summer Gardening

I WANT TO MAKE CLEAR! I DID NOT WRITE THIS! This was written by my friend @theatresweetheart and I am posting this on my blog with her permission as it retains a pairing between her character and mine. I only edited slight dialogue for Derek to stay more in character. With that disclaimer, ENJOY! The summer sun was warm against her back.

Vienna’s wings twitched lightly against her back, the colours dancing slightly through their iridescence. She was knelt down in the dirt, her hands hovering over a small wildflower that was barely standing up on it’s own. She smiled down at it, though there wasn’t much she could do to help it grow faster than it naturally would. She was an electric fairy after all and while most fae had a natural green thumb, she had always been more fascinated with everything else.

Of course, she respected Mother Nature and would do anything for her, as her clan believed they were all children of Nature.

However, Vienna was not talented in garden magic; flowers, sprouts, saplings, all of it was difficult for her to get a hang of. Her parents had tried to help her, but it had never taken off. She’d made a sprout grow once…right through the roof of their home.

She hadn’t tried again.

So, instead, she watched it grow and flourish in its own time. She could help nourish it through actions and watering the little plant, but that was it. In a way, it almost made her feel human. It was a taste of a different world. Of course, she was currently courting a human, which also gave her another taste of a different world.

That very same human was also outside. He was currently hunched over his own little garden on the other side of the cabin.

Speaking of Derek, Vienna turned to look over her shoulder to see if she could spot him. At first, it was hard to. Through all the greenery (which was mainly a passion project of hers, where she had felt as though she needed to do something with her time earlier that spring), she finally managed to track him. He was knelt at the base of a wooden box, using a watering can to help nurture his own plants. What Derek had planted were herbs and spices.

Using homegrown fruits and vegetables felt like a reward. Not to mention they were fresh and delicious. It was something Vienna was used to, the concept of humans buying produce from all over the world had been extremely foreign. Why purchase things from different countries when you could just grow it yourself?

Derek himself was an incredible cook. Vienna had never been talented in that either, so she was extremely thankful she was with a man that knew his way around the kitchen. She also realized that being her size and trying to cook in a human kitchen would be hard. Not impossible, but difficult as all get out.

Letting her fingers brush over the soft petals of the wildflower, she stood up and brushed the dirt from her shorts. She stepped lightly on the small stones littered around before fluttering her wings enough to raise herself off the ground. In little to no time, she had crossed the distance between herself and Derek. The fairy hovered over him for a moment, almost entirely certain that he knew she was there. Her wings buzzing was a constant noise he was used to, he had told her many many times before.

However, he didn’t react to her presence as she fluttered near him. For a moment, she almost thought he didn’t know she was there.

“See something you like, huh Sparks?” His voice startled her out of her thoughts and she felt her cheeks go red.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” she responded, leaning her weight forward to bring herself in that direction. She hovered in front of his face and she could see her own reflection in his sunglasses. She used that reflection to fix her sunhat and adjusted her shirt, making sure it was situated right. She saw Derek quirk an eyebrow in her peripheral. Not to mention the smirk that was creeping across his face. “This shirt in specific, if you must know. Has to be some of my best handiwork, if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah yeah, right whatever you say,” Derek mused with a low chuckle, shaking his head before leaning around her and returning back to watering the plants.

“Though,” Vienna continued not a moment later, fluttering down near his shoulder and looking up at the human as he focused his attention anywhere other than her. “This shirt looks really good on you. I didn’t think floral was your kind of print.”

Derek snorted. “That's because it's not usually my style. All my other shirts are just in the wash right now.”

“Well, for what it counts, I think you look dashing.”

Derek turned his head enough to see the fae out of the corner of his eye. “Says the fairy in the sunhat.”

Vienna made a face at that, though her facade broke a moment later when she smiled. “I burn easily. I have to protect myself as best I can in the heat of the sun.” She lifted a hand to her eyes to shade them a little more as she turned to look in the direction of said sun. “Actually, working out in the heat has made me rather thirsty. Care to take a break with me? I’m sure you could use a drink of something cool too, plants aren’t the only things that need to be watered.”

Vienna found her features brightening even more when Derek laughed. Derek had the most amazing laugh. It made her heart flutter every time she heard it. It sounded like warmth and honey, sugary sweet but deep and rumbling. She counted herself insanely lucky to be able to date someone as incredible as him.

She hovered a little closer to his face, so when he turned to face her head on, she was nearly directly in front of him. She was so close she could see his eyes through the dark lenses of his sunglasses.

“Geez, you like my personal space almost more than I do,” Derek rumbled. She could almost feel the vibrations in the air and she giggled. “Alright, how about some lemonade to cool you off?”

“That sounds wonderful,” she leaned forward and pressed a feather light kiss to the bridge of his nose before pulling back and turning her attention out toward the cabin’s outdoors. It would feel overgrown to someone else, but there had been a lot of painstaking attention poured into everything in that garden. Placed there by her own hands. “Oh! Maybe we could sit outside on the porch! You’ve been working all morning and you deserve a break.”

“Hey, not the only one that’s been down in the dirt around her Beetle,” he quipped after her.

He pushed himself into a stand and brushed himself off. Vienna’s eyes followed him up. She had been around him so long she often forgot just how big he was compared to her, but instead of focusing on the height difference, she easily fluttered herself up to be at eye-level with him once more.

“Hang on a sec V. You’ve got dirt on your hands. And…I think I see something right about—”

Before she could manage to back up out of his reach, Derek’s hands had come up behind her. Once he had cupped them underneath her, Vienna had stopped her hovering and sat back on her knees as he brought her closer to him. His thumb raised up and brushed ever so gently over her cheek and he pulled back with a smug look.

Vienna’s cheeks were on fire. Her heart thundering in her chest and she found herself absolutely beaming. They had been together for a few months now, but there was just something so captivating about how Derek held her. How gentle and precise he was with his motions.

“—there. I not's entirely sure how you managed to get dirt on your face, but given the personality it's attached to, I'm not surprised.”

Then, Vienna felt herself being moved without having to move herself. She was then pressed up against him again in an impossibly gentle kiss and she felt as though her heart would very nearly explode.

Goodness for all living creatures, Vienna had to be the luckiest fae alive.

“Well then,” Derek murmured against her and Vienna brought her attention up to him, meeting his eyes as best as she could, even going so far to push the brim of her hat out of her eyes so it didn’t ruin the view. “Let’s get some lemonade poured yeah? Some quiet time on the porch with my little lightning bug doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Yeah,” she breathed out unsteadily, a huge grin on her face as she gazed up at her human. “Lemonade still sounds amazing.”

#Not my Writing #On Behalf of Kat #Vienna #Derek #YALL I WANTED YA'LL TO SEE THIS SO BAD!#SO I WAS ALLOWED TO THIS #WE LOVE THESE TWO SO MUCH THEY ARE BEST #I cri #everytime I think about them #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #is good

12 notes · View notes

reality-imagined · 5 years ago

Text

Getaway Car - Peter Parker

Young Adult!Peter Parker x Agent!Reader

Based on Getaway Car by Taylor Swift, I suggest listening to it before to get in to the ~tone~ of what’s going on. Also, Endgame never happened, goodbye.

Word Count: 8.5k

Rating: T+

Warnings: Violence, Use of guns, Hints of murder?, Maybe slowburn?, romance

Synopsis: Peter (who is 23 now) is struggling to find his footing in the team now that he’s older and he’s tired of being the kid damn it. Peter decides his next mission is going to change how his team views him, but things never work out just how he plans, does it?

I’ve been sitting on this since I first heard the song, and I’ve been itching to post it! xx

It had taken some time for the other members of the team to start taking Peter seriously, and even though they regarded him with a little more respect, they couldn’t help but still see the youth around his eyes. A facial feature they often used to fuel their jokes. Peter understood that it came from a good place, a place of caring and inclusion, but it didn’t reduce the sting any less. They praised him like a child when he achieved even the smallest task, making him feel (childlike). But even worse, any mistake he made was highlighted and turned into a lengthy lecture by each member - scolding him to be diligent and be more “mature.” They often blamed his age and lack of experience, completely missing the fact that these lectures did not assist Peter in his training at all. Only infuriated him, particularly when another member made a similar mistake, but was only brushed off by the others as “bad luck.”

Nonetheless, he worked overtime, harder, and more diligently to try to get the team to see him as more than just the youngest Avenger. He took on all the missions he could, small or large, to add more experience to his resume. Maybe, just maybe, if he could catch up with the team on experience they would finally remove the “rookie” title from his name. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually took a weekend to enjoy things other 23 year olds enjoyed. At this point, Ned and MJ quit offering invites out, knowing Peter would relay that he had a “classified” mission to go on and wouldn’t be able to make - but next time, definitely. The best way to keep up with their friend, they found, was to check the headlines and new stations - Spider-Man saves the day once again! Peter wished the team would revere him as the media did.

So, when a file came across his spot at the team table for a solo mission, Peter didn’t even have to open the file before he agreed. A solo mission. If he could knock this out of the park, in record time, then this would be the moment they finally regarded him as a full-on member of team. This would be his ticket to the big leagues and meetings that only involved Steve, Natasha, Tony, Thor and Banner. He would finally be an Avenger not only to the world, but to the other Avengers as well.

He stayed up the entire night, memorizing the file and the target. It wasn’t a simple mission to say the least, but it wasn’t impossible. Despite his lack of recon experience, he figured a quick conversation with Nat would help him in this area and he’d set course to Vienna by the end of the week.

Ned’s birthday dinner would just have to be rescheduled.

Y/n couldn’t exactly remember what invited her into her line of work, whether it was the influence of her family or a set of specific skills she had somehow stumbled upon. Either way, her job was her life and there was rarely a mission she declined. She worked for many people, a lone ranger who swayed elegantly back and forth across the line of good and bad. Sure, the number of tasks on the ‘bad’ side outnumbered the opposite tremendously, but she did experience being the good guy every now and then. She found that those jobs, where she saved the day, tended be more difficult anyway. Y/n by no means regarded herself as a hero or vigilante, just a girl trying to make a living and hopefully cash out on a beach somewhere with a mojito in hand by the age of thirty-five.

She ignored the hype of the superhero’s that everyone seemed to talk about nowadays - the Avengers? Really, were they going to release a Christmas album this year? She scoffed at the idea of being a part of a team like that, and she was surprised when she first heard of Black Widow’s involvement. Y/n had once looked up to the lethal red-head, but now having seen her join the band of ironically-clad heroes, decided that she was quite opposite of Natasha Romanoff and should probably rely only on herself for motivation. She would never be good like them, even if she wanted to.

It didn’t take long for the news of a new-age, extra deadly nuclear weapon on the market to reach her ears. And not long after that, power ridden billionaires and dirty country leaders alike requesting her services. The highest bidder bought her out of course, and she pictured that sunny beach being closer in her future than she had originally planned. Even though she was only 23 and still had a bit of baby fat in her cheeks, she knew exactly how to infiltrate this particular wealth-monger and had a new persona and ID ready for her flight to Vienna in only a couple of hours.

She didn’t think this mission would take her all that long and she could practically taste the mint mojito on her tongue.

Establishing his identity as a possible buyer to the evil guy holding the future of the world in his expensive briefcase took a lot longer than Peter had expected. He wasn’t used to being so exposed on the field, even if his mask was his only missing accessory. The thought that someone would recognize him, even with the possibility of that being in the negative percentage range, still had him on edge any time he met with another individual who got him closer and closer to his target.

Peter was thankful that the extra missions and time spent training with Steve and Bucky, shaved off the extra teenage weight he had. It didn’t take long for his face to thin, his jawline to sharpen, and his body to become more lean. He had finally lost that awkward, teenage lank to his features and he blended in easily with the people around him. Peter managed to get his last contact to trust him enough to snag an invitation to an event held by his target. It was a lavish event in a ballroom nearly the size of the compound back home. People were dressed elegantly and Peter straightened out the lapel of his suit jacket once again, an expensive number that he happily charged to the team’s mission expenses.

Peter surveyed the area as discreetly as possible, missing the functions that his mask, which was tucked safely away into his jacket, gave him when it came to surveillance. He wondered briefly if Tony could mock up some glasses for him next time. By the look of the crowd, chatting idly to each other, he figured that the target had yet to arrive. He wished he was more skilled in the social aspect of recon, his socially awkward tendencies once again coming up to bit him on the ass. Making way to the bar, he politely- and clumsily- excused himself as he nudged people from his path. Suddenly becoming anxious at the thought that his falling demeanor would give away his intentions.

Y/n stirred the drink in front of her gently, a small, polite smile on her face as she looked over the crowd. She already knew her target wasn’t here just yet. She had spent the evening in his lavish penthouse the day before and new of his schedule for the day. She had played dumb and innocent when he said he had meetings to go to before he would meet her at the party. The bug she placed on the lapel of his jacket as she passionately kissed him goodbye let her know that the last meeting with a buyer fell through and that the device she was after would be in attendance with him tonight. So, she donned a sparkly, gold number that was eye catching but allowed her to blend in with the people around her and sat herself at the bar as soon as she arrived. Smilingly gratefully the people that he had previously showed her off to, only to keep up the appearance. Inwardly grimacing and keeping the best smile she could. If she had to spend one more moment with the man and this twisted entourage, she would blow her cover and his head.

She was about to stand, the sleek watch on her wrist letting her know that her target was approaching the ballroom. The sight of a man, likely around her own age, stumbling up the bar, halted her movements. He dropped down on the stool with tense shoulders and a bead of sweat on his temple. His eyes scanned his surroundings before shooting his head to the bar tender who asked what he would like. The man visibly faltered and Y/n could instantly tell that he was new to the game that she herself, was currently playing as well.

“He’ll have an old fashion.” her voice spoke without her mind’s permission. The bartender replied a quiet ‘yes ma’am’ and began preparing a drink that matched the one she still stirred with a little red straw. The man before her stared at her with wide, startled eyes, body tense and almost ready to spring from his seat and run. “Camille.” She smiled, her fake name falling from her lips as elegantly as if it were her own, a gentle hand rising for him to shake. He stared down at her hand, before he seemed to snap out of reverie and quickly grasp her hand in an awkward shake.

He didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t expected someone to talk to him while he was here. She was beautiful, gorgeous even, and he only wished the confidence that exuded from her was contagious. By the look in her eye, he could tell she was picking up on his nervousness. It was at this point, mid-thought, he realized her hand was still in front of him, so he quickly grasped it. Flinching at his own awkward movements and released her hand from his jerky grasp as quickly as he held it.

She raised a manicured eyebrow at him, and he quickly realized he never gave her his own name. “Pe, I mean, Paul.” He tried not to show the mistake on his face and only inwardly grimace at his own stutter. He had picked out a cool undercover name before setting out on this mission, but found that he stuttered just has he had moments ago during his first task. Meaning that he was stuck with Paul.

“Paul.” She replied slowly, nodding with a small smile playing at his lips. He only hoped that she wasn’t all that perceptive and this was just her confident personality. Otherwise, his cover was blown and he’d have to hightail it back to the compound with his tail between his legs. “What brings you here Paul?” She smiled down at her drink before looking up at him. Social awkwardness once again kicking in as her beauty was getting the best of him. His imaginative James Bond ego quivering and failing him as he sat staring at her. He hadn’t even noticed the bartender place his drink in front of him. An old fashion? What a suave drink to order, he’d never had one and would’ve never thought of it. He felt that the drink was her own version of a vodka martini, shaken not stirred.

She hadn’t intended to play with him like she was, a cat toying at the mouse. She couldn’t help it. His cover was increasingly crumbling and he had a handsome face behind the worried eyebrows and sheen of sweat on his forehead. His fake name wasn’t all that bad, but by the grimace and his stutter she knew that it wasn’t the one he had planned. She briefly considered calling him out and asking him with his other name was supposed to be. But that would end her little game and that wouldn’t be fun. Besides, her target had already walked in and was in a deep conversation across the room. She could toy with the handsome man in front of her for a few moments longer.

It took him an alarmingly long time to reply to her questions and she couldn’t help but wonder how in the world he had gotten this far with his lack of experience. “I uhm, work.” he managed before taking a deep gulp of the drink she had ordered him. She let out a giggled as she witnessed him trying not to cough of the tart taste. She nodded, taking a sip of her own drink and sparing a glance at her target.

He noticed and followed her gaze, his eyes comically widening as he landed on the man she was surveying. Ah ha, so they were after the same person. Her competitiveness tried to rear its ugly head, but she kept calm. A smile spreading on her lips as he looked back at her, eyes not as wide but still holding alarm. She wished she could tell him that he was being so transparent. He was lucky to have stumbled upon her, had any other informant witnessed what she was - they’d have ended him before he could have even sat down. Competition in this line of work always ended with the opponent last’s breath and had the curve of his jaw not enticed her, then this scenario would’ve played out differently. It wasn’t her place to advise him, however. He wasn’t a friend, colleague, or even a blimp on her professional radar. There was no telling who he worked for or the nature of his visit and the last thing she needed was to get caught up in the mess of an undercover whatever he was. Agent, would not have been a word she used to describe him.

His mind whirred with the realization that she was gazing at his target, with calculated eyes. She gave off vibes that were similar to other agents he had been around, but she couldn’t possibly be undercover? A girl who looked like that? She couldn’t have been any older than him, but her face was hardened with the life of operations, he realized. Not like Natasha’s or any of his other members, though. There was an innocence, but also edge, that held her posture. Maybe she was undercover and she was that good. He didn’t know what to do or say, the alcohol from his drink pooling in his stomach. Instantly regretting never taking Thor up on his offer of Asgaurdian liquor to build up his tolerance. Her glass was empty and by the way the bartender quickly retrieved the glass and replaced it with another indicated that it wasn’t her first drink of the night.

He had no idea how to proceed, her eyes were watching him and he felt that his every move was being scrutinized. He felt vulnerable, despite the technologically advanced suit that clung to his skin beneath the expensive tuxedo. He thought briefly about pulling out his phone and dialing for backup. After weeks of working towards this event, everything he had achieved began crumbling down before this beautiful girl with an agenda of her own.

No, he wasn’t going to let a pretty face ruin his chances of earning the respect of his team. He wasn’t about to call the team to come rescue his ass because he knew he’d never hear the end of it. He was going to see this through, even it meant having to take out the girl who was still smiling at him. That thought made the alcohol in his stomach churn harder.

She was running out of time. She wanted him to make the first move, curiosity getting the best of her and momentarily causing her to lose focus of her task. But he was taking too long and her target was talking to a buyer that she knew would seal the deal and she needed to start planning her tactic on how to get her target and the briefcase alone. His eyebrows furrowed and she could tell he was gathering he thoughts to speak, but a window of opportunity opened, just as her target walked into view just beyond ‘Paul’s’ head.

Y/n tried not to sound to rushed, but she knew her, “If you’ll excuse me” was too harsh and she could feel his eyes on her retreating figure. She put emphasizes on her hips, whether it was for the man at the bar or the man she was approaching - she wasn’t quite sure, but secretly hoped that it had grabbed both of their attention.

“Have you had a nice evening?” She spoke in a smooth voice that sounded nothing like her natural one. Placing a gentle hand on the upper arm of the man she had been seducing for the past few weeks. He smirked down at her, attempting to sultry in nature, but she found nothing about this man attractive. Not like the man who she had spoken to at the bar. She inwardly chided herself for getting distracted so easily.

She only gave him enough attention to leave him wanting more, suggesting about wanting to see him ‘in private’ for a moment, voice full of seduction as her hand sliding down his arm to his own. This would be her moment to grab the briefcase and make a fast getaway. She briefly hoped that ‘Paul’ wouldn’t get in to too much trouble for not accomplishing his mission. The man agreed, pulling her towards a nearby door. She looked over her shoulder, curious to see If he was still there. And he was, now standing, watching with wide eyes. she couldn’t help it, as she pulled the door closed - she sent him a wink and cheeky smile.

‘Camille’ - 1

‘Paul’ - 0

No, no no no no. NO. Oh God, no. I really fucked up. No! SHIT.

Peter quit attempting to mask his anxiousness as the girl and the briefcase disappeared behind a door guarded by two men nearly twice his size. How could he just let himself get distracted? Let the mission get away from him like that? What was he thinking? His inner voice sounded eerily like Steve’s as he chided himself for being so naive. He tried mapping out a scenario to get into the room. Maybe there was a window? He was about to sprint to a bathroom to don his mask. Maybe Karen could scope out the scene and give him some advice. But before he could even move an inch, chaos broke out.

The door his eyes somehow were still trained on busts open, guns being pulled out from random places and random people. Shots ringing out in different directions. Party goers who were just bystanders ducking and screaming. He watched as she elegantly avoided attacks, brief case clutched in her hand as she used it to defend herself and seek an exit. He tried not to focus too much on the blood that stained her gold dress. He could tell that she was struggling to get out of the sea of chaos, her eyes jotting around the room wildly as she fought gracefully and skillfully that wound have Natasha praising her movements.

Peter found himself jumping across the bar to a near window - busting it out with elbow and easily jumping to ground beneath him. He tried to think too much about his plans suddenly altered to aiding the beautiful girl in the gold dress.

Just make it to the door, just make it to the door. Y/n’s voce sang in her head and she weaved and battled her way through the chaos. She wished she had packed more than the small hand gun clasped in her other hand. It had been useful for injuring her target enough to retrieve the briefcase but now, she wished she had more heavy artillery. It took longer than she had wished for her to reach the door, hoping that backup had not yet been called her path to the car would be easy and quick.

She found the opposite as she kicked open the doors. The lavish driveway before her was nearly filled with more agents, all after the silver briefcase in her hand. She surveyed the scenarios, trying to find the quickest way out but fell short as more attackers came trudging her way, bullets starting to fire out in her direction. She was so focused on her next move she hadn’t yet noticed the sleek black Audi revving up towards her. Not until it was stopped in front of her.

Y/n’s hand rose the gun up to aim at the driver, deciding that taking the car was her best option at the point but she faltered as she realized who was staring down the barrel. His hand was raised in surrender as he opened the door across from him, other hand steadily on the wheel, bot flinching at the sound of bullets ricocheting off the exterior of his car. Everything in her past and all the training she had received told her this was a bad idea, that she could not possibly trust this man she had only meet moments ago at the bar. But as agents started to descend upon them at a faster rate, her options were limited and all it took was his sincere, “I’ve got you.” to get her to drop into the car.

Her door was barely shut before he revved the engine and speed off, dust and debris flying up being the wheels, a rapid sound of bullets dinging as they drove away. It was then she noticed that the car was somehow bulletproof and her stomach fell at the idea that maybe Paul was more high level than she had thought. She clutched the briefcase to the side opposite of him just in case, hand on the door, ready to open it and roll out. A sudden outburst of laughter cause her to stop, looking over at him with concern.

His face was lit up with a smile and his eyes crinkled as he let out his chuckle, “Well that’s not how I planned this day to go. What about you?” He looked over at her, smile still on his face. She didn’t know how to react; she had never see someone look so… so beautiful and naturally happy. His laugh was contagious and she found herself breaking out into a smile of its own volition.

“Not exactly.” She replied in a small voice. She knew she needed to ask about his next play, next move, what he thought was about to happen. But she didn’t want to. Not yet, at least. For the first time in her life she was enjoying a wholesome moment, where, despite the circumstance, she felt connected to another human being for once in her very short life.

Peter knew he needed to tell her that he was going to have to take that briefcase, that the world depended on it. But he couldn’t say anything just yet. He liked the way she smiled at him, how her eyes seemed to light up when they met his own. Despite his many infield successes, for the first time he felt that he had done something right. He had made his own decision for once, not based on what he thought the team would praise him for, but what he wanted to do. Peter didn’t regret his decision one bit, at least not in this moment.

Camille’s silence gave him hope that she was trying to hold onto to this moment as well. He wasn’t sure of the destination, or what would happen next. All he knew was that he was going to continuing driving as far as he could, as long as she stayed right there in his passenger seat.

“We need to get rid of this car.” She spoke quietly, looking out her passenger window. We, he thought looking between her and the road quickly. “They’ll try to track us down. I wasn’t able to… extinguish the target. He’s going to come after us.” She added, looking over at him. Hesitancy filled her eyes but he didn’t hesitate to agree. Even though Peter knew that this was going to end in one way, he decided that the right decision could wait just a little bit longer.

“I know a buyer that will cash out enough for both of us to profit.” Peter spoke, not sure where this idea had come from but just fleeting enough to decide that it was his best option. She didn’t reply instantly; he had broken the veil that she had put over situation. Forgetting about what brought her into the car and the cold metal of the briefcase seeping through her dress on to her skin.

“We can talk logistics later. Let’s… figure out how to lose our tail.”

He nodded in agreement and while they sat in silence, their minds are screaming.

A night, turned into two days, and two days morphed into a week.

She had never had a partner before, romantically or professionally. Yet, she adjusted to Paul’s presence rapidly and tried not to let that scare her too much. In the past, very little scared her. But the way her heart thumped when he smiled at her, frightened Y/n. It was all unrealistic, meeting him at a bar where they were both undercover - after the same prize. But she somehow found comfort in knowing that maybe his past was just as murky as her own. She began to trust him; feelings began to bloom in the most unlikely of circumstances. She felt free, untethered to her past. It was liberating, beautiful, and terrifying.

They were at a gas station, filling up the car that Paul had hotwired only hours before - their 3rd car in their trek to no-where. She was grabbing snacks, finding out that he had a rather childish palette and also discovering that maybe she had grown to be too uptight for her age. Somehow, the scared look on the cashier’s face didn’t alert her. Y/n never noticed them reaching for the telephone, a picture of her face plastered on the television behind the counter. WANTED in big red letters. She didn’t notice until it was too late - until he was busting in the door, yelling for her.

Instincts kicked in, she reached across the counter - grabbing the collar of the poor workingman and bashed his head in to the hard surface between them. Anger getting the best of her before she gathered as much of the junk food in her arms, dashing out behind Paul who looked shocked at her actions. She tried not to think about that too much. Sirens were getting closer and she could see the lights getting brighter. It felt as if it was taking him twice as long to get the engine started. Sparks flying for the stripped wires underneath the steering wheel as he desperately tried to get the car moving. She heard the bell of the station’s door ring - the telltale sound of a shotgun being loaded.

“go go GO.” she screamed, in time with the sound of the engine bursting to life. His foot immediately in the gas, dust flying up behind them as he maneuvered the car unto the road again. Siren closer than ever - blue and red lighting up the darkened interior of the car. The shotgun rang, but missed.

He was running from the police now. He was an Avenger, and he was running from the police. His moral compass was begging for him to stop this, but something in his heart told him to keep going. See how this played out, it would be worth it. He tried to remind himself of that. He managed to lose the police, and with directions from Camille, they found a new car and decided it would be best to turn in for the night. The sound of the shower was the only thing that filled the room as he sat at the edge of the bed. Phone in one hand, heart in the other, starting at his hazy reflection in the severely outdated boxed TV.

He could call his team right now, and they would fix everything. It would be simple and quick, painless even. He had almost convinced himself to do it. The pros outweighed the cons and this would be the right thing to do. But the sound of the shower brought him back to the moment, his thoughts flooding with the idea of her. Her. The girl who had consumed his conscious for the past 9 days. The girl who he knew nothing about, but felt everything for. He could see the life and the world in her eyes. The girl who had him rethinking his choices, who he was as a person. He had gone against every single one of his morals, but had never felt more free.

He acted as if he wasn’t lying to himself.

Her phone rang out a gentle tune just as she was about to get in the dingy motel shower. Hopes that the warm water would give her clarity on her next move. She couldn’t think straight in his presence. Never once had she formulated a plan that wouldn’t only benefit herself, but she found all her ideas ensured his safety - even if it meant risking her own.

She didn’t say hello, only answers the blocked number and placed the phone to her ear. Eyes locked on her reflection in the mirror. The voice on the other end caused her pulse to ring in her ears.

“I will find you.” The voice of her vengeful target hissed, “You’ve forgotten the power I have. The length of my reach. You will never be safe. I will get my property.”

She couldn’t think of a reply, the idea of letting Paul know was her first thought - but she immediately pushed that idea away as quickly as it came.

“Then make a deal.” She replied quietly, hoping the shower masked the sound of her voice. She knew she was in no place to bargain, but it wasn’t in her nature to turn over easily.

A harsh laugh echoed through the receiver, “You will give me my property and I will consider letting you live.”

“You forget that you have no idea who I really am. The reach that I have. I could end you, no matter who you’ve poisoned with your money. Did you think I was like those other girls you like to parade on your arm? Oh, baby, I am the best and worst thing you’ll ever have. I could end you in seconds.” She hissed, letting all the pent-up emotions she had kept to herself unleash. “I’ve kept this going because I like this little jet-set Bonnie and Clyde thing that’s going on right now. It’s entertaining… but I get bored real easy. And the last thing you want me to do is get bored.”

He didn’t reply instantly. Sat there in silence, mind probably going wild trying to worm his way out of this one while she stood there confidently. Reflection smirking back at her as she waited for him to catch her bait. She couldn’t live up to any of those threats, but what he doesn’t know will make her rich. After a few more beats, a quiet and defeated, “What do you want?” came through.

She smiled wickedly at her own success. “I want 1.2 million wired to an account in the Caribbean’s and 250k in cash at the drop off. You and I both know that I’m cutting you a deal.”

And she was, really. The highest bidder, and the reason she was even in this mess, had offered 2.3 billion for the retrieval of the item. The small device had that much power and a small part of her, the part that she referred to as still being human, felt that maybe she should to turn over to the good guys. She imaged that those Avengers guys would know what to do with it.

But 1.4 million was more than enough for her to sit her ass on beach for a couple of years. She had a fleeting thought of asking him to join her.

There was silence, as he thought over her demands. Neither of them wanted to budge, but he was the desperate one now.

“I will send you a location and you will be there within 24 hours.” came the hoarse words from the other side of the line. She had ruined this man with only a few minutes of her time. It made her feel powerful.

“One last thing.” she tried to keep her voice from wavering, “My partner walks free.”

“I didn’t call you to get a lecture. I called you get help.” Peter spoke quietly, standing outside the motel door. Eyes zeroed in on the slight crack he’d left open in the door to see when she came out of the shower. His heart was pounding and was regretting his choices in the past 4 minutes.

“This is really bad kid.”

“Yeah, Steve. I know. But I- I don’t have an excuse, okay? I did what I did and now I need you to help me.” Peter was all but pleading, irritation growing in his veins. Why wouldn’t he just agree to help already? It wasn’t like Captain America was one to leave a friend in need. I mean look at what he did for Bucky all those years ago. He could easily help Peter out with this, why was Steve hesitating?

“Who is she? Who does she work for?”

“None of that matters. Just know we’re leaving in the morning and I’ll tell you where- “

“You know I’m going to have to bring her in Peter. She’s a felon and-”

“And so am I as of 9 days ago.” Peter hissed back, defenses coming up to protect a girl he barely knew. He should’ve called Tony, he chided, listening closer into the room to make sure he hadn’t heard the shower turn off. He thought his enhanced ears could hear her talking, but it had only taken one night for him to realize she liked to softly hum in the shower. He couldn’t control his wide smile when he came across that little quirk.

“You’re a kid and you make mist- “

“You’re lecturing again.” Peter deadpanned.

Steve sighed, thumb and pointer finger pinching the bridge of his nose tight as he tried to sort this out in his mind. Thankfully no one knew exactly who Peter was, so if he made this quick and low-radar, then there would be little to no knowledge of Peter’s position as an accomplice. When Peter explained that he was with the girl who Steve had seen on the news, Steve suddenly felt his age kick in as his heart began beating out of his chest. What was the kid thinking? Of course, media and information systems didn’t know much about her, and even with recruiting Nat to get intel, still very little came up. But, there was just enough out there to know that she dealt the same services that Romanoff had once dealt herself.

“Send me your location tomorrow. Nat and I will be on standby.”

Peter felt the weight of the world on his shoulder fall off, his shoulder visibly slumping with relief. The shower turned off only seconds later.

“Steve - one last thing.”

“Yeah, kid?”

“You’ve gotta let her go.”

The gradual light coming through the cheap curtains woke her up first. The dusty room congesting her nose and making eyes itch. She turned over, noting that Peter was facing her - but still fast asleep. She had grown used to sharing a bed with him, she almost found… comfort in the heat that his body created under blankets. Keeping her usually cold feet warm for once. She peered at him, the sunlight behind him making his brown hair glow lighter. She wondered how crystal his eyes would look in sunlight. Not that she didn’t find his happy eyes already one of his best features. His face was relaxed and there was a small snore that resounded as his chest expanded with his breath.

She used to find that annoying with the other men she had been with, but with him, she found it endearing and grounding as she tried to fall asleep herself. She was wrecked. Her world turned upside in a way she had never anticipated. She had no family, or friends. She didn’t have personal connections that kept her in one place. But his presence made her want to be still for once. To enjoy moments like the sunset or a good movie on TV, commercials and all. She was finding contentment in the simple things, things that often bored or disinterested her, and it scared her.

His phone buzzed crossed the room and his eyes opened immediately with sound. She noticed that he had an ability to react before her, see things she couldn’t quite, and even pick out some noises she had never noticed. He heard sirens several moments before her hears could even try to pick up a sound. She figured that’s why whoever worked for chose him, despite his lack of experience, for the job. Y/n didn’t try to play off that she wasn’t looking at him, opting to give him a small smile and continue to study his face. She couldn’t read his emotions, but she could tell he was in deep thought, despite having only woken moments before. A small crease between his eyebrows.

It wasn’t until she noticed him subtly shifting closer to her that she pinned where exactly his thought might be. For the first time, she felt nervous about someone kissing her. Heart thumping as he neared, his eyes darting across her face to try and detect any hesitation. There was none on her features and she wasn’t opposed to the idea, but all these feelings she had felt, and tried to push away. She wasn’t sure what a kiss would mean to them. Y/n made no effort to stop him, even moving closer as well, hoping that he would take the move. Because for the first time in her life, she let someone else make the decision.

His nose nudged against hers gently, her eyes falling shut at the soft caress. She felt his thumb at her chin, tilting her head up slightly before placing his lips against her own. It was soft, and sweet, and gentle. A kiss she had never experienced before, one that made her chest feel hallow and full at all at once. That made her hands tremble and body calm. He continued to kiss her like she was fragile, and even thought she was the farthest thing from it, Y/n enjoyed being treated that way, cared for that way. Her hands came up to his neck, pulling her body closer to his, legs intertwining. Neither of them had the intention of going further, this felt more intimate than any other experience either of them had ever had.

Camille pulled away from him with a gasp, his eyes opened to find hers still closed, taking in the moment. Something about the way she looked that morning, peaceful, controlled, had all those emotions he had been pushing away come back into reality. He was nervous she would reject him, which he had experience more than enough of in his lifetime. But she didn’t falter as he moved closer and it gave him all the confidence in the world. Neither of them spoke, even after she opened her eyes to look back them. Voices trapped somewhere between their heart and mouth, unsure what to say, but wanting to say everything all at once.

His phone went off again, jolting him back to reality. Back to the realization that more existed outside of this dingy motel room and this moment with her. The weight of it on his shoulders once again, he only hoped she didn’t noticed the change in him. He gently rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip, before forcing himself to move away. She didn’t say anything, only moved to get up as well. The air in the room felt still, calm but at the same time a tinge of something that could build up to tension. Peter felt content in himself and with her, but everything beyond that door, that is what made him anxious and unsure.

Little is spoken between them as they gather their things, Peter saying that they need to get a move on. She follows along, neither agreeing or protesting. He wondered vaguely about her lack of communication. The past few days she had spoken up about his decisions, particularly those she disagreed on, but always let him know her thoughts. The radio silence worried him slightly, but he tried to push that way. There were much bigger things for him to worry about.

Y/n received the drop-off location about the same time that Peter got up to answer his own phone. It was a nicer hotel that had amenities like a bar and indoor pool. She rolled her eyes, of course the target would choose a location with a high rate of witnesses. She had wanted as little fallout as she could get, this was going to be a little more difficult that she had anticipated. Peter’s voice saying that they should probably get going brought her back into the room. Her thoughts still clouded her brain, strategies, exit points, things she often had a few days to prepare for, swimming around her head. She complied, not saying anything. Only stuffing her few things into duffel bag, they stole from a gas station a few days back and followed him out of the door.

The had been on the road for 5 hours now, when she decided to speak up. “I think I found a good hotel for us to stop at?” She flashed him her phone briefly, just enough for him to glance at before looking back at the road. One hand firmly on the wheel, the other on the gear shift. She briefly thought back to first time their stolen ride wasn’t an automatic and Peter became flustered behind the wheel, hands shifting sporadically everywhere, eyes darting about because it had been 10 minutes since they broke in and they still hadn’t drove away. She had been able to control her laughter just enough to direct him in out to get the car moving without flooding the engine, and proceeded to give him tips as he tore out of the parking lot. Peter was still red faced for 3 hours after. He looked almost proficient driving now, shifting gears smoothly and precise. Her eyes trailed over him, shamelessly checking him out before turning back to her phone.

Peter pretended not to notice, but a small smirk graced his lips despite it. She pretended not to notice.

“That looks a bit expensive.” He muttered.

She tried to stay nonchalant, if she showed a desperation to stay there - it might tip him off. “I think we deserve a nice bed and a bath in a hotel that’s actually clean for a night, don’t you?” She turned on her charm, as guilty as it made her feel. Never once had she manipulated him in the time they spent together since the Gala. It made her heart break to see him react like she wanted him to as she trailed her nails lightly up the forearm resting on the console between them.

He audibly gulped, “Y-yeah. I guess you’re right.”

She had to look out her window to hid the frown that fell on her lips. For once she felt guilty in doing her job, for once she felt dirty. He deserved more than coy smiles and deceit. He was making her soft, and she couldn’t tell if she hated it or loved it.

They made it to the drop site with 2 hours to spare, it was earlier than Y/n had expected but she became grateful at seeing just how busy this hotel was. She needed to strategize and it didn’t help that the lady at the front desk told them they’d have to wait another hour before their room was ready.

“Please enjoy our bar. One complimentary drink on us for your wait.”

Y/n could practically feel the anxiety radiating off Peter as they sat themselves at the bar. The irony of it didn’t go unnoticed to her. Even more so when Peter passed the drink voucher to the bartender and ordered an old fashioned. She smiled at him and laughed lightly, looking at her with an emotion that made her stomach flutter. She went to say something, but her phone vibrated in her jacket pocket. She excused herself to the bathroom, pausing for a moment to take him in. The way his curly hair framed his face, particularly that one curl that always stayed in his face. The way his brows scrunched as he concentrated on the TV across from them. The way his mouth looked as he took a drink of the old fashion. She wanted to remember him like this, not the face of disappointment and betrayal that he would have by the end of this.

She was hoping, praying, everything and above, that this would be last time she would see him. Before she could stop herself, she gently grabbed his chin after he set the drink down, turning his face to hers. She had caught off-guard, his eyebrows furrowing with concern as he noticed the inevitable look on her face. She tried to hide it, but she knew she was failing. She gave him a small smile in attempt to soothe his thoughts. She pulled him close, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, then his cheek before pulling away.

“Don’t wait for me.” She whispered, before getting up to leave.

He laughed lightly, slightly confused but called after her that he’ll find her when the room is ready. She didn’t reply, but kept walking. Tears in her eyes and throat and chest constricted as she kept a sob locked down.

Peter watches her walk away, noting that he steps look heavier than usual. Concern enters his mind but doesn’t have time to linger as his phone goes off on the bar infant of him. It’s Steve, saying their arrival is less than 5 minutes. He’s grateful that she’s not here, meaning he sneak out with the briefcase that holds the device. He hoped he would be able to see her one more time before he had to leave, but he doubted that would happen. He was lost in his thoughts of her when gun fire deafened his heightened hearing. He reached for his ears before jumping into action. People in the lobby were scattering.

Gun fire was going off from two ends of the hotel. Peter recognized the uniforms of some, others looked like civilians carrying military grade weapons. It was a set up. Peter panicked, calling out for Camille and attempting to go in her direction. A firm hand stopped him,

“Where’s the device?” Steve’s voice was firm, but there was a relief sound to it. The kid had made it out unscathed and even though shit was hitting the fan, Peter wasn’t in the crosshairs. Peter spun to wear the briefcase had been tucked at his feet at the bar, but faltered when he realized it was gone. He paled, trying to retrace everything. His eyes fell on Steve when he realized… “Where’d she go?” The relief in Steve’s was gone, his face was hard and he was now in mission mode. Peter fumbled but couldn’t make words. How could she? Why would she? Is the reason that-? Steve didn’t wait for an answer, pushing Peter of the way so he could set off on tearing the place apart to find her. Peter knew he wouldn’t though.

Chaos was erupting around him, but all he could do was sit back down at the bar. Defeated, hopeless, lost. He reached for the old fashion and downed in one go.

Another hand on placed itself on his shoulder and Peter spun around to get ready to argue with Steve, but stopped in place.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Paul.” the mask of the Iron Man suit lifting away to reveal a tired and irritated Tony.

“How’d you- Did Steve?”

Tony started fiddling with a blueprint of the hotel, heat signature popping up and showing a crowded room on the 8th floor. “Your girlfriend called.” Was all he said before jetting off in the direction of 803, what was to be his and Camille’s bedroom.

It happened all too fast. Before Y/n knew it, guns were going off and she was fighting 10 men on her own. She took down the target in one movement, leaving him bleeding on the floor and his men scattering for revenge. What she wasn’t aware of was the onslaught of S.H.I.E.L.D. tactical teams barging in on the place. She had called Stark Industries, at their last gas station stop. Leaving a voicemail with a very concerned lady that detailed what was about to down, telling them that no matter what - her accomplice had nothing to do with anything and he knew nothing.

Y/n knew not to trust the target, and knew that she couldn’t return this device to him. She kind of liked this stupid planet she lived on, and didn’t want to see it’s destruction in her time. She only hoped that the Avengers would go easy on Paul. She had to leave him there to get away herself. And that left knots in her stomach but traitors like them never win. She managed to grab the money bag and, just as an explosion happened at the hotel door, shoot out the window of the room. Escaping just as Tony and Steve, equally surprised to see the other’s presence, enter the room to see the men she had taken out.

It took Peter a moment for his brain to catch up with his body as he darted after Tony. His stealth suit coming in handy underneath his clothes. It didn’t take him long to catch up, but he was frozen in place as soon as he arrived. The room was trashed, bodies lying across the floor. Tony and Steve stood beside the bed, the briefcase Peter recognized that was supposed to have the device between them, opened. They looked at him, waiting for his move.

Peter stepped up to the bed to find the device still safely tucked away, a note taped to it.

“I’m sorry” scrawled in quick but neat letters.

Tony nor Steve spoke as Steve gathered the suitcase, closing it, and then putting it their own protection case. They left, Tony gently patting Peter as he stood there, staring at the note in his hand.

#adult!peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #mcu peter parker x reader #marvel fic

95 notes · View notes

shes-soparticular · 6 years ago

Text

Slow Burn (Part IV)

Part One. Part Two.

Part Three.

A/N: Part IV of Slow Burn. If you can tell, Kraków is one of my favorite cities and felt like a great point for this particular chapter. Other Alex related one-shots can be found in my Masterlist. Hope you like! Comments, reblogs, likes are always appreciated!

Word Count: 3890

For fear of moments stolen I don't wanna say goodnight But I'll still see you in the morning Still know your heart and still know both your eyes

Since that night the moon has never seemed the same

He wakes up to the faint smell of coconut and a tingling sensation in his left arm. For a split second, the daily feeling of disorientation takes over him as he processes that he’s in yet another hotel room, in yet another country, living this incredibly strange existence. But there’s something different about this morning in particular. The smell of coconut is floating from the head of hair his face is practically buried in, the curls tickling his nose as he tries to take in the scent as deeply as possible and commit it to memory. The state of discomfort in his arm is owed to the fact that it’s nestled under her ribcage, his other arm draped over her stomach with fingers splayed over the skin underneath the t-shirt she’s sleeping in. His t-shirt. Even though his left arm is begging for relief, he doesn’t dare move a muscle. He knows as soon as he does, as soon as she wakes, the moment might be ripped away and brushed under the rug. So for now, for as long as he can, he’s going to breathe her in and relish being pressed against her in the early morning glow. Laying in the silence, basking in it, he lets his mind replay the prior evening. The bandage on the back of her shoulder jogs his memory and immediately takes him back to Kraków’s cobblestoned streets, the moonlight reflecting off of the windows of storefronts long since closed for the night.

They move through the streets slowly, cheeks warm from the Polish Vodka they’d been nursing since the end of that night’s show. A piece of street stall zapiekanka passes back and forth between the two of them, which Alex had spent half the night on the hunt for. When the rest of the group had slowly started breaking off to head back to the hotel in preparation for the early morning drive to Vienna, he had been the one to convince her to stay out just a little longer. Even though he was often mesmerized by her for the simplest of reasons, there was something about Kraków Alex that was more intoxicating than even the vodka. She’d been mentioning since the beginning of tour how much she loved this city, stars in her eyes anytime she spoke about it. But it was different actually watching her wander through Kazimierz and Old Town with her eyes wide, fingers brushing across the brick buildings and taking it all in with nostalgia as if it were a home she’d never known. It was yet another facet of her he hadn’t seen yet, this childlike wonderment, and it only softened his heart for her more. As if it wasn’t already a hopeless puddle anytime she was in front of him. Not wanting to sacrifice a second of watching the flush in her cheeks as the spring night air swept through her hair, he insisted on not letting the night end. Even as the rest of the team, Andrew included, shot him discerning looks on their way out of the final bar, all he could do was shrug his shoulders from behind Alex’s back. It was next to impossible to be rational and lovesick at the same time.

“God, I don’t know what it is about this city,” She sighs to herself, arm tucked through his as they strolled through Old Town. The moon, bigger and brighter than he’d ever seen it, lit their way and reflected off of her eyes as she looked up to him. “I wish we had more time here, I don’t want to leave.” It was clear to him that she was trying to stretch the night out as desperately as he was. There was no other reason she’d still be out in the middle of the night with no destination in mind.

“I know, I can’t believe we’re almost through with Europe.” His forlorn sigh matches hers as they weave past a couple necking on the sidewalk. He and Alex share a momentary smile at the couple’s expense, but there’s an undercurrent of jealousy that they aren’t the ones pushed up against the city walls, lost in one another. Granted, even if they were simply, innocently arm in arm, Shawn still feels as lost in her as if they were tangled in the sheets. “I’m dreading the end of this leg. I’m not ready.” With a rush of nerves, he looked off into the distance, not wanting to make the loaded nature of his statement any more obvious. Because what he was trying to say, what he really meant, was that he wasn’t ready to leave her. Even if it was just for a couple of months, he couldn’t imagine not seeing her every day. Breakfast wouldn’t be the same without listening to her tease Brian. His afternoons wouldn’t be the same without her forcing a smile out of him by asking in a dead serious tone if he ever planned to collaborate with BTS. And the nights? God, the nights definitely wouldn’t be the same. Not without laying across her bed watching her proudly show off her bad dance moves to Lizzo songs. Or listening to her geek out over Game of Thrones theories. He wouldn’t even get tired of the sinking feeling he got every time he caught that last glimpse of her face before her hotel room door shut in front of him. Although, he was certain he’d continue seeing her face nightly anytime he closed his eyes. Nothing was going to match having her in the room, though. The comfort of just knowing she was there and that was enough for all to be right with his world. He just wasn’t ready for anything to change, not in that way at least. What he didn’t realize was that there were plenty of similar thoughts running through her mind at that very moment. She didn’t want to miss out on those sweaty post-show bear hugs, where she’d never felt more at home than wrapped up in his arms. She wasn’t prepared to give up their nightly ramblings about everything and nothing. She was even going to miss bickering with him about the right way to chop vegetables (she truly feared he’d be missing a finger by the time June rolled around). Alex was just as afraid to let this moment in time pass and face the real world again, without one of his smiles to start her day.

“We’ll be running around North America before you know it.” Alex replies with as reassuring a tone as she can muster, rubbing his arm for added comfort. “And you have some exciting stuff coming up in May, I’m already planning my SNL watch party. I’m going to make everyone take a shot if you say, “sing it!”. Two shots if you forget the words. Three shots if you fall.” At the look of offense on his face, she hides in his shoulder, her laugh vibrating against his arm.

“Maybe I am ready to be Alex-free for a little while.” Shawn scoffs, shaking his head but secretly eating up her mocking. “I’m glad to hear you believe in me, feels great.” He still can’t help but laugh along with her. When so many people line up to kiss your ass, it’s always a breath of fresh air to hear from someone who doesn’t mind poking fun. Who can keep you grounded. “What are you going to be up to with your time off?”

She takes a beat to consider the question, obviously not having as impressive of an answer. “I don’t know, I mean, I’ll be back in the office.” It’s easy for him to forget that she has a real job, one with a desk and a cubicle and probably one of those “hang in there” posters with a kitten on it. And far more likely, a bottle of Maker’s Mark in her desk drawer. “I have a lot of contracting to do for a few fall tours, but I should be able to handle all of that from Chicago. I guess I’ll just be hanging out, back to the boring old grind. Gonna be tough to go back to civilian life.”

Continuing their aimless walk, the sound of a busker strumming away on his guitar fills the air. Neither of them recognizes the song, but it’s soft and sweet and only makes his hands itch to pull her in. Not letting himself hesitate any longer, he grabs her hand and gives her a sloppy spin into his chest, grinning at the way he’s managed to catch her off guard. Being that she had more of an impulsive streak than he did, it wasn’t an easy feat. A giggle leaves her lips as she lets herself lean into him, the hand that isn’t in his moving to his shoulder. “I guess I should ask first, if you want to dance.”

He’s fully expecting a snarky response from her, something just sharp enough to keep his ego in check but still kind enough not to bruise it. Surprisingly, all she does is look up at him, the moon lighting her features. “I’d love to.” Her hand brushes further across his upper back, settling on the nape of his neck. It sends shivers down his spine and he can’t decide whether he wants her to notice what she does to him. However, the way she’s melting into him? He’s confident the feeling is mutual. That maybe he isn’t exaggerating this connection between them. Maybe she’s in as deep as he is. They keep swaying together in the empty street, even after the busker starts packing up to leave. He imagines that had neon lights not caught the eyes of this spontaneous girl, that they’d have kept right on dancing until sunrise.

“Hey, I have an idea.” She squeezes his hand, already biting her lip the way she does when a scheme is turning it’s wheels through her brain. “Come with me.” Reluctantly, he drops his hand from her waist, trailing behind her as she takes off with purpose towards one of the few windows that’s still lit up. When he finally takes his eyes off of her long enough to judge the place she’s whisking him towards, he realizes with a chuckle that it’s a tattoo parlor of all places. While it’s true he hasn’t known Alex for long, he knows her well enough to be a little jittery about her plans. When they make their way into the small shop, he stands back and lets her do the talking. He watches as she digs through her purse for her phone, quickly bringing up a picture of a floral sketch she’d already had saved. Listening intently to her rambling, the artist starts drawing out his own version, a small branch of cherry blossoms. He already knew she had several existing tattoos, mostly small and simple. A sailboat on her inner ankle to represent her life growing up on Lake Michigan. A small mountain range on the back of her arm that she’d gotten after spending the summer between high school and college hiking Pacific Crest Trail with friends. The doodle made by her late grandmother dotting her right wrist was her favorite, and the way tears had welled up in the corner of her eyes when she explained it to him made him want to hold her and never let go. In the scavenger hunts to uncover her existing tattoos, she’d never mentioned having another one planned. But clearly, based on the photos saved to her phone, it’s something she’d been thinking deeply about. Being that he’s lost in his own thoughts of her, he almost doesn’t hear her when she turns to him, asking his opinion. “I think under the branch, he should add the words ‘let’s get lost’, what do you think?” The way her eyes flash this vulnerable look she only seems to have when she’s looking at him, he instantly understands the meaning without having to ask. It’s his lyric. A lyric to the first song she ever saw him play live. A lyric that easily represented the way they’d been stumbling together through Europe, falling harder for one another in each new city.

“Really?” There’s this weird sense of pride and humility that fills him, to know that a piece of their time together, a piece of him, was important enough to her that she wanted it to be emblazoned on her body. “I love it, Alex, I really do.” This earns the biggest smile he’s seen from her yet and somehow, he’s never been this tempted to kiss her. Even though that’s the baseline feeling he has every time he wants to kiss her…which is pretty much constant.

Before long, the artist has the design prepared and the stencil complete. For a moment, Shawn is nervous that she’ll want him to wait for her out front. But there’s something about her going off with a stranger that’s going to inflict a certain amount of pain on her that makes him immediately protective. Fortunately, she grabs his hand without hesitation and pulls him along with her to the back of the shop, not letting go as she lays chest down on the cushioned table. Leaning on her elbows for a second, she shimmies down the straps of her dress and bra, leaving her right shoulder bare. She does have to let go of his hand briefly to accomplish this, but quickly grasps it again as soon as she’s finished. When she blows out a shaky breath, he realizes she’s more anxious than he expected. Squeezing her hand as the artist makes the final preparations and applies the stencil, he gives her the same reassuring smile she’d flashed him earlier in the evening.

“So how long have you been thinking about getting this tattoo? You never mentioned it.” He wants to hear the answer almost as much as he wants to keep her mind occupied as the tattoo gun makes it’s first contact with her skin. When she winces, he almost can’t bear it. Seeing her in pain, even at her own request, stings in a way he almost can’t understand. But she’s resolute and manages a smile through the pain.

“Oh, I don’t know, a month or so, I guess?” Alex bites her lip, but it’s out of exposing herself rather than the physical pain. “I’ve been having the time of my life.” This time, she squeezes his hand instead. “I never want to forget it.” He doesn’t even think before reaching up with his free hand to brush her hair back, thumb brushing against her cheek and resting there too long to be considered innocent. They sit in silence for awhile, interrupted only by the sound of the tattoo gun, until the artist announces that he’s finished the line work and ready to start shading the flowers. Clearly picking up on the tender moment between them, a gleam enters the older man’s eyes.

“You know, I never do this,” He chuckles in a thick polish accent, “But would you like to fill in the flowers? I’ll tell you what to do, very easy.” He says this with confidence, as if it’s no big deal to jab a needle into someone’s skin. Especially someone you’re falling head over heels for. To say Shawn is caught off guard is an understatement. No way in hell does he trust himself to do this, to anyone, much less Alex. But the way her face lights up, brighter than when it was awash in moonlight, he knows there’s no way he can get out of it.

“Yes, Shawn, please.” She whines, knowing it’ll be an uphill battle to convince him. The look of determination in her eyes tells him that even if he fights her on this, tooth and nail, he’s going to lose. Now it’s him taking a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair while racking his brain for an excuse that will appease her. Unfortunately, nothing comes to mind.

“Are you absolutely sure? What if I hurt you? What if I fuck it up?” He rattles on, hand still snuggly grasped in hers. “Alex, this will be on your skin for the rest of your life. You need to be sure.”

At his reluctance, she raises to her elbows again for a second, wanting to be even the littlest bit closer to him. “Shawn, I’m sure. You won’t hurt me, you won’t fuck it up. Even if you do, I’d rather have it be your mistake than someone else’s best work.” She lowers her voice at the last part, not wanting to offend the artist that still has a certain amount of her fate in his hands. “If you’re not comfortable doing it, that’s totally okay. I get it. But I’d love it if you did.” Will he ever be able to say no to this woman? Taking one last nervous breath, Shawn accepts the gun from the artist and listens carefully to his instructions, asking him to repeat multiple points before he feels confident enough to move forward. It takes one last soothing look from Alex before he’s finally ready to bring the needle to the skin of her shoulder. Unexpectedly, he feels her relax instantly under his touch. The tension leaves her shoulders, melts from her back. The mere fact that she trusts him to do this, that she wants him to leave this permanent mark on her, something that might outlast them. Something that will be a part of her until her dying day. His imprint on her for a lifetime.

Through some miracle, he’s able to finish filling in the petals as instructed without making any mistakes or causing her an undue amount of pain. For a second, he almost thinks she’s drifted off to sleep before he’s finished, with the way she’s relaxed beneath his hand. But after the tattoo artist takes over to finish some final touches and wrap her tattoo, her eyes flutter open with a look of contentment. He feels her gratitude without her having to say a word, and he hopes she feels his. For letting him in like this, for sharing this moment with him. It’s so strange how something as simple of a tattoo can make him feel so bound to her, which is both euphoric and terrifying all at once.

It’s not long before they’ve finished up and are cast back on to the streets, the back of her shoulder bandaged and their hands interlocked once more. She goes back to leaning into him with her good shoulder and by the time they’re in the elevator up to their rooms, he doesn’t think twice about planting a kiss on the crown of her head. Even if they never go any further, they’ll always have this night. And it alone means the world to him.

They pass his door first and he’s surprised when she comes to a stop. It’s part of their routine that he always walks her back to her room first. “I…” Alex stammers for a second, eyes flicking between him and the door. “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight. Can I…can I stay with you?” The pleading look she’s giving him isn’t even necessary, he wonders if she knows that, if she has any idea that he’d do anything for her. Without a thought. He’s aware how dangerous that could be, but so far, if it just boils down to tattoos and sleepovers, he’s more than ready to give her anything she wants.

“Of course.” He fumbles with the room key momentarily before getting them both inside. While he would have expected there to be an awkward tension in the air, there’s a comfortable familiarity instead. The way they maneuver around each other as they get ready for bed, it’s what he imagines a seasoned married couple is able to do. Except that he respectfully turns around as she changes into the t-shirt he’s tossed her, her boyshorts peeking out from under the bottom once he faces her. That sight alone is enough to make him blush, which he knows is a tad pathetic considering he’s not fourteen.

“Which side?” She asks as she glides towards the end of the bed, debating where to crawl in.

“Count of three?” He crosses his arms with a playful grin, earning one right back from her.

“Okay, one, two, three,” She counts off on her fingers before they both announce their preference. For once, their disagreement works in their favor as he says left and she says right. One more check in the mental “pro” column he’s been logging. He waits for her to crawl in and get comfortable before flipping off the light and crawling in after her. Not wanting to assume this is more than it is, he settles directly on to his back, leaving plenty of space between them across the king sized bed.

“You know, I can take the couch if you want, it’s actually super comfortable,” He has absolutely no clue if it’s comfortable or not…actually, he’s not even sure he’s picturing the right hotel room and couldn’t say for certain that there’s even a couch in the room at all.

“No, please stay.” Her voice is soft, the playfulness replaced ever so slightly with the same softness that was present during their impromptu dance. “Unless you want to, I mean, I don’t want to force you to cuddle with me. Please don’t feel obligated.” The way she sounds seriously concerned, as though she’s the one that’s overstepped, causes him to chuckle louder than intended.

“Cuddle? You didn’t say anything about that…” He inches closer to her, almost an unnoticeable distance, still reluctant to take a mile if she only means to give an inch.

“Shawn, I let you poke me with needles, I think you owe me a little TLC,” She rolls closer to him until they’re nearly touching.

“Okay, that does not get to be a thing you say to people by the way, you asked me to. Begged.” He can see her pout lip even in the darkness of the room, and just like in the elevator, his body moves faster than his mind as he pulls her into his chest. “But I’m glad you did. I hope you like the final result, it’s going to be there forever.” He’s beyond relieved when she settles into him, nuzzling her face into his neck, arm draping over his hip.

“I love it.” Her words are the last thing either of them hears before they succumb to sleep. Wrapped in one another in a way that they know they shouldn’t be but can no longer resist.

Which is what makes it that much fucking worse when the first face to greet them in the lobby of their Viennese hotel is that of a guy he’s seen only in Facebook photos and Instagram posts. A guy he frankly hoped he’d never see in person. Of course, he is tired as hell and probably not seeing clearly, so he’s fully prepared to ignore the dude entirely. That is until he hears the quaking of Alex’s voice next to him.

“Ethan? What are you doing here?”

A/N #2: Okay, yes, this was inspired by a tattoo I got last night. Check my blog for a picture of the fresh product, that’s basically what Alex got ;) Art imitates life, right?

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #slow burn fic #slow burn

75 notes · View notes

peaceisadirtyword · 6 years ago

Text

Broken promises (Ubbe x Reader)

A/N: I wrote half of this in a night train from Berlin to Vienna, so I’m sorry if this is worse than usual. I wanted to write for Ubbe so bad (my sweet wolf deserves more love) and at first this was going to be all fluff and love. Of course, this turned to be something else. Sorry, my brain works this way. I had always written Ivar things and he is a really complex character to write, so I didn’t really know how to write Ubbe. I don’t think this is a very good work but I want to post it because I literally spent too many hours writing it, I needed someone to read it. I had planned a second part, but that is if you like it, of course. I really hope you enjoy this at least a bit, and thank you so much for reading!♥️

Warnings: This was painful for me to write, and I probably wrote Ubbe really bad, so I’m sorry, I’ll work on it. Also, there are some mentions of sex, a broken heart and a bit of Ivar mocking you.

Words: 3050 I think I got a bit carried away, sorry about this

Part 2

English its not my first language and I wrote this half asleep so please forgive me for any mistakes I had.

gif isn’t mine

The day started with a beautiful sun brighting in the sky. It was warm, at least as warm as Kattegat could be during the spring. For you, it was perfect. It was the best day ever. A few days before, your father gave to you your first sword. You always had dreamed of becoming a shieldmaiden and fight alongside the men, on the shield wall. You wished to be like Lagertha, being capable of protecting yourself, a strong and independent woman. And, after begging for years to your father, he finally asked the blacksmith to forge a new sword for you, thin but lethal. It was the most beautiful sword you had ever seen, and when you hold it for the first time it felt like it was another part of your body. And you were too eager to start learning you even asked your best friend to help you. Ubbe wasn't entirely happy with your decision of becoming a shieldmaiden. He thought it was too dangerous and was afraid you could get hurt. But nevertheless, he agreed to train you. He didn't trust his brothers near you and he knew you would find someone else who would help you. He preferred to be the one training you so he would be sure you were not harmed. Ubbe had been your best friend since both of you were children. You met each other when he defended you from some boys who were picking on you for playing with a wooden sword. After that, and although he was a bit older than you, you had been inseparable. And, since then, you saved his ass far more times than he saved yours. That day, you were supposed to meet at the training ground he had with his brothers, early in the morning. And you got there in time, but Ubbe didn't. You waited for him for hours, until the sun hide behind some dark clouds and the air started to get chilly. Soon, it started raining. Your thin clothes, perfect for training and suitable for the good weather that had been present half of the day got soaked, making you shiver. As you ran back to Kattegat, you started to get worried. Had something bad happened? Maybe Ivar had broke a bone, or he had another big fight with Sigurd and Ubbe had to intervene, maybe Hvitserk got in trouble again for sleeping with someone's wife or daughter and Ubbe was busy trying to save his neck. Maybe he had to help Björn with something, being the eldest son of Ragnar and Aslaug, he was often required in important meetings and had to assist his mother and half-brother. Ubbe couldn't forget about this, it was too important for me. You finally reached the Great Hall. Ivar was there, a knife in his hands while he crafted some tafl pieces, sitting on his father's throne. Somewhere, you could hear Sigurd's oud, but there was no sign of Ubbe. Ivar looked at you, raising a brow. "Are you looking for someone?" He asked without stopping his work. "Where's Ubbe?" "Oh" Ivar smiled a bit "He's in his chambers" he answered "But I wouldn't go there" You furrowed your brows. Was Ubbe sick? He had only gotten sick twice in his life, and the last time he swore he was dying although it was just a small fever. Both times, he didn't let anyone enter his chambers, except for the healer. "Why not?" You asked again, crossing your arms. You were starting to get really annoyed. Ivar rolled his eyes, as if he thought you were the most annoying person he had ever met. "He's busy" his blue eyes were brighting with malice. "Oh, is he helping Björn with something?" "Look, just go and see it for yourself" he told you, now done with your questions "And leave me alone, I have enough with Sigurd playing his stupid music" You rolled your eyes, used to Ivar's constant bad mood, and started walking towards Ubbe's chambers, grabbing a towel from a chair to try and dry your hair a bit. When you got close enough to his door, you started hearing some strange noises. Was that a grunt? Maybe he was actually sick and in pain. You didn't even bothered knocking, you never had to knock as Ubbe always knew it was you. And that was a mistake. "Ubbe? Ivar told me you were here, are you oka..." You couldn't finish the sentence because what you saw left you speechless. Yeah, Ubbe was on his chambers, and yeah, he was grunting, but he wasn't sick. He was in his bed with some blonde girl. Ubbe cursed out loud, and the girl screamed, trying to cover herself with the furs. "Y/N! Gods" he sighed "You really should learn how to knock" You were furious. He wasn't sick, he wasn't helping any of his brothers, he wasn't helping his mother. He stood you up because he was too busy fucking some girl. You clenched your jaw, trying not to cry but with some tears already gathering in the corners of your eyes. You wanted to yell at him, to punch him on his beautiful face until he bleed, to cry and to punish that girl for stealing your best friend. But you didn't do that. You throw the towel to him with all of your strength, and looked at him with rage. "You are a fucking idiot, Ubbe" And then you stepped out of the room, closing the door and walking straight to the exit. You needed some air. Ivar raised his head when he heard you passing by, and smiled wickedly. "I told you he was busy" "Fuck off, Ivar" you yelled, not bothering to look at him. You even heard his chuckle when you stepped out of the hall. It had stopped raining, some people were getting back to work although the ground was wet and muddy. You shivered, the air was chilly and your clothes and hair were still soaked. You walked down the street, trying to hide your sobs, until you reached an empty barn and entered it, needing some time alone. A fun fact about Kattegat: you never had time alone. When someone else entered the barn while you cried, sitting on the floor and hugging your knees against your chest, you almost yelled in frustration. "Y/N?" You stopped your sobs almost immediately, too surprised to hear Sigurd's voice. "Sigurd?" You dried your tears with your hand "What are you doing here?" "I heard some noise in Ubbe's chambers and then I heard Ivar mocking you, I imagined you caught Ubbe with Margrethe in bed and maybe you needed some comfort" he offered you a small smile, leaving you even more confused. You were best friends with Ubbe, and a really good friend to Hvitserk and Ivar tolerated you enough to let you stay in his presence for more than half an hour, but Sigurd never seemed too interested in you or in your friendship. You thought he didn't even like you. "I... Yeah, I caught him but..." You bit your lip, feeling betrayed and hurt "I am upset because he promised me he would help me learn how to fight, and we were supposed to meet this morning on the training ground, but he didn't come, and when I went looking for him he was there in bed with that girl" you practically sobbed the last sentence, hiding your face against your knees to prevent Sigurd from seeing you cry. "Oh" Sigurd furrowed his brow "That girl is Margrethe, she is a slave, Ubbe has been bedding her for a few weeks" So that's where he went when he disappeared for hours. You realized then it wasn't the first time Ubbe stood you up so he could fuck around with some slave. Something tightened in your chest, and you had to take a deep breath so you wouldn't start crying again. Sigurd got closer to you with a kind smile, sitting down next to you. "I thought you were like this because you were in love with Ubbe" You turned your head to look at him so fast you almost hurt your neck. "What? No!" Sigurd looked at you with an eyebrow raised. "I mean..." You sighed, closing your eyes and resting your back against the wall of the barn "I'm not in love with Ubbe, he's my friend and I'm annoyed that he ignored me and all of that" Sigurd seemed amused with your response. "Yeah, well, you are more than annoyed, Y/N, and everyone in Kattegat knows about your feelings for my brother, so don't try to deny it" You looked away. Were you in love with Ubbe? It was true that you loved his blue eyes, and his laugh was your favorite sound, and well, his smile could lighten up your day, and you longed to hear his husky and deep voice calling your name. Maybe you felt some things when he hugged you, and maybe you enjoyed it when he teased you about your height (as he was much taller than you and seemed to find very amusing those moments when you had to ask for help to reach some things). Maybe what you felt when you saw him with that slave had something to do with the fact that you could never look at other men and find them attractive enough. Maybe you were in love with him. "Even if I was in love with him" you replied, blushing furiously "It wouldn't matter, Sigurd, he's a prince, a son of Ragnar, and I'm the daughter of a trader, he will marry a princess or the daughter of some Earl and I will have to marry whoever my father seems fit, or, if I am lucky enough, I might become a shieldmaiden and fight on the shield wall". Sigurd seemed surprised by your answer, as if he was expecting you to deny your feelings and keep crying. "I'll tell you a secret" he rested his back against the wooden wall of the barn "I'm a son of Ragnar, too, a prince like my older brother, am I not?" He looked at your eyes "Well, I'm in love with a slave" You looked at him in disbelief. What happened with the slaves in Kattegat that seemed to be irresistible for the sons of Ragnar?. "That slave is the same one who was in Ubbe's room, Margrethe" he explained "I'm in love with her since I slept with her for the first time, and she's a slave... What I am trying to say, Y/N, is that you're very important for Ubbe, and no one cares if you're not a princess or if your father does not own any lands" You still couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Sigurd, I can't just go and tell my best friend that I'm in love with him, even if he does not care about my social status!" There it was, you said it out loud and somehow that made it even more real. You were in love with Ubbe. Sigurd just smiled at you. "I'm just saying that you don't have any excuses, if you want to tell him, do it; Ubbe it's not Ivar, he won't mock you, and maybe he feels the same". Then he stood up and left the barn, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

When you went back home it was dark already, the sun had disappeared and the full moon was almost completely hidden by some clouds. Luckily, your house was near the Great Hall and the barn where you had been hidden for hours, thinking about your recently discovered feelings for Ubbe. But the last thing you expected when you opened the door was to find Ubbe sitting next to your father and drinking some mead with him. Your father loved Ubbe, not only because he was your best friend and the prince, but because he was the only one of the brothers that, in your father's opinion, could be trusted near a young woman. If only he knew. When you entered the house, Ubbe stood up from his chair, looking at you. "Y/N, prince Ubbe was looking for you, where were you?" Your father narrowed his eyes, and you were sure you'd have to later listen to him talking about how it was not polite to make a prince wait. "Sorry, I was... Busy" you bit your lip, blushing when you noticed Ubbe staring at you "Do you need anything, my prince?" You might just realized you were in love with him, but that didn't change the fact that he stood you up. "I wanted to talk to you, Y/N" his voice making you shiver "Alone" You opened the door, walking out of your house again and waiting for him to join you in your way to the beach. Neither of you said a word until you got near the water and you sat down on the cold sand, still not looking at him. "I... I really don't understand why you are so angry at me" he said, breaking the silence "I was just... Having fun" "Really, Ubbe?" You glared at him, annoyed at his words "Well, while you were having fun, I was all alone on the training ground, waiting for you to come and help me with my training, as you promised" The darkness around you hid it, but Ubbe's face went pale when he remembered the promise he made to you a few days ago, when you father give you your first sword. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, Y/N" he covered his face with his large hands "I didn't remember, I..." "You forgot, you forgot about me and preferred to spend the day in bed with some slave, and yet you say you don't know why I am so angry" you were trying not to cry so hard you even had to bit your tongue "It was really important for me, Ubbe" "I'm so sorry, Y/N, I truly am, forgive me, I will help you train everyday, but please forgive me, I will tell Hvitserk, and we will train you until you become the most famous shieldmaiden ever" he sat down next to you "I promise" You looked at him, your eyes full of tears. "You already promised me something, Ubbe" you looked away, incapable of looking him straight on his eyes. "I'm sorry" he muttered, biting his lip. You could see in his eyes he really meant it. "Do you love her?" You asked, your voice broken and some tears rolling down you cheeks. Ubbe's heart sank when he heard you, he couldn't stand seeing you cry. "Who?" "That slave, Margrethe" He seemed confused by your question. Did that even matter? Why did you bring up Margrethe? It was true she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and maybe he had thought about freeing her and marrying her, but with his father's return and Hvitserk's upcoming journey to the Mediterranean with Björn he had been too busy to think more about it. "I don't know, I like her" he shrugged, still not knowing why you were interested in that "She's beautiful, I enjoy her company" "Yeah, of course you do" you rolled your eyes. "What is the matter? I get it, you're angry at me because I forgot our plans, but why are you now talking about Margrethe?" "Because I..." You growled in frustration. How could you explain to him that the fact that he preferred to spend his time with another woman hurt you without telling him you were in love with him? "I already apologized, Y/N, I won't forgot about you anymore, I'm sorry" "It's not that, Ubbe!" You yelled, annoyed at yourself for being so stupid and falling for your best friend "I forgive you okay? We can train another day, it doesn't matter" He was silent for a few moments, not knowing what to say. "Then what happens, Y/N? What is the matter?" You closed your eyes. You had to do something. You never had any secrets with Ubbe, you always told him everything. And you couldn't keep this to yourself. Before he could insist and ask you again, you turned around to face him. Ubbe looked at you with his big, blue eyes that made you weak at the knees, surprised. And, before he could open his mouth to speak, you leaned in and kissed him. You had to support yourself on his broad shoulders, pressing your lips against his and closing your eyes, afraid of his reaction. The kiss was short, his hands went to your waist with surprise, but he didn't close his eyes. When you broke the kiss, the tears were falling down your cheeks, and you got away from him, angry at yourself and hurt. Angry because you didn't think before acting and kissed him following your instincts, and hurt because he didn't kiss you back. Your hand went to your mouth. You couldn't believe you just ruined your friendship. Ubbe was speechless. He stared at you with wide eyes, as if he couldn't believe what had just happened. "I'm sorry" you muttered, biting your lip "I..." "Y/N" He shook his head "I don't... You are like my little sister" he closed his eyes "I can't do this, I'm sorry" And then he left, leaving you alone, crying and cursing yourself for being so stupid. Ubbe walked to the Great Hall, clenching his jaw and with his heart broken. Leaving you there crying hurt him more than he would have ever imagined, but he couldn't look at your eyes and tell you he didn't feel the same. Oh, he felt like an idiot. And he hated himself for hurting you. But you were his best friend, his sister, you were the most amazing human being he had ever met. He couldn't kiss you back, pretend he wanted you that way and then forget about it in the morning. No, you didn't deserve that. His eyes caught a blonde woman working near the Great Hall. Margrethe was still finishing up her work for the day, but Ubbe needed an immediate distraction.

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @ivarslittlebadgirll @tephi101 @naaladareia @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee

If I missed you please, let me know!💖

#ubbe x reader #ubbe imagine #ubbe ragnarsson #vikings #vikings imagine #ragnarssons x reader #jordan patrick smith #ivar #hvitserk #sigurd #vikings one shot

565 notes · View notes

isagrimorie · 5 years ago

Text

[reactions] Diary of River Song - Series 3

I’m in the third boxset of the Diary of River Song and I have mixed feelings about the boxset.

I’ll go through this one by one.

The Lady in the Lake by Nev Fountain

On Terminus Prime, clients choose their own means of demise. Something exciting, meaningful, or heroic to end it all. But when River discovers that there are repeat customers, she knows something more is going on. She begins to uncover a cult with worrying abilities. Its members can apparently cheat death, and that’s not all they have in common with River..*

The hype about the third boxset for River Song is that it was one of the best and this story certainly deserves that praise. This was an amazing story. The emotional stakes kept getting higher and when we reach the climax of the story and see how it ties back to the start. It’s chef’s kiss

River discovers that Madam Kovarian cloned her and that her other clones, are for some reason visiting a death planet to die. It turns out her clones had no idea who they were. And about regenerations, somehow formed a death cult. River desperately tries to stop her clones from dying but fails until the last.

And I’m not going to say what happened to the last because wow, what an emotional gut punch.

A Requiem for the Doctor by Jac Rayner

River has joined the Doctor and his friend Brooke on their travels, and they stop off in 18th century Vienna. Brooke thinks history is dull. Until people start dying. Mozart’s legacy is not just his music. River has more than one mystery to solve before a killer is let loose on the people of Vienna – and on the Doctor.

This is where my issues with the boxset comes in. At the end of the first story, River mentioned that she just wanted to see the Doctor and didn’t care which Face she saw.

This turned out to be the Fifth Doctor.

Mostly, I liked the story. River joins the Doctor and his new companion, Brooke. We never heard of Brooke before, she sounds young and enthusiastic and seemed to have knocked about with the Doctor for a while, so River coming to mess with their dynamic is understandable.

The problem comes in, for me, is when River starts to drop anvils about her relationship with the Doctor and Five is only confused and befuddled with River.

I’ve said often enough, that I have an issue with River claiming to love all faces of the Doctor. Because while the core of the Doctor is still the same no matter the regeneration, Post-Time War Doctors are different from Pre-Time War Doctors.

Eight/River is the dividing line for me because Eight straddled the line of Pre and Post-Time War.

Also, no one person can love another person in all stages of their lives — I really believe in right time and right place. Hell, even River herself believed that in Forest of the Dead:

River: You know when you see a photograph of someone you know, but it's from years before you knew them. and it's like they're not quite finished. They're not done yet. Well, yes, the Doctor's here. He came when I called, just like he always does. But not my Doctor.

River in Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead has affection for Ten, and is attracted to Ten but River wasn’t in love with Ten. Because he hasn’t become the man she falls in love with yet.

Ten has yet to go through the heartbreak of his decision to mindwipe Donna, nor has he gone through the crucible of his actions in The Waters of Mrs, or even confronting Rassilon and then the act of deciding to let Gallifrey fall again. Or even, his decision to give his life for Wilf.

Those decisions and actions matter it helped shaped the Doctor to who they will become in the future. And that man was the man River fell in love with.

In the end of this Brooke is revealed to be an assassin (and if anyone is familiar with the River naming system, already suspect who she might be) and attempts to kill the Fifth Doctor.

River stops Brooke in time and saves the Fifth Doctor with her love. And — sigh I think the writer was attempting to replicate the speech in Husbands of River Song but the problem is — the writer is several thousand leagues off. And River proclaiming the Doctor was the love of her life because he is the Bestest Kindest Man in the Universe doesn’t work. The declaration of love doesn’t have Moffat’s deft hand with language and it felt more like a sledgehammer.

My Dinner with Andrew by John Dorney

Welcome, Mesdames et Messieurs, to The Bumptious Gastropod. The most exclusive, most discreet dining experience outside the universe. For the restaurant exists beyond spacetime itself, and the usual rules of causality do not apply. Anything could happen. It is here that the Doctor has a date. With River Song. And with death.

This story was trying to emulate Moffat’s complicated and fun timey-wimey nature and sometimes it works. Madame Kovarian finally comes into the story, and Brooke, surprise, surprise is another of River’s clones.

There’s a real uncomfortable moment when River kisses Five, who is unused to these kind of advances. And doesn’t seem to be receptive, she kisses him to make him forget. In a world where there’s RetCon (and that’s also problematic too) I am not fond of the way River kept using her forgetting lipstick kisses.

Earlier in the time line, River meets Andrew. He looks exactly like the Fifth Doctor except he has (I think) a Northern accent. There are robots with holographic shells. And a restaurant that is outside of Time.

There’s a couple of fun moments running together but the most that I really love is River’s deep hatred for Kovarian. Brooke ends up killing the Doctor and ends up regenerating. Her next regeneration looks very much like Mels from Let’s Kill Hitler.

(Still with me?)

Kovarian and Brooke capture River and bring her back to base.

The Furies by Matt Fitton

Stories of the Furies abound across the cosmos: vengeful spirits hounding guilty souls to death. Madame Kovarian taught them to a child raised in fear, trained to kill, and placed inside a spacesuit. Kovarian knows the universe’s greatest threat, the Doctor must be eliminated. An assassin was created for that purpose. But if Melody Pond has failed, Kovarian will simply have to try again…

This story was — I wish it was better than it was. It could have been really ripe for a great story since it’s about River confronting Kovarian but they barely scratch the surface of their issues. Kovarian has created four-five more River clones, and they’re all aware of River.

They have an unspecified number of regenerations. And different personalities. After regenerating, Brooke has become a little unstable and out of a fit of anger kills one of her sister-clones and blames River for it.

The ghost of the Fifth Doctor is haunting Kovarian because she killed the Doctor too early in his timeline and the universe is falling apart.

It is interesting to me how much of the mythology of the Doctor to the clones is informed by Kovarian’s experience with the Eleventh Doctor in the Battle of Trenzalore. She is so sure the Doctor is a demon, and evil, and the source of all ills. She’s so blinded by her hatred and fear of the Doctor she passed it on to the clones.

The ghost drives Kovarian mad, the other clones realized the murderer was Brooke and River wins the other clones over — even Brooke. She goes back in time and grooms Andrew (the Fifth Doctor lookalike) to die in the Doctor’s place.

The story ends with the clones going out in the world and Brooke staying to become Kovarian’s jailer.

I was dissatisfied with this because in the first story River expressed the need for family. The story even mentioned Amy and Rory and it was interesting how River said that she thought Amy couldn’t get over losing them and it’s why she stayed away. This is a sad thing to think about and I don’t think that’s at all what Amy and Rory wanted.

River doesn’t introduce her young sister clones to her parents, which I think would have helped a lot. But she also leaves them behind even though she said that she was tired of being alone.

Honestly, I wish this story lived up to the first story. It could have been if there was another round of edits and tighten it up. Alex Kingston’s performance, is of course, always top notch.

Nina Toussaint-White (Brooke 2) was also really good but the story failed to really mine the story for what it could have been.

Overall this boxset is a mixed bag with interesting concepts I wish the writers would dive deeper more — like all the issues River has because of her upbringing. I think Big Finish is capable of it. River vs the Masters story, especially the last with the War Master where the War Master exploited River’s susceptibility to mind control. And in the Eight of March where it explored River’s insecurity and Leela had to bring her back down. If they could just laser focus on it — it would be amazing. Honestly, I keep hoping for the caliber of work in Doom Coalition here because River deserves a really great boxset.

#doctor who #reactions #big finish #big finish audio #diary of river song #river song

2 notes · View notes

hasufin · 6 years ago

Text

On commuting

Saw a post on twitter about which I have mixed feelings.

It had a link to an article - paywalled, sadly - about how they’re raising gas taxes in Ohio. The commentary was to the effect of “If you choose to live in the exurbs, you ought to be paying more for gas to cover the infrastructure you opted to rely on”.

Now, my first thought is to apply that to my own situation, or at least a reasonable variant thereof. I’m still very luck to work from home, and that’s great. But we did consider both my wife’s potential employment, and possibly my own, in our location. We can both reasonably expect to spend some period of time commuting into the city, so we made a point of living vaguely near a metro station. It would have certainly been cheaper to get a place out in Manassas or Chantilly, or even one of the places in Springfield and Alexandria which aren’t serviced by the metro. We didn’t like those areas because of crime rate and [lack of] amenities. For a bit more we could have gone for Great Falls or Herndon, maybe even a cheaper part of Potomac. But we didn’t want to be unable to get to the metro, so we kept looking in Vienna, Fairfax, and so on.

Thing is, our choices were pretty constrained. We get to live the dream: owning a house. Buuuuut.... well, we couldn’t realistically buy in Falls Church. Anything even sort of tolerable size and location-wise would have been beyond our means by a fair bit. The house we were renting has an estimated value a good $250,000 more than we could afford (and knowing the housing market, would actually go for at least $100,000 more than that). And that place was too small for us to want to buy! We’re literally seeing three-bedroom places going for over a million dollars. And closer in, places where we wouldn’t have to “commute” per se? HAHAHAHAHA-No. We couldn’t afford an apartment in Arlington. Areas like Rosslyn, Crystal City, gods forbid inside DC Proper? Not even on the radar.

Plus, you know - realize we were projecting possible jobs. That’s really important. We bought a house, and now we’re tied down to it. To sell in... well, less than five years would mean a significant financial loss. Really, ten years is the minimum to think about selling, and we don’t want to do that. Which is a tiny bit of a problem if we change jobs. Job changes are often involuntary - what do I do if I suddenly need to commute to Baltimore? If she gets an offer for a job in Reston? Where would make sense to live if I’m working in Alexandria and she’s in Silver Spring? Where can we be tied down when those change yet again? Increasingly the advice is to just give up, never hope to own a house, it won’t work out. And truth be told, I know more horror stories of home ownership than not; maybe for a GenXer it’s hubris to think we will be able to happily own a house and never regret it.

So it bothers me, the implication that people choose to live far away from where they work.We don’t. We live where we can, we work where we can. If we’re lucky there’s some relation between those, but we’re often not very lucky. The idea that we should be “punished” for that “choice” feels like victimizing people for doing the best they can.

However there’s another, very different narrative. I mentioned Great Falls, right? Well, the term “exurb” applies. And DC has no few of these: wealthy areas with far more residents than employment. Some have no jobs at all, just row upon row of McMansions. Which makes it sound like a lot of people, but the population density is pretty low. People move to these areas knowing full well they’re going to have to drive a long way to get anywhere: they’re planning on a two-hour commute, fifteen minutes to get to the grocery store, half an hour to a decent restaurant, and so on. And so often I see buyer’s remorse. They imagine they’ll get a nice house where they “entertain” guests and don’t eat out quite as much, and never have to deal with crime or urban issues, the schools will be nice and well-funded, and they can relax. Then they promptly begin whining about the long commute, the expensive toll roads, the amount they’re paying for gas, that eating out is a hassle, and that nobody they know wants to make the trip out to see them.

And those people? No, I don’t have much sympathy for their gas tax. They chose that life, it wasn’t forced on them. They thought they’d found a clever hack to getting more for less, that they were smarter than the rest of us. And I see no reason they shouldn’t pay for the infrastructure they chose to rely on.

The problem - and this is so often the issue in public policy - is finding a way to fairly spread out the expense: to make the people who can pay, pay, without also squeezing the people who can’t pay, who shouldn’t be hurt, also be paying the price. And, well, while I have no real sympathy for exurbanites, honestly public policy shouldn’t be about punishing people for their choices; at most it shoudl be about leveling the playing field.

2 notes · View notes

hedgehog-goulash7 · 7 years ago

Photo

OK - this is the piece I wrote in refutation of this now-notorious (because of its many, almost hilarious inaccuracies) article on Screen Rant: “15 Reasons the MCU Should Retire Iron Man”

This is:

A Rebuttal to ‘15 Reasons The MCU Should Retire Iron Man” -- or, Iron Man Should Retire Only If and When RDJ Wants Him To

By Hedgehog-Goulash7

I will preface this by saying: I know all good and great things must someday come to an end. We’ve all been blessed now by almost a decade of RDJ in the armor as Tony Stark, and with all the other opportunities in movies, TV and elsewhere calling to him, we can’t expect one of America’s finest actors to stay an active player in the Marvel Cinematic Universe forever.

As Chris Evans -- another MCU player who’s potentially on the cusp of change -- said recently, and more poetically than I ever could, “The passing of time and the passing of torches is part of the experience. Nothing lasts forever. There’s a beauty in that departure, even if it can be sad at times. It’s also joyful.”

But there’s that type of graceful nod to what may and will come, later if not sooner -- and then there’s a completely other type of thing: a pseudo-expert on a movie news site willfully CALLING for a character’s end, and using dubious and easily refuted pseudo-”facts” to back his points up. That’s about when I feel the need to respond. So let’s go.

(Continued under the cut. This is LONG, but it needed to be, to answer a lot of his badly construed points. Your comments are always very welcome -- and I’m sure I missed a lot of things, but had I included everything this would have been 6,000 words long! As I mentioned before, I actually sent this to Screen Rant; they thanked me, turned it down because they don’t accept “guest posts,” but liked it enough to consider me for a staff writer position -- about which we shall see... - Hedge)

I was puzzled and disappointed to read Evan Killham’s “15 Reasons the MCU Should Retire Iron Man.” At first I thought it had to be satire, but then realized that wasn’t the case. And then as I plowed through, I realized that Evan misstated and downright confused so many elements in the MCU’s Tony Stark story that in some cases I wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about.

As a Marvel fan – particularly of Tony Stark/Iron Man – for many years, and continuing to enjoy Iron Man as my favorite character in the MCU, I disagree wholeheartedly with Evan’s article, which seemed a rather mean-spirited attack piece on a beloved character. So please, allow me to rebut point by point and show you the OTHER side, from a much more optimistic Iron Man fan’s point of view.

15. Tony Stark did NOT “create most of his own enemies”

Vanko was “created, if anything, by Tony’s father -- as was Obadiah Stane. The only enemy Tony Stark really “created” was Aldrich Killian, but who could predict the insanity of a dude you barely knew building an entire villain persona inspired by a slight at a party years ago?

Yes, Tony blames himself for creating Ultron, because Tony is all about taking responsibility and blame upon himself (unlike most of his teammates). But Ultron was clearly NOT Tony’s fault. Tony may have been the catalyst who physically added the alien intelligence to the Iron Legion program. But at the time he was under the influence of the vision Wanda had implanted in his brain: of his greatest fear, losing his teammates and not having done more to save them.

And more important, he was ALSO under the influence of the Mind Stone in Loki’s staff, which, as we saw in the first Avengers movie, can sow discord and control the minds of even superpowered beings. The Mind Stone manipulates Tony and Bruce into inserting it in the Ultron/Iron Legion program, and from there it self-promulgates, embodying itself as the evil robot. Tony and Bruce go off to the party not thinking anything of it, because they are being manipulated into thinking nothing’s wrong. The entrance of Evil Ultron is a huge surprise to them.

14. Tony Stark is not “overused”

Evan says Tony Stark has appeared in “eight of the 16 released MCU films.” He rushes to clarify that one appearance – in “The Incredible Hulk” – was just a few moments’ worth in a tiny cameo. So then that’s seven of the 16 films, fairly speaking.

So three of those were star appearances in his own franchise. Three were in Avengers movies (because Cap3: Civil War was really an Avengers movie, albeit one that RDJ made a mark for himself in, despite having far less screen time…). And yes, of course Iron Man should be a star player in the Avengers movies.

And most recently he made, oooh, wait for it: a 15-minute guest appearance in Spider-Man: Homecoming.

“Overused”? Hardly.

RDJ, sadly for us aficionados, is only in about one movie per year, of ANY type. So a year in which he makes even a small appearance in an MCU movie is a precious year indeed. In fact many of us think some of the Iron Man-less MCU movies could actually have benefited from a strong injection of Iron Man, which always makes everything that much better.

13. Tony’s teammates really DO like him.

Sure, Rhodey loves Tony and they’re besties from way back. But there have been many, many moments of friendship and affection from his other teammates for Tony Stark throughout the MCU saga.

Natasha practically mouths Russian prayers for Tony to return from the wormhole in Avengers, and in Civil War she holds and massages Tony’s shoulder and asks if he’s OK. Thor apologizes for doubting Tony in Age of Ultron and admiringly admits Tony was right. Bruce Banner warms to Tony’s friendship in the first Avengers movie – yes, the one that launched a million “Science Bros” memes because their affection for each other was so evident. When Tony is jolted back from the dead by the Hulk’s snarl at the end of the Chitauri battle, the smile on Steve’s face could light up a room.

There are countless other little moments like that throughout all the movies. They’re “just” character moments, though – not part of the big bashing action setpieces – so casual viewers tend to overlook them. I don’t get that the heroes of the MCU are generally touchy-feely emotive people (except for you, Thor, you giant puppy). But they DO express their feelings in small, very meaningful ways that are fun to watch.

Does Tony annoy them? Sure, like an annoying brother. But we love that brother anyway, because he’s family and he’s actually pretty entertaining. (If only my brother were RDJ, it would never get old…)

12. Tony loves his teammates, too

Tony Stark sometimes doesn’t know how to deal with feelings of care and affection, so he sometimes tries to buy it – as he’s doing now by providing ALL of the Avengers’ amenities: the Tower and now the Compound, their uniforms and equipment and tech, their room and board. (It’s actually led to a “Team Freeloader” meme among the fans, since Tony is pretty much giving them everything.) He doesn’t NEED to do this, but he does. Because he cares about them, and they’ve become his surrogate family.

But when you really get down to matters of the heart – which these movies don’t very often – look again at the vision Wanda implanted in Tony’s brain; the one of his greatest fear. Of all the Avengers who were affected by Wanda’s visions, only Tony saw a vision of his teammates dying. That is his greatest fear: that he didn’t do enough and then all his friends die. He admits to Nick Fury that he’d rather die than have them die.

I don’t know how much more blatant the MCU saga could get in practically underlining the point that Tony loves his teammates and takes responsibility for their lives and well-being. He FLIES TO SIBERIA all alone in Civil War -- one little guy in an armored suit flying hours and hours through ocean storms -- after braving The Raft and immense danger to find out where Steve is, once he learns the truth about the Vienna bombing. That’s called true friendship, and being there to make things right even after you and your friend both screw up.

Oh, not to mention he designs everything, pays for everything and makes everyone look cooler.

11. Tony may “desperately need a break” -- but he just got one

Yup, we fans have been saying all along that Tony Stark needs a break and a long vacation in some beautiful place where he can quietly heal and come to terms with all that’s happened since 2008. And remember, only about five minutes ago in screen time, he just learned the truth of his parents’ murder and his friend’s betrayal, which probably triggered every ounce of PTSD inside him.

And…he just got a break, thankfully. In Spider-Man: Homecoming he goes to India to rest and recharge and find himself (it’s glossed over quickly in the movie, but in the novelization, based on the script, it’s clear). Hey, if hanging out and meditating in some ritzy ashram is what it takes to get the old Tony Stark back, then yay.

But more than that: in Homecoming he has reunited with Pepper, the “one thing he can’t live without.” And even more than THAT, he has also gained a surrogate son in Peter Parker, the young superhero who is so much like Tony in almost every way: impulsive, mouthy, quicksilver, utterly determined. So now Tony, who probably thought he lost a family in “Civil War” (in more ways than one) has a close cadre of people he loves around him again.

And remember: this is an ongoing saga. Civil War brought everyone to their low point, the nadir of the story. From here on it’s onward and upward for all of them.

10. Tony’s motivations are not “questionable”

You could say everything Tony Stark does has “guilt” behind it, as Evan did in his listcicle. But you could say that about all of them – every last one of the Avengers is either driven by guilt or shame. They’re all broken in some way. But if the story plays out as I think it will, because this is how stories work, they will all find their destiny in working together, as a team, as a family – when the Earth is threatened by a Big Bad only the Avengers can defeat.

Tony is not a perfect person. That’s what makes him a fascinating and compelling character. Yes, guilt over his family’s weapons-making legacy drives him to become Iron Man once he sees that those weapons are being diverted and sold to bad guys by Obie. (P.S.: Evan, Stark Industries NEVER sold weapons to evildoers. They were contracted to the U.S. military only.)

Yes, Tony nearly weeps when confronted by the mom of the young man who died in Sokovia. Yes, he blames himself for Ultron and feels desperate guilt over that, because he’s not aware that he actually WASN’T to blame. And yes, these things and more drive Tony Stark toward advocating the Accords, which (I don’t know, I haven’t read them and I don’t know anyone who has…) seem to simply say that super-powered beings who pack the force of a bunch of atom bombs shouldn’t go tromping across international borders without permission, and should have some oversight. I don’t know – seems reasonable to me?

9. Tony Stark definitely DOES want to be Iron Man

Of course he does, because he’s a hero, and hero-ing is what heroes do. He even admits it to Cap: “I don’t want to stop.” He TRIES to stop – probably to try to be a better mundane man and for Pepper’s sake. But he keeps coming back. Because he wants to. Because the inner drive to be a hero never stops.

We see this most clearly in his interactions with Peter Parker. Peter’s statement that “if you can do the things I can do, and you don’t, and bad things happen, then that’s on you” clearly has an impact on Tony – because it hits him at a time he’s been roped back in after trying to step away from his hero duties. It brings back to Tony that by trying to sit these things out, he’s actually making things worse -- because the world benefits from his actions as Iron Man.

Out of the mouth of this innocent kid – in whom Tony sees an unspoiled version of himself that he feels compelled to protect and guide – comes the entire credo for why he Iron Mans. And why any of them do what they do.

8. He’s NOT “more of a wild card than the Hulk.”

No. Just no. The Hulk can’t help himself. Tony can. Most of Tony’s decisions are pretty rational, when he’s actually thinking for himself and isn’t controlled by some outside force. Tony “submitting to registration” in Civil War was not a wild or unexpected decision. It’s the reasonable outcome of the huge fiascos the Avengers have gotten themselves into. None of it because of anything they’d intended, but the collateral damages happened, right? Massive loss of property, life and limb?

And who was stuck with cleaning it up and paying for it all? Why, it’s Tony Stark, the ONLY one taking any responsibility whatsoever. More on that in a moment.

7. Tony Stark does NOT “actively hold people back” – LOL, what?!!

Where in the world did THAT accusation come from? I’ve literally in all my years of fandom never heard that Tony Stark holds people back. Au contraire, mon Screen Rant frére. Tony Stark revels in being a futurist and in looking ahead to what the future will bring to all of us.

He takes on mentorship of Peter Parker because he knows that this youngster will someday, probably sooner rather than later, be a great hero – and that the kid won’t stop being a hero, whether or not Tony Stark is there to guide him or not. Thus, Peter is in active danger, out there on the streets in his onesie, punching far above his weight.

Tony isn’t holding Peter BACK, he’s keeping him SAFE. Can you imagine the time, effort and thought that went into that high-tech suit and its “Training Wheels Protocol” – Tony spending hours and hours planning how to keep this impetuous young padawan from being killed before he’s 17? Can you imagine Tony’s guilt if he had the ability to protect Peter and he didn’t?

Tony’s only mistake here is not realizing how much like him young Peter is, because of course Peter would disable the protections at his first opportunity. Remember “JARVIS, sometimes you gotta run before you can walk”?

6. Tony does not “refuse to take responsibility” – quite the opposite

Tony Stark is completely DRIVEN by the impetus to take responsibility. There is literally a whole movie about this, called Iron Man, in case you missed it.

Ever since his captivity in Afghanistan, it’s been that way. He immediately shut down Stark Industries’ weapons manufacturing at great expense and danger to himself. He built the suit to avenge the life of Yinsen and take responsibility for the safety of the town of Gulmira, since he blamed himself for the terrorists getting his weapons (even though that was Obie’s deal…). I didn’t see recklessness – just determination and courage, and some awesome pinpoint weapons-aiming, too. No collateral damage there.

In Age of Ultron and Civil War, Tony is completely horrified by the ravages of Ultron, whom he blames himself for even though (as we’ve seen) he’s really not to blame. And really, even though both Cap and Tony are quite a bit right and quite a lot wrong in Civil War, Tony in the context of real-world affairs is MORE right.

The Avengers without oversight by some state or world agency are no more than an outlaw militia traipsing over borders and doing what they wish. No iteration of international law would ever allow that, no matter how much “good” Cap thinks they’re doing by “keeping it in our own hands.”

That sort of thinking is dangerously unilateral, and Cap veers close to America First-ism there (not surprisingly) -- but that doesn’t really work well in an international context. Tony has more of the right idea – that the group needs to be held accountable, as any military would, as any international peacekeeping organization would. There are laws in the world, and they’re there for a purpose.

Also, the only one taking ANY responsibility after the Lagos fiasco seems to be: Tony Stark. Cap is curiously subdued, keeping to his rooms while Tony comes back from his mini-retirement. Tony once again takes on ALL the stress of being the Avenger’s PR crisis manager, lead media spokesman, government liaison and all-around cleanup guy while everyone else apparently lounges around at the Compound.

And going back just a little further – remember that the MCU wouldn’t have Manhattan and would probably be embroiled in WW3 if Tony Stark hadn’t shouldered a nuclear missile and gone on a suicide mission to deliver it into space. Talk about being the guy who lies down on the wire…

So don’t talk to me about Tony Stark “not taking responsibility.” So often and on so many occasions, he takes on ALL the responsibility.

5. Tony Stark has shown more character development than all the rest of the Avengers put together.

Anyone asserting that Tony “has shown no character development” has had their head under the proverbial rock the past nine years. Tony Stark has had the most continuous character development of any of the Avengers. If you think not, then you’re buying into the motormouth bravado that the character wears like his armor -- and not seeing the man underneath.

In the course of the MCU saga so far, Tony has had his hero revelation moment, soared above the mistakes of his past, been brought very low by both real and perceived missteps along his hero journey, and now is set to fly high again. In fact, judging from Homecoming, he’s just gone through a rather huge glow-up (which makes his fans very happy).

Tony is not a god or an unceasingly good and moral super-soldier; he’s not a Jekyll-and-Hyde rage monster; he’s not a trained assassin or spy. None of them ever really change, because they’re all locked into their types (or they don’t get their own movies so we can SEE them change: *cough*Black Widow*cough*…).

Of all the Avengers, Tony is the most human and most ever-changing, just like all of us. He’s a flesh-and-bones guy whose only “super power” is his intellect, whose armor is both real and metaphorical, shielding his real and metaphorical heart -- and whose entire story is his leaping, upward, optimistic character arc toward the future.

4. His “quipping has gotten exhausting”?! Not a chance.

Listen, if it wasn’t Tony Stark doing the quipping, it would be some other super-dude in the movie. Count on it. It’s a trope. And I’d much, much, MUCH rather have Robert Downey Jr. as on-site quipmeister than anyone else. He’s by far the world’s most qualified.

Also, can you WAIT for the moment when Iron Man, Rocket and Star Lord meet? Quip meters all over the world will shatter, and that, as Martha Stewart says, will be a Good Thing.

3. All those “murders”? What??

Please, point me to any occasion in the MCU where Tony Stark “murders” innocent people intentionally.

I’ll wait.

These are superhero movies – ALL the heroes kill people; hopefully, the bad guys. A lot of aliens bite the dust, but occasionally bad humans do too. And Marvel movies, for all their mayhem, are fairly restrained in collateral damages and actually address the issues of unintended deaths and damage and the human consequences that heroes have to live with.

How many people died as the Chitauri invaded NYC and smashed into buildings? But how many millions more would have died if the World Council had nuked Manhattan? I seem to recall someone in red and gold saving those millions from nuclear annihilation…which is not a small thing. Wanda inadvertently killed 11 innocent people in that hotel in Lagos – sure, “not her fault,” any more than Ultron was Tony’s fault. They both intended to do good and ended up with a fiasco. It’s all become an important part of the MCU story – it’s become a story of accountability and taking responsibility.

I can only defend the Insta-Kill mode in Spidey’s suit with the thought that it was there as an extreme measure of last resort, only to be used in desperation and ONLY when Peter is fully trained and can – yes – take on that heavy responsibility. Tony intended for that training to happen, you know.

2. Tony did not “almost literally get everyone killed”

Again, as I mentioned: Tony – who takes on the responsibility and blame for just about everything, which is his main problem in life – was actually and ironically NOT responsible for Ultron. Wanda’s vision, then the Mind Stone, remember. The Mind Stone, not Tony, was mainly responsible for creating the mad robot. Its intelligence entered the Ultron interface while the Avengers were partying, and no one even suspected it was happening.

1. We not only “want” to like him, we DO.

Listen – Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark is the reason a lot of us go to the MCU movies. It’s no coincidence that every MCU movie in which he’s played a major role is at the top of the top-grossing movies in cinema history.

Sure, we fans would love to see RDJ in other roles. That’s coming. But if he wants to be part of the MCU for however long, he’s more than welcome. Maybe he could take on a Fury-like role as Director Stark, a role that would let him be involved in the MCU as much or as little as he’d like so he’d have time for other projects.Or maybe he gracefully bows out, with Tony Stark either ending heroically in a blaze of glory or in simply retiring to that country place he’s been promising Pepper. I’m torn, but what will be will be. That’s up to Marvel and RDJ, not some freelance writer with whatever axe you’re grinding.

Tony Stark is such a beloved hero to all of us because of how he’s portrayed onscreen, by one of the great actors of our time: as a flawed, fallible, searching, very human character who makes mistakes, learns from them, falls down again and again, but gets back up and soars once more toward the future he loves. He’s important to so many fans who have disabilities, mental illness/PTSD, or who suffer anxiety and depression, because of what he has gone through and what he has overcome. He’s important to those of us who study and love science and technology, because he fails and perseveres and that’s what science is about. Because it’s the failures, the attempts, the trying, the falling and the overcoming – all of that IS the story of Tony Stark. That’s why we love him.

Tony Stark is a hero. Not perfect – and that’s the entire point. Tony Stark is us. Long may he be part of the MCU, as long as RDJ wants him to play him – because we’ll be here to watch and cheer him on.

###

#tony stark #screen rant #commentary #15 reasons #that article

161 notes · View notes

batterymonster2021 · 5 years ago

Text

People Living in Vehicles Need a Safe Place to Park, Not Fines or Jail

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/people-living-in-vehicles-need-a-safe-place-to-park-not-fines-or-jail/

People Living in Vehicles Need a Safe Place to Park, Not Fines or Jail

Hi every person i’m right here in San Diego and i’m with Teresa and she is strolling or one of the vital individuals that in reality situated this dependable parking software might you tell me about it well what it’s it is a program for many who are residing of their cars and so what we do is furnish a parking zone for them to park at and so they may be able to be secure at night after which we additionally work with them to aid more path and in their homelessness so i have case managers on-web site along with social employees interns that work with each and every loved ones to improve plans transfer out of their cars how long have you been doing this we’ve got been doing this program now for roughly three and a half of years three and a half of years now it is now not simply this facility you could have two others we do now we have three total sites three total sites on a given night within the middle of July what number of persons we have now i would say about what number of humans with 50 to 60 men and women wow that is enormous now how did you all doing this we particularly began doing this when the recession started we began seeing a brand new variety of face that homeless come to the doorways that had automobiles they had you know under no circumstances particularly access social offerings first time homelessness and they have been terrified of the system and they didn’t wish to keep at the shelters it’s form of horrifying they don’t know find out how to even so it was once how can we help these humans which can be scattered throughout my largest question and is how do you get humans like this Church who is let me use their parking zone to support out and that i should preface this i’ve been in meetings upon meetings upon meanings of seeking to get people to just do that to present the space yeah that is by and large has been our toughest fight and it’s really first-class in the church that’s looking to do this ministry and see it as part of their mission on this at ministry and that now that we’ve got had a particularly a demonstrated track file of running an awfully effective strong software it makes it easier in view that they have now we have obtained to exhibit them that we wouldn’t have that challenge and be competent to be triumphant they’re basically pronouncing no out of worry yeah you realize homeless people together I don’t know correct what about Sunday morning you understand I believe now we’re at it’s very tight if they are very respectful and one of the most requirements in view that I requested you prior it is that they don’t wish to are living of their auto they wish to get their lifestyles again yes that they may be now not complacent yes so would you speak a little about that yeah it’s for us it is very primary yeah homelessness is you already know definitely the drawback we wish to move people ahead into housing so we do work with folks it is about that what are we going to do to arrive that end purpose stabilization back into housing so you have got to have that willingness and force to do that and take these steps it is that’s most important considering assets are confined and there’s ample individuals that rather want that end goal so you know a pretty stringent with that you realize if you rather experience residing in your automobile in our application fairly is not a software for you considering the fact that there may be individuals that might use the gap park someplace else yeah as what more often than not the largest challenge for folks which are dwelling in their auto is finding a dependable position to park and also you furnish that and also you provide case administration however one of the crucial things that I believe is i’m speaking as anyone that is watching at operational expenses is you just have a Vienna that as an administrative center over there and you take turns dozing within the van and so it can be not a lot to run anything like no it is a very application right you already know automobile parking space van or porta potti yeah and a few case in case manipulate yeah and then you received a program and he can support with tremendous amount of humans with very few resources in our usual cost is $4 a day for you understand less than $four a day per man or woman Wow $500 we can transfer a household from their automobile into housing first is that astronomical fee of safe haven is a further now right here in San Diego I just learn a put up which can be some newspaper article that they may be outlawing tenting on the streets in actual fact yeah inform me about that yeah they’re gonna be in image in her imposing a no RV parked on the streets overnight and we’ve got a enormous problem participants living in their exact RVs and that is sort of tactic to get at these people to move them alongside and take it out so we certainly assume there’s going to be the general practitioner of members who are in these RVs that are not gonna have any please go proper there Lee going through some steep fines and some steep tickets to me it will make sense to have extra packages like this rather of doing the criminalization factor and that particularly increases taxpayer cash yeah and that is just it you already know and that is a part of the challenge you know we don’t be given our views in our current programs for the reason that we wouldn’t have the traditional proper the dimensions capacity there is plenty of people of their specific autos correct they have got a greater it’s extra well being disorders when your vehicle versus an RV so it can be how we goal and focal point however we are gonna have certainly some issues on our palms but that you can quite simply undertake a application like this to be competent to facilitate larger automobiles men and women they lose their job after which they lose their place to reside they usually rapidly go on Craigslist and as an alternative to shelters they take hold of an RV or they keep of their automobile it’s interesting that you just we’re speaking about humans arriving and also you mentioned nearly all of them they may power until night mostly they’re out watching for work or offerings or other things yeah we begin the application at 6 due to the fact that’s part of our deal is that during the day you have got to go be productive and work entry these avenues to you know get out of your automobile and then yeah they coming back in the evening so we might take we’re gonna happen and so they take the subsequent test for the following couple of days III quite love this sort application and i suppose we want more of it how do people in finding you the way do they to find you to either maybe begin certainly one of their possess or to recreation what you’re employed you’re going you’ll find my information our internet site first-rate for change.Org my email Risa ter the day past at drains for exchange.Org fine that is excellent good thanks very much for talking to me thank you you

0 notes

cutsliceddiced · 5 years ago

Text

New top story from Time: Welcome to the Golden Age of Live-Streaming

On Saturday night, hip-hop eminence Derrick “D-Nice” Jones threw a dance party for 100,000 with attendees including Michelle Obama, Mark Zuckerberg, Drake, J. Lo, Rihanna and both finalists for the Democratic Presidential nomination. The crowd was even bigger on Sunday. In an interview with CBS This Morning’s Gayle King on Monday, D-Nice confirmed his plans to keep the party going daily for as long as possible. But before you cancel the DJ, rapper and producer for creating the world’s most distinguished COVID-19 cluster, I should mention that the gatherings—dubbed Homeschool at Club Quarantine—have taken place exclusively on Instagram Live. The host, ensconced in his kitchen alone, is practicing social distancing.

This is live entertainment in the coronavirus era, when theaters, concert halls, museums, sports stadiums and nightclubs are closed; music, comedy and book tours are canceled; and non-news TV production has ground to a halt. Within the space of two weeks, Americans have seen so many of the institutions that kept us amused, informed and intellectually stimulated during national crises past shut down. It may be negligible in comparison with the plight of those who are feeling the effects of COVID-19 firsthand, or even the sadness the healthy among us feel at being separated from loved ones, but the loss of both the physical public square and platforms like daily talk shows are also tragic. Which is why it’s been so encouraging to see artists and entertainers from across the culture use DIY methods of communication to fill that void. After years of puzzling over Generation Z’s love of YouTube stars and live streamers, the over-30 set isn’t just starting to understand the appeal of these platforms—we’re relying on them to stay sane.

youtube

In the week or so since late-night hosts sent their staffers home to self-isolate, Stephen Colbert has brought us such welcome distractions as the abbreviated, solo “Lather Show” (from his bathtub) and “The Flame Show With Stephen Col-burn” (at the fire pit on his patio) featuring a video-chat performance from Late Show bandleader Jon Batiste. In mini-episodes filmed at home with his wife behind the camera, Jimmy Fallon has been leading split-screen conversations with stars like Jennifer Garner and Lin-Manuel Miranda; Fallon’s two young, joyfully disruptive daughters have become America’s sweethearts. Trevor Noah has The Daily Social Distancing Show, while Samantha Bee has enlisted her husband and kids to shoot Full Frontal from their rural backyard, with plans to air a new episode on Wednesday. A Little Late host and YouTube native Lilly Singh is off the air but back to her 15 million subscribers with pandemic-related comedy skits. And so on.

Daytime talk-show hosts have followed suit: Ellen DeGeneres has been posting phone calls with friends such as Jennifer Aniston and Tiffany Haddish on her Twitter account. The View often looks like The Brady Bunch intro now, a grid of faces with Whoopi and Joy logging on live from their respective homes. One of that show’s alumnae, Rosie O’Donnell, raised $600,000 for The Actors’ Fund with Sunday’s one-night-only revival of The Rosie O’Donnell Show—a special that had her video-chatting with Billy Porter, Patti LuPone and other Broadway-adjacent celebs “from the comfort of my garage-slash-art-studio.” (Parents who’ve been entertaining young kids at home for the past few weeks must have felt a pang of recognition upon spotting the signs of family craft projects in the background.) The crisis has even brought Oprah back on a daily basis, from her home, in a free Apple TV series called Oprah Talks COVID-19; the first episode consisted of a FaceTime chat with Idris Elba and his wife Sabrina Dhowre, who both tested positive for coronavirus, her laptop propped up on a stack of books. Never mind that her sectional is approximately the size of my apartment; when was the last time a billionaire media mogul looked so relatable?

Which is why I FaceTimed @idriselba & his wife Sabrina who are safely quarantined together after he tested positive for COVID-19. Idris fills me in on his journey and Sabrina reveals the result of her test after they decided to quarantine together. pic.twitter.com/HETVZeqCPE

— Oprah Winfrey (@Oprah) March 22, 2020

It’s been especially heartening to see artists who, like D-Nice, have scrambled to create something entirely new. As book clubs spring up with the help of video conferencing technology, publishing site Literary Hub has launched the Virtual Book Channel, whose Vimeo-based shows offer the kind of readings and author interviews bookstores across the country have had to cancel. Death Cab for Cutie frontman Ben Gibbard has been live-streaming daily performances on YouTube to benefit various medical charities. NPR has made a schedule of “live virtual concerts”—most of them on social media or video platforms—that have been announced, ranging from the Vienna State Opera to events organized by indie labels Don Giovanni and Third Man.

From Bernie Sanders hosting a YouTube live stream on the coronavirus response with AOC, Rashida Tlaib and Ilhan Omar to Padma Lakshmi leading pantry-cooking tutorials on Instagram, there’s a DIY COVID-19 video for every political alignment and cultural niche. A homespun microgenre of coronavirus-themed parody song has emerged, with the reliably profane Liam Gallagher transforming his old Oasis hits into “Wonderwash” and “Champagne Soapernova”; if there’s a boomer in your life who can’t wrap their mind around social distancing, send them this Twitter video of Neil Diamond tweaking “Sweet Caroline” so that the chorus begins, “Hands, washing hands/Don’t touch me/I won’t touch you.” We’re seeing artists’ and celebrities’ living rooms, meeting their spouses and kids, cooing over their pets. Though these videos can’t replace communication with friends and family—or, obviously, satisfy our moral obligation to help coronavirus patients, healthcare workers and those in our communities who’ve lost their jobs—there’s a sense that if we’re all self-quarantining at home, then we’re all in this together.

View this post on Instagram

We made black-eyed peas over polenta! Recipe in bio.

A post shared by Padma Lakshmi (@padmalakshmi) on Mar 21, 2020 at 1:42pm PDT

Whether we’ve realized it or not, I think a lot of us are finding the same sustenance in these rough dispatches that teens get from YouTube vloggers, TikTok dancers (whose acolytes now include LeBron James and his adorable family) and social media influencers of all stripes. Why, we’ve spent years asking ourselves and each other, would you watch a spoiled 15-year-old with no discernible talent try on every item of clothing she’s ever ordered on the internet when you could be bingeing The Sopranos, or at least Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Why listen to some weirdo warble over canned beats when practically the entire history of recorded music is available to stream? What we forget is that young people are often looking for something the professional, adult-dominated entertainment industry can’t offer—something past generations found in the crude mediums of punk music or zines or early internet message boards: a sense of intimacy. Even for kids with vibrant social lives and supportive families, adolescence can be horribly lonely. Maybe it’s not the content of haul videos or live gaming streams that has them hooked; maybe it’s the sense of community and personal connection these lo-fi videos create.

After 13 days away from almost everyone I care about, I’ve begun to remember what profound isolation—whether physical or psychological—can feel like. That certainly explains why, though I used to hate using video chat apps, I recently spent 90 minutes on Zoom with friends self-quarantining in Australia and “met” an old pal’s newborn baby on FaceTime. But it’s also why, on Sunday, I tuned in to an impromptu Instagram Live performance by rock icon Patti Smith and her musician daughter Jesse Paris Smith. Amid songs, poetry and pep talks, they revealed that they were broadcasting from a smartphone propped up on containers of instant oatmeal and aloe vera juice. As cool as it was to see one of my favorite artists play a live show at a time when in-person concerts are impossible, what really brought me comfort was the sight of a woman I so deeply respect hunkering down with family and taking time to check in with fans. In sharp contrast to Gal Gadot’s smug video of celebrities singing “Imagine,” Smith’s gesture seemed to come out of humility, generosity and respect for her fellow citizens.

youtube

Millions of us are suddenly becoming immersed in this social-video ecosystem to an extent that we’ve never been before. We’re not just occasionally posting a viral clip on our platform of choice; we’re getting emotionally invested in this stuff, because it’s the closest thing we have to live or even daily entertainment. And we need those things—those culture-wide conversations, songs and jokes, that shared mourning for those we’ve lost—so that we never forget we’re living in a society, especially at a time when it’s crucial that we all do our part to keep each other safe.

There’s no guarantee that mainstream pop culture’s new DIY spirit will endure after Elba recovers, Bee is out of the woods and coronavirus has gone the way of H1N1. But, either way, it won’t be long before a critical mass of Gen Z reaches an age when their sensibilities start shaping the entertainment industry proper. For them, YouTube, Twitch and TikTok will always be part of a standard creative toolbox. The inevitability of this generational shift used to terrify me (a luxurious fear compared to what’s weighing on our minds these days, I know). Now that I finally get it, I’m curious to like, subscribe and see what happens.

via https://cutslicedanddiced.wordpress.com/2018/01/24/how-to-prevent-food-from-going-to-waste

#Time #top stories #IFTTT #news

0 notes

themoneybuff-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Time is more valuable than money

It's a GRS tradition! Each year on Halloween, I publish a story about planning for death. Usually these are general articles about estate planning. This year's story is personal. When my best friend died in 2009, one of my biggest regrets was that I hadn't made time to travel with him. Sparky had previously asked me to join him on trips to Burning Man (in 1996) and southeast Asia (in 1998) and Mexico (in 2003). I'd declined each invitation, in part because I was deep in debt but also because I thought there'd be plenty of time to do that sort of thing in the future. Turns out, there wasn't plenty of time to do that sort of thing in the future. After Sparky died, I resolved to make the most of opportunities like this. Being in a better financial position helped. Having ample savings gives me the flexibility to join friends on short adventures or to explore the U.S. by RV for fifteen months without money worries. (Yes, I realize that's a fortunate position to be in.) Here's an example. In 2012, my cousin Duane asked me to join him for a three-week trip to Turkey. Remembering my vow after Sparky's death (and remembering the power of yes), I agreed. That trip to Turkey is one of the highlights of my life so far. I'm glad I did it. It was worth every penny. [embedded content] The Best Laid Plans Early in 2017, Duane contacted me. This fall will be the five-year anniversary of our trip to Turkey, he said. Want to have another big adventure? Sure! I said. So, we started planning. We bought books, watched videos, and browsed websites. We invited Kim to join us. Over the course of several months, our plans crystalized. We'd fly to Paris, rent a car, then spend three or four weeks driving around France and Spain and Portugal, enjoying festivals, experiencing the grape harvest, and exploring ruins. (Duane loves ruins!)

In June of last year, I sent Duane an email. I'm going to buy plane tickets tomorrow. Do you want me to buy yours? Hold up, he responded. We need to talk. He called me on the phone. What's going on? I asked. Well, J.D., it's like this, he said. I have cancer. I've been having problems with my throat for a few months, but I thought that was because of indigestion or something. It's not indigestion. I have throat cancer. Long-time GRS readers know about the curse afflicting the men of my family. We die young because of cancer. My father died of cancer ten days before his fiftieth birthday. Duane's father died of cancer at age 51. Duane's brother died of cancer at 47. Now Duane was telling me that he had cancer at age 53. (Is there any wonder I fear I'll die of cancer in the next few years?) Holy shit, I said. Are you serious? Yes, Duane said. And the prognosis isn't good. I need to start chemo as soon as possible, which means I won't be able to do this trip. You and Kim should go without me. We did not go without him. We discussed doing so, but felt like it wouldn't be the same. (Instead, Kim and I took the money we would have used to see France, Spain, and Portugal, and used it to remodel our new house.) Fortunately, Duane's treatment seemed to work. His cancer went into remission. Although things were scary there for a while, his health began to improve. Things Come Undone Two months ago, at the end of August, Duane invited me to join him for a mid-week trip to the Oregon coast. Can I bring the dog with me? I asked. Sure, he said.

On a sunny Wednesday, we piled into my Mini Cooper and drove the ninety minutes to Seaside, Oregon. There, we walked on the beach, bought saltwater taffy, and ate clam chowder for lunch. We talked about a variety of nerdy things. You see, Duane is a nerd just like me. Like me, he loves his videogames. (In fact, he likes videogames more than I do.)He's an avid player of Magic: The Gathering.He used to collect semi-official Canadian airmail stamps.For 20+ years, he's collected ancient coins. (By which I mean coins from before the birth of Christ.) His desk at the box factory used to be covered with uncleaned coins that he was soaking to remove centuries of dirt and grime. Duane is also a money nerd. In fact, were it not for Duane, it's unlikely that I would be a money nerd. In 1992, Duane was the person who introduced me to mutual funds. He convinced me to set up an automatic investment plan into some Invesco funds. I contributed $50 per month to five different funds, for a total of $250 per month. That lasted for four months until I cashed out to buy a new computer. Duane introduced me to a variety of money books, most notably The Only Investment Guide You'll Ever Need by Andrew Tobias. He taught me a ton of other lessons about life and money, some of which I've shared here at Get Rich Slowly over the years. (The Duane story I most often mention includes this lesson: It's not bad to want thingsIt's not want that's the problem, but the habit of constantly satisfying wants.) During our walk on the beach, Duane gave me the news that I'd been dreading. My cancer is back, he said. I've been doing immunotherapy. What's immunotherapy? I asked. Well, it's an attempt to stimulate the body's immune system to fight the cancer. With chemotherapy, the drugs are fight the cancer. Immunotherapy is a newer treatment and its effects less well known. It's not as harsh as chemotherapy, but it's also not usually as effective. How is it working for you? I asked. It's too soon to tell, Duane said. But so far I'm hopeful, and so are the doctors.

I wanted to ask what his prognosis was, but was afraid to ask. I thought maybe he'd volunteer the info. He didn't. Finally, several hours later as we were driving home, I got up the courage to ask. What do the doctors have to tell you about your current situation? I asked. For some reason, whenever I talk about Duane's cancer, I call it his situation. Honestly, it's not good, he said. At the end of June, they told me I probably had three to six months left to live. Holy shit, I said as I did the math in my head. Yeah. It doesn't look like I have much time left, Duane said. The Farewell Tour So, I've been thinking, Duane said as we reached the outskirts of Portland. I'd really like to go to Europe this winter. I want to see the Christmas markets in Vienna and Prague. Assuming I make it to December, of course. Do you want to come with me? Of course, I said. You let me know when and where, and I'll make it happen. I was thinking of all of the times Paul had asked me to do things with him and all of the times I'd said no. I didn't have the money then, and I didn't have the perspective of age. Now I have both. Later that evening, I talked to Kim about Duane's situation. Duane is one of my best friends, I said. He's being pragmatic about his situation and so am I, but that doesn't mean I'm not torn up about it. I want to spend as much time with him as I can before he dies. I totally support that, Kim said. You do what you have to do, and we'll figure it out. Last week, Duane and I met for lunch. He's now at the end of his fourth month of borrowed time. Honestly, he looks and sounds great. But I can tell that The End is weighing heavy on his mind. Do you still want to make the trip to Europe? I asked. Absolutely! he said. My brother and his wife plan to join us. And their daughter and her husband. There'll be six of us. Over the past week, we've been sorting out details. I booked a moderately expensive round-trip flight to Berlin. (Moderately expensive because I'm being fussy. I only want one layover. I want the flights to be short as possible. I have a limited set of dates on which I'll fly.)Duane and his niece picked the cities we'll visit: Vienna, Prague, and Budapest. She made a list of potential AirBNB rentals. Yesterday, I booked lodging for the six of us.After everyone else has flown home, Duane and I will fart around Germany without any real direction or plans just like we did in Turkey. There's a part of me that wonders if Duane will be healthy enough to travel in five weeks. (I let him proof this post. When he did, he expressed the same concern.) Again, he looks great now, and he's continued to defy the odds over the past eighteen months. (He recently ran the numbers for me based on the survival rate for various stages of his cancer. I can't remember the exact figure, but he's already lived longer than something like 98% of people in his situation.) But I worry what might happen before the trip. When my own father was diagnosed with cancer in 1989, he was given six months to live. He lived another six years. It's my deepest hope that Duane too will fight that long, but I'm also trying to be realistic about his situation. I think he is too. In many ways, this trip to Europe is a sort of farewell tour.

Time Is More Valuable Than Money When all is said and done, this trip will cost each of us several thousand dollars. Under normal circumstances, that's a lot of money. In this case, it seems like peanuts. My friend Grant Sabatier has a book coming out in early February. It's called Financial Freedom. I read it last weekend so that I could provide a blurb. (It's good! You should check it out when it's available.) If some ninety-year-old rich dude offered you $100 million to trade places with him, would you do it? Grant writes at the start of the second chapter. Of course not. Why? Because time is more valuable than money. You can always make more moneybut you can't make more time. This is not permission to spend lavishly on anything and everything just because you might get hit by a truck tomorrow. It is, however, an invitation to consider what's important to you and to focus on that. It's encouragement to get clear on your personal mission statement and to build your life around it. Over the past few months, Duane has made a superhuman effort to spend time with his family and friends. This time together is important to him. More than that, I think that he knows it's important to us, the ones he'll leave behind. We love him. We don't want him to die but we cannot control that. All we can control is the time we spend with him today. All we can do is build more memories. Here's another anecdote I like. Duane and I went shopping after our lunch date last week. We stopped at the Icebreaker store to look at expensive wool shirts for our trip to Europe. I have a curious relationship with money now, Duane told me as he held up a $130 shirt. I can't take it with me, so what does it matter if I spend it? If I want a $130 shirt, I'm going to buy a $130 shirt even if I only get to wear it once or twice. Duane did not buy that $130 shirt. Duane is a frugal fellow. I don't think he could buy a $130 shirt even if he tried!

Author: J.D. Roth In 2006, J.D. founded Get Rich Slowly to document his quest to get out of debt. Over time, he learned how to save and how to invest. Today, he's managed to reach early retirement! He wants to help you master your money and your life. No scams. No gimmicks. Just smart money advice to help you reach your goals. https://www.getrichslowly.org/time-is-more-valuable-than-money/

0 notes