#or when they act like tony's some irrational murderer

[astrxxnxmy]

As someone who's not anti-Tony Stark (in fact I love him, he's one of my favorite characters, and so is Bucky), I want to look at this fairly.

Tony had PTSD and his own fair share of trauma, yes, and that should be acknowledged. But, even if I don't like doing this--everyone has their own traumas and issues that they deal with differently--if we're going to start comparing who has worse PTSD between the two of them it's undoubtedly going to be the man who spent 70 years straight being tortured and forced to do bad things against his will.

And, yes, I understand Tony's reasoning for attacking Bucky--I know I wouldn't react rationally either if I just saw a security recording of a person who's at the same moment standing right behind me killing my parents. But understanding his reasons and feelings doesn't excuse that trying to kill Bucky was not the right thing to do here. Tony is blaming the gun, not the person who pulled the trigger, and that's wrong, no matter how justified his feelings on this are.

"brainwashed or not, he still did what he did..." Now this I do find extremely unfair to Bucky. He was tortured, abused, wiped of all his memories, manipulated and gaslighted for 70 years and you're going to tell me "he still did what he did"?? Like I said, for everything Bucky was forced to do, he was the weapon--Hydra were the ones that pulled the trigger and they're the ones that should be blamed for all those deaths, not Bucky.

Besides, if you're going to start blaming Bucky for the things he was forced to do by arguing "he still did what he did" then you can just as easily push the same argument onto Tony, who wasn't even brainwashed when he tried to kill Bucky. PTSD and grief are understandable reasons for attempted murder of a man who seems guilty (even though he isn't), but they absolutely do not justify or excuse it in any way.

I am not blaming it all on Tony, fyi--Steve majorly fucked up in his own way by lying to Tony about his parents' deaths, too--but between all three men involved in that fight, Bucky was without a doubt the least culpable of them.

did y'all hear anything?

[tonystarkismyprompt]

Here is a prompt written by an anonymous submitter (if this is you and you want credit let me know). Its really well thought out so give it a read!

(Writer's choice)

Universe: AU/Canon

Pairing(s) and/or Major Character(s): Tony Stark/Stephen Strange; Tony Stark/Loki; Loki/Stephen Strange; Loki/Tony Stark/Stephen Strange; (past) Tony Stark/Pepper Potts; Tony Stark & James Rhodes; Tony Stark & Happy Hogan; Tony Stark & Pepper Potts; Rescue!Pepper Potts; Extremis!Pepper Potts; Extremis!Tony Stark; Tony Stark & Peter Parker; Tony Stark & Harley Keener; FrostIronSupreme Family; J.A.R.V.I.S. lives

Assumed Rating: T - MA

URL/Name: [Optional]

Prompt: Time-travel fix-it. The only (“no other”) way to truly win the war against the Mad Titan involves letting things unfold until Tony Stark has sacrificed his life to defeat Thanos and reverse the Snap and then deliberately using the Time Stone to prevent (or at least improve upon/fix) most of the canon timeline from approximately the supposed “death” of Loki in Thor: The Dark World onwards. Dr. Strange “wakes up” on Earth with all of his future memories (including all of the fourteen million six hundred and five alternate timelines viewed on Titan) intact at the same time that the injured Loki awakens on Svartalfheim with all of his future memories intact. It’s up to them to work together to ensure that the one way Dr. Strange has seen to actually win the war against Thanos does, in fact, happen, which means that it’s up to them to get Tony Stark away from the toxic environment of the Avengers before any irreparable harm can be done (in other words, before Age of Ultron can unfold), while there’s still time to capitalize on the recent “alien” invasions and get the world united behind a team capable of stopping the Mad Titan in his tracks before Thanos can get his hands on the infinity stones and lay waste to half the universe.

  Bonus points if the following all happen in some form in the story: Dr. Strange freezes Wanda Maximoff just as she’s about to mind-rape Tony for the first time; Dr. Strange and/or Loki use their magic to open up both Wanda Maximoff and Pietro Maximoff’s eyes, forcing them to come to terms with the fact that their lives have been a lie (that Tony Stark isn’t a villain and is, in fact, not only Earth’s but the universe’s single greatest hope in the war against Thanos; that they’ve let grief and hatred blind them; that they’ve willingly joined sides with the villains – namely, Hydra – actually responsible for the deaths of their parents and for decades of civil war and suffering and strife in their homeland; and that, in the first timeline, Wanda’s irrational hatred of Tony led her to subconsciously influence almost all of the other Avengers against him and, thus, largely caused the “Civil War” to spiral out of control, which in turn led to the Earth being largely unprepared when Thanos came) and to make the choice to truly try to change and to make up for all of the red in their ledgers; the other Avengers react like rational human beings capable of empathy/sympathy (or at least anger with the person actually at fault for having lied to and used them, too. A lie of omission is still a lie, after all) when faced with the fact that their supposed paragon of a leader, Captain America, has known for quite some time, now, that Tony’s parents were murdered not just by Hydra but by the Winter Soldier, who was once James “Bucky” Barnes, his best friend, and has been knowingly, deliberately using Tony’s money, tech, and resources to try to track down and “rescue” the Winter Soldier, instead of acting like Tony is a monster for grieving for his parents (especially his mother); Pepper chooses to become Rescue at least part-time or as a back-up for the major battles, when she learns of the true seriousness of the threat (writer’s choice if she ends up with Happy or not); Tony successfully goes recruiting globally; SHIELD either ends up being SWORD or else the numerous SHIELD personnel, agents, and family Tony managed to help save after the fiasco of the info dump form SWORD on their own in reaction; Dr. Strange’s good PR results in a lot more potential recruits for the sorcerers swelling their ranks and, thus, working with Tony and SWORD; Mordo doesn’t go bad (or is shown enough that he learns how to bend without breaking) and Kaecilius and his people are dealt with before the Ancient One is killed (if she must end in lightning and snow, it will be because of Thanos or because of something she has chosen to do, in the fight against Thanos); and Guardians of the Galaxy 1 and 2 and Ant-Man can essentially happen as in the first timeline, but the Power Stone isn’t left somewhere Thanos can easily get his hands on it (ditto Reality). Writer’s choice if the stones all end up on Earth except Soul or if Time and Space are somehow used to hide Power and Reality. Writer’s choice whether or not the Mind Stone still ends up in Vision, but bonus points if ALL of Tony Stark’s AI’s live (perhaps Friday should go to Rescue and to handling a lot of the Stark Industries workload while J.A.R.V.I.S. stays with Iron Man and with the suit that Harley ends up getting?). Extra bonus points if Ultron and Jocasta and Tadashi, as well as Peter Parker’s Karen and Veronica, all end up being vital to saving both Earth and the universe from Thanos. Extra extra bonus points if Peter Parker doesn’t end up being traumatized by having a building dropped on him while he’s not in his suit at any point in large part because Harley saves his butt.

[lyssismagical]

Boy, I'm so happy, we have been heaven-blessed

Parkner Week Day Eight: “Get some rest tall child” / cuddling / movie nights

 “Babe, babe, babe, babe-”

“Oh my god, what do you want?” Peter says. He sounds annoyed, but Harley knows better. “I’m trying to work, believe it or not.”

“I believe it. You don’t have to convince me on that.” Harley sits up on Peter’s bed, rolling his eyes for the thousandth time since he’d gotten to Peter’s dorm room. “Why am I here when you’re not even paying attention to me? You’re not even looking at me.”

“I don’t have to see you to know you’re pouting like a baby,” Peter mutters, scribbling some more words down into his notebook with his pen. He shoves the pen between his teeth so he could flip through his heavy textbook and try to find a page in the stack next to him.

Harley sighs dramatically. “But I’m your baby, aren’t I? Doesn’t that mean I’m allowed to pout?”

“Stop pouting and stop whining. I’m trying to work, Harls.”

“How do you know I’m pouting if you won’t even look at me?” Harley exclaims, throwing his arms up in frustration. It started out as a game, but now he’s starting to feel a little bit cast aside.

“Are you pouting?”

“…Maybe.”

Peter finally sets down his pen and turns to Harley from his desk, a smile gracing his lips. He looks pretty as always, but Harley can’t help but notice how tired he looks.

“Ned said he was going to move out if he found us in the same bed again,” Peter says instead of acknowledging their entire conversation. “I think he was serious. MJ’s roommate doesn’t live with her anymore.”

Harley rolls his eyes and dramatically flops back onto the bed. “When was the last time we went on an actual date?”

“We went out last weekend, Harley.” Peter’s still smiling, but there’s insecurity shining in his eyes, eyebrows creasing a little more than Harley would like.

“I just miss you.”

“You miss me?” Peter repeats. “Yet you’ve been literally lying a few feet away from me for the past two hours. I’m right here, Harley.”

Harley tips his head to the side, breathing in the soft scent of Peter on the pillow. “But I should be your number one priority.”

“Number one?”

“Mmhm, you’ll never get a catch like me ever again. I’m one of a kind, baby.”

Peter finally gives in and crawls into the bed beside Harley, unceremoniously dropping half onto Harley’s chest. Harley immediately wraps his arms around Peter’s waist, making sure Peter couldn’t leave even if he wanted to. Harley’s getting cuddles for as long as he wants them.

“You have no idea,” Peter mumbles, words muffled by Harley’s sweater.

Harley grins and presses a kiss to Peter’s hair. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Now, get some rest, tall child.”

*

“You know, I thought you were going to murder me when we first met,” Harley says, out of the blue on the next morning. They’re still in bed despite it being way past the appropriate time for sleeping in, even for a weekend. “I literally thought you were going to poison my food or something.”

“What?” Peter says, stifling his laughter. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I thought you’d be as jealous as I was, I just figured you’d act on that jealousy and murder me so you’d be Tony’s only intern.”

This time, Peter does laugh, hiding his flushed face in Harley’s shoulder. “You thought I would get so jealous, I would poison your food? You know how crazy that sounds, right?”

“I thought about killing you. I just knew it was an irrational idea, I didn’t know if you’d think it was irrational too.”

Peter bites on his bottom lip, trying to quiet his laughter. It makes his cheeks puff up a little bit like chipmunks, face rosy and eyes sparkling.

“I can’t believe you thought, even for a moment, that killing me was the appropriate reaction to being jealous.”

“I’m from Tennessee, Peter. Anything goes.”

Peter ducks his head again, muffling his laughter in Harley’s sweater. “That’s- I can’t believe you.”

“Tony thought so too!” Harley exclaims. Peter doesn’t have to see to know Harley’s rolling his eyes. “Maybe not that we’d kill each other, but he thought we’d hate each other.”

“No,” Peter says, voice dropping to a little more serious. “I knew from that first moment I saw you that this was going to be something special.”

Harley smiles, going all soft and mushy in a heartbeat. “I love you like an insane amount. Like I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t do if you asked. I’ve never felt like this before, and if I’m being honest, it really scares me sometimes.”

The younger of the two leans up to press a kiss to the older’s jaw. “You don’t have to be scared. I feel the same way, there’s no way I’m breaking your heart. It’s safe with me.”

“I know. Your heart’s safe with me too.”

“Good. Now that we’ve napped and talked, do you think you could let me get back to my homework now? I never got to finish it yesterday thanks to you.”

Harley laughs, relinquishing his grip on his boyfriend’s waist. “I should probably get going anyways. I’ve got a study group in a bit and then I’ve got a few errands to run in the city. Oh, and I think my sister’s calling to make spring break plans this afternoon.”

“You’re spending spring break with your sister?”

“I don’t know if you’ve forgotten but Abbie’s going to UCLA. Her roommate’s boyfriend’s parents are super rich salespeople who are taking the roommate and boyfriend to Europe with them while they’re there for business. Abbie volunteered to housesit and pet-sit. Meaning…”

“Meaning she’s got a huge house to herself in California all week?”

Harley grins. “Precisely. If you want, I was thinking the two of us could crash with her all week. Morgan’s on her break too, and she’s offered to pay to fly us all out.”

“Morgan and Abbie in the same house for a whole week?” Peter repeats, rolling his eyes but the smile doesn’t even falter.

Laughing, Harley finally pulls away from Peter, stretching his arms. “Yeah, it’ll be interesting, for sure… I’ll let you get back to your homework. You want me to swing by again tonight?”

“Please?”

The one thing that’s been weird since they started school is that they have separate rooms. Harley lives on the other side of campus, closer to his own classes, so it’s normally easier for them to spend nights in their own rooms, despite being used to the opposite. Back in high school, May’s apartment was closer to Midtown than the Tower, so Harley would stay with Peter for conveniences sake, and weekends they spent together at the Tower.

Today’s a Saturday, though, so neither of them have obligations tomorrow.

Harley grins, leaning back to press a kiss to Peter’s forehead before he’s tugging on his shoes.

“I’ll stop at mine and grab some clothes and things, and I’ll be over this evening. Six?”

“Sounds good. Movie night?”

Opening up the door, Harley shoots a final smile over his shoulder. “I’ll bring snacks! I love you. See you tonight.”

“I love you too.”

The door shuts behind Harley and Peter falls back into his bed, breathing in the soft smell of Harley, boyish with a hint of the Tennessee smoke that he carries with him, and a bit of the cinnamon body wash he uses. He smiles up at the ceiling, feeling so warm with love and happiness.

* Late that evening, after Peter’s finished his homework from the week and cleaned his room and finished some laundry, after Harley showed up in a flurry of excitement and lit up joy, carrying a shopping bag of snacks for the night along with a few selections from his DVD collection, after they’ve made it through way too many snacks and a few movies, they’re curled up, trying not to fall asleep.

“I wanna marry you one day,” Harley blurts and then he laughs, no awkwardness or worry to it.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I wanna do one of those fancy weddings with all the components like the big, tiered cake, and the expensive suits, and the cute RSVP cards in the mail. Abbie and Morgan could be the flower girls or the ring bearers. Ned and Harry could be our best men and Cassie, MJ, and Gwen could all be our bridesmaids or whatever they’d be. We’d do one of those over-the-top bachelor parties, except we’d do it together because it wouldn’t be as fun to party without you. Tony would have to walk one of us down the aisle because May and Mom would want to do it. Or maybe Tony could officiate. And then we’d get on a plane the next morning for a crazy honeymoon.”

Peter smiles fondly, snuggling closer to his boyfriend and nearly knocking the laptop off their legs. “You’ve really thought about this, huh? Is this your way of proposing?”

“No,” Harley laughs. “I don’t have a ring and I’m going to do it right, when I do. The whole shebang. The expensive dinner, the dramatic speech, maybe I’ll do the stupid ring in the wine or something.”

He shakes his head against Harley’s chest. “I’d accidentally drink it. Don’t do that.”

Harley laughs again, peppering kisses over Peter’s face. “I just really want you to know that this is a forever thing, for me, you know? I want us to be forever. I want us to get engaged, to move in together, to get married, maybe we could think about kids. I’d even go for the white picket fence future if that’s what you wanted.”

“You’re such a sap,” Peter teases before he kisses Harley. “I want that too. Trust me, that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spidey-reids-2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed  @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[itsybitsyspiderling]

if you die (what will i be?)

Warnings: A lot of Irondad angst, swearing, mentions of blood and dying

Summary: It takes Peter almost dying for Tony to start paying more attention to him. But why does he have to almost die for Tony to even care? 

Word Count: 3.3k

It takes Peter almost dying for Tony to start paying more attention to him. It takes a dozen unanswered calls and a stupid blood-crusted suit to convince the billionaire that maybe a sixteen-year-old kid with superpowers is worth more than a side project.

That’s how it feels. 

The embers are still floating around him, and the smoke still hangs in the air. His throat burns like it never has before, but he can hardly find the strength to worry. He asks Karen to call Happy, call Mister Stark, call someone and tell them of what happened––he’s afraid he won’t get the chance to do it himself. The smoldering building has already crisped and collapsed around him. He can’t move, he can’t move, and the world feels a bit darker now.

The worst part is, he doesn’t want to move. The cinder falls like snow around him, and through the clearing smoke, he can see stars. The sky has never looked that beautiful before.

Peter can feel the pain, but he doesn’t care. 

It never occurs to him how severe the injuries might be. He just knows that he can’t feel his legs; he isn’t sure he even has them anymore. His abdomen has been struck with a force so palpable,  so heavy, that he can feel it beneath his flesh. There is something there, and he doesn’t know what. He can’t look. 

It isn’t that he doesn't want to either. He physically can’t. His body lies motionless, pain in every nerve, and all he can do is wait. 

–––– 

Peter usually only sees Tony in passing. As the article, “Spider-Man or Iron Man’s Sidekick?” tears through the tabloids thanks to the Daily Bugle, Peter slowly begins to realize that they’re right. Aside from the little things, like bank robberies and gas station brawls, most of Spider-Man’s big accomplishments are in the lovely company of the man in red and gold. And Peter thought it was cool at first. 

He thought it was so cool to be fighting alongside Iron Man. 

Once the article comes out, suddenly, the novelty wears off. Spider-Man exists in Iron Man’s shadow, but Peter hardly exists to Tony at all. 

It’s clear when Peter asks him to help him out with a school project in late October. Twenty hours of work based around a bullshit hypothesis with unproven results––Peter can barely look at the thing without feeling sick to his stomach. Biochemistry has never been his strong suit, and, granted, it has never been Tony’s either, but he has better luck asking a genius billionaire than relying on his own teenage brain. 

Happy’s text comes through the next morning. 

"I’ll come by and pick up the project after school.”

And Peter nearly smiles. Tony is going to help him. Peter realizes that he’s more excited about the idea of working with his mentor than he was when he first received his suit. 

When Happy meets him at 2:45 PM, the conversation falls short. Tony isn’t there; Peter never expects him to be, but Happy doesn’t want to be there either. He takes the contents of the project, stuffs it in the backseat, and drives off with a wave. Not even an offer for a ride. So, Peter walks home alone. 

The following week, after the school day ends, Happy texts Peter again for the third time since he has known him. 

“Meet me outside.”

Students filter out of classrooms while Peter takes each step carefully. Happy is there. Happy is waiting for him. And maybe Tony is there too. Meanwhile, Peter struggles to differentiate his nerves from his excitement. At the same time, he wonders if it’s full-blown anxiety instead. He’s starting to figure out where he fits in with Tony and Happy—he thinks that he doesn’t fit in at all.

“We’ve gotta swing by the compound to pick it up,” Happy says, tossing his keys in his hand as Peter nears slowly. “I don’t got all day, kid, c’mon. Let’s get your project.” 

Peter lets out a sigh and climbs into the passenger seat. For once, he doesn’t want to go up to the compound. He knows that he made a mistake in asking Tony for help; Tony is always willing to help, but he is never willing to show that he cares. Peter feels like an anomaly, and the compound acts as a reminder that no one thinks he’s is ready. For anything. They only see him as some sixteen-year-old who––to quote May––looks like a teddy bear trying to swear when he gets mad.

Happy hardly speaks a word on the drive up. Little hums and disinterested “wow’s” fill the empty space as Peter rants. Peter doesn’t think the dynamic will ever change, and he never imagines why it would. 

“He left it in your room,” Happy says, referring to the project that Peter can hardly remember. “He’s not here today.”

“My room?” 

Happy looks at Peter strangely. “Yeah. Your room. You still have one, you know.” 

Peter nods. He does have a room. He forgot. He forgot because Tony has never once invited him up to use it. With little direction, Peter wanders the compound alone. The sooner he finds his project, the sooner he could go home, suit-up, and forget that this ever happened. 

“Mister Parker, your shoe is untied.” Tony’s voice rings out down the hall. 

After he collected his project, Peter found himself distracted by the large glass windows in the hallway. The view is impeccably serene. If he had originally accepted Tony’s offer a year ago, then the view would have been his. And maybe Tony would have bothered paying a little bit more attention to the vigilante he took under his wing. 

“Oh,” Peter mumbles, glancing down at his feet. “I didn’t notice.”

Tony hums.

“I-I thought––uh, Happy said you weren’t here.”

“Technically, I’m not,” the older man replies. He’s dressed up to the nines. Like always, it seems. “I’m supposed to be halfway to California right now.” His eyes catch the project sitting in Peter’s hands. “That’s A-plus worthy, by the way. If it’s any less—actually, well, who am I kidding? You’ll get an A-plus. If not, an A.”

“Mister Stark, you didn’t have to finish the project,” Peter says. “We could’ve worked on it togeth—”

Tony waves his hand. He waves Peter off. “Not a problem,” he says. He has already begun to walk away. “I gotta split, kid. See you later.” 

Tony is right. Peter does get an A-plus on the project. But it isn’t rewarding in the slightest.

–––– 

Peter can tell that his breathing pattern has changed. He tries not to overreact, but each passing moment feels like an eternity. He can’t hear sirens, he can’t hear anything. He can’t even hear his heartbeat slowing.

Why can’t he hear anything? 

The autumn chill feels twenty degrees colder than it had, but his skin is still burning from the fire that dwindles around him. He knows he’s not overreacting. He knows he’s dying. 

Doesn’t anyone care that he’s dying?

“K-Karen,” he whimpers out, but it sounds like more like a plead, and the taste of metal floods his tongue. It’s the only sense that overwhelms him. The rest of his body has fallen numb, and it’s not the fault of the cold or the anxiety sparking within him. He can’t tell how much blood he’s losing or if he’s losing any at all. 

“I have not been able to reach Happy Hogan or Tony Stark,” she says calmly. She’s always calm.  “Would you like me to try May Parker?”

Something about the sound of her name strikes a chord within Peter. His torso seizes, and the weight of the rubble on his legs suddenly means nothing as he thinks about May. May. He can’t leave her. He can’t leave May. 

“No, no, ” he whines, eyes squinting shut as he struggles to lift himself up from the ground. “Don’t––don’t call––” His words are drowned out by the pain radiating up his chest. It’s not coming in waves or in dull aches like his normal wounds. Peter doesn’t know pain like this, and there’s not enough air in his lungs to breathe or speak. 

And he thinks he’s crying. It’s not supposed to feel like this.

Death is supposed to be peaceful. He’s supposed to smile and think of loved ones. 

Instead, Peter can’t help but panic. No one is coming for him. No one is hearing his cries––is he crying? He still can’t tell. He can hardly feel his legs, let alone lift his head. He just knows there’s something wrong, and there’s pain. There’s so much pain. 

At that moment, he believes that no one will come to save him. No one will come. No one wants to.

  ––––  

There’s nothing Peter hates more than the idea of disappointing Tony Stark. The fear––quite literally––follows him into his dreams. In those dreams, Tony has an alter ego, one that frames the kid for murder and plasters his face under every article that screams “Spider-Man Wanted on Account of a Double Homicide”. Real Tony isn’t like that. Real Tony is nice.

But disappointed Tony is a person Peter wishes he had never met. He won’t frame him for murder or reveal his identity. Instead, it feels worse. It feels like losing trust or losing a friend. The few times Peter has disappointed Tony, it’s been a sinking, unspeakable guilt. It’s been impalement driving and twisting into his chest while the fire behind his eyes blackens. 

There’s something about disappointing Tony that breaks Peter. And it’s all because of how much he looks up to him.

Sometimes he wishes that he chose someone else to idolize as a kid. He’s been made into a prototype, an acolyte like the rest, but one who is only treated differently because he is different. Peter is only kept around because of Spider-Man.

That’s what he firmly believes. 

And are times when Tony doesn’t even want Spider-Man.

After the ferry incident, Peter worries about the next time he’ll let Tony down. He counts every possible scenario on his fingers and toes, but he and Tony are so similar. They both act rationally in the most irrational way.

Peter thinks that Tony has slowly started to see his old habits in him. 

All it takes is an incident involving HYDRA and a Quinjet. At first, Tony makes his disappointment known with silence. He flies over to a nearby roof without another word, leaving Peter in his dust. And for a moment, Peter considers not chasing after him, but he knows the storm is brewing nevertheless. No matter what day or week it is, he can’t escape it. 

“What did I tell you?” Tony asks, his metal faceplate lifting with as much bite as his tone. 

Peter breathes heavily but stays silent. He tears his mask off. 

“I asked you not to interfere,” Tony continues. “I asked you to distract and retreat. One of us has a bulletproof suit, and that’s not you, got it?”

“I-I just wanted to––”

His jaw clenches as he shakes his head. “No. No more excuses. No more promising that you’ll do better next time. What if there wasn’t going to be a ‘next time’? Huh? What if that blind idiocy you exhibited tonight had gotten you killed? We wouldn’t be here, and I’d be forced to knock on May’s door and tell her that her nephew––”

“Don’t, please.”

“Then do as I say.”

Peter’s heart stutters in his chest. He can feel his own anger boiling in his veins. It feels like the ferry incident again. It feels like every time he’s disappointed Tony, and it’s all because Peter doesn’t know how to keep from making the same mistakes. 

“Why can’t you trust me like you trusted the Avengers?” he hears himself ask, but it’s not as sharp as he imagined it would be. 

The creases in Tony’s forehead smooth over as his expression falls. “You think I don’t trust you––that’s it?” he whispers. “The Avengers relied on mutual trust. Maybe it’s time you start trusting me too, yeah, kid? If you did, then you would have done what I asked.” The faceplate slams shut, and Tony hovers above the roof as he says, “they lost my trust, too. I can’t lose yours.” And then he’s off.

Peter is alone. 

 –––– 

Peter is alone, and the panic has finally subsided. He’s not aware of much, but he can feel the wind against his fingertips. He can still see the embers drifting like buoys in the sea. He thinks about Coney Island. He thinks about metal talons digging into his skin, and he compares it to the large splinters of wood stuck in his torso. 

There is nothing else to focus on but the stars. He doesn’t remember there being so many stars. 

Karen speaks to him in a calm matter. She knows his heartbeat is too slow. She knows he’s having a hard time breathing. She talks and helps him through it, but he can’t hear a word. He doesn’t hear her talking about the missed calls from Tony. He doesn’t hear her mention his name at all. 

When Peter struggles to identify the red lights of distant emergency vehicles, he finally hears something. Metal crashing against concrete. The touchdown of the world’s finest hero. 

“Peter?” Tony’s voice is small, but it’s a sound Peter has been waiting to hear all night.

He tilts his head; it’s all he can do. “Mister Stark?” 

The weight of the rubble on his legs goes missing.

Tony is above him in under a second, cold, metal fingers settling themselves behind Peter’s head to keep it elevated. “Pete,” Tony breathes out. 

Peter has never seen Tony look so pale before. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he says, placing his other arm under Peter’s legs. “Okay? You’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna get you through this. I’ve got you.”

Peter tries to nod, but his head rolls to the side instead. “You’ve––you’ve got me,” he mumbles. The words float away with the embers. 

Tony’s lips pull into a deep frown, and his eyebrows knot together as he thinks over his next moves. His eyes are dark, but they are warm and soft, and just by looking into them, Peter can tell that Tony is scared. 

As the older man’s lip trembles, Peter realizes that he’s no longer in as much pain as he had been. He feels lighter than air, but he doesn’t feel real. It’s supposed to feel like this. 

Tony starts to lift him into his arms, and for a brief moment, the pain returns. It vocalizes itself as a cry and a scream, and Tony’s worry and fear turn to horror. He doesn’t know what to do. “Y-you’ve gotta bear with me, kiddo. I’ve gotta lift you. Okay? Do you trust me?”

Peter can’t say it back, but he smiles. And that says enough.

“I’m so sorry, Pete.”

–––– 

He awakes in the Medbay. Re-runs of Star Trek are playing on a flatscreen in the corner, and a large vase of red and blue flowers sits beside his bed. The third thing he notices is the ache in his lungs as he takes each breath. The fourth thing is slumped over in a chair across the room, elbows pressed into his knees while soft snores rumble through his chest. He’s not dressed to the nines like Peter usually sees. Instead, he’s in sweatpants and a t-shirt with coffee stains down the front. He looks like he hasn’t moved from his seat in days. 

Peter’s torso is covered in bandages, and his legs are in casts. He knows that, in a matter of a day or two, he’ll be walking again with little to no pain. But right now, he’s afraid to move. 

He’s afraid to speak. 

The first thing he tries to do is reach for the remote, which fails miserably. It slips to the ground, and the clattering plastic seems to wake the slumbering Stark instantly. 

“Pete?” Tony mutters, blinking to adjust to the bright fluorescent lighting. “How long’ve you been up?”

“A minute,” Peter answers hoarsely.

Tony nods and presses his lips together. He doesn’t leap from his chair or cry out of happiness; instead, his eyes speak louder than words. He’s relieved. He’s thankful. He’s trying to fight back his thoughts and emotions instead of dumping them all on Peter. 

“Mister Stark––”

“You’re never gonna hear this from me again, so listen up,” Tony says. He blinks rapidly and sniffs. He continues breathily, “you scared the living shit outta me. I thought you were––I thought you were gonna–– Jesus.” Tony runs his fingers through his hair. “If you were gone before I got t’tell you how proud of you I am, kiddo, I don’t know what I would be doin’ right now.”

Peter bites the inside of his lip to keep from crying. Meanwhile, he can’t believe it. He doesn’t know how to.

“When I discipline you––” Tony says. He can’t look at Peter. “––when I set boundaries and rules, it’s not because I don’t think you can do it. It’s because I’m terrified that one of us is gonna make the wrong move, and suddenly, there’s no turning back. I can’t let it happen. I just can’t, Pete. I can’t lose you.”

Peter wants to swallow down the anger growing in him. But he can’t. He doesn’t know how to believe him. “Then why––why do you i-ignore me?” Peter sputters, trying to contain his emotions, but they come pouring out through his tears. 

“I don’t––”

“You do!” Peter cries out. He doesn’t mean to, but the words all feel like lies. The Tony he knows barely spares a day for Peter. “You make Happy do everything. You don’t contact me. You don’t wanna see me. You pull me along on these missions only to hold me back, and then you berate me for doing something you would do! I’m tired of being a sidekick if I can’t even be your––your  friend .”

Tony rests his head in his hand. “Peter––”

“You say you can’t lose me, but it doesn’t even feel like you want me around.”

Tony nods. He knows it’s true. But he still can’t look at Peter. “Yeah,” Tony whispers. “No, you’re right. I keep myself separated. And it’s not because I don’t want you around. I would make you drop outta school just to keep me company, Pete. I’ll admit my faults. You bring out a different side of me that I’ve never seen before, and it––it made me wanna be someone new. Made me wanna be a father. Some shit like that.” He chuckles dryly “Yeah, I got scared. I was terrified. Suddenly, the only thing I wanted to do was keep you safe. And then I realized, y’know, I’m me. I’m destructive. I thought that keeping you safe, but from afar, would do less damage. I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

Peter doesn’t speak again for a while. He digests Tony’s words carefully, whether he chooses to believe them or not. The longer he thinks, the more Peter realizes that he has no reason to not believe the man. Tony has kept him alive. Tony has saved his life. Multiple times. Tony does many things wrong, but he has done so many things right.

“Mister Stark?”

Tony glances up, his eyes glassy and hopeful. 

“I trust you.”

[johnnymundano]

The Shout (1978)

Directed by Jerzy Skolimowski

Screenplay by Jerzy Skolimowski and Michael Austin

Based on the Short Story by Robert Graves

Music by Tony Banks and Michael Rutherford

Country: United Kingdom

Running time: 86 minutes

CAST

Alan Bates as Crossley

Susannah York as Rachel Fielding

John Hurt as Anthony Fielding

Robert Stephens as Chief Medical Officer

Tim Curry as Robert Graves

Julian Hough as Vicar

Carol Drinkwater as Cobbler’s Wife

Jim Broadbent as Fielder in cowpat

Susan Wooldridge as Harriet

The Shout is a valiantly bonkers ‘70s movie curiosity as star-studded as it is puzzling and as puzzling as it is entertaining. So starry is the cast that Brit thesp mainstay Jim Broadbent is reduced to being billed as  “fielder in cowpat”. So bizarre is The Shout that he actually, literally plays a cricket fielder who actually, literally falls into a cowpat. This may be the only instance during The Shout’s duration that things are exactly as they seem. But basics first: What’s The Shout about? Um, I wouldn’t like to say. Which is apt because The Shout adores uncertainty. However, I can in all certainty say that The Shout is the finest movie ever directed by one of the cast of Avengers Assemble (2012). Because when Jerzy Skolimowski isn’t playing a KGB goon getting his ass whipped by Scarlett Johannsen’s stunt double in overlong multiplex pablum he is a Polish movie director of no small artistic renown. Admittedly, this is the only movie of his I’ve ever seen, despite his decades long career, but if you’re only going to watch one Jerzy Skolimowski movie The Shout isn’t a bad choice.

Before it spirals off into the utterly bizarre The Shout establishes that it’s the 1970s and Robert Graves (Tim Curry) (Yes, Robert Graves is the author of the short story on which it is based; why, hello, meta!) finds himself scoring a cricket match held in the grounds of an asylum. Stuck in a wooden scoring shed with patient Crossley (Alan Bates), he soon finds himself being told a story about a young couple, Anthony (John Hurt) and Rachel (Susannah York) who live the Little Englander dream of small town life amongst the dunes and scratty grass of Devon. Anthony makes terrible music by recording stuff like, well, not like, but actually in fact…marbles rolling around on a tin tray. It must sell well though  since the pair seem secure and free from fret. Whether or not the fact that The Shout has music by two members of Genesis, a band which produces awful but popular music, is a wry joke I leave for you to decide. In fairness the soundtrack they provide to The Shout is pretty great and totally simpatico with The Shout’s peculiar derangements. Anyway, when not recording a bee in a jam jar Anthony plays the organ in a church where the vicar is so enervated he can’t even be bothered to finish his sermon, while Rachel seems to do nothing but is apparently, according to the identical scenes which bookend the movie, a nurse. Actually, there’s a lot of things seeming to be one thing but turning out to be something else in The Shout. Discombobulation is definitely on the agenda here.

Even Anthony and Rachel’s blissful marriage isn’t what it seems; it’s undermined by Anthony taking the cobbler’s wife for a ride on his bike (which both is and isn’t a saucy euphemism; this is very The Shout indeed). Into this flawed Eden strides surly flâneur Crossley, who (for reasons never explained; which is very The Shout indeed also) engineers a meeting with Anthony and, thanks largely to Anthony’s terribly English fear of causing offence, ends up invading the couple’s home and, ultimately, upending their lives. But The Shout is no ordinary movie and so Crossley is no ordinary hobo; he claims to have lived amongst the aborigines, killed several of his own kids, seen a man die via the “pointing bone” and mastered the “terror shout”; he’s a fellow with a bellow with the power to kill. Anthony’s scorn for the interloper’s apparently preposterous claim is undermined by his own penchant for aural oddities and he soon craves a demonstration; partly to prove Crossley is a deluded loon and partly because…maybe he isn’t? Meanwhile Crossley’s got some somewhat earthier magic hidden up his sleeve and Rachel soon yearns for Crossley to point his thrilling bone at her. It’s just a matter of time before the politeness stalls, the façade falls and madness and murder are unleashed.

The Shout’s basic story is a familiar one; it’s the one about the creepy weirdo who invades a flawed but stable status quo and then proceeds to inveigle their way into a position of power via subterfuge  and mind games; the emphasis is on inversion and psychological subtlety and the male terror of being cuckolded. See also, The Servant (1963). It’s a good story which is why people keep telling it, but The Shout gives it added power and injects an alluring freshness through its decidedly off kilter, atypical  approach. The subtle undercurrent of karmic comeuppance is also deftly done. The whole movie has a slightly woozy feeling like you’ve just woken up from a nap in the hot sun, or you’ve been hitting the cough syrup again. Scenes languorously slip into one another with an imprecision and lack of haste that’s quite jarring given the usual tradition of sharp, clear-cut scene demarcations. 

The Shout’s gently threatening and implacably mounting sense of the uncanny infects everything on screen. As indeed you might expect of a movie studded with visual shout outs to Francis Bacon’s less than placid paintings. People in The Shout wildly surmise the most ridiculous things which turn out to be true, while blithely ignoring the wildly obvious much to their detriment. Everything in The Shout looks normal but slightly off; Anthony and Rachel’s house is, on first appearance, trendily “rustic” but over the course of The Shout it looks weirder and weirder. All the walls are flaking, a window gets broken and no one cares, and unless I’ve led a sheltered life most people don’t have string and wooden pegs stretched from bedroom wall to bedroom wall. Similarly, everyone looks normal but acts in a fashion most generously described as eccentric. The vicar’s sermon is both fiery and lacklustre, the cobbler happily shares bizarre intimacies with Anthony, who himself, lest we forget, plays sardine tins like violins, and Rachel, the most normal of the main players, is soon cavorting nudely  about in thrall to Crossley, like a posh version of Britt Eckland in The Wicker Man (1973). Obviously this being the 1970s there’s not quite as much of the male characters on show as there is of Susannah York; until 1987 it was widely believed in the UK that the sight of a penis on a cinema screen would cause audiences to go blind en masse. In some areas of Somerset this belief persists to this day.

The Shout is not a movie for people who seek certainty or seek the embrace of answers; there’s no shortage of mystery in The Shout, possibly even a surfeit since you’ll still have plenty of questions once the credits roll. But The Shout is obviously the kind of movie that wants to leave its audience baffled but undoubtedly entertained. Raising questions in the audience’s mind is what The Shout is all about, because The Shout is all about the inexplicable and the irrational; to expect it to drape the comfy jumper of closure over your shoulders would be a mistake. Also, The Shout features a finale to a cricket match so abruptly violent and crazed that cricket, which is Rollerball for accountants, momentarily appears interesting. And that’s only one of The Shout’s many destabilising delights.

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/24/2018: HEREDITARY

I am not ready to talk about HEREDITARY. I tried it when it came out in June, and while I think I hit all the points that were important for mass audiences, I wasn’t really ready then either, to say what I wanted to say. It isn’t because it’s so unusually beautiful, which it is. It isn’t because it’s “the scariest movie ever made”, which it is not, although it intermittently reaches seldom-seen heights of horror. It also isn’t because, contrary to popular belief, it is deeply flawed, with certain understandable markers of being someone’s first feature. It is because it feels so profoundly personal to me, even while I know that this is a not-uncommon reaction to Ari Aster’s breakout debut. It doesn’t make me special that I would take this film about grief, guilt, mental illness, genetic disorder, and irresolvable family friction so personally, but as usual, I have something I need to say about it. My experience with the movie tells me something, not about why we need HEREDITARY, but why we need art.

                                                                         (spoilers abound)

This story, about a woman who recently lost her seriously disturbed mother, and who subsequently loses her also-disturbed daughter to a car wreck caused by her teenage son, has been accused of emotional exploitation by some. HEREDITARY is aggressively harrowing, with interminably protracted suspense, teasingly dense shadows, and a constant unnatural drone that characterizes everything you see, however mundane, as malignantly abnormal. Most audiences may accept this kind of brutality when it is buffered by a fantastical metaphor, as with an EXORCIST or a SHINING. You can scare someone half to death, as long as you reassure them that whatever they’ve seen probably isn’t going to happen to them, even if it reminds them of something that did, or could. If you just make people feel bad, however, they may turn on you. This is Ari Aster’s big mistake, if you want to call it that; I know parents who refuse to watch the movie, due to its infamous scene of violence against a child. It’s easy to see why any reasonable person might want to opt out of this unusually shocking scene, in which young Milly Shapiro is accidentally decapitated while her teenage brother races her to the hospital, after having neglectfully caused her need for a hospital trip in the first place. But, I think it also calls into question the place for and purpose of the artist’s contract with the audience. This concept usually refers to the unspoken promise that a filmmaker makes to his viewers, that whatever happens in the movie, even if it is confrontational, will fall within the bounds of what the viewers basically expect when they buy their tickets. It means something like, when a family-oriented entertainment producer like Disney adapts a Grimm Brothers fairy tale, the audience won’t have to see the huntsman eviscerate an animal to get his ersatz proof that he has killed Snow White, and they won’t have to see Cinderella’s wicked stepsisters mutilate their own feet to try to fit the glass slipper. Part of the problem many people have with HEREDITARY is that Ari Aster’s contract with his audience is a little unclear. It blends psychodrama about irresolvable family issues that can hit way too close to the literal home for any ordinary person, with the unthinkable but entirely doable desecration of the human body, with outrageous supernatural horrors that, while scary as hell, can seem preposterous in light of the more terrestrial torments that have gone before.

To try to be more succinct, which is difficult with such a complex film, my own problem with HEREDITARY is that it contains metaphors for real-world elements that are already in the movie. To go back to the example of THE EXORCIST: Regan’s transformation from an innocent child into a vile self-abusing demon serves as a ready metaphor for puberty, mental illness, addiction, and really anything that turns your loved one into someone you no longer recognize. Writer Peter Blatty sets this up beautifully by using banal troubles like drafts in the house or parental antagonism as agents that weaken Regan’s defenses against the forces of darkness, just as they can weaken the average person’s defenses against depression or alcoholism--the things that warp them away from their best, or at least, most socially acceptable self. HEREDITARY gets itself into a sticky spot by giving Toni Collete a family history of emotional and physical violence, schizo-affective disorder, alienation, and neglect that is as convincing as can be, and then throwing a comparatively flimsy (however great-looking) metaphorical tarp over all that in the form of witchcraft and demonic possession. A similar problem occurs in Boots Riley’s otherwise excellent SORRY TO BOTHER YOU, where he stages the action in a world--our world, however surreally dressed up--that turns on an axis of slave labor, and then he concludes his story with an outsized metaphor for slave labor. I wouldn’t really kick anything in either of these movies out of bed, at the end of the day; I’m just saying that it gets a little awkward when you craft this grandiose metaphor for a legitimately terrifying real-world thing, while that thing happens to be standing right there in the room with the metaphor. 

Anyway. It is interesting to note that while the movie seems to have hurt a lot of people’s feelings based on their own contemporary reality, its spiritual DNA has been active for hundreds of years. Witchery has been a handy metaphor for, or even out-and-out "explanation” for, mental illness in women throughout history. (Ok, so it’s been an excuse for LOTS of things that have happened to or around women throughout history, but I only have so much space!) In HEREDITARY, Toni Collette describes her recently deceased mother as being extraordinarily private, having “private rituals” and even “private friends”, which we soon realize were signs of her being a devil worshiper. However, in some ways, mother and daughter are not so different. Where the mother practiced dark arts, Collette is a successful gallery artist. Her hyperreal dioramas seem like metaphorical expressions of her feelings toward her insane and abusive parent, but as we find out along the way, they are entirely realistic descriptions of actual things that have actually happened in her life--including the notorious car crash, but also things like the mother trying to force her breast on her infant granddaughter, which we later learn was part of an effort to implant Milly Shaprio with a demon. Shapiro, who inhabits a Baba Yaga-like treehouse in the yard, is also an artist, crafting twisted-looking dolls out of refuse and carrion, and like her mother, she also has unwitting witchy inclinations, perceiving grim specters and ill omens all around. Notably, no one outside the maternal bloodline perceive these things, and it seems that male members only perceive them when being supernaturally attacked. While Toni Collete and Milly Shapiro both use handcrafted art to process the trauma handed down to them by their maternal ancestor, all three women participate (knowingly or otherwise) in an ancient artistic tradition that, for some, amounts to a legitimate religion--but for many others, especially in the modern world, it is a way of dealing with feelings of impotence and subjugation. A sense of disappointment, worthlessness, and damnation plagues the women at the center of HEREDITARY, whether it involves Toni Collette’s complaint that her family blames her for all of their misfortunes, or her accusing her teenage son Alex Wolff of failing to acknowledge his responsibility for his sister’s death, or his sister ominously remarking that her grandmother’s doting attitude disguised the matriarch’s attempts to control or deform her--”She wanted me to be a boy,” Shapiro mutters, and we’ll find out she specifically wanted the child to be a boy vessel for a boy demon (about which, more later). HEREDITARY depicts a family out of control, who cannot escape the fate that has been devised for them, but who have adopted some interesting, literally artful means of trying to synthesize feelings of power.

HEREDITARY begins to fall apart, not as much because of its indecisive attitude toward fantasy and realism, as because of its last act left turn away from its heretofore cogent discussion of the disenfranchisement of women, and the guilt women live with when they fall short of their clan’s desires for strong sons, good little girls, or perfect mothers who serve their people instead of serving themselves. Make no mistake: Alex Wolff, who delivers an above-and-beyond performance as an average young man who is alienated by his freak sister and unstable mother, is always at the center of the film. The guilt he acquires from being an unwilling murderer is as potent as anything I think I’ve ever seen in a movie. So, it isn’t that this male experience of disappointing your family, and also feeling victimized by their very existence, is absent from the first leg of the story. It’s that when the film finally tries to make sense of itself, by revealing that Toni Collette’s mother intended to offer one of her male progeny as a vessel for a masculine entity that would bring her great wealth...well, it sort of flies in the face of the psychological depths we’ve plumbed up to that point. For one thing, the movie’s title suggests a singular focus on the intergenerational passing-down of trauma and blame, and the collection of damaged women to whom we’re immediately introduced are obvious experts in this matter. It doesn’t quite work when the story vacillates between sympathizing with these doomed females, and then sympathizing with a young man’s fear and loathing of adult women, who he perceives as irrational and castrating. And how is it possible that the profound mystery surrounding the family’s progressive ruin is rooted in something as shallow as money? I tried to develop a theory that it works as the final insult of any familial loss--that death is incredibly expensive to manage, and inheritance can be just burdensome as it is a blessing--but I don’t know, there’s not enough on the table for me to make a meal out of.

Setting aside the idea of sacrificing your son to a money demon, though, one can say that even if HEREDITARY is a little unsteady in its construction, the individual components are solid. And here I don’t just mean compelling, but also, real. This is the reason I people are so bothered by HEREDITARY--that it tells the truth in a much more direct manner than most audiences expect of a supernatural horror film. While that may be an unwelcome experience, it may be more helpful to think of this unpleasantness as a gift that art can give us.  This kind of nasty confrontation with trauma is important for an individual’s personal development, integrity, and self-knowledge. The more demandingly exhibitionistic a movie is, the better chance we have to untangle ourselves from the billowing curtain of metaphor and anthropological generality, and to be purified by the excoriating light of realism--not the artistic genre, but actual contact with reality. 

Here we find my own big reveal, my left turn away from what my previous paragraphs have led you to expect. Let me tell you about my mother. My mother was an enormously popular person. Extremely sharp, funny, fashionable, cultured--all things that help keep one’s private persona in the shadows. A prolific artist, she created hyperreal paintings and drawings from miniatures, like toys and model train props, that represented an exaggerated simulation of reality. Much of her work was about female pageantry, social expectations of women, or the chintzy objects that littered the lives of 1950s and 60s housewives, like kitschy bric-a-brac and tawdry paperbacks. People absolutely loved her for her taste, her humor, her ability to express herself. She did not like me. This was so true that, even without a history of physical abuse, that her peers sometimes say things to me that reveal their awareness of the facts of our relationship, or lack thereof. I hear things like, “Your mother loved you, you know!”, in a tone of voice that suggests that they know this would be late breaking news, without ever having asked me how I feel or what I think. From the earliest age, I seemed to refuse to meet the expectations people have of their children: I hated to be touched, I cried endlessly, I quaked with anxiety and a nameless guilt day and night, I burned with an aimless anger. I could draw, and did so compulsively, but nothing nice or bright. I was acutely aware of sexuality, violence, vanity, and shame. I was no fun whatsoever. Later in life--very recently in life, actually--I discovered that I have two important, inherent qualities: One, that I have a genetic inability to process copper properly, a mineral that is psychoactive and can make you pretty unhinged in large quantities. Two, that I suffer from a form of Autism Spectrum Disorder, a range of mental conditions that have been historically ignored in women, largely because of misogynist prejudices that society holds about essentially-female dysfunctionality. Unfortunately for me, my mother died when I was a teenager, almost two decades before I would find out these things that might have made her more tolerant of me. 

Fortunately, I guess, I think I know why my mother took such an exception to me, and it isn’t all about me. It’s about her mother. My maternal grandmother was also an artist of sorts, but more in terms of artifice. I haven’t decided whether it is fair for me to spill all of the details of a story that belongs to more people than myself, but I will go so far as to say that my maternal great-grandparents meted out trauma and shame in a manner that my grandmother allowed to contribute to her painful estrangement from her sister. For my purposes, what it really did was teach my mother that darkness--any kind of darkness, even darkness that belongs to you and you alone, that you have a right to, that should be yours to process as you see fit--is inappropriate. It is just as inappropriate in adults as it is in children, which she would see very clearly in her mother’s strict orchestration of their household into an unimpeachably pure, Rockwellian model of what an American family should be like. While my mother found her way into the revolutionary world of hippie rebellion and art-making, she never let go of her prohibition against sadness and rage, even in her own child, and I suffered from it until she suddenly, rapidly and gruesomely died of lung cancer when I was barely old enough to drive. Afterward, her mother obsessed over me in a way that was simultaneously scathingly intense and unmistakably impersonal. I looked like my mother, and my grandmother’s identity was rooted entirely in dominating a family, so she couldn’t do without me. I couldn’t let her know anything about myself; my feelings about horror, pornography, death taboos, sexual identity, and media that is out to hurt you, are what make up all that I am, and are the opposite of everything she believes in. With that weight on my back, I had to pretend that we had this archetypal American familial intimacy, even when I didn’t have it with my own mother, even when I hated being touched, even when I hadn’t learned how to receive affection. Early this year, she died at 90 years old from a misdiagnosed colon condition. As my family rushed to her side to say goodbye, we discovered that her shadowy sister had pushed her doctors into lifesaving measures that would have extended her existence into something so horrific that it would have stood up to the ugliest scenes from JACOB’S LADDER, had she not miraculously died before regaining consciousness. As perversely relieving as that was, my ears ring with the sound of her last phone call to me. Intended to be a heartfelt goodbye, it devolved quickly into the woman, completely possessed of her mental faculties, absolutely screaming for her life. It was a sound as chilling as anything from any of the sadistic movies I love so well, and I really heard it, in my real life.

This all would be enough to make me talk the way that I do, but it isn’t all. Recently, my father revealed to me some details of my mother’s struggle with cancer that I had never heard before. Although my mother had been told to go straight home and make her peace upon diagnosis, she and my father plunged full bore into magical thinking. They experimented with hypnosis, acupuncture, reiki, anything that might activate my mother’s internal ability to heal herself. Soon they found themselves in the office of a charismatic self-help guru-type in a neighboring city. Incidentally, this person is now at the center of an increasingly bizarre trial that is slated to begin this January, due to her authoritative involvement with a Scientology-like cult that allegedly maintains a secret inner circle of brand-wielding sex slavers. But anyway, back to my little memoir: It isn’t clear to me what she claimed was the scope of her powers exactly, but I know that she specialized in a form of “healing” that involved hypnosis and carefully selected words, I suppose not unlike a magical incantation. She said to my mother: “I am going to heal you.” The reason she said this so forcefully, was that my mother was the physical double of a previous client of hers; a client who died from the same specific form of lung cancer that plagued my mother; and who lived in the house we had moved into, only months before my mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. That woman died, we moved into her house, and by pure coincidence, my subsequently sick mother found herself in the office of the self-styled healer who had treated the previous owner of our new home for the very same illness. “God has given me a second chance,” the healer said, “and I am going to heal you.” My mother saw her for several months, until one day she arrived to find a third woman in the office. Astoundingly, the healer described the young coed as having supernatural gifts. The two instantly began terrorizing my mother, screaming at her and cursing her. My mother, sobbing hysterically, begged to know, “Why are you yelling at me?” and they replied, “WE’RE NOT YELLING AT YOU, WE’RE YELLING AT THE CANCER!” When he told the story, of course, my father accidentally said “demon”, not “cancer”, but in any case, they were trying to exorcize her. My mother never went back, and, some might remark, she died.

Naturally, I wanted to tell this story to anyone who would listen to me, as soon as I had heard it. It was one of the weirdest things I had ever heard, and it happened to my family. While some people’s jaw dropped in exactly the way mine had originally, I received some unexpected feedback, too. On some occasions, a dear friend would pause at the end of my story, make a calculated “surprise” sound, and then, very gently, explain to me that coincidences exist, self-hypnosis and group hysteria exist, and I shouldn’t take any of it too seriously. I found myself, not just disappointed, but embarrassed. I wasn’t trying to tell people that I believed my family was cursed by god or the devil, or that we had been molested by some evil sorceress. I was simply trying to say that, somehow...isn’t there some kind of spiritual truth to this? Isn’t it worth remarking on, that my life, my history, had congealed into such an incredible metaphor for itself? Isn’t it so much more compelling than any kind of fiction I could ever have written, any artwork I could ever have created in order to process the exact kind of trouble my family has suffered? Isn’t this just amazing, all by itself, without even the benefit of theatrical interpretation? Of course, the conclusion will be that I absolutely have to give this some kind of theatrical interpretation, or else I will go out of my mind. I’m close enough as it is. But, in some ways, I felt like this interpretation has already happened at the hands of Ari Aster, with his horrific fable about how inherited trauma among generations of women gives way to the machinations of a corrupt cult. People who know me well will realize that I’m still leaving out parallels between HEREDITARY and myself, in this already too-long piece of analysis. But I guess what I’m trying to say for now is that I need HEREDITARY, and we each need a HEREDITARY of our own to put our most unspeakable experiences on a pin, under a spotlight, inside a bell jar, to be examined from every angle and exactingly diagnosed, whether we like it or not.

[lucianalight]

same anon that sent the sigmund freud quote. the meta was great thank you!! so I have another question: do you think tony stark would recognize thor’s narcissist tones/actions since he was kinda like that himself in im2?? (lets pretend thanos and iw never happened?)

You ask very interesting questions anon! I love it! :D I actually planned to write some metas about Tony since he is my favorite Avenger and I have lots of feelings about him. So I’m going to seize this opportunity for my first long meta on Tony. Before answering your question, let’s analyze Tony’s character and see whether he was really like that in IM2 or not.

There is no doubt that Tony was a narcissist before Afghanistan. But after that he changed. As he said himself he got his eyes open. And his change was drastic. There is a visible difference, a large distance between the Tony we see at the start of IM and the Tony who declares he is Iron Man to the world in the end. So it might come as a surprise that Tony seemingly has gone back to acing like his old self. But here’s the thing. That’s all Tony is doing. He is acting.

In IM2 Tony knows he is dying and it is happening fast. It is obvious from the numbers we see, each time he checks his toxicity. And what Tony cares about most, what he is obsessed with most, is his legacy. It’s because what Yinsen had told him in that cave:

“What you just saw, that is your legacy, Stark. Your life’s work, in the hands of those murderers. Is that how you want to go out?”

And Tony is again facing death and this time he wants to leave a legacy that actually help people, that protects them. So he starts Stark Expo after so many years and although he is complimenting himself, in the end he says it’s about legacy and what we want to leave for future generations. He makes Pepper CEO and make donations. He wants to be with Pepper and start sth with her but when they are in that party in Monaco he checks his blood toxicity and it has increased more than twice the number before. He can’t start a relationship with Pepper when he won’t be around much longer. So he acts impulsive.

“Got any other bad idea?”

He knows that this is a bad idea but that’s the only way Tony knows how to deal with his emotions. Not facing them and hiding behind his persona.

He later tries to convince Pepper to come with him to Venice.

“It’s a great place…to be healthy.”

He wants to spend his last days with Pepper. In a place that it’s great to die. But Pepper refuses.

Tony: “Well, I’m just saying to recharge our batteries and figure it all out.”

Pepper: “Not everybody runs on Batteries, Tony.”

Tony smiles because she has no idea how right she is. He is getting worse and he is utterly alone in the knowledge that he is going to die. No one asks him why he suddenly acts impulsive and irrational after two years. Everyone just think well, he is Tony, that’s who he is. Then Rohdy comes to tell him that he had to stop National Guard from coming and taking his suits. He then sees Tony’s state and tells him he doesn’t have to do this alone.

“You know, I wish I could believe that. I really do. But you’ve gotta trust me. Contrary to popular belief I know exactly what I’m doing.”

And it’s the truth. His past experience taught him that he is alone. Even his closest friends don’t trust his decisions and see them as impulsive or irrational. The same thing happened in IM. Everyone told him he was making a mistake in shutting down weapon manufacturing or working on arc reactor. Tony really knows what he is doing. He tells Rhodey to trust him but he knows that Rhodey won’t. And Tony uses the mistrust of people, the image they have of him to his advantage. He uses his narcissistic personality, his old character as his persona to fool everyone. Tony’s most important legacy is Iron Man suit. He trusts Rhodey but not the government. At the same time, he can’t leave Earth unprotected and he can’t just give War Machine suit to Rhodey because he has stated that he won’t do it. So how he can achieve it? By using his persona to make Rhodey take War Machine from him, doing it in a way that everyone sees it. Acting drunk and irresponsible is also a great excuse to wearing Iron Man suit and to cover his skin because the marks have reached his neck. So he acts drunk, and by fighting with Rhodey he also teaches him a lesson on operating the suit. I also want to stress that Tony never once was drunk during IM2. He was sick, because he was poisoned. Here is the symptoms of palladium poisoning and one of them is burning of eyes and eye problems which explains why Tony wore sunglasses a lot of time, even indoors. Another is depression which is enough explanation for Tony’s behavior.

Tony knows what he is doing in IM2. A narcissist most of the times doesn’t have the self-awareness that what they do is wrong or they are hurting others. Tony acts narcissistic but he isn’t really one contrary to Natasha’s report. In order for him to be a narcissist he has to have five or more of the following symptoms[X]:

Has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)

He doesn’t actually. Whatever he says about himself that is about achieving world peace and his abilities are truths not exaggerations.

Is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love

He isn’t.Contrary to what Pepper said, Stark Expo isn’t about Tony’s ego going crazy.Tony is desperate to leave good and useful legacy.

Believes that he or she is “special” and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions)

Yeah. To a point. But don’t forget he has self-esteem issues due to his father’s treatment of him. He doesn’t believe Fury that his father complimented him or even liked him.

Requires excessive admiration

He requires admiration. But it’s not excessive anymore. You can clearly see that he doesn’t really give a damn about his public image and what people are saying about him.

Has a very strong sense of entitlement, e.g., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations

He hasn’t.There is nothing in the movie that implies this.

Is exploitative of others, e.g., takes advantage of others to achieve his  or her own ends

He isn’t. In fact, he stops himself from having a relationship with Pepper to not further hurt her. He flirts with Natasha but never starts anything more while the old Tony might.

Lacks empathy, e.g., is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others

He doesn’t. He knows Pepper would get mad and upset about him hiding the fact that he was dying and tries to apologizes to her. He also knows that his behavior will make Rhodey angry and understands him. And tells him not to apologize for it.

Is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her

No, he isn’t.

Regularly shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes

Yeah, he does.

That makes it three out of five. He is still an egotistical person though. Not all egotists are narcissists, but all narcissists are egotistical. That’s why it’s so easy for him to fool others. Because these two can often be mistaken with each other.

“Being egotistical means having an idea that one is better than everyone else. An egotist may not resort to manipulation or fantasize. They may not have grand visions. Narcissists go a step further and fantasize about being in positions of grandeur or authority. Also, a narcissist may resort to psychological tricks to get what he or she wants. All narcissists are egotists, while not all egotists are narcissists.”[X]

Also notice how he pauses and looks hurt when he reads the words “textbook narcissism”. Then recovers fast and agrees. Because that is his persona and he actually succeeded in fooling even Natasha. In fact, Natasha’s report is very biased and it lacks context, specially if we consider what Tony went through.Tony showed compulsive behavior only last week after two years of not doing it and he was depressed and devastated. And he was dying, what did he have to lose if he was being self-destructive? And the worst and most interesting part of that assessment was the recommendation part.

“Iron Man? Yes.”

“Tony Stark not recommended”

This is always interesting to me. Many fans interpreted it as SHIELD only wanting the suit and it’s true. What SHIELD failed to realize is that Tony is Iron Man.

“The suit and I are one.”

Wearing the suit is Tony’s way to be his real self. He wears a suit to be able to put aside his persona, to put aside his mask and be who he really is.It’s really heartbreaking that he was able to find himself behind another mask.That he had to be literally engulfed in a metal suit to feel safe for showing his true self. And that’s why Tony says the suit and I are one.

And now back to your question. Would Tony recognize Thor’s narcissistic tones/actions? Yes, I’m sure he would. He was a narcissist himself, he still uses it as his persona and he is very observant. In fact, I think he already knows about it. One of the interesting thing about Tony’s character is that despite having many difference, there are so many similarities and parallels between him and Loki. Like Loki, Tony was neglected by his father and felt unloved and constantly ignored because of an ideal image that was Captain America. And due to many similarities in their characters Tony understood what Loki was doing in Avengers very well. “He’s a full tilt diva”. And I think because of these similarities he has already seen some of narcissistic behaviors from Thor. I always thought that Tony had become a kind of Loki’s replacement for Thor. Notice how he says this to Bruce in AoU:

“I don’t want to hear “the man was not meant to meddle” medley”.

I’m sure he has heard it enough and it bothered him to no end how Thor still looks down on humans to some degree. Also the way Thor lifts him by neck without wanting any explanation first and blames him, and then treats him through rest of the movie with anger because he has done sth that Thor didn’t approve of, and later his utter surprise that Thor finally agrees with him about sth is very telling imo. So I think he already knows this about Thor and had been a target of Thor’s narcissistic tendencies. And it’s not really surprising since Tony is already the scapegoat of the Avengers and this is probably how Thor used to treat his scapegoat brother. I also believe because the similar experiences and issues and personality, given the chance, like if Asgardians had reached Earth, Tony and Loki could have an understanding of each other after some time, bond with each other and become great friends.

[fanficwriter013]

The Tower - Chapter 25

The Tower: An Avengers Fanfic

Chapter 25

Chapters:one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve / thirteen / fourteen / fifteen / sixteen / seventeen / eighteen / nineteen / twenty / twenty-one / twenty-two / twenty-three / twenty-four / twenty-five / twenty-six / twenty-seven / twenty-eight

Word Count: 2466

Warnings:   Little dramatic, little angsty, talk of sexual acts.

Synopsis:   Elly moves forth with the plan to infilitrate HYDRA. There’s still some kinks to iron out.

Author’s Note: Listen y’all, written with Kate. My best friend, she literally keeps me sane when things aren’t exactly going my way. @emilyevanston

Chapter 25 - Switching Sides

My slow turn took about two weeks.  By this stage, we had been away from the Tower for over a month.  Tony had been keeping a track of FRIDAY and she had been hacked every update he made.  The only way for us to know it was safe to go home was to finish this properly.

I started by just becoming very sullen and withdrawn every time Natasha and Sam took me in to talk to her.  I’d start having irrational outbursts about not being given options.  Then I started to ‘sneak’ into where they were keeping her.   The first time I went in there I didn’t even say anything to her.  I just sat on the ground and cried with my legs pulled up against me.  She kept trying to engage but I’d just shake my head and not look at her, eventually getting up and saying I shouldn’t have even come here and leaving the room.

The second time I snuck her in some of the nicer food.

“What’s this for?”  She said, looking at it suspiciously.

“Just… You… They… If they’re going to…” I stammered looking everywhere but at her.

“So this is like my last meal?”  She said.  She laughed and shook her head slumping against the wall.

“No.  Not last.”  I replied.

“So when is it going to happen?  Tomorrow?  A week from now?”  She asked.  “That will make you an accomplice you know?”

I shook my head.  “Not an accomplice.”

She looked at me right in the eye.  “They’re going to make you do it?”

I dropped my gaze and left the room.

The last time I went to see her I shuffled in the room and just sat against the wall putting my head on my knees.

“What are they up to now?”  She asked.  I shook my head without looking at her.  “Must be really screwed up if you won’t even talk about it.”

I took a deep shuddering breath and wiped my eyes on my knees.  After a little while of us just sitting there silently I looked up at her.  “Have you ever been in love?”

“I have not.”  She said.  “Is your little group not working out for you anymore?”

“I never had before.  I thought this was what this was.  But how can it be?  What is this thing I’m feeling?”  I said to her desperately.

Alexa looked me over.  “What are you feeling?  Like a caged animal?”

I started opening and closing my fist and shaking my head a tiny amount.  “I say the words but they don’t say them back.  Then they tell me I have to do this.”  I said waving my arms around.  “Like it’s some lesson in life that I have to learn.  They’re the Avengers. The Avengers are the good guys.”

“You know we teach too.  But it’s more free-range.”  Alexa said.

“Who are we?”  I asked.

She smirked at me.  “They still haven’t worked it out?  Why I’m HYDRA, sweetie.”

“I thought you were related to Justin Hammer,”  I said.

She scoffed.  “I can’t be both?  He’s my father.  My name is… was Justine Hammer.  He is a piece of shit.  The cancer was him.  He was experimenting on me when I was still a child.”

“I’m sorry, Alexa,”  I said quietly.

“Not as sorry as me.”  She said and shook her head.  “That’s the past though.  The future is HYDRA.  Come with me.”

“HYDRA are the bad guys,”  I said in monotone.

“It’s all semantics.  I’m in this for the science.”  Alexa said flicking her hand like she was brushing away an irrelevant annoyance.

I buried my face in my knees again.  “I’m not a bad person.  Why is the only option here doing something I don’t want to do?”

“There are always other options.  You just need to look at it from another angle.”  Alexa said.

I looked up at her with a pained expression.  “What other angle?  What’s the other angle involved in cold-blooded murder makes it okay?”

“Not doing the cold-blooded murder, Elise,”  Alexa said.  “Switch sides.  You can do the work you want to do.  Help me.”  I looked up at her but I didn’t say anything.  “We’d be able to help further your research.  Do human trials.”

“I can’t,”  I whispered.

“That’s why it’d be your assistant doing the actual human trials.  Your hands wouldn’t be dirty.”  Alexa explained in the flawed logic of a psychopath.

I started to scratch at my wrist like there was something crawling under my skin.  “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“You keep saying that and yet you keep coming back,”  Alexa said.

I got to my feet and started pacing.  “They won’t let me go.  I know too much.  It’s useless.  I just have to get used to it.  Maybe they do love me.  Maybe they do know what’s best for me.”

“I may not know what love is.  But I doubt them forcing you to do something you don’t want to do counts.  That forcing you to do something that goes against your values is knowing what’s best for you.”  Alexa said coming to the door of her cell.

I started to cry and pressed my face against the bars of the cell.  “I should have left them when I had the chance.  I’m a stupid child who thought she could play superheroes.”

Alexa put her hands through the bars and stroked my hair.  “I’m giving you the chance now.”

I let out a hollow laugh.  “You’re in a cell, Alexa.  And I’m nothing.  We both have to accept our fate.  They’re making me take your healing factor away.  I’m sorry.  Even if I did want to get you out of here and join HYDRA, I’m just a person.  They’re the Avengers. Neither of us are going anywhere.”  I pulled away from her and headed to the door.

“Elise… Elly, keep my offer as an option.  Don’t let them do this to us.”  She said the slightest hint of pleading to her voice.

****

The rest of the day and the following morning was about preparing me for what was going to happen.  What I needed to do.  When they’d come for me.  The following morning I said my goodbyes to everyone and went to find Tony.  He jumped when I came through the door and turned quickly to face me.

“You’re late.  Give me your arm.”  I rolled up my sleeve and held out my arm to him.  “Sorry, I got caught up saying goodbye to B.”

“What?  How many times is that?”  Tony said, tapping on the inside of my elbow as he tried to find a vein.

“I don’t know.  Uh… what since we’ve been here?  Twice.  All up?  I’ve lost count.  Why?”  I said looking at him confused.

He stopped what he was doing and shook his head.  “Once. It was once for me.  With the three of us.  So it barely even counts.  I’ve known that man for years now.”

I ran my hand through his hair.  “What still?”

Tony nodded and went back to finding my vein.

“I think you might need to talk to him.  I think he needs that, Tony.  He needs to have the other guy be okay with it.”  I said.

“Why are your veins so small?”  He asked deflecting the question.

I pulled my hand away and started rubbing the inside of my elbow while I pumped my fist.  “I don’t drink nearly enough water,”  I said.  “If you can’t talk he’s not going to either, you know?”

Tony grumbled something unintelligible and looked away from me.

I tapped my inner elbow and found a vein on the outer edge.  I took Tony’s hand and pressed his fingers against it.  “Feel it?”

He nodded and grabbed a little glass vial from the bench.  “That’ll do.”

“We can just keep having science club threesomes if you like,”  I said.

He laughed and raised an eyebrow at me.  “I’ll never say no to those.”  He held my arm out straight.  “This is going to hurt a lot.  I’m really sorry in advance.”  He tipped the vial and something that looked like the tiniest grain of rice in the world landed on my skin over the vein.  It opened up and started boring into my skin.  Tony was not kidding, it stung like hell.

“Ow, fuck!”  I cursed.

Tony continued to hold my arm in place.  “It has to burrow to get a decent tissue sample.  It becomes biometrically attuned to you so it can tell us if you’re in pain or distressed or …” He trailed off.

I clenched my teeth and looked away from it tears pricking my eyes.  When it was done I let out a sigh of relief and Tony started to clean up the wound.  I moved to a bench and grabbed a tablet.  “I’m going to take this with some of the data I’ve put together.  I’ve got a fake set with things still missing so people can’t make super soldiers or whatever.”  I said as I started deleting files and importing other ones onto it.

“I am really sorry about this.  I have one in too, I know how much it hurts.”  Tony said as he finished dressing the wound.

“It’s fine, honey.  I get it.  And now we’re all matchy matchy.”  I said without looking up from the tablet.

He rested his chin on my shoulder and kissed my cheek.  “That’s what you’re concerned about?  Being matching?”

“No, of course not but if I focus on the things I’m concerned about, I’ll chicken out,”  I said, reaching behind me and rubbing my palm on his cheek.

“Do you want me to show you the control panel to show you the chip is working?”  Tony asked.  “I hear those Avengers guys are coming to rescue you.”

I looked up from the tablet and met his eyes.  “I trust you implicitly.  Honestly.  But that doesn’t stop those pesky intrusive thoughts from creeping in.  Me being a dork distracts me.”  I explained as I ran my hands up and down his sides.  “Besides, not only are those Avengers guys coming to rescue me, I have that genius, billionaire, playboy, whatever he is tracking me and a tiny ant guy to ride in my pocket.  I’ll be fine.”  I turned back to my work.

Tony’s chin returned to my shoulder and his hands teased over my sides.  “I think you forgot philanthropist.”

“Oh yeah.  He is very generous in lots of ways.”  I teased.

Tony started to rub his hands in circles over my stomach, it felt warm and soothing.   “Are you done yet?”  He asked.

I kept tapping away without looking up.  I moved one last thing and put the tablet down.  “I am now.”

Tony turned me around to face him.  “You’re really dedicated.  It’s cute.”

I pulled myself a little closer to him.  “You’re cute.”

“Just cute?  I thought I’d get a better descriptor word than that.”  He teased.

“Hmm…”  I said, pretending to think.  “Old?  Was the other descriptor old?”

Tony shook his head trying to hold back a smirk.  “You’re asking for trouble.  That’s not any better.”

“I’m always asking for trouble.  I’m a known troublemaker.”  I teased and tilted my head leaning in to kiss him.  I flicked my tongue over the corner of his mouth.  Tony hummed and dragged his teeth over my bottom lip.  I pulled myself flush against him and my tongue dipped into his mouth and danced with his as my hands carded through his hair.  He ran his hands up my back and I pulled back and rested my forehead against his.  “I love you, Anthony Edward Stark.  Don’t you forget it.”  I say tapping him on the chest.

“I - You know - I do - It’s …”  He stammered.

I put my finger on his lips.  “It’s okay.  I would rather I never heard it and to feel it like I do.”  I said and kissed just under his ear.  “I’m going to be back. You can keep showing me when we get home.”   I slide my hand up and down under his t-shirt, grazing my nails over his skin.

“I’m getting mixed signals here.  Do you want me to behave or not?”  He teased, his hands running down to my ass.

I brought my lips to his ear.  “No.  I want you to lift me up onto this bench and fuck me until I can’t even form words.  Until I forget everything except your name and when I try to say it, all I can do is scream it out.”  I whispered and leaned back, looking at him.  “But, Scott is probably waiting for me.  We’ll have to have a rain check.”

Tony shook his head.  “You are the worst.”  He teased and kissed me softly, stroking my throat with his thumb.  “You better be prepared for the inevitable orgy you’re inciting when you get back.”

I quirked my eyebrow at him.  “I look forward to it.”  I kissed him one last time and picked up the tablet and headed towards the door.  “Don’t forget to come rescue me.”

“You can count on it.”  He said.  “El?”

I turned to look at him.

“I do.  You know?”  He said.

I smile back at him.  “I know.  I love you too.”

I headed into the hall and about halfway to the cells I found Scott waiting with Steve and Thor.

“You’re ready to go,”  Steve asked.

“As I’ll ever be,”  I replied.

“And you know the plan?”  Steve asked.

“Just get her to take me to where she has them.  Don’t try to escape or be a hero.  I’m on her side.  Scott will do most of the rest of it.  Avoid eating or drinking anything she gives me.”  I say.

“Good.”  He leaned down, cupped my jaw and kissed me, his lips softly caressing mine.  “Stay safe.”  He said as he pulled back.  He looked at Scott.  “Keep her safe.”

“Yeah.  Of course.”  He said with a smile.  He pressed a button with his thumb and disappeared.   A moment later I could feel him crawling into my hair.

Thor took my hand.  “Lady Elly, take care.  I still haven’t had a chance to get to know you and we are to be lovers, am I right?”

I felt myself blush and Steve clapped Thor on the shoulder.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her blush before.”

Thor leaned down and kissed me.  It was firm but tender and there was a static spark that passed between us.  He pulled back and smiled.  “To be continued.”

“Most definitely.”  I agreed.

Thor and Steve watched as I headed down the hall to the cell and I disappeared through the door.

[xxxprettydeadgirlxxx]

One step forward, three steps back.

Summary: You wake up one night to strangers kidnapping you. When Loki finds out it was The Avengers that took you, he wastes no time in getting you back. When the Avengers realize there is more than meets the eye, they are determined to get to the bottom of it. What they discover will force them to change the way they think about the harsh, coldhearted God of Lies. Rating- M Warnings- Violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of torture <—-(Later chapters)  [Reader has a very dark, painful past] —-You have been warned.  Relationships- Loki/Reader

                                           CHAPTER ONE- MINE They were coming for you, but fast asleep, you didn’t hear them. Not until it was too late. You scream, kick, punch, you claw and use teeth. Anything to get away from your kidnappers, but to no avail, they manage to subdue you.

What you couldn’t figure out is why they kept acting as if they were rescuing you. They had just stolen you from your home, everything you knew. Ripped you out of your warm bed and now you were in the back of a van with a bunch of strangers going god knows where.

You were terrified. Flash’s of old memories begin to flood through your mind in waves and all you can do is tremble. You’re too afraid to cry. What if they got off on crying like the last ones? No, you wouldn’t cry. At least not yet.

They took you to a large tower in New York and you mindlessly take in your surroundings as they lead you through the doors straight into an elevator to another floor. Down a hallway. Another door, another elevator. You were sure by this point you were lost and would never find your way out.

Perhaps that was the goal.

They put you in a large, white, bright room that contained a bed, a nightstand, and a door you assumed to be the bathroom. A woman tells you everything is going to be alright now, that he can’t hurt you anymore. You don’t understand. You had already been rescued from that hell, and they just stripped you away from it. You say nothing back. It isn’t like you could if you wanted to anyway. She began searching your body for… Bruises? Marks?

Did they think he was hurting you!?

When she finally leaves, you curled into the fetal position on the bed finally allowing yourself to break down. What did these people want with you? Why had they taken you away?

Then it hits you that once he arrives home he will come looking for you. You want to call out to him, but you have no idea how. He had always been the first to reach out if you were separated, otherwise, you had to think to him directly. That way he couldn’t invade every thought and vise-versa. You’d never been this far away from him since he found you. You’d never been apart this long. It was unnerving. You wanted to panic, only stopping yourself so you didn’t go three steps backward, though, you knew it was coming.

Always one step forward, three steps back.

You can already feel the anxiety creeping up into your chest, the cold sweats, rapid breathing; heart pounding so hard you were sure it was going to explode out of your chest. You couldn’t go through this again. You wouldn’t survive it. Hell, you weren’t sure how you got through it the first time. Well, that was a lie- You did know.

He saved you.

Thinking back, you wish now you would have agreed he stay at home just as he had offered, but you weren’t a selfish person and you knew he was getting restless. You didn’t want to go out, so you let him go without you. It was the first time he’d left you home alone for longer than thirty minutes. He’d only been gone a little over an hour before you retired to bed, knowing he would wake you once he got home. You were sure once this was over and he found you, you’d be lucky if he ever left your side again. That wouldn’t bother you in the slightest, unsure if you would even be able to stay at home alone now even for just a few minutes.

When Loki arrived home to find his door broken in and you gone, he panicked for a moment before it turned into pure irate, irrational fury. Had they come back for you? Surely not, he was sure he had murdered them all. Watching those men choke on their own blood had been very satisfying for Loki after he’d found you and the state you were in.

Broken, bruised, bloody, half-starved, and mute from having your vocal cords ripped out. Loki had seen horrible things, he’d been through worse, but that day he couldn’t bring himself to leave you. He knew about torture; perhaps that’s why he saved you. Loki couldn’t even recall how he had arrived at the club they were keeping you. Everything looked innocent on the outside world, but he could feel the power surging from downstairs.

Power he wanted.

After he’d gotten the crystal, which he realized held a lot of black magic he turned to leave and heard your soft cries. That’s when he found you. He hadn’t fully processed the thought to take you; to save you. Loki reacted; he reacted by ripping everyone who worked there to pieces. You were terrified of him when he approached you, but Loki used a soft, silky tone to talk you into going with him. He would have taken you anyway but wanted to offer you a choice. You chose him; almost three years ago.

He hadn’t intended on caring for you, falling for you. He had only planned to get you better and stronger than let you live your own life, but you had refused to leave him. It took him only a few days after you were ready to go out on your own for him to realize you were too terrified to leave the house without him; be without him. So he stayed around, annoyed by the fact at first. But as time went by he grew to know you and even figured out a way to communicate with you without using sign language (which he learned early on, just for you). He hadn’t done that lightly since he had to link you to him in order to do so. So far, he hadn’t come to regret it. But he would never tell anyone that. No one could know that he cared for you, for he fears someone will try to use you as leverage against him.

It would work.

Loki didn’t like having weaknesses, and you were it.

‘Where are you?!’

'Loki! I don’t know, a tower in New York I think. I was asleep and they came for me-’

“Who?’ As soon as you said New York, Loki’s fists clenched and he was shaking with rage. It couldn’t be...

'I don’t know. Loki, I’m scared…’

'Have they hurt you…’

'No, not yet. I don’t know what they want from me.’

'Is there a red-haired woman?’

'Yes.’

'Do they wear uniforms; all different types? One made of Iron even.’

Come to think about it… 'Yes, actually. Loki, do you know them?’

'Don’t worry, I know exactly where you are and I’m coming.’

Loki was angry, you could tell. You really hadn’t expected any less, knowing he cared for you just as much as you cared for him. You almost felt bad for your kidnappers, seeing as they were probably about to be ripped to pieces pretty soon. It didn’t bother you, not anymore. Not after what you’d been through.

You watched Loki kill the men who had been keeping you, terrified of him at first for the act. Now it was nothing. It was only this past year you started going out and it seemed no matter where you went, someone had to approach you, hit on you, or tease you. Loki didn’t like that.

Not one bit.

He despised when people looked, talked, or touched his things. Maybe it was because you were just as damaged as he was; he had told you a few stories, but you are sure there are more; a lot more, but you didn’t care how many broken bodies he left behind. It was always to protect or defend you.

Hard to be mad at someone who loves you.

He’s never told you he loves you, but you knew he did just as he knew you loved him. You didn’t have to say it. His actions and other words spoke louder than an 'I love you’ ever could. It didn’t feel like enough. It felt cheap and overused. Perhaps that’s why neither of you has ever said it. Maybe he felt the same way; that the words were not enough. It was hard to tell with Loki.

You were relieved he’d contacted you settling your nerves some, but you knew the moment you got to Loki you’d fall to pieces. You were surprised to have held up as long as you had.

"Did she say anything?” Tony questioned Natasha, who was walking out of the elevator to join the rest of them; sitting on the couch. He was worried for you, knowing Loki had been keeping you for who knows how long. He would be surprised if you came out of this mentally and physically undamaged.

“Not yet. She looks fine, outer appearance wise. I couldn’t find any bruises or anything.”

“Huh.” Clint figured you’d be hurt. “So she isn’t hurt?”

“Not physically, but her mental state, I can tell she’s not all there. She was terrified of me and acted as if I was the bad guy.”

“I’m sure he tormented her mentally.” Clint mused to himself. “Wonder how long she’s been with him?”

“I wasn’t aware my brother even lived, not to mention how he got ahold of a mortal girl and no one noticed until now.”

A SHIELD agent had recognized Loki at a bar one evening, with you. He had alerted Nick Fury and it had taken weeks to track him down, but they managed. SHIELD was mostly a ghost nowadays, but they were still around when it counted the most. They hadn’t expected to find you home alone, asleep in a comfortable bed none the less.

“Do you think he’ll show up here for her? Nah, he’ll probably just go find himself a new girl to torment.” Tony took a sip of his drink. “Feel sorry for whoever’s next.”

“We need to find Loki,” Natasha stressed. “Find out what he’s up to, what he’s planning and then finish him off for good.”

“You realize you are speaking of my brother.” Thor’s warning was clear in his tone. “He saved Jane and me, helped save the world. I cannot just ignore that.”

“You also can’t ignore that he destroyed Manhattan.”

“Do you think we’ll need…Steve?” Tony was not in the mood to deal with the Soldier, but he couldn’t deny they may need him. “While I’m thinking about it, anyone heard from Bruce?”

They all shook their head.

“I’m guessing Vision and Wanda are out as well?”

Clint nodded. “She left a note. They went to see a movie.”

“We’ll call Steve as a last resort,” Natasha told Tony. “You two need to get over this and make-up. It’s too dangerous to have you two at war with one another.”

“Well, when he dumps that bastard that killed my parents and apologizes I may forgive him.” Or not.

“We are getting off topic.” Clint rubbed his temple. He hated this conversation and it was always brought up one way or another. “I think we should all just call it a night.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that just yet.” Came a voice from behind them. The Avengers stood up and turned to find a very angry looking Loki staring back at them. “Brother.”

“Loki. How do you live?” Thor knew he was alive, but to see him standing in front of him was surreal. His brother lives and he didn’t tell him?

“None of your concern, Thor.” He averted his gaze towards the other Avengers. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Give her back to me and you all will live through this. I will take what belongs to me and take my leave.”

“Don’t think so, that poor girl is traumatized. You really think she would go with you?!”

“Because you stole her away from her home, from me, assassin!” he roared, green sparks flying from his fingertips. “She’s mine. Of course, she would come with me!”

“Right.” Tony laughed. “Sure, we’ll just go get her and give you back your slave.”

“If you know what is good for you, you will. You are ruining all my progress, everything I have been working so hard to fix! For the record, she is no slave!” he yelled, fists clenched. He was sick of this, the Avengers. They had more than likely ruined everything. All that hard work just flushed down the drain in one night. The ONE NIGHT he decides he had to go out, letting you talk him into leaving you home alone. Lesson learned.

“Loki, what do you mean, what are you fixing?” Thor could tell this wasn’t just Loki trying to get his way. There was something else hidden in his intentions, but Thor couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

“Ignore him, Thor. Leave the girl alone, she’s safe with us. You come quietly and you may live tonight.” Clint challenged, taking a step towards Loki.

Loki threw his head back and laughed. “Seriously? You think you can beat me, have you forgotten what I’m capable of?”

“We’ve beaten you before.”

“Yes, but you are also a Soldier and a Hulk short, and you only defeated me because I wanted to fail. I could have killed you all, ever wondered why I didn’t? You ever wonder why I didn’t go for your family, Clint Barton?”

Clint stiffened. Loki knew? He KNEW!

“They weren’t part of the plan. I don’t care for them. You are all alive because I kept you alive, end of story. Now, I am through playing these games. Bring her to me, or I will destroy you all to get to her.”

“You would take a girl against her will?” Thor spoke up, trying to figure his brother out.

“You took her against her will.”

“Wow, he really is delusional.”

Loki grinned at the Man of Iron. “Bring her to me, and I’ll show you who is delusional. Here’s a hint, it isn’t me.”

“So you’re saying if we brought her downstairs, she would run straight to you?”

“Precisely.”

“Fine.” Tony shrugged. “Tasha, get the girl. I want to see what happens.”

“Tony!”

“Just do it. You don’t have to throw her at him. If she runs away screaming we’ll know he’s lying.”

“And if he isn’t?” Thor turned to Tony, talking quietly. “What if he isn’t lying.”

“That’s what we are going to find out. Tasha!” The assassin rolled her eyes and headed to the elevator.

'The redhead comes for you. Go with her. I’m here.’

'Thank you.’

'No need to thank me, darling. You’re mine and they will soon discover that.’

'What if they don’t let me go willingly? I can’t stay here with them, Loki. I am falling apart already.’

'I know sweet girl, just hold on. If they won’t give you back to me, I’ll kill them.

All of them.’

[aspiringjournalistworld]

Is nuclear proliferation the road to peace or conflict?

A world without nuclear weapons is what most politicians and policymakers call for, particularly after WWII, when the world witnessed the repercussions of possessing stockpiles and attacking another nation using the nuclear force. With the Cold War era, everyone feared that the same scenario would occur again, but back then it was between two superpowers; the United States and the Soviet Union (Rauchhaus 2009). However, the scenario deferred completely (Newsweek 2009). This fact started the debate on whether non-nuclear proliferation still secures stability and lessens the rate of conflicts or not. Different school of thoughts have discussed this issue, from the realist to the rational choice perspectives. Each of these theories attempted to make an argument that was aligned with the principles of their framework. They came to ask questions related to rationality, security dilemmas, stability, power shifting, hegemony, terrorist groups…. etc. When a clash of interests between the U.S. and Iran or when the American president holds a summit with his North Korean counterpart Kim Jong-un, the debate is reopened and several questions are left unanswered. But what will always remain is the fear of letting non-nuclear states acquire their own missiles, a move that is viewed as a tremendous threat to the global security. When we think of Iran and how it might ponder the idea of producing nuclear weapons, if it wanted to avoid getting invaded, we ask ourselves; is this the right thing to do? what if nuclear proliferation maintains peace? what if the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (NPT), that became effective fifty years ago (Newsweek 2020), does not guarantee a world without nuclear warfare?

Photo credit: Foreign Policy

Here is a variety of arguments from the point of view of the nuclear optimists and pessimists:-

The Rationality of State leaders

Tepperman (2009) argued that there are two facets that underpin the different arguments regarding the deployment of nuclear weapons. The first one is based on the fact that such destructive weapons were used only in 1945. The second one is the undeniable truth that no nuclear conflict took place since WWII. This argument is emphasised by what Kenneth Waltz, as quoted by Tepperman in Newsweek (2009), said: "We now have 64 years of experience since Hiroshima. It's striking and against all historical precedent that for that substantial period, there has not been any war among nuclear states". The author tried to explain why we will not witness any nuclear war of any kind in the upcoming 64 years. He argued that all state leaders are rational, they may sometimes act in irrational ways, however, they are aware of their actions and will never start a war without calculating its’ costs. He continued his argument by mentioning two dictators, Saddam and Hitler who were quite sure of their willingness to win their wars. What went wrong in the past confrontations was that leaders used to miscalculate the consequences. With the possession of nuclear warheads, this past reality has changed. Under this nuclear destruction argument, no state will take the risk of pointing its’ missiles towards another state, even if the man, who pulls the trigger, is evil or mentally unstable, he knows that he cannot afford the price of destruction and neither he nor his opponent will achieve victory. In other words, it will never be a win win situation. As Waltz puts it, "Why fight if you can't win and might lose everything?" (Newsweek, August 28, 2009). Taking all together, state leaders will escape a nuclear conflict because they will find themselves unwilling to pay the price. We cannot deny that another kind of war took place after 1945, for instance the proxy wars and the Cold War, but none of these can be compared to the destruction that the world witness during the Second World War. That is why it is expected that states will not resort to a nuclear warfare, instead “nuclear peace”, as the author suggested, will prevail.

Non-Proliferation Pros and Cons:

 One of the arguments, published in The Elders website (2019), that oppose the nuclear proliferation road to peace narrative is made by Mary Robinson, “Former Ireland President and Chair of the Elders; the group of independent global leaders founded by Nelson Mandela”. She stressed the importance of paying more attention to the threat of nuclear weapons because the perils of waging nuclear wars are soaring compared to any other historical period since “the end of the Cold War”. She believed that if the New START ((Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty) was not carried on in 2021, that would imply that no agreement would be on the table and the chances of the United States and Russia in building warheads is inescapable. Adding to this, Ahmed (2017) asserted that the great powers have the tendency to encourage other states to follow their lead, especially if these powers do not have the intention of respecting the ethics of the international community. Taking this into account, the competition between the U.S. and Russia can have a spill over effect on other states who possess these warheads. There is also a probability that countries who do not have nuclear stockpiles of their own will find themselves forced to follow into their footsteps. That is why NATO members should exercise some influence on the American President, trying to urge him to carry on with the New START, as an attempt to maintain their mutual interests of preserving peace (as noted in The Elders and The Independent websites 2019).

Shellenberger (2019) stated, in his Forbes article, that warmongers and pacifists went against the notion of advancement of a nuclear proliferation in non-nuclear nations since this will lead to disastrous outcomes similar to what happened with that non-proliferation attempt made by the United States in Iraq. In addition, the fear of a nuclear proliferation can even encourage liberal leaders to support the decision of going to war with a nation who possesses weapons of mass destruction in order to put an end to this alerting situation. This was apparent when liberal politicians, including “senator Hillary Clinton, 2000 presidential candidate Al Gore and the British PM Tony Blair”, supported the American invasion of Iraq. Even after the Second World War, the British philosopher Bertrand Russell, as quoted by Shellenberger in Forbes (2019), emphasized the importance of waging a nuclear war against the USSR, adding that “an atomic war would be one of extraordinary horror,” reported The New York Times, “but it would be ‘the war to end wars.” In Russell’s opinion, resorting to nuclear weapons to terrify the opponent did not halt war. Likewise, Hamilton Holt, a peace activist, saw that states, which did not abide by the “United Nations control over atomic energy” should be destroyed with nuclear warheads (Forbes, June 22, 2019).

While the attempts to restraint the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction had shown fatal consequences (ex: Iraq in 2003), John Gaddis, “Yale University historian”, argued that nuclear proliferation has contributed to the “long piece”. And this argument was proven to be true in the case of India-Pakistan nuclear tension in the 1990s. According to Sumit Ganguly, “India-Pakistan nuclear expert”, the two sides of the conflict could not afford the severe outcome of using these warheads, resulting in the annihilation of the whole “subcontinent” (as noted in Forbes website 2019). Also, this was evident, according to Tepperman’s article in Newsweek (2009), in the case of the “Cuban missile crisis” back in October 1962. The U.S. and the USSR kept intimidating each other with the employment of the nukes. And that made everyone, based on Rauchhaus’s argument (2009, 1), presume that another nuclear attack was on the horizon. But when the moment of truth came, they did not do it because both sides realized that if they had fired the warheads, they would have been digging their own graves.

However, the “nuclear pessimists”, according to Tepperman’s article in Newsweek (2009), believe that if a nuclear conflict had not occurred in the past, that does not mean it would not happen in the future. They gave examples of Kim Jong Il and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, asserting that these state leaders were not to be trusted and that no one should depend on what they said. According to them (nuclear pessimists), these regimes are the utmost “rogue”, from whom we should expect the nuclear strike. However, Kim Jong Il and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad should not be compared with Stalin and Mao, the craziest leaders that the world has ever known. The author continued by saying that as long as these dictators (Stalin and Mao), who were responsible for the murder of nearly 20 million of their citizens, had not started any nuclear warfare, there was little doubt that anyone else would. In fact, North Korea and Iran are two nations with state actors who looked irrational, but implicitly they were no more than normal leaders, seeking to preserve their peace and security. Consequently, a nuclear warfare is not on their agendas. “These countries may be brutally oppressive, but nothing in their behaviour suggests they have a death wish” (Newsweek, August 28, 2009). The problem, for the nuclear pessimists, lies in the prospect of giving the nukes to terrorist groups. But for the optimists, “it does not make sense”, why would these states give their nuclear weapons, the only thing considered their key to survival, to other groups like Hizbullah, over which they had limited power or even to al Qaeda, with whom they did not have common interests. Furthermore, they risk being punished by the United States who will seek to retaliate, if any attack takes place from these groups (Newsweek 2009).

Proliferation, Polarity and the Balance of power:

 Intriligator and Brito (1981) argued that the debate of whether nuclear proliferation can lead to conflict or not depends on the characteristics of the non-nuclear nation, who under the proliferation concept, will become new nuclear state. For instance, its competence, the kind of alliances it has, its stability in the region…. etc, all these factors will determine its probability of engaging in a nuclear attack. Another point to be added here is the nature of the international system and how it is divided. Living in a bipolar system will differ from a multipolar one. Waltz argued that a multipolar system is a dangerous one because there is “unpredictability” among the various political actors (Intriligator and Brito 1981). Therefore, giving more states the access to nuclear weapons would have devastating effects. Whereas, Deutsch and Singer believed that adding new states will have a positive outcome on the stability of the global system and its maintenance. The authors suggested “a more formal model” of the consequences of nuclear proliferation on the likelihood of waging a nuclear conflict. There is a probability that a newly nuclear state might use its’ nuclear warheads, if it decided to attack another nation, without the fear of being punished. This was true in the case of the only nuclear strike that took place in 1945 between the United States and Japan. Another scenario is when we have two rivalries; one who is an existing nuclear nation and the other is a newly nuclear state. In this situation, there is a probability that the existing nuclear power will use its nuclear force against the other one to wipe it out, without the fear of punishment. This suggestion was made in the post war period (1945-1949), when the United States (the predominant nuclear state at that time) had the power to use its’ nuclear weapons against the USSR, its main opponent striving for power in the international system (Intriligator and Brito 1981). Geller supported this argument (Rauchhaus 2009), emphasizing that the stability of the global system would be threatened, when one or both nations had weapons of mass destruction. However, according to Intriligator and Brito (1981), the high probability of waging nuclear wars in the previous two situations is lessened, when the new nuclear state becomes stronger, with the acquisition of “sufficient” nuclear warheads that makes it capable of challenging any other nuclear nation. Based on their arguments, when the two rivalries have equal amount of nuclear powers, the bipolar system reduces the chances of any nuclear attack, making the situation more stable since each of these nations become more reluctant to engage in a nuclear combat against the other because of the fear of retaliation. In a multipolar system, there is even more uncertainty among different nuclear powers. Each one of them will be reluctant to use their nuclear force against the other as they are unwilling to predict the reaction of each other. Besides, the increasing possession of nuclear warheads will lessen the prospects of engaging in a nuclear war. Thus, we cannot expect any“deliberate initiation” of war among the various powers. This is also reinforced by the argument that, in a multipolar system, there is a tendency of forming alliances and coalitions. The fact that reduces the potentiality of one nation attacking another, since in this case the nation which initiated the war will have to collide with the other ones who have already formed alliances with the attacked nation. By and large, according to the authors’ statistical approach, the prospects of a nuclear attack surge in the case of an additional nuclear nation joining fewer members of nuclear states,“by providing both an additional nation to initiate such a war and an additional target”. Whereas, the opposite takes place in the case of having more nuclear states, where the additional nuclear state lessens the possibility of a nuclear destruction,“by providing an additional restraining force for all the existing nuclear nations”(Intriligator and Brito 1981).

Recap:

Broadly speaking, there is no consensus on whether nuclear proliferation leads to peace or conflict. As presented in the article, policymakers and experts often have conflicting views regarding this critical debate. On the one hand, there are the nuclear pessimists who refuse the spreading of weapons of mass destruction among non-nuclear states since this endangers the security and the stability of the international system. In their view, statesmen cannot be trusted since there are many parts of the world that are ruled by irrational leaders who can take the risk and bombard their enemies. Even if rational leaders exist, we cannot guarantee that terrorist groups will not lay their hands on such weapons. In addition, what happened during WWII proves the deadly outcomes of possessing and using nuclear arms in targeting another country. On the other hand, we have the nuclear optimists who believe that world leaders are rational and intelligent, they will not point their missiles against each other. In addition, they realize that they would put themselves in a critical position, if they opted for such action. In this scenario, they will have to confront the costs of destruction and the fear of retaliation. Moreover, with the multipolar system we are living in, there is little doubt that states would use their nuclear arms against each other because there is uncertainty among the different powers, they are unwilling to predict each other’s actions. Therefore, the probability of one of these nuclear powers to start a war is reduced. The optimists emphasize that history will not repeat itself and that the chances of having another nuclear attack seem to be unrealistic. This assumption is supported by Gaddis’s argument of the “long piece”. Taking all together, the acquisition of nuclear warheads does not look that terrifying. However, politicians in the United States have not realised this fact yet. According to Desch, “most of us suffer from what he calls a nuclear phobia, an irrational fear that's grounded in good evidence—nuclear weapons are terrifying—but that keeps us from making clear, coldblooded calculations about just how dangerous possessing them actually is” (Newsweek, August 28, 2009). What is important in this debate is that state leaders need to work out multilateral agreements on how best to preserve stability and world order. They need to advance peace talks and eliminate the probability of future conflicts. Statesmen should realize that if the US-Iraq invasion scenario was approached again, particularly with what is being witnessed with the Trump administration and Iran, the consequences would be more devastating for both sides than those witnessed back in 2003. (as stressed in Shellenberger’s article published in Forbes Website 2019).

[murder-popsicle]

invncibleiron​:

Tony swirled his straw through his milkshake. “Actually, my armor is over there.” He gestured vaguely to one of the many Iron Man models standing up against the wall. He knew very well that wasn’t what Bucky had meant, but that armor–the red and gold plates, standing at the ready, prepared to be called to order at any moment–was the only type of armor he was prepared to talk about. The only piece of “Iron Man” that never left him was the disk shoved between his ribs, the blue glowing light that followed him wherever he went. But that wasn’t what Bucky meant either. Armor it might be–a battery that kept him alive, the armor that kept a handful of shrapnel away from his heart–but it wasn’t the sort of armor that protected him at press conferences, the armor afforded by a simple pair of sunglasses to hide his true expression, or a convenient appointment popping up when a conversation got too real for his liking. 

Tony looked at Bucky, looked at that familiar stubbornness that made it so very clear why she and Steve had been friends for decades. Don’t start a fight, said a little voice in his head–the smart voice in his head. It’s not worth it. He was getting what he said he wanted, wasn’t he? He’d wanted to make up, wanted to make this work, wanted things to go back to the way they were just a few short days ago when he’d still been willing to consider Bucky a friend. 

He set down the milkshake a little harder than he’d meant to, causing some of the drink inside to spill out over the top. “Don’t tell me you trust me, when we both know that isn’t true. You don’t even know me. There’s no way in hell you trust me enough to crack open your brain and play around. So what’s your real angle?” Deep down, Tony knew his own paranoia was coming out to bite him in the ass, knew he was acting out just because the last few days had been such a whirlwind of emotion, he still didn’t know how to process them. But he couldn’t help it. “The only reason anyone would claim to trust that easily is because they have a bigger plan or because they’re stupid, and we both know it’s not that one, don’t we? So what do you really want?”

If I’m going to be honest with you, I need you to be honest with me in turn. 

Tony wanted a drink so bad it felt like a physical ache. Like being in the desert for days without water. Like starving. He ran his hands through his hair and for a moment, held his face in his hands, taking a deep breath. He was being irrational. He knew he was being irrational. He was looking for reasons to distrust Bucky, looking for reasons not to forgive her, and he’d settled on–her being nice to him? He sat up. “Sorry,” he said. “You’re trying to be civil. I’m trying to be civil. It doesn’t sound like that right now, but I am. I don’t want to fight with you. We’re all on the same side here.” It was just harder to convince himself of that when his mom’s face kept popping up in the back of his mind. Knowing Bucky wasn’t to blame wasn’t quite enough to make that feeling go away, but making up reasons to be angry instead wasn’t going to help anyone either. 

“I’m pissed off,” he admitted. “But not at you. But I don’t know who else to be pissed off at.” That was about as honest as he could get. 

You know damn well that’s not the armor I’m talking about, Bucky wanted to say, but she didn’t have time to get the words out before Tony was slamming his milkshake onto the table and launching a verbal attack. Bucky was, once again, more than a little offended by what Tony was implying about her motives, but she let him finish, reminding herself that he was in pain -- that he was sitting in a room sharing lunch with his parents’ murderer, and that that wouldn’t be easy for anyone to deal with.

His mother’s murderer more than his father’s, she thought. It had become apparent over the past few days that Tony’s grief for Maria greatly eclipsed his grief for Howard. Not that there was no grief for Howard, but losing his mother had clearly been the greater blow. And given what Bucky knew of Howard’s relationship with his son, perhaps that was understandable.

“I’m not tryin’ to fight with you, either,” she said, once Tony had finished speaking and some of the tension and anger seemed to have bled out of him. “Look, maybe I know I don’t know you as well as Steve, or Pepper, or your friend Rhodey, but I have gotten to know you over the past few months, and I was countin’ you as a friend till-- y’know, all this mess.” She waved her hand vaguely at the air between them, trying as best as she could to sum up the current situation in a single gesture. “But I do trust you. Not just ‘cause of what I know of you, but also ‘cause Steve trusts you, and he’s an excellent judge of character when it comes to everybody ‘cept me.”

Bucky knew full well that she had long been Steve’s biggest blind spot, that he made allowances for her that he would make for no one else in the world. But now wasn’t the time to get into that. Instead she continued, “Even more’n that, Natasha trusts you, and you could count the number of people Natasha trusts on a blind butcher’s hand. Those are real high recommendations, Tony. It’s like you been -- what’s the word scientists use? Peer reviewed, right? You been peer reviewed. I really don’t have some grand plan I’m not tellin’ you about. The closest thing I got to an ulterior motive is the knowledge that this thing” -- she wiggled her left shoulder up and down -- “is gonna keep gettin’ older, and as it gets older it’s gonna break down more, and no matter what I do, sooner or later I’m gonna have to replace it. If I do have to replace it, it seems like a smart move go with the fella who’s trusted by the two people I trust more’n anybody else in the whole world, and who also happens to be one of the smartest guys on the planet."

She hesitated for a moment, hearing Tony’s words echo in her head: I’m pissed off. But not at you. But I don’t know who else to be pissed off at. Then, very quietly, looking him squarely in the face, she said, “You want someone to be pissed off at? I can give you the name of the guy who gave me the order. Eight months ago I could’ve given you his address, too, but he went to ground ‘fore I could get to him. I don’t know where he is now.”

The person who had given the colonel his orders was already dead, though not by Bucky’s hand. Like so many of the untouchable men who had used and manipulated her, he’d managed to die peacefully in his own bed -- just like General Karpov. It hardly seemed fair. But if Tony wanted the colonel, whether to bring him to court or incinerate him with one of his repulsor beams, Bucky would do all she could to help.

[imaginemarvelbae]

Savior- Bucky Barnes Imagine Word count: 1522 Warnings:fighting, physical injuries and swearing. A/N: I’m still without my computer so I’m writing from my phone. Send your request and check the prompt list! James Buchanan Barnes, also known as Bucky Barnes or maybe you know him as the Winter Soldier. I first met him in Washington, he was about to shot Steve Rogers, my best friend and my only family in the entire world. Steve was knocked out on the ground and I stepped between his body and the super soldier. He looked me with his eyes filled with rage and hate. He had beautiful eyes. He was pointing at me with his gun. “Wait! He’s your friend, Steve Rogers. You’ve known him since you were a child. You are James Barnes, he calls you Bucky. Please don’t hurt my friend, he’s everything I’ve got left” I begged him mercy, he ran away furious. That was the last time I saw him, two years ago. Then Sharon texted me an address. I showed it to Steve and his face glowed. It was the most likely place where we could find his bestie. It was a building. We entered in an apartment, very organized. It was a book over the fridge and Steve took it, I turned around and almost had a heart attack. It was Bucky looking at us in silence, he had a red t-shirt that made him look pretty handsome. I was about to draw my gun but my partner stopped me. "Do you remember us?” He spoke quietly. "You’re Steve, I read about you in a museum. I don’t know who she is, she stopped me from killing you” he said without any possible feeling. “She’s agent Y/N Y/L/N. You can trust her. We need to leave now, people are coming to take you but they’re not thinking in taking you alive. I know you’re nervous. Nobody has to get hurt” Steve was so kind but strict at the same time, no wonder why he is captain. “It doesn’t have to end in a fight Sargent Barnes” I said looking at his deep eyes. "It always ends in a fight” he said taking off his gloves and that revealed the cold silver metal underneath. A grenade came from outside the window, Bucky kicked it and Steve covered it with his shield. A man came from the window and grabbed me from behind, I managed to punch him in the right places and he fell down on the ground. Someone shot at Buck but he shield himself with his vibranium arm, one bullet bounced off and ended up in my arm. I cried in pain and Bucky looked at me worried. "We need to get out of here. Now!” I kicked the damn door and a few german agents flew with it. It was so many agents to me, Bucky and Steve followed me and helped. I shot at some but Steve didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Bucky was irrational, he was trying to survive without thinking of the costs. He threw a man and almost die from the fall but Steve caught him right on time. “Cmon man!” He yelled at his friend. I was laughing. Buck kicked a door and threw himself outside the window. I watched him from the window and saw a big black cat jumping from the roof. The cat was actually a man in a costume. Another vigilante, I thought. I jumped trying to stop him from killing James. The man in the black cat suit was fighting Bucky. I shot at him but nothing happened. Vibranium. It was the only way. Nat gave me a thing that was like a small grenade that sticked to your body and gave you enough electricity to be down for two minutes. I threw it at the man and he fell down. I grabbed Bucky by his metal arm and ran with him. He let go of me, of course. Man from the 40s, would never let a woman have the control of the situation. I saw a big fall from the roof we were to the floor, he noticed I was a little big scared so he took me in his arms and jumped. We arrived safely and kept running. Bucky grabbed a motorcycle and I jumped with him to get in it. I don’t know how but the cat suit guy made us jump off the motorcycle, we were surrounded. Steve, Sam, Bucky, this crazy ass guy and me were pointed at with like 200 guns. War Machine, aka Rhodes, arrived and called us criminals. The man in the suit took off his helmet and showed himself, he was prince T'Challa, from Wakanda. He was staring at me, with a disappointed look. “Your highness” Rhodes said. We were taken to the Joint Counter Terrorism Center, where Everett K. Ross was waiting for us. He was like the boss of everyone, including my dear friend Sharon Carter. I was the only handcuffed, Steve was sitting next to me worried as hell. His best friend was accused of murder and he couldn't do anything about it. Sam was arguing with Sharon about his bird suit. I was lost in my thoughts when secretary Ross spoke directly to me. "Any questions miss Y/N?" He inquired. "Why am I only one handcuffed?" I raised my wrists in order to show my question. "You hurt the new king of Wakanda with an electric device. That makes you dangerous" I was pissed. "Really? Dangerous? Steve is a super soldier that survived for like 100 years. Sam is a ex soldier with wings and hurt the king T'Challa as well" Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh god Ross. Remove her handcuffs please. She will be hours complaining. Oh look the interrogatory started" A guard removed my handcuffs and I could see the interrogatory room from a screen. He was sitting in the most awful chair ever. It was like a cell. I was feeling super sad for him, everything he had gone through and there was people trying to screw him up. Suddenly the power went out. I panicked, Sharon whispered to me where he was. Sam, Steve and I ran to his rescue. The golden trio. I walked into a destroyed room. The interrogator was lying on the floor. There was no sign of Bucky so far. He came out of the blue and grabbed me by my neck and pulled me up the wall. He was not letting me breathe. I looked for mercy in his eyes but it was pointless. I looked around and saw a red book with a black star on the floor. He was brainwashed again by this dude. Steve broke a piece of concrete in his back. He let go of me and I could breathe again. Sam was talking to this mysterious guy while our frozen friends left the room fighting. Sam was angry at this guy. I stood up next to him. "What did you do to him?! Why?! ANSWER ME DAMN IT" I was furious, Sam knew it and stepped back. "Mission report, December 16th, 1991" he gave me a quick smirk. Oh he was so screwed. I punched him in the face so hard I knocked him out. Sam was impressed and we left to follow our winter pal. Steve had fallen down the elevator so Sam went to help him and I chased Winter. He was fighting everyone but no one seemed to win the fight against Bucky, not even Tony, Natasha, agent 13 or even T'Challa. He was going upstairs but I stopped him. "Bucky, you know me. You can trust me. Remember. Remember your life, remember Steve, your days in the army. Sargent Barnes, James. Just-" I think he enjoyed the fact of choking me. He lifted me up from the ground. His eyes were lost, he didn't feel anything. He was lost. I just wanted to save him. He punched me in the face and everything went black. I felt like falling without fear, like there was nothing to fell on, like I was flying. My body finally got relaxed after a hellish week. I woke up on the cold floor of a garage, Steve was next to me and as soon as I saw him, I started crying. He hugged me very tight, like he always did. He was running his fingers through my hair, trying to calm me down. "Steve... I-I'm so sorry. I'm so damn sorry. I couldn't save him. I couldn't save your best friend. I'm sorry " I cried. "You did save him. He was acting like the winter soldier and you tried to pull Bucky back. You helped" he made me stand up and lead me to another dirty and cold room. "Buck, she's Y/N. your savior" Bucky was sitting in front of me, looking down at the floor. When he looked up at me, his face changed. He smiled and that smile melted my heart. His face made me want to know everything about him. Steve called me his savior but that smile and those eyes could save me whenever he wanted. "Thanks for saving me doll" Doll, oh my god. I was 100 percent sure I believed in love at first sight.

[jaceheavendale]

100. and 101. with monty pleaseee

Here you go lovely! :)

100. I’m sorry, but that was adorable.

101. You don’t hate me, quit lying to yourself.

It’s 1:30 in the morning and she’s sitting in the passenger seat of Monty’s beaten up jeep. Her head is titled back to look up at the stars that are completely visible due to the lack of a roof over their head, and all she can think when she looks up at the twinkly flecks of hydrogen that decorate the night sky is, ‘Why the fuck am I here?”

What a profound question, right? Why am I here? Why are any of us here? But no, that’s not what she means. What she means is, ‘Why am I driving through the middle of butt fucking Egypt with this guy I only like half the time, in a car that’s inevitably going to take a shit on life at any moment?’

“You’re awfully quiet,” Monty muses, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. He’s drumming his thumbs against the steering wheel with a rhythm that’s actually impressive. She wonders if he plays the drums.

“If only you would be,” she sighs, returning the side glance.

“Nobody forced you to come, so why don’t you roll back the attitude ,” his voice isn’t harsh, but she can tell he’s fed up with her acting like a brat.

“Sweetheart,” she scoffs, “I am the queen of sass.”

“Hey promoted to ‘Sweetheart,” he jokes with a smirk.

“Maybe I just didn’t want to call you something rude,” she quirks an eyebrow, watching his face change expressions.

“Maybe ‘Sweetheart’ is rude,” he challenges.

“It was a little condescending,” she admits.

He snorts, shaking his head while returning his attention completely back to the road that seems to stretch out endlessly in front of them, “You don’t hate me, quit lying to yourself.”

“Who’s lying,” she mutters, looking down at her phone to see that Zach, Justin, and Jessica had arrived at the destination.

Zach had suggested they go rock climbing at a place Tony had told him about, and she’s never been one to turn down an adventure so she agreed. But something about driving through the middle of nowhere by herself in the middle of the night had murder victim vibes written all over it, so when the second text from Zach came through with the bit of information that Monty was going to be there, suddenly douche canoe #1’s company became a lot more appealing.

“Oh shit,” Monty’s eyes widen as a light on the dashboard pops on and the car begins to make extremely unpleasant and concerning grumbling noises.

“Monty,” she panics, sitting up straight in her seat and looking around. There’s nothing for miles.

He pulls the car over to the shoulder of the road, muttering expletives under his breath. Once the car is parked and the engine is off he leaves his spot in the drivers seat to examine what’s going on underneath the hood.

“Montgomery!” she whisper-hisses, not fond that they’re now stranded in the middle of nowhere at 1 something in the morning.

She gets out of the car, hugging her arms around herself as she joins his side. There’s a light smoke coming from the engine, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to burst into flames or anything.

“Yeah, the engine overheated,” he frowns, looking down at his sad little jeep.

“Now what?” she asks, looking around them to make sure they’re still alone. Being stranded during the night has always been a fear of hers. Maybe it’s a bit irrational, but it still freaks her out.

“We wait for the engine to cool down and then I’ll refill the coolant. We should be fine,” he shrugs.

“Great,” she glares at the jeep.

The sudden sound of something vibrating pierces the otherwise silent night, causing her to emit a shriek she’s not too proud of. Instinctively she ducks into Monty’s side, grabbing onto his arm as some sort of protective shield.

Monty lets out a surprised laugh as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone to show her that it was text from Zach that made that noise.

“I’m sorry, but that was adorable,” he laughs, rubbing her arm soothingly.

“I am so embarrassing,” she groans, covering her face with her hands. She doesn’t move though. She stays tucked away into Monty’s side as he rubs her arm and back to calm her down. She’d never say it out loud, but she feels safe at his side.

“Never thought I’d see the day where you cowered into anybody’s side. Least of all mine,” he gloats, a stupid smirk twisting his features.

“You’re a dick,” she glowers.

He leans against the headlight of his car, pulling her with him so she’s now resting in-between his legs with her back against his chest and his arms around her midsection. “Maybe, but I’m the dick who’s keeping you safe right now.”

She settles into his chest, feeling his heart beat. He’s right. She’s afraid and he didn’t push her away, he pulled her closer. He could be an arrogant ass sometimes, but she knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

“Thank you,” she turns around in his grasp, standing up on her toes to kiss his cheek. His skin is soft and he smells like a forest. Typical, but not unpleasant.

He moves his one hand to brush the hair out of her face, resting it at the side of her neck to brush a thumb over her cheek. He leans his head down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. It’s sweet in a way she didn’t know Monty could be.

“You’re welcome.“

[sbd-laytall]

I swear, Tony Stark Stans will never cease to amaze me with the mental gymnastics they do.

MY NOTES

(1.) “...FOR LISTENING TO THE CRIES OF THE PEOPLE IN 117 COUNTIES...”(Paragraph 2). But, the only reason Tony even wanted the Accords was because he felt bad that an AMERICAN died. I severely doubt that Tony was even thinking about anything but assuaging his guilt.

(2.) “STOP MAKING CLINT INTO THIS ASSHOLE WHO LEAVES HIS FAMILY BEHIND AT A DROP OF A HAT AND THEN END UP BLAMING TONY FOR HIS STUPIDITY,” (Paragraph 4). Clint is mad at Tony for breaking his promise to keep the secret of his family and putting them at risk. I genuinely don’t understand how the issue is Clint’s fault when Tony is the one who betrayed the shaky trust they had built. Like, they wouldn’t even be in danger, if it wasn’t for Tony being extra petty.

(3.) “DO NOT CONTINUE ON AS IF ULTRON WAS ALL TONY STARK’S FAULT...” (Paragraph 3). I mean Bruce helped a little with Ultron, but everything else regarding Ultron WAS Tony’s fault. Wanda didn’t do anything to mind control him, despite what Tony Stans might say, and everyone else literally didn’t even know about Tony’s plans, so I’m genuinely confused about whose else’s fault it is.

(4.) “...AND BEING ALMOST BEATEN TO DEATH...” (Paragraph 2). Okay, but Tony started the fight. He threw the first punch because he wanted to murder Bucky in revenge, while Steve and Bucky just wanted to get away. In all honesty, it really is Tony’s own fault for attacking two super soldiers and thinking they wouldn’t try to stop him. Not to mention, almost beaten to death? Oh for sure, Tony almost died, despite the fact that was able to speak and push himself up onto his elbows after the fight. Yeah, Steve, the guy who always tries to do the right thing, yeah he almost killed Tony, yup.

(5.) “...FOR HIS PARENTS WHO HE JUST WATCHED GETTING MURDERED BY THE MAN BESIDE HIM...”(Paragraph 2). Please tell me, that y’all understand what brainwashing is, right? And no, I don’t mean the kind that people misunderstand, like people saying that Obidiah “brainwashed” Tony in Iron Man 1. I mean the kind where Bucky literally did not have control over his body; his autonomy was literally violated. The Starks were murdered by Hydra, Bucky was just a weapon they used. Bucky is one of the victims in this scenario.

Look, if I found out my parents were murdered by a man in the same room as me, I don’t know how I would act. I know that I would be upset, probably hate him in an irrational way because I wouldn’t know how to deal with my feelings-at the end of the day, we’re only human and humans are very irrational beings with very complex feelings-but I would definitely not try to kill them for something that they couldn’t even control.

The point is not that Tony hates Bucky, the point IS that he tried to murder him and that’s not okay. Tony can subconsciously dislike Bucky (again, it’s irrational, but understandably so, because trauma is a finicky thing), feel uncomfortable around him, be scared of him, and/or never want to see his face again because this is a very delicate situation and all feelings are valid. However, some actions are not. Tony blaming Bucky for the killings of his parents and trying to get revenge with his own attempted murder is NOT okay!

(6.) “...AND STOP INFANTALIZING WANDA AND BASICALLY ALL OF TEAM CAP AND LET THEM FUCKING OWN UP TO THEIR MISTAKES AND TAKE RESPONSIBILITY,” (Paragraph 3). Wanda was a child when her parents were killed and she was manipulated very young. She was at the age where her mind was still growing and adapting, so she didn’t know any better. Wanda did some bad shit by trying to get revenge on Tony, I’ll admit it, but when she (and her brother) had the chance to do better and redeem herself, she took it. Wanda took responsibility of her actions by fighting alongside the Avengers and letting go of her revenge plots. She even lost her brother as a result of trying to fight with the Avengers.

As for Team Cap, they know all of their responsibilities. Being Team Cap does not mean no accountability, okay? No one on Team Cap believes that they are above the law. They are not anti accountability, they are anti Accords. Their concerns are legitimate because they have had trouble with the government before with Hydra, the registration could reveal a lot of secret identities (which is dangerous for anyone who isn’t Tony Stark), there are inhumane practices that the Accords follow (putting individuals in underwater jail cells, giving them no trials or lawyers, having gaurds produce electric shock collars to certain powered individuals), the government can refuse to let them go to places on missions, the Accords are presented by a guy who spent his days trying to capture the Hulk, the UN only gave them three days to make a decision when it would have taken them WEEKS to successfully cover all of the topics in the Accords, etc.

(7.) “...AND THEN GET BLATANTLY LIED TO BY THE MAN HE THOUGHT WAS HIS ‘FRIEND’,” (Paragraph 2). I’m sorry to say this ((no I’m not) (shut up brain)), but Tony and Steve were nothing more than work friends and even that’s pushing it.

Wow, this got really long, but I don’t regret a single word that I said because it is all true.

i,,,,,,,,,, do not even feel like talking about all the ultron and anti team cap stuff. if any of y’all want to, please feel free

but i do want to talk about clint barton:

STOP MAKING CLINT INTO THIS ASSHOLE WHO LEAVES HIS FAMILY BEHIND AT A DROP OF A HAT AND THEN END UP BLAMING TONY FOR HIS STUPIDITY

i don’t like mcu clint barton, but this is wrong. clint is a hero, which means that he’s gonna fight for what he believes in. he believed the accords were wrong (they were, but that’s not what this is about), so he fought against them. that doesn’t make him an asshole and nor does that make him stupid

but you know what? he did blame stark and he was fully within his rights to blame him. stark revealed that clint had a family to ross, a powerful government agent who has been given free reign to anything regarding enhanced individuals and vigilantes