#so now I’m just all heartsick and lonely and bored

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[howling-harpy]

A gift from the heart

Pairing: Malarkey & Skip Rating: G

Word count: 2520 Summary: Skip and Don have a day in Paris, and they are on an important quest. [ao3]

A/N: Happy birthday @lyselkatz! This is for you, I hope it’s to your liking.

*

Skip had clearly taken his pass to Paris with a plan in mind. “You have got to help me find the perfect present for her!” he begged as soon as Don walked up to meet him, his hands crossed in a prayer that was surely blasphemous. “What is she going to do with a present at this point?” Don argued back. “You’re shipping yourself back home soon enough.” His heart wasn’t in it, not really. He was arguing more for the sake of arguing, but it was true that they had this one afternoon off and their chances of success were pretty slim.

Paris was a great place to rest and pretend to work at an airplane exhibition, the city was nearly bursting with emotion and will to go back to peacetime, and any heartsick soldier was bound to find something good to send back home to his sweetheart. Don wasn’t sure if he was trying to talk his way out of a shopping trip, or was he simply relieved about Skip’s energy and how he displayed it despite the broken arm and cuts and bruises and drawing the banter out. “With that attitude you will be very unlucky in love!” Skip declared. “My mom said that men who think of themselves as the greatest of gifts will find themselves very lonely indeed, and I plan to make the most of this mortal life and make sure that my girl has nice things!” “Fine then, since you’re the romance expert out of the two of us,” Don gave in and finally allowed a grin to spread on his face. “But what would she like to have?” “That’s why I need help,” Skip said, raising a finger to make an important point. “I’m the romance expert, yes, but small gifts are not my area of expertise.” The thought both did and didn’t make sense, but Don was past arguing over the title of romance expert and instead tried to think of the kind of gifts girls liked. His idea of a good time was an ice cream date and listening to good music, but that was something you did in person, not wrap in brown paper and ship across an ocean. “Uh… Perhaps a good record?” Don said uncertainly. That was more like something he would have liked to unwrap himself and then be delighted about how well his girl knew him, but it was a thought. “Nah, I’d get you a record,” Skip said, nudging Don’s side with his elbow, and flashed him a knowing smile. “No, this has to be a Faye Tanner-gift. I can’t give her a Don Malarkey-gift.” Don shrugged, then gestured at the streets lined with shop windows all around them. “Maybe we should ask around?” If possible, Skip brightened up even more. He seemed to be almost trembling with excitement and ready to explore the city. “That’s great! But we need some places to hit. Make it a proper mission.” Don smiled indulgently. He had had enough of missions and objectives for a lifetime, but Skip was feeling as playful as ever and he knew it was a joke, so he allowed it. “Alright, fine,” he said, then paused to think. “Let’s think some things that she likes and what she’d like to get, and then think where we’ll find it.” “Oh yes. A guest for a true love’s gift! Onwards!” Don smiled for real then. That made it sound like an adventure in a jungle or perhaps across castles and fields and forests instead of an all too real endeavour in current time with real consequences. It almost felt like they could have been friends since they were children and run wild in the woods playing adventurers and wild children. Together, they took to the streets of Paris, Don leading the way as he sometimes knew where they were and where they were going. The list of things that Faye might have liked was growing slowly: Something distinctly European, something pretty or something sweet. Something pretty would have probably been their best bet, given both could recall a dozen times a girl back home had referenced European fashion or make up, but that was quickly becoming a dead end for them. Post-war Paris was many things and there was no doubt about fashion coming back, but right then it wasn’t exactly a priority. At least not at a reasonable price. There were shops open and some driftier places sold many mismatched piles of treasures Parisian ladies had no doubt emptied from their closets while trying to make the ends meet, but Skip and Don quickly realized they didn’t know enough to make a good judgement about them. “This is just… Not Faye!” Skip huffed as they strolled down the street after the fourth shop. “She is pretty and I think she wears cute clothes too, but it’s just… Not like this.” Don didn’t know about fashion either, just of what looked pretty to him, but looking at Skip and knowing him he could imagine Faye was probably not the beauty queen type. “Okay, forget about dresses and hats,” Don thought out loud. “How about a ribbon? Or a scarf? Or jewellery?” Skip thought it over, but then shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. She doesn’t really do her hair, says it gets soaked and flops down anyway, so why bother.” “Okay, so something distinctly European then.” Aside from the airplane exhibition Don was consulting at, several other local cultural exhibits were also opening. Curators at Louvre had apparently cried when their looted treasures started to return in their collection from Germany, and museums and galleries had started to open again, even if only to clean and air the premises. It seemed people missed beauty in their lives, and Don couldn’t fault them on that. They all did. Still, the only thing sold at Louvre were postcards and other souvenirs. There was a certain charm to them, and perhaps sending some cool trinket home along with perhaps some photos and a letter with loving regards would do. Faye sounded like a girl who appreciated the personal touch and the thought more than anything material, so a breeze of culture from France might be the thing they were after. There were plenty of soldiers buzzing around the museum and the park, plenty of them apparently caught by the same idea, everyone trying to decide which artwork was the most suitable one to convey one’s feelings. Skip didn’t pay too much attention to anyone there, but Don had learned to recognize plenty of soldiers by their uniform, and a familiar one drew his attention right away. “Hey! Lieutenant!” Don called out as he recognized a familiar profile and a set of broad shoulders. “Do you know what’s the best gift for your lover?” Lipton jumped in surprise when he was spoken to and nearly dropped the stack of postcards depicting some old, cracked paintings of Roman soldiers. “My what?” he asked, immediately flustered. Skip giggled and skipped over to join them. “Not yours, sir,” he cackled, the entire idea absurd, “we’re trying to find something for Faye before I go home. She will feed me to her cats if I don’t send her a nice present beforehand.” “Oh,” Lipton said and cleared his throat, awkward and jittery on the spot. He set the postcards back to the holder and turned his back to the photographs of Roman generals and Greeks in aggressive military formations. “A wise choice,” Skip solemnly advised him with a heavy nod. “I don’t think any girl will like those. You ought to pick something more… Elegant! Beautiful! Something European.” Lipton smiled politely and shrugged. “Technically Roman Empire used to cover most of the continent what we now call Europe, and what we even consider Europe varies through history.” When Skip and Don just stared at him, he became flustered again. “I… Uh, I’ve been listening to some radio programs at night,” he explained. Skip laughed again. “Getting a history lecture is just about the most boring thing I can imagine doing in bed,” he chuckled, and Don joined in for the plain amusement of the mental image. Lipton lowered his eyes and blushed scarlet. “Well, to each their own,” he allowed diplomatically while swaying on the heels of his boots.   “Sure, sir,” Don said, then reeled them back on topic. “But the gift! Skip needs a gift for Faye.” “Oh, right,” Lipton said, visibly more at ease now that the attention was turning away from him. “Well… I don’t know Ms. Tanner, but you do, so you should use that. Whatever the gift is, the most important thing is that it makes her feel like you have listened to her and know what she likes.” “Uh-huh,” Skip said, and Don nodded along. It was a wise piece of advice, but not concrete enough to actually help them. Judging by Lipton’s smile, he realized exactly the same thing and shook his head at their impatience. Don was almost ready to appoint Lipton as the new romance expert if it wasn’t for his choice of Roman art and Greek pottery. Lipton sighed. “There’s a postcard of just about every European masterpiece here. Why don’t you look at those and pick one that makes you think of her?” Even though Lipton slipped away with a postcard depicting Marcus Crassus battling the rebel leader Spartacus, his advice was actually good, and Skip and Don started browsing the many pictures of various beautiful ladies and princesses and queens. They didn’t understand about the styles or periods but trusted their own eyes to tell what was really beautiful. Momentarily Skip was taken with a painting of a golden-haired woman wrestling a large book from a brown eagle with two heads, but even if beautiful she was too distressed, and the painting was too dramatic anyway. Eventually Skip picked up a postcard depicting a fairly modest painting of a girl dressed in simple clothes and a blue scarf on her head. She couldn’t have been more than ordinary, but the longer you looked at her gentle eyes and lips parted like in a half thought out question as she looked at you over her shoulder, the more convinced you became that she was by far not only the most beautiful but also the most intriguing of all women pictured there. “This one,” Skip said as he held the card. “She looks a bit like her too.” Still, having a simple postcard wasn’t a gift yet. It was a greeting, a simple souvenir, and it needed something more, so the quest went on. “What does she like?” Don asked Skip again as they strolled through the gardens outside of Louvre. “I think that based on all your tales of your bets and highjinks all I know is what she doesn’t like, and that’s you being an idiot.” Skip threw his head back and laughed. “Maybe so! Well, let’s see… Faye likes… Me. Cats. Baseball. Homemade pies. Milkshakes. Dancing. Pretty normal stuff, I’d say.” Just a normal girl, with normal interests, she seemed to be. Don was again at loss. It was a beautiful and hot summer day, and there was a small café on the street by the garden, and just the sight of it made them both feel suddenly thirsty and their sweet tooths ache. Mostly the café was serving coffee in tiny cups, but their display was also showing signs of revival as they served cakes, flaky pastries and chocolate treats. The prices were high and there wasn’t enough to fill the display completely, but what there was looked delicious and made with great care. They got two small éclairs because they looked nice in the window and the little sign in front of the tray had the word “chocolat” in it, and with their little treats they ventured back to the streets. Don was almost used to French baked goods after three weeks in Paris, but Skip savoured his from the very first bite. It was no wonder, the soft, fluffy dough alone was a treat, but the chocolate icing that cracked softly when you bit into the pastry was perfect, and from the face he made Don could tell that Skip hadn’t expected the cream filling. Skip chewed on the éclair slowly with his head tipped back towards the sun, and for a moment Don led him by the arm because he refused to look in front of him. “If only I could send something like this back to the States for her,” Skip sighed around a mouthful. “That would solve literally all my problems. Get a box of these or those little pink cookie things and that would be it. Too bad they wouldn’t make it to the States.” “You’re right, but maybe something else might,” Don said, his eyes already scanning for another shop. “Something sweet would do nicely.” They had to try a few shops for what they were looking for, but eventually Skip managed to find a metal tin filled with hard fruit toffees in candy wrappers. The candy itself wasn’t an extraordinary delicacy like fresh pastries were, but just as important was the beautiful tin they came in. It was like two gifts in one, European candy and a new decorative tin for buttons or letters or whatever Faye fancied. It was nearing evening, and Don had an early morning ahead of him and Skip had to report back to his commanding officer too, but the quest wasn’t yet done. “Don’t forget to wrap it up nicely too,” Don reminded Skip. “Sure, the postal office will put it in brown paper, but that’s not good enough for a gift for your girl. You got to at least find a ribbon to go under the boring paper and string so that she knows you’ve thought about it.” “Good point,” Skip said. “I’m sure I’ll find someone with a ribbon to trade – even something that doesn’t belong in some another dame’s underwear set. Thanks for the tip.” “Sure,” Don said. “Should I see you back to the station?” “No, that’s okay, I’ll find my own way,” Skip said. It was sensible that way. Don’s hotel was in the opposite direction and if he were to walk with Skip, he’d triple his own walk, and Skip knew it too and wouldn’t accept such a bother. Still it felt bad to part ways before they had to since things were uncertain, a discharge and a ticket home might come at a day’s notice, and then they wouldn’t see each other again. Not being able to say goodbye loomed over Don and kept him lingering. Skip seemed to sense it from him, because he smiled and reached to gently touch his arm. “Don’t worry, we’re headed in the same direction eventually. And when we get to the States, I’ll mail you the best present you can imagine.” Don was implored to smile, and despite the melancholy played along. “Really? What’s that?” Skip grinned bright as a summer sun, spread his arms and gestured at himself.

[rwendellartdump]

a long rant that probably nobody will read and that's fine:

I think my problem with the epilogues and homestuck 2 and all this is just like. hm. how to even describe this.

okay like, I feel as though it's not fun anymore. or like a lot of the characters either don't like each other, or if they do, they're really straining the relationship and maybe they shouldn't like each other anymore.

for me, homestuck was defined by explosive growth and creation, both from the characters and from the fans. and because the characters were often kind of parodies of the fans in certain ways, that was great and made sense. half the reason why homestuck is so long is because we'd basically get their entire chat history, like, up to and including chats where it was just like, "checking in to see how you're doing" and then they say memes at each other for 15 minutes before remembering that they had anything else to talk about. because they liked each other and doing stuff like that was fun.

and like, I haven't read the epilogues or homestuck 2. I've just been absorbing all information I get about them by happenstance, and I went and found a summary of the epilogues once. and like, the options are just mania or depression. nobody is themselves, or nobody likes each other, or someone is dead or depressed or dead because they're depressed or dying or evil or abusive or abused or... anything but actually happy? and I understand the idea that a story is boring without conflict and can't just be all of them sitting around on a couch and being total goof offs for thousands of pages but like... first of all, wasn't that what most of the fan works were like anyway?

like, does anyone remember octopimp's whole youtube channel full of voiced fan comics about useless nothing goof skits? and that was not exhaustive, there was so much. and that's not to say that this is the ideal form for homestuck to take, but it was something that homestuck could reasonably spawn without a hint of irony. it was how a lot of fan enjoyment and engagement took shape, in a very natural way. people loved it.

and also, there is such a thing as being happy without being satisfied. like maybe you are not satisfied with the state of things as they are, and you want to change stuff and work towards goals, but you are happy to do it and glad you can help? that vibe was super important to homestuck, like, everything from act 1 to cascade was basically the trolls being super bitter about the way their session went, and the humans being like "hang on guys, I think we got this" and then the reason why cascade was so good was because they actually did got this.

a core theme in homestuck is that in order to ascend, you must first descend. earlier I mentioned that half of all homestuck fan content was goofs, but the other half was definitely angst. I can recall distinct fan creations for the deaths of Nepeta and Equius, the ancestors and what happened to the Sufferer, murderstuck, grimdark Rose, Dave's whole situation, etc, you get the idea. but the big secret behind all of that was that the angst wasn't just angst... it was the precursor to triumph.

homestuck is about kids stuck at home and how they become unstuck through their own agency, to the point where they move across multiple universes just to be near each other. they reach towards each other and eventually connect. nearly all of the big [S] pages are named after movement. descend, ascend, cascade... collide.

this was the goal. to bring people together, in spite of everything. if I had to describe the best emotion that homestuck has to offer a reader, "triumph" would be it. "community" would be a close second. and the fact that homestuck's characters so often parody the people who read the comic just makes these things that much more special. that much more personal, heartwarming, fulfilling, endearing... you are invited to the table for this, and the story makes you want to be there. you want a place in this. and it all stems from these characters overcoming seemingly insurmountable difficulties with pride and enthusiasm, while still being their weird, nerdy, unapologetic selves. whether it's alchemizing items, writing fanfiction, drawing artwork, making music, RPing as OCs, or spawning a whole new universe, homestuck is an explosion of creation, and that creation includes identity, and pride in that identity.

and to get back to my point... I think the epilogues and homestuck 2 feel like the degradation of that. like, if/when creation happens in this environment, why do we want that? is it even a good thing? we were given homestuck's relatively happy ending, but then it's like the shine of it wore off for someone somewhere along the line. maybe it wasn't interesting enough for them. I dunno. it all just feels so cynical. and I really miss the days where I wanted to see bits of myself in these characters. now I feel like I don't even want to engage with this material because, if I continue to care for or relate to any of them, I'm gonna end up legitimately feeling bad. lonely, heartsick, grief stricken... like there's really no going back to the enthusiasm you used to feel when you messaged that person to share dumb memes with them for 15 minutes before remembering what you even wanted to talk about. there's a loss of familiarity. this doesn't feel like home the way it used to.

and again, I'm not asking for relentless positivity. homestuck gave us low moments and sadness. but it also gave us life after sadness. life where you can laugh again, even if you were hurt earlier. or life where you're angry about the state of things, but you also feel like there is an avenue for change, so you take it. I just wish homestuck had been allowed to end on a positive note, and then maybe an epilogue would've been neat, but it'd be like... little episodic tales? just checking in? I dunno. I just hate feeling like the characters are drifting further and further. like, maybe it was a mistake to even want more of homestuck when there wasn't really a purpose in continuing to follow what the characters were doing. the game ended. maybe the rest of their lives could've been so unremarkable that it wasn't a story worth telling outside of speculative fan comics about what they might be up to.

I liked the idea of continuing with the events of hiveswap and friendsim tied in, because it seemed kind of like the end goal might've been for the characters we were meeting to escape through the cherub portal to earth c through a complicated series of events that we'd be privy to, which would all be done with that signature homestuck flair. it'd be super fun to see the friendsim trolls trying to adjust to life on earth c, because they'd have to shed all the baggage of having lived in alternian society, which would be difficult, and interesting, and reformative, and y'know... fun. but now if they do that, they'll meet the main cast as they are in homestuck 2's canon, and I don't think the fun of it would make it through. like it'd be lost in translation and it'd all just end up vaguely uncomfortable like everything else.

[elisethegamerkid]

ARE YOU READY FOR THE PREQUEL NO ONE ASKED FOR

I’ve spent like, months writing this and that’s only because I didn’t really like it and lost inspiration when I moved computers. But recently, I decided to finally look it over, do some small edits, and finish it!

It’s kinda rushed, and I tried to slow down the pacing but this was self indulgent, I’ll be honest. I’ve had this scene in my head for so long and I’m still not sure I like it? But they used to be my opt for a reason so here we go.

Fic is under the cut!

Mezania sat miserably at the cafeteria table as she watched the party ensue around her. She glanced back at the corner where her two best friends, Mariana and Julia, were sitting close to each other, whispering and giggling. Mezania had an awfully large crush on Mariana, who recently entered a relationship with Julia.  

Everybody else at the party were adults who didn't want anything to do with a kid like her. Mezania didn't drink either, so it was hard to carry a decent conversation with any of them. Anyone else worthy of a conversation was performing; Eliza was singing, Lydia was on the piano, and Victoria was dancing. Mezania was happy that they were happy, but damn was she bored and lonely as Hell.

“Mez!” Mariana called. Mezania turned her head to find Mariana cuddled at a corner table. “You look lonely, girl. C'mere!”

The last thing Mezania wanted was to be stuck with the two lovebirds constantly coddling next to her. It was sickening enough that she knew it was going on. “I'm good!” She called back. “I'm just enjoying the music!”

She wasn't even paying attention to the music. Something slow but in a major key with lots of obnoxious belting she could care less about.

Eventually the song changed. Instead of Lydia and Eliza performing, they put on some music; it was some basic pop music with lots of bass. Even Victoria stopped dancing to socialize. But the noise increased as the music and voices got louder. Mezania covered her ears miserably. The room was hot and the fact that she was wearing a long sleeved shirt didn't help.

I can't stand this, she thought, standing up abruptly. She slid off the bench and made her way towards the door to make her familiar trek back to her cabin. I don't know why I let Mariana convince me to come to this blasted party in the first place.

“Hey!” Before she reached the door, a strong hand grabbed her and pulled her close. She looked up to find the trapped tradesman walking her over to the party. “Dance with me!”

“What?” Mezania was taken back. She tried to just leave, but when she went to slip away, he grabbed her wrist again.

“Come on!” He insisted, grabbing her other hand and playfully dancing around. “It'll be fun! Dance!”

“I don't know how to dance!” Mezania replied with an awkward chuckle. A blush crept across her cheeks. Damn he was handsome.

“You don't have to know,” he pointed out, bouncing around. “Just move your body! Get your hips into it! Have some fun!”

“O-Okay.” Mezania really didn't know how to say no. She danced around with him; it was nothing in particular, just grabbing his hands and playfully moving her feet and hips.

“There you go,” he praised, as he twirled her away from him and let her do her own thing. “You're getting it, baby.”

Mezania blushed harder. She was about to tell him not to call her that but she really debated if she meant it. She actually liked the pet name. She let the music take her as she continued dancing. She pulled away from the stranger and began to do her own thing. Mezania heard a few playful catcalls from Mariana and Julia, but she barely heard them. She was actually having fun, before the song ended.

“You told me you couldn't dance,” the man pointed out, walking up to Mezania. “You blew me away.”

“Quit it,” Mezania ordered shyly. The music slowed; a perfect waltz song. Sweet vocals and cheesy lyrics with six count measures. Everyone, romantic or platonic, had a partner. She looked back at the stranger to find his hand out.

“Will you dance with me?” He asked politely. If he keeps this up, I'm gonna die, Mezania thought, as she nodded and took his hand, red faced.

Immediately he pulled her close. Mezania looked down at their feet in an attempt to keep up. Dammit, quit blushing! Mezania ordered to herself as she tried to hide her face. The guy's probably a creep anyway!

“You know, it's just a simple box step,” The man pointed out softly. Mezania slowly looked up. “Eye contact helps sync up the pace between two dancers.”

The night certainly had grown interesting for Mezania within the span of about three minutes. How would she even explain how she went from anti-social to dancing with quite possible the most good-looking stranger to ever show interest in her? Well, next to Mariana, anyway. Mezania felt herself relax for once. Instead of being miserable the entire night, like she thought she was going to be, she was having fun. All thanks to Prince Charming over here.

“What's your name?” Mezania asked, her voice coming out more higher pitched than she planned.

“Mark,” The stranger answered. As the music began to swell into a key change, Mark twirled Mezania away, before pulling her close. Her breath hitched. She thought she was going to have  heart attack. “You?”

“Mezania,” She answered quickly. Mark smiled and gently guided her head to his chest, before continuing the dancing. Mezania was much warmer than she was before, but she wasn't upset about it. Mark's heartbeat was much calmer than her own, causing her own to stabilize and her breaths to even out.

“That's a very pretty name,” Mark whispered after a while. Mezania smiled a genuine smile for once. “Perhaps it's a bit presumptuous on my part, but I felt you're going through some heartsickness?”

Mezania's heart skipped a beat. “How did you know?” She asked, pulling away from him.

“I don't know,” Mark answered with a sigh. “I've been down like that before and I saw you and...”

Never did Mezania want to genuinely say 'thank you' to a complete stranger more than she did now. “That's very kind,” was all she managed to say. “To try and make me feel better.”

The song came to an end. A split second of silence. Mark once again pulled Mezania close, but for a hug. Mezania couldn't wrap her head around the fact that this total stranger would try so hard to make her feel better. There has to be a catch.

Mezania pulled away quickly. The room felt pressing all of a sudden; she was feeling very claustrophobic. She forgot why she thought this was a good idea. The fact that the music had picked up once again with a quicker and bouncier song did not help Mezania's anxiety. “I'm sorry,” she said hurriedly. Before Mark could get a word in edgewise, Mezania turned and left the building. The cold night air helped her cool off, but her face was still red as she rushed to her favorite little camping spot. Every living soldier had a cabin, but she liked to just sit outside, as the cabins would also get stuffy.

I can't believe you thought he could help, Mezania thought, fresh tears streaking down her cheeks. He's a creep, who wants to take advantage of your heartbreak. No one wants to help like that. No one in this world feels compassion like that. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her head in them. Her shoulders shook as she let out very lonely sobs.

“Hey!” She quickly raised her head to find Mark jogging over to her. Mezania quickly wiped her eyes and struggled to even out her breathing. “What's wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing,” Mezania insisted, but she was still hiccuping as she wiped her face.

“It doesn't sound like nothing,” Mark pointed out gently, settling down at a comfortable distance from Mezania. “I thought we were having fun. What happened?”

“I stopped having fun,” Mezania answered with a slight edge. She was starting to feel patronized. “What's hard to understand about that?”

“Nothing,” Mark replied, slowly scooting away. “I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you're okay. If you need me to leave, I will.”

“No,” Mezania blurted out suddenly. He understood...? “I...I thought you were just taking advantage of me. If you can...if you want to...just sit for a while...”

“Of course,” Mark insisted. “Whatever you need.”

Mezania sat for a moment, letting her breaths even out. It was nice just to have someone be with her. Rationalize her thoughts. Maybe he really was just trying to help? Maybe...

“Mez!” Mezania's heart lifted. Mariana was rushing towards her, with Julia in tow. She arrived and sat close to Mezania. Julia sat down on the other side of her. “What's going on? He doesn't have anything to do with it, right?”

Mariana and Julia both sent wary glares over to Mark, who shrunk away from them. “No,” Mezania insisted, drawing their attention. “It's just, I guess all the stress recently has just been piling up...”

“I'm so sorry,” Julia sympathized, pulling Mezania in for a hug. Her skin was always so soft, even though they were all in the middle of a war. “If we had just spent more time with you instead of leaving you to your own devices...”

“It's fine,” Mezania insisted. “I'm feeling better. Don't blame yourself for anything.”

“Alright. Julia...” Mariana stood up and stretched, before sending a distrusting glance towards Mark. “Lover boy. You two can go back to the party.”

“What?” Julia asked, slowly standing up. Mark was already up and ready to escort her back to the cafeteria.

“Good old Mez here needs time with her best friend,” Mariana determined. “Sorry Julia. Pecking order and all.”

“It's okay, I'm still your superior,” Julia teased, before stretching out. “Okay, I'm out. Come on, Mark.”

The two met up and walked away from Mariana and Mezania. Mezania heard Mark strike a small, friendly conversation as they walked back to the building. Poor guy.

“So...” Mariana began, sitting back down and leaning back, staring up at the stars. Mezania did the same. After a few seconds, they both looked at each other. “Wanna go set something on fire?”

Mezania smiled and chuckled. “You know it.”

---

I didn’t know how else to end this lol rip

[megatraven]

A Winter Revelation

Hiya @akidoodles! Sorry for how late your @mlsecretsanta gift is, but I hope you enjoy it! <3

Summary: When Alya decides to stay over Marinette’s during a blizzard, it sets in motion Marinette’s self-discovery of her feelings for Alya.

AO3

Marinette stared at her skylight, which had long since been covered by the snow of a sudden blizzard. Her parents were out catering to some fancy event hosted by the Mayor, which left her alone with nothing to do but wait for Alya's texts to keep her company.

Speaking of, Marinette's phone chimed twice just then, two messages from Alya on its display.

"Oh, finally,” she muttered, rolling onto her stomach, her cat pillow tucked beneath her with her arms wrapped around either side as she held her phone up.

[Peaches]: hey

[Peaches]: cme donwtairs and oepn the fdoor

Marinette looked at the messages, her brows drawn together in confusion. Before she could fully process that Alya was apparently there, at her house, in the middle of a freak blizzard, her phone pinged again.

[Peaches]: H UR R Y !!!!1! !!! COLD!!!!

Springing from her bed, she managed to barely make it down the stairs that led to her bed without an incident. She jumped the flight of stairs that led from her room to the living area, and practically flew down the ones that led to their side door.

Out of breath, but not particularly caring, Marinette flung the door open, the sight of a surprised Alya looking up from her phone greeting her.

"Holy shit, that was like, five seconds. What'd you do, sprint here?" she asked, stepping around Marinette to get out of the cold. Her hands came up to start unwrapping the scarf from her neck, and breathless laughter began to spill from her lips as the surprise wore off.

"Listen," Marinette started, taking a deep breath, "You said to hurry, so I hurried." Another breath. "You didn't tell me you were coming!" She turned on her foot to face Alya, and pointed an accusatory finger at her. "What are you doing here, exactly? I thought you said you were sick."

"I was," Alya said, sighing dramatically. She tilted her head back and put her hand to her forehead as she fluttered her eyelashes. "I was heartsick after not seeing you for a solid 28 hours."

Marinette rolled her eyes and smiled, but in her chest, her heart skipped a beat. She didn't pay it any mind; it was never an unusual experience when she was hanging out with Alya, after all. She could trace that feeling back to the day they first met. It didn't mean anything.

"C'mon, let's go up to my room. We can stop by the kitchen on the way," she said, closing the door and taking Alya's arm to start leading the way.

"You know I know where your room is, right? And the kitchen?" Despite her saying this, Alya didn't try to pull away.

"Details, details." She waved it off. "You can go put your stuff in my room while I make us hot cocoa if you want."

"I will only go up there if you promise me a tub of whipped cream for my cocoa."

"Deal. Now shoo so we can get settled in quicker and you can tell me why you're really here."

"Alright, alright, as my lady wishes," Alya said, disappearing upstairs.

Marinette couldn't help the small thrill that ran through her at Alya calling her that. She was pretty sure Alya was onto secret identity at this point, if she didn't already know. Her best friend was far too smart to be fooled by the magical glamour of her transformation for longer than a few years.

That, and she'd already started slipping up a few times. There was no way Alya hadn't started to piece it together already.

"Maybe she did tonight," Marinette murmurs to herself as she pours the cocoa powder into two separate mugs. Just thinking that made her heart race, the excitement and nervousness almost too much as she tried to will the water into heating up quicker. "Or maybe she really is sick, and so delirious she got out of bed, got dressed, and walked over here in the middle of a storm."

Shaking her head of the thoughts, she poured the water into the mugs and stirred them up, slipping a leftover candy cane into each. From the fridge, she took out a tub of whipped cream, and with that and the hot cocoas in tow, she headed up to her room.

Peeking her head up through the entrance of her room, she quickly spotted Alya spinning around in her computer chair. Her jacket had been shed and thrown on the floor, with her scarf, boots, and hat piled on top of it. Rhythmic tapping came from her fingers each time they passed by the desk, only stopping when Alya finally saw Marinette and moved to help her with the drinks.

"Oh, candy canes, sweet. Nice touch, I give it a 10 out of 10," she said as she plucked her mug from Marinette's hands.

"You haven't tried it yet," Marinette deadpanned, climbing into her room the rest of the way.

"So? I haven't tried kissing Ladybug either, but I know it's going to be awesome when I finally get to."

There was that flutter in her chest again, the skip of her heart not enough to drown it out. That was a little unusual for her interactions with Alya, but she supposed all that mattered was that it felt nice, and it made her feel warm.

With a laugh, Marinette handed the whipped cream over. "Yeah? You seem to be pretty confident you're gonna get to kiss her."

"Sweets, you should know that I am very charming. She's resisted my allure this long, but one of these days-" she lifted her mug- "she's gonna fall for me too. You mark my words."

"Okay, I believe you." Marinette gave a playful roll of her eyes and set her cocoa down at her desk. "Onto other matters- why are you here, exactly? Not that I'm not overjoyed to be stuck in the house with my best friend, but, you know."

"Well, while we were texting I must've sighed one too many times because the next thing I knew, Maman was handing me my jacket and shoving me towards the door." She stirred her drink with the candy cane before taking a sip. Humming at the warmth, she settled back into Marinette's computer chair.

"Why were you sighing so much?" Marinette asked, tilting her head to the side.

"You sounded super bored and lonely while your parents were out, and then the storm hit, and I guess I was bummed I couldn't really do anything about it." Alya shrugged. "So, here I am."

Overcome with the sudden need to hug Alya for all she was worth, Marinette sprung forward and did just that. "Aw, Als, you're the sweetest. I'm glad you came over."

Alya set her mug down with care so as not to spill anything before hugging back. "Of course, girl. I'm here anytime you need me, even if it's just to pass the time."

Marinette reveled in the hug for a few moments more before finally pulling away. The familiar feeling of not wanting to let go crept up on her, as it so often did, but she ignored it.

"Let's do that then! How about a movie?"

"It's a date," Alya agreed, with a smile that made Marinette's cheeks heat up. "What movie? And where?"

"Ratatouille, because it's a masterpiece-"

"Oh my god-"

"-and in my bed, that way we can be buried in blankets and we won't have to move if we fall asleep."

"I think it's funny you think I would move if I fell asleep anywhere else."

"You would if we both fell asleep on the chaise and I kicked you off in my sleep."

"It's called the ground, Sweets, and I am more than capable of sleeping on it."

"When you get back problems at the ripe age of 20, don't blame me. Luckily, we won't have to worry about your bad sleeping habits for tonight, because we're using the bed."

"'Bad sleeping habits.' You have no right to say that to me, Miss I-Stayed-Up-For-Three-Days-Straight-Doing-God-Knows-What."

Marinette shrugged and made her way to the stairs that led to her bed. "The different between us, my dear Alya, is that I know my sleeping habits are bad, but you are hopelessly in denial about yours."

Alya chugged the rest of her cocoa and followed after Marinette, stopping to grab her best friend's laptop and charger first. "I'm not the only one hopelessly in denial, babe." She moved past Marinette, ascending the staircase first.

Something about Alya's words made Marinette slow her pace. She bit her bottom lip and looked up towards the bed. 'I'm not the only one hopelessly in denial.'

"What's that supposed to mean," she murmured, too quiet for Alya to hear. In denial about what?

"You coming up?" Alya called when several moments passed. Her voice startled Marinette into moving, and she supposed she looked odd when she came up, because Alya immediately sat up and asked if she was alright.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just. Something on my mind, I guess. It's nothing to worry about, though, I promise," she claimed, the words feeling more truthful than she'd thought.

Because, really, whatever Marinette was feeling, whatever Alya finally opened her eyes to...

She knew there was nothing wrong with it. Maybe it was being friends with Alya for so long that'd taught her that, or maybe it was knowing that nothing would take away their closeness, not even-

"-nette? Earth to Mari, come in, Mari."

"Huh? Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was saying sit down already, so we can start the movie." Alya frowned a bit. "You sure you're okay?"

Marinette considered her answer for a moment as she settled in next to Alya. Meeting her best friend's gaze, she smiled and said, "Yeah, I am. In fact, I think I might just be better than ever."

Alya relaxed at that, and leaned back into the pile of pillows behind them. "Good. Ready to start, then?"

"I was born ready for this, Alya. Watching Ratatouille is my calling in life."

"Good luck making a career out of that," Alya said with a snort, pressing play on the movie.

"Who needs a career when I can just live in your closet when you become a big-time reporter?" Marinette dropped her head on Alya's shoulder and threw a blanket over them both as the movie started up.

"Fair point. You're lucky I'm planning on having a huge walk-in closet filled with all the best Dupain-Cheng originals."

"See? We've already got this life thing figured out."

"Hells yeah we do." Alya held a hand up, and Marinette smacked her own against it.

After that, their talking died out for the greater part of the movie, and Marinette was thankful for it. It gave her time to think about everything, and then some.

She thought back to her crush on Adrien, and while she'd acted different around him, a lot of the same signs had always been present around Alya. The skip of her heart, the warmth of her cheeks. The way she would sometimes be caught staring, or how she almost always smiled at her.

How Marinette's skin would burn when it brushed Alya's, and how she was on fire just then, pressed into her side.

It was the same, when she boiled it all down. And suddenly, Marinette's chest felt light, like the cage that'd kept the truth of her feelings from her had finally been cracked open, and her heart was finally free, fluttering like a butterfly after an purifying an akuma.

Marinette shifted, enough to be peering up at Alya, perhaps a little too intensely for it not to be noticed.

Pausing the movie, Alya shifted too, so that she and Marinette were watching one another.

"What's up, Sweets? You good?"

"Just thinking, I guess."

"What about?"

Swallowing back the anxieties she knew were baseless, Marinette admitted, "Wondering what it'd be like to kiss you..."

Alya's eyes widened in surprise, but it was short-lived, because soon she was exuding happiness. "Well, wonder no longer," she said, and closed the distance between them.

From Marinette's side, it was hesitant at first, but Alya's confidence and fire were contagious. Their teeth clacked together multiple times, but neither cared. Marinette threaded her fingers into Alya's hair, and she gasped when Alya's hand tilted her head up, just enough to deepen the kiss. The movie sat paused and the laptop was pushed aside and forgotten in the moment.

Marinette's contented sigh was swallowed by the kiss, until her smile broke through and caused them to pull apart. She couldn't help the the bubble of laughter that spilled from her, and her smile grew when Alya laughed too.

With a wink, Alya said, "I told you Ladybug was gonna fall for me one of these days."

[gadgetgirl71]

Top Ten Tuesday 23 February 2021

Welcome to this weeks Top Ten Tuesday. Originally created by The Broke & The Bookish, which is now hosted by Jana @ That Artsy Reader Girl. Each week it features a book or literary themed category. This weeks prompt is:

Books That Made Me Laugh Out Loud

(Claire @ Book Lovers Pizza)

Rachel’s Holiday 

Synopsis: Here’s Rachel Walsh, twenty-seven and the miserable owner of size 8 feet. She has regular congress with Luke Costello, a man who wears his leather trousers tight. And she’s fond – some might say too fond – of recreational drugs. Until she finds herself being frogmarched to the Cloisters – Dublin’s answer to the Betty Ford Clinic. She’s outraged. Surely she’s not thin enough to be an addict? Heartsick and Luke-sick, she seeks redemption in the shape of Chris, a Man with a Past. A man who might be more trouble than he’s worth.

Can You Keep a Secret?

Synopsis: Emma is like every girl in the world. She has a few little secrets.

Secrets from her mother: 1. I lost my virginity in the spare bedroom to Danny Nussbaum while Mum and Dad were downstairs watching Ben Hur.

…From her boyfriend: 2. I’m a size twelve. Not a size eight, like Connor thinks. 3. I’ve always thought Connor looks a bit like Ken. As in Barbie and Ken.

…From her colleagues: 4. When Artemis really annoys me, I feed her plant orange juice. (Which is pretty much every day) 5. It was me who jammed the copier that time. In fact, all the times.

…Secrets she wouldn’t share with anyone in the world: 6. My G string is hurting me. 7. I faked my Maths GCSE grade on my CV. 8. I have no idea what NATO stands for. Or even what it is…

…until she spills them all to a stranger on a plane. At least, she thought he was a stranger…

Get You Kit Off

Synopsis: Formerly Sex, Lies & Llamas From the author of the Number 1 bestseller – No Bra Required & Guess Who I Pulled Last Night? I’ve read Nikki’s previous books and loved them so I was expecting great things from her again. Guess what? She’s delivered!! The combination of humour, thrills and classic girl might- or might not-get her man is a real winner. If chick-lit is your thing Nikki is the author you need to read. Just brilliant!! – Amazon Reviewer WOW!! I loved this book. I have to be honest and say I put off reading it after I’d bought it, I loved the other 2 books by this author but football is not my thing and I thought the football theme running through it may have spoilt it for me … how wrong was I !! I can’t recommend this book or this author highly enough, I couldn’t put my Kindle down – can’t wait for more stuff from Nikki Ashton!!! – Amazon Reviewer Molly Pearson doesn’t have children, but as the Player Liaison Manager for a premiership football club, she does have twenty-two professional footballers and one jealous fiance to take care of – which as far as she can see is quite similar. With having to deal with problems from players buying zoo animals as pets, to losing their false teeth and a whole lot more, Molly can’t wait for the season to end. But, her life becomes even more complicated, when the man who broke her heart six years earlier, comes back into her life. Hail the returning hero, Joe Bennett, now one of the best footballers in the world and the club’s most expensive signing. Every woman wants him, every man wants to be him, and he’s returned for one reason only – he wants Molly back. With engaging characters, Sex, Lies & Llamas, is a humorous, yet sometimes sad romance depicting the difficulty in always doing the right thing, especially when love is involved.

Someone Else’s Fairytale

Synopsis: Jason Vanderholt, Hollywood’s hottest actor, falls head over heels for every girl, Chloe Winters, who hasn’t gotten around to watching most of his movies. It’s the ideal fairytale… for most people. The last thing Chloe needs is public attention. It brings back dangers from the past that she’s worked her whole life to escape.

The Single Girl’s To-Do List

Synopsis: Rachel Summers loves a to-do list: • Boyfriend • Flat • Great job

NOT on the list: • Being dumped

Best friends Emelie and Matthew ride to her rescue with an entirely new kind of list – The Single Girl’s To-Do List. Rachel doesn’t know it, but it will take her on all kinds of wild adventures – and get her in some romantic pickles too. And then it won’t be a case of what but who she decides to tick off…

• Mr. bendy yoga instructor • Mr. teenage sweetheart • Mr. persistent ex • Mr. deeply unsuitable

The Single Girl’s To-Do List gives Rachel the perfect heartbreak cure – and proves love is out there if you’re willing to take a chance.

Wedding Tiers

Synopsis: The path of true love never runs smooth. But for some, it’s one seriously bumpy ride! A heartwarming new romantic comedy from the bestselling author of A WINTER’S TALE. Growing up in the beautiful Lancashire village of Neatslake, Josie Gray and her childhood sweetheart, Ben Richards, always dreamt of living a life of rural bliss. And when Josie inherits her beloved Grandmother’s cottage, it seems they might just have got what they wished for. Josie throws herself into her wedding cake business, whilst Ben gains increasing acclaim as an artist. But the tranquil village turns into a hive of activity when Josie’s childhood friend, Libby Martin – now a wealthy widow – returns to the village, planning a lavish wedding to rival any celeb bash. The day goes with a bang, and soon Libby and Josie are hard at work at their fledgling wedding business, hiring out Libby’s beautiful Elizabethan home for ceremonies, with Josie creating all manner of wonderful cakes. But amidst all this romance, Josie’s fairytale relationship with Ben turns into a nightmare, and she quickly becomes Love’s number one cynic – until charming wedding photographer Noah Sephton arrives in Neatslake with a very different outlook on love! Can this hopeless romantic persuade pessimistic Josie to give romance another try? Or will it be a case of always the cake maker, never the bride!? A charming, witty and feelgood novel, ideal for fans of Katie Fforde and Harriet Evans.

The Bette Davis Club

Synopsis: The morning of her niece’s wedding, Margo Just drinks a double martini and contemplates the many mistakes she’s made in her fifty-odd years of life. Spending three decades in love with a wonderful but unattainable man is pretty high up on her list of missteps, as is a long line of unsuccessful love affairs accompanied by a seemingly endless supply of delicious cocktails.

When the young bride flees—taking with her a family heirloom and leaving behind six hundred bewildered guests—her mother offers Margo fifty grand to retrieve her spoiled brat of a daughter and the invaluable property she stole. So, together with the bride’s jilted and justifiably crabby fiancé, Margo sets out in a borrowed 1955 red MG on a cross-country chase. Along the way, none of what she discovers will be quite what she expected. But it might be exactly what she’s been seeking all along.

From acclaimed humor writer Jane Lotter comes this madcap, laugh-out-loud adventure, The Bette Davis Club.

Revised edition: This edition of The Bette Davis Club includes editorial revisions.

13 Dates

Synopsis: When Noah Wilson first encounters the quirky, opinionated and very beautiful Angel Fallon, his world is turned upside down. It’s clear she’s not his normal type, but Noah can’t stop thinking about her—which doesn’t bode well for the blind date he’s already late for.

Convinced by his friend (and self-professed dating expert) Marlon that thirteen dates is all you need to fall in love, Noah decides to give it a try with Angel. They should be incompatible: she’s impulsive and he’s a planner; he wants to settle down and she doesn’t ‘do’ relationships—or anything, for that matter—the way Noah is used to. But there’s something about Angel, and Noah can’t shake the idea that all they need is twelve more dates.

Despite some near-disasters involving rock climbing, saddle sores and jellied eels, it seems his plan may actually work. But even if they do reach the magic number, can that really mean they’ll just fall into their happily-ever-after?

The Shelf

Synopsis: Everyone in Amy’s life seems to be getting married (or so Instagram tells her), and she feels like she’s falling behind.

So, when her boyfriend surprises her with a dream holiday to a mystery destination, she thinks this is it – he’s going to finally pop the Big Question. But the dream turns into a nightmare when she finds herself on the set of a Big Brother-style reality television show, The Shelf.

Along with five other women, Amy is dumped live on TV and must compete in a series of humiliating and obnoxious tasks in the hope of being crowned ‘The Keeper’. Will Amy’s time on the show make her realise there are worse things in life than being left on the shelf?

A funny, feminist and all-too-relatable novel about our obsession with coupling up, settling down and the battle we all have with accepting ourselves, The Shelf introduces the freshest new voice in women’s fiction.

The Wish List

Synopsis: Be careful what you wish for… Florence Fairfax isn’t lonely. She loves her job at the little bookshop in Chelsea and her cat, Marmalade, keeps her company at night. But everything changes when her stepsister, Mia, announces that she’s engaged to her boring golf-playing boyfriend. That’s when Florence meets Irish love coach, Gwendolyn. …because you just might get it! When Gwendolyn makes Florence write a wish list describing her perfect man, Florence refuses to take it seriously. Finding someone who likes cats, doesn’t wear pointy shoes and can overlook her ‘counting habit’? Impossible! Until, later that week, a handsome blond man asks for help in the bookshop… But is Rory the one, or is he simply too good to be true? Florence is about to find out that her criteria for finding Mr Right aren’t as important as she thought – and that perhaps her perfect man has been right there all along…

Until next week.

#JustForFun, #Top Ten Tuesday, #TopTenTuesday, #TTT

[enmuse]

MCU fic: I have a lot of frustrated feelings, ok? Fix-it CA:CW ficlet

Never thought I’d write a response to CA:CW. At this point I have to say outright that I hated Civil War. I wrote about it during my initial reaction post last year. I haven’t watched it again since then, I just keep making faces at the title when I see it come across Netflix. But I still have ~feelings~ about things.

So here is a gen fic replacing most of the Siberia scene. Never thought I’d write something based out of CW canon events, but I will note that I have to, for my own conscience, omit Peter Parker’s involvement in the film. (1 - He’s a goddamn kid and Tony’s whole motivation given at the beginning of the damn film was about feeling responsible over a young man’s death. 2 - Spiderman was super shoehorned into the film.)

No title. Gen. Un-beta’ed. No battles. Still lots of emotional hurt in a Tony and Steve (and Barnes) confrontation. 

A burst of static and then silent video footage comes to life on the small screen. Tony lets himself watch for a moment, his breath hitching in his throat. He allows himself a moment of weakness and closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath. As he exhales, he fixes his glare on the man watching from the other side of the door. The Iron Man mask comes down and Tony raises his hands.

"That's your trump card?"

He fires his repulsors at the doors' hinges. It doesn't take long for the super soldiers at his side to pry the door open and drag their erstwhile <doctor> out. Steve shoves the man onto his knees as Barnes takes a step back, gaze flickering from person to person.

Zemo stares up at Tony, face flushed with anger and surprise. "Do you know what that is?" he hisses, jerking his head in the direction of the screen. Tony avoids the temptation to look. "Don't you understand what he did?"

Tony doesn't reply verbally. With a carefully calculated move he clocks Zemo in the head. He watches dispassionately as the man lists limply in Steve's hold, unconscious.

They don't speak as Tony hands Steve restraints from a compartment in his suit. Once Zemo is effectively bound and Steve has gagged him with rope from his belt, Tony finally steps back and lets his hands drop. Behind his mask, he closes his eyes again and releases a shuddering breath.

Worthless. Meaningless.

"What now?" Barnes' voice is rough.

"Tony...?"

Even through the suit Tony can feel when Steve's hand lands on his arm. Jerking back, Tony opens his eyes and the face plate. Steve's concerned expression is replaced with wariness as soon as Tony's glare is revealed.

"You were never going to tell me," Tony accuses. He can see Barnes a few feet away, shoulders hunched as he watches them. Somewhere off to the side the video might still be playing. Tony refuses to look.

"I— Tony, I'm so sorry," Steve says earnestly. "I didn't know ho—"

"Don't bullshit me, Rogers." Tony clenches his fists. "You wanted to protect yourself, not me. You didn't give a damn—"

"That's not true!" Steve looks over his shoulder at Barnes, his expression pained. "You were helping me look, and if you knew—"

"I did!"

Tony doesn't realize he's screamed until he has the wide-eyed stares of both super soldiers fixed on him. Finally Tony turns his gaze to Barnes. Swallowing hard against the tightness trying to restrict his breathing, Tony asks Barnes, "Do you even remember?"

Barnes' face looks gaunt and ashen as his eyes darken with the look of a haunted lone survivor. His voice is barely audible as he confesses, "I remember them all."

Tony swallows again and blinks quickly as his eyes burn. He nods briskly at Barnes and returns his attention to Steve.

"It wasn't him, Tony. Please, you must understand what they did to him. He isn't respon—"

"That's not for you to decide," Tony replies, exhaustion creeping into his voice. He is so very tired. So very heartsick. He stares at Zemo's unconscious form and wishes he had an easy solution, that he could simply kill the man and erase all that has happened.

Steve's hand wraps around Tony's bicep and tries to shake him, unsuccessful with the strength of the suit. "You can't condemn him!" Steve's expression has grown hard with determination and Tony notes that the shield is tilted at an offensive angle. He isn't sure Steve consciously realizes what he's doing. "You can't just take Bucky back where they'll do God knows what. They won't understand."

Tony grits his teeth against a scream of frustration because Steve won't broaden his focus, he is so fixated on this one moment. He hasn't realized that everything has been pointless destruction and death.

"Steve..." Barnes tries to intervene.

"No, Buck, I won't let you just sacrifice yourself. You have nothing to feel guilty about!"

Tony slaps Steve's hand away and decides to ignore how the shield raises a little — a least the movement brings it into a defensive position. "You don't get to dictate how people feel!" he snaps. Tony jabs a finger at the shield. "We all know the story of this shield. Do you remember who gave it to you? Why it was given to you, what it meant? Are you still that good man standing up for the people against injustice?"

"I'm trying to protect Bucky!"

"That's all?" Tony scoffs. He looks between Barnes, who is carefully blank-faced and silent, and Steve. "It's all about one man? What gives you the right to think only about him?"

Steve's expression pinches as he takes a few moments before answering. "He's all that left..."

"No he's not." Tony holds up a hand as Steve opens his mouth to protest. "Do you still think you can cling to the past? Time moves on, Steve. We don't get to live in the dream of happier days. There's a world out there we have to face if we're going to survive. We have people and what I sure as hell thought was a home."

"That's... not what I meant," Steve murmurs. His shoulders drop and the shield dips a little. "You don't understand."

Tony laughs, the sound bursting out of him without warning. He's laughing and he's not sure why. Steve looks alarmed and behind him, Barnes takes a hesitant step forward, expression pained.

"Do you know how I knew?" Tony suddenly asks. At their blank faces, he lets out another humorless chuckle. "It was your decision, wasn't it? To dump everything from the SHIELD servers? And all of the Hydra records that were wrapped up in there. Where did it go, Steve? Did you think I'd miss something like that? Did you think Natasha didn't give anyone a heads' up?" The stunned expression on the blond's face is answer enough. Tony sighs. "You never thought about the information being leaked that would end up compromise and kill agents in the field. The details about weapons and operations that could suddenly be accessed by any determined or bored hacker with an interest in decryption. They had everything we could gather about the tesserect in there, psych evaluations, locations of undercover operatives, logs of what the WSC intended back in New York during the invasion.

"Why didn't we see weapons based on knock-off alien technology? Why weren't the Avengers hounded with questions prying into every dirty little secret SHIELD knew they could use against us?" The dawning realization on Steve's face makes Tony's chest feel tight. He doesn't know why he feels like he's breaking, not until—

"JARVIS," Steve murmurs, shield finally dropping to his side.

Tony inhales sharply at the name as the pain in his chest jabs sharply at his heart. "I waited for you to tell me," he says quietly. Steve glances back at Barnes again, refocusing on the original issue.

"They had a record?" Steve asks.

Tony's lip curls a little at that. He jerks his chin in Zemo's direction. "Do you really think this bastard could find out about all this and I couldn't? He wasn't Hydra, Steve. He's just a man. A sick manipulative fucker who—" He cuts himself off with a vicious shake of his head. "It was all pointless!" Tony paces away, fury and frustration boiling in his gut and threatening violence. He needed a fight, a way to vent all the conflicting emotions he's been dragged through in recent weeks. "You know where our— your friends are right now? Where Natasha is? Rhodey?" he chokes on the last name. His eyes burn as he glares at the corpses of  the Winter Soldier program.

"Tony...?"

With a wordless snarl, Tony raises his hands and shoots through the glass of one row of tubes. His suit keeps him from visibly shaking, but he can feel his muscles twitching. Too much stress on his system.

He doesn't realize he's collapsing until someone catches him under his arms. When he looks up he's surprised to see Barnes' haunted face. "I'll go with you," he says.

"Bucky, we'll find another way," Steve says as he moves towards them.

"No, Steve." Barnes bows his head as he releases a shuddering breath. "I gotta stop running. I gotta get this shit out of my head. This guy, he's your pal, right?"

Tony resists the urge to make a derisive comment about that. Instead he gets his feet back under him so that he isn't sagging against Barnes anymore.

Steve's answer surprises him. "Of course." Tony stares at Steve.

"Then we trust him," Barnes says.

Steve's worry is obvious in his expression but he doesn't flinch from Tony's stare. The blond licks his lips nervously. "You... you know a way to make sure he'll be okay?" The question comes out small and frightened. He sounds so young.

"We've been taken for fools," Tony admits slowly. "Despite appearances, I can't control everything. You've made things a lot worse. But..." He looks down at Zemo and thinks of the footage Friday recovered for him. "We have some solid evidence. It's not too late." He swallows the bitterness that rises in his throat because maybe for Barnes it's not too late, but it doesn't feel like that's the case for the others.

"Tony, I don't know if I can just let you—"

Barnes interrupts. "This is my choice. And I... I'll take the risk."

Tony turns his head to Barnes, studying the man's strained expression. "I'll do what I can," he says.

Barnes looks at him, expression hesitant. "Why?"

An exhausted chuckle drags itself from Tony's throat. "There's holding someone accountable and then there's scapegoating. You have to make your own peace, Barnes, but you aren't responsible for what was done to you." He doesn't acknowledge the vulnerable look of shock. "People like you need help, not blind condemnation."

Barnes looks shaken and even takes a step back, eyes wide and frightened. Steve's gasp of surprise draw Tony's attention.

Steve stares at Tony as his mouth works silently for a response. Eventually he murmurs, "I had no idea you'd..." He trails off as a dawning look of horror crosses his expression.

"Yeah. I know," Tony responds flatly.

Rhodey's in the hospital, the doctors waiting to run more tests before another surgery. There are several Avengers-affiliated people locked in a secret prison that shouldn't exist. Natasha is in the wind. There's a world reeling at the numerous deaths and priceless destruction of the past week. For what.

"I'm sorry," Steve whispers. "I should have listened."

Tony isn't ready to discuss his own fault, but he counters, "We should have talked."

He's dead on his feet exhausted. He hurts all over from the fight at the airport — so stupid, so pointless! They don't have time to lie down and rest, though.

"We need to go. Someone grab that sack of shit." Tony walks away, turning his back on all of them, trusting that Steve won't make a break for freedom this time and drag Barnes away.

He's halfway down the corridor to the exit when T'Challa appears from the shadows, mask off. His expression is blank although his gaze is thoughtful as he looks Tony over.

"Of course you're here," Tony says, stopping a few feet away.

The king inclines his head in acknowledgment. His gaze focuses past Tony's shoulder where the footsteps behind him have stopped. T'challa doesn't speak to them, instead turning back to Tony. "I thought he'd killed my father. He did kill yours, yet you let him walk."

Tony doesn't need to explain his reasoning to this man. Instead he replies, "It takes time to process." T'challa's eyes narrow thoughtfully. "You know Zemo's responsible?"

"I do. I alerted the appropriate authorities. We need to make the apprehension official." Tony nods in agreement. The gesture of support makes the tight feeling around his chest ease just slightly. "We need to discuss how we proceed to clean up this mess," T'challa says. He looks again to the super soldiers. "None of us are currently in good standing."

Tony thinks that's an understatement.