#that‚ of all things‚ along with sam's motivation which is to simply be polite and help someone‚ proves the fallacy of the dichotomy

[aliusfrater]

prev post + my tags people love to say that sam is being entirely fake with purpose to trick people into giving him information because he goes from specific kind of interactions with victims or people with information to having a different one with dean or someone else when that's clearly an incredibly egregious reframing of the simple act of code switching. sam has a very different (work) relationship with a victim than he does dean and within the expression of this is the difference in how he expresses care or interest especially considering the usually delicate circumstances of speaking to someone during a case that sam is clearly able to adapt to. he expresses care for victims otherwise in making sure they're safe, giving them his contact info, being as transparent as he can, etc etc so the assumption of malice is crazy, not canon and also just stupidly transparent about your intent of framing it that way. it's also an awful example of uncritically adopting dean's perspective of what he considers to be sam as doing his very sammy-specific, "you're always saying pansy stuff like that," / "you know, my brother could give you this puppy dog look, and you’d just buy right into it," routine when from sam's perspective it's just him doing the job and caring for the people he comes across in it ("that's only half of the bumper sticker, man.")

these same people usually love to reframe dean as being righteous when he's or violent, rude, flippant to these same case-specific because 'he isn't being fake' like i'm afraid to say that fake or not that is a rude, violent, or disrespectful guy having a conversation with someone regardless. they both need to interview people for information to get their job done, people aren't responding better to sam because he's manipulating them, but simply because he's being more polite or showing care lol

[augusberkeley]

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[themummersfolly]

So I watched Midsommar...

And I emerge from my long silence to express my thoughts on it. Let me preface by saying that I've heard a lot about the movie and have been wanting to see it for a while now; so when I had a day off (and felt I was in a stable enough frame of mind) I rented it off YouTube to find out what the deal was.

It's a different sort of horror film than I'm used to. Ari Aster doesn't go for the old-fashioned, make-you-afraid-of-the-dark sort of tropes here. The visual language is surprisingly gentle, and it would be hard even for me to develop a phobia from watching this. But Aster's genius lies in his choice to deal instead with the common, almost mundane, horrors that we all must come face to face with: the horror of disorientation, the horror of grief, the horror of isolation.

Here in the US, we're around two months into the pandemic, and I'm watching the society and culture that I grew up in collapse into madness. Ari Aster could not have predicted how striking an illustration his movie would be of our current situation, but that's what struck me about halfway through. Look at the behavior of the outsiders, especially the Americans, and compare it to the situation that they're in.

The situation they're in is, well, the Harga. The Harga are in no way benign; you realize that from the beginning they had designs on these people (except, arguably, Dani). But the Harga are something else: they are united. In fact, they are a unit. They are up in each other's business in a way most Westerners can barely comprehend. Nobody does anything that the rest do not share in, and nobody even tries to pretend that what they do doesn't affect the rest.

Now look at the Americans. They're a group, but they're not united. Hell, I wouldn't even call them friends, although for some reason they call themselves that. The men boys are highly fractious, constantly undermining each other, and willing to throw each other under the bus at the drop of a hat. Christian is the freaking pinnacle of their lack of character: he has the personality of a wet paper bag; he lacks the nerve to be a jackass like Mark and the spine to be a dick like Josh. With no obvious moral compass of his own, he's carried along by any and every change of circumstance, with his sole motivation to get as much for himself as he can, and his only conviction the belief that he can bullshit his way out of anything.

The only relief from the insipidity we see in the outsiders is the British couple, Connie and Sam. They are from the get-go presented as a united front, capable of making a decision and acting on it. The Harga can only bring them down after they separate them, and even then, it's not an easy task, because once they succeed in getting them apart, Connie immediately knows something's going on and puts up a fight. We see Dani reaching out from the beginning for that kind of unity with Christian, but he won't engage because, well, what if it isn't fun? Only things he can profit from in some way ever occupy his attention for long.

And now we bring these two sides together. The Harga barely have to go out of their way; they bring down their quarry simply by being the Harga. The outsiders, on the other hand, play straight into their devices. Only Sam and Connie seem to be aware that they're in a horror movie. The Americans mosey past warning sign after bloodletting after opportunity to eacape, firmly convinced that they can't be harmed, and then just as firmly convinced that they can get out of it by blaming each other. Dani can be excused for going along with them; her world ended in the first five minutes of the film, accompanied by Christian and co's soundtrack of flippancy followed by blame. She's in no shape to be their babysitter.

In the end, each of the American characters is undone because they failed to respect a situation that they thought they could bullshit their way out of. Replace the Harga with a virus, and you have the situation in my country at this very moment. I'm not sure what the equivalent of "sewn into a dead bear and lit on fire" will be for us, but I'm not looking forward to finding out.

This is what makes Midsommar such a good movie, in my opinion. It fulfills the purpose of a good horror movie. Other genres make sense of the world by offering humor or a happy ending; horror makes sense of the world through catharsis. Horror exposes what we try to ignore, acknowledges it, and rages, "This is wrong! This is madness!" Horror gives countenance to our fears and voice to the burning anger and grief which we, in our endless quest for polite mediocrity, refuse to deal with on our own. As our world descends into chaos, let us not forget what madness looks like, lest we fail to know it when we see it.

[vxlkyrie]

partner

pairing: steve rogers x reader

genre: angst, fluff, detective!au

warning: cursing, graphic crime details, violence, weapons, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex

word count: 5.5k

summary: steve gets his first partner and doesn’t know how to act

a/n: hi everyone! i’m so happy that a lot of you enjoyed “forget you.” it just motivates me to write even more! i’ve wrote this detective concept a few years ago, and i wanted to revamp it with steve as the main lead this time. obviously i don’t have any knowledge in the criminal justice field and mainly based a lot of the story on the true crime shows i’ve watched, but i hope y’all like it! (also i stayed up until like 6 in the morning writing this, so if there are any mistakes before i go back to edit it, i’m sorry)

steve rogers – detective at the 12th precinct, the intelligence unit. he has a 97% success rate in closing cases, which was pretty fucking impressive. his charm, strength, and wits are the keys to helping him solve many of his cases. his looks have also played a big role. 

obviously steve was a handsome man, which has caused many people to flirt with him – whether they were a witness, suspect, or even a victim. they would all try to ask him out, only resulting in rejection. being a detective meant having little free time to socialize outside his job. all he had was his fellow colleagues in intelligence who have become his second family.

steve was also brave, keeping calm and collected especially during hostage situations. there would be a gun aiming at his head, but it didn’t phase him as he talked to the gunman into surrendering, succeeding every time. so you could say that steve rogers was the top detective in his unit. 

there is just one problem – he doesn’t have a partner. sure, there would be certain occasions where he would partner up with bucky or sam, but they were each other’s official partner. he would sometimes even pair up with wanda for undercover work, but she usually stuck with thor – an odd pairing, but successful nevertheless. steve was left in the squad room with an empty desk placed in front of his.

“good morning everyone.” captain fury said, gaining everyone’s attention. steve, who was fiddling with his pen stood from his chair as he saw everyone gather in front of his boss. “there will be a new addition to intelligence.”

“who is it?” wanda asked.

“this detective is transferring from the 18th precinct and has a 98% success rate.” he answered, earning gasps from some of the detectives.

holy shit. steve thought.

“shit, that’s higher that steve’s.” sam chuckled, earning a light slap to the head from bucky.

“when does he start?” bucky asked.

“she starts right now.” a female voice called as the detectives turned their heads. you walked into the room, smirking as you placed the box that was held by your side onto the empty desk – the one right in front of steve’s. you walked up next to fury, hearing whistles come from some of the male detectives.

“everyone, this is y/n l/n.” fury said.

you had transferred over from the homicide unit to intelligence. a lot of detectives knew you by your almost perfect percentage of success rate, being the lead detective on most of your cases. fury had personally asked for you after learning that you had a vast knowledge in every type of combat, ballistics, and anatomy. some referred to you as a wild card. not to toot your own horn, but you were amazing at your job.

“hello everyone.” you smiled.

“y/n will also be steve’s official partner.” fury announced before going back into his office, cueing everyone to go back to work.

“lucky bastard. i’m stuck with this guy.” sam said, earning another slap to the head from his partner, causing you to giggle.

you walked up to steve, reaching your hand out for him to shake. “hello steve, it’s an honor to be working with you.” you smiled.

steve froze at the sight in front of him wow, she’s kind of cute. he thought to himself. you looked at steve in confusion, waiting for him to respond.

“this is the part where you shake her hand and introduce yourself you idiot.” thor said, causing steve to slightly shake his head.

“sorry,” steve chuckled as he grabbed your hand and shook it. “it’s a pleasure to meet you, although i should be the one who’s honored to be working with you. i’ve heard great things about you.”

“yeah, like what?” you smirked.

“for one, you beat me in success rate percentage.” he said.

“it’s just a number, that doesn’t mean anything.” you laughed as you settled into your chair, starting to organize your desk.

“don’t be so humble.” steve said in a playful tone, making you smile. he actually liked that you didn’t have an inflated ego just because of your numbers. he watched you as you placed things onto your new desk until fury walked back into the squad room, causing everyone to gather around him once again.

“listen everyone. there’s been a murder at one of the stark hotels. i need you guys to head down there.” fury ordered. everyone started heading out.

“i’ll drive.” steve stated as you grabbed your jacket. you nodded at him in response.

as steve and you drove to the hotel, he decided to strike up a conversation. to get to know his new partner, of course.

“so, what made you want to become a cop?” he asked.

you looked at him as he kept his eyes on the road. “it was kind of a spontaneous decision. no one in my family is in the criminal justice field, but they supported me from throughout college and the academy and even now. but i know they get worried about me sometimes.”

“that’s sweet of them.” steve said, feeling a tug at his heartstrings.

“how about you?” you asked.

“me? well, my best friend peggy encouraged me to join after i had served for two years.” he simply said.

“that’s nice.” you smiled.

“although, sometimes i regret being a cop. it’s like every person i talk to wants to jump my bones and confess to murder before i could even open my mouth. this one lady i was interrogating, clearly guilty, was trying to change the subject and asked me out to dinner after she makes bail.” he added, making you snort.

“one of my friends in homicide told me about that. the hot detective in precinct 12 that every female suspect, witness, and even detective wants a piece of.” you joked.

“oh, does that include you?” steve smirked, making you roll your eyes as your face heated up a bit. luckily before you could respond, you two had arrived at the hotel, passing by sam and bucky who were currently questioning staff.

-

in both your’s and steve’s years of being a detective, neither of you have witnessed a crime scene so brutal. before you could even notice the bouquets of flowers and bottles of wine that sat at the vanity in front of the room, there was blood that covered most of other side of the room. it was all over the walls, there were burnt marks on the bed sheets along with a ton of blood. the sheets were supposed to be white, right?

you held yourself together as you carefully walked around the room, trying your best not to contaminate evidence the crime scene unit was gathering. you and steve approached the body that was being examined by the medical examiner.

“hey bruce.” steve said.

“hi steve.” the older man responded as he looked up, locking eyes with you. “and you are?” he asked politely.

“i’m y/n, steve’s new partner.” you answered.

“it’s nice to meet you.”

you looked at the victim – body covered with every type of wound known to man and a pool of blood.

“the victim doesn’t even have a face anymore.” you muttered, feeling chills run down your spine.

bruce looked closely at the limbs.

“your perp burned the victim’s fingertips to the bone.” he said.

“they didn’t want the victim to be identified.” you blurted out loud.

“what’s the cause of death?” steve asked.

“it’s hard to tell. i’ll have to wait until i do the autopsy to find out which wound killed him first. overall, it looks like the victim has cuts, thin stab wounds, probably from an ice pick that was found a few feet away, and burns from both fire and rope.”

“let me guess, the perp wore gloves and there were no fingerprints found on the pick?” you asked, earning a nod from bruce. “it looks like the victim was tied up and tortured.” you added.

“i’m surprised no one heard any screaming.” steve said.

“well, this is a penthouse and the only one on this floor. and if you look closely, there are small specs of adhesive of what looks like duct tape by the mouth that was probably burned or ripped off either perimortem or postmortem.” you said, responding to steve’s comment.

“you got a good partner here, steve.” bruce said. steve turned his head to you, impressed by your quick wits.

maybe that’s why she has a higher success rate.

steve found himself lost in his thoughts again, not noticing you walking around the room to examine more evidence. you looked up to see him still in the spot you had left him.

“uh, steve?” you called out to your partner, interrupting his thoughts as he turned his body towards you.

“yeah? sorry, i got lost in my thoughts.” he chuckled nervously as bruce shook his head in second-hand embarrassment.

“i have a thought too.” you said, slightly teasing him.

“yeah, what is it?”

“well, it might be a reach, but i think the victim was knocked out, possibly drugged, in this room and was tied up to the bed and tortured,” you said as you point out the remaining rope on the headboard. “the victim had finally freed themselves. and judging by the blood on the walls, they leaned on the walls as they tried to make it to the door, eventually bleeding out and falling to the floor. or the perp could have returned and held them up against the wall and tortured them even more and dumped them onto the floor to die.” you continued. 

you looked at steve who was just staring at you in awe while bruce gave an impressed chuckle. to be honest, he zoned out as you kept talking, but was fascinated on how quickly you came up with a theory while still at the scene. that, and he also got lost in how beautiful you looked as you spoke with confidence.

“earth to steve?” you said as you waved your hands in front of him. “for a top detective, you sure do zone out a lot.” you joked.

“he’s not usually like this.” bruce commented as he passed you two.

“sorry,” steve blinked. “and you’re right, if the victim did try to escape, our guy must have left for a bit. if he was still in the room, there wouldn’t be this much blood. maybe our perp caught him trying to escape and decided to rough our victim up even more before they died.” he suggested. he was proud of himself for even coming up with a theory so quickly as opposed to thinking about it in the squad room after returning.

“that’s also possible. let’s check in with thor and wanda back at the precinct to see if the cameras caught anything.”

-

a few hours passed by in the squad room as everyone took a break, waiting to hear back from bruce and jarvis, the tech expert.

“how’s your first day in intelligence so far?” sam asked as he sat on your desk.

you leaned back in your chair as you looked at the man.

“honestly i’m impressed. i didn’t think i’d see a scene so gruesome. did you see how much blood was in that room?” you said.

sam noticeably gulped. “mhm,” he said, trying to keep his cool. obviously this man has also never seen a crime so horrible. you tried to not laugh in his face. “so, what do you do in your free time? do you bake? hang out with your boyfriend?” sam oh so casually asked. you could hear steve and bucky snicker in the background.

“never had time for either.” you casually said as you went back to filling out paperwork.

“is that so?” sam raised an eyebrow. 

“sam.” steve said, signaling his friend to stop trying to flirt with the new detective.

“yeah, i don’t think guys find it attractive that i look at dead bodies and get gunned down by drug lords all day.” you casually said as sam’s eyes widened.

“fair enough.” sam said, lifting himself off your desk and hung his head in shame as he returned to his, steve’s and bucky’s snickers getting louder.

“just got back from banner,” fury called out, getting everyone’s attention as he pulled up a board with different images pinned to it along with writing. “our victim is none other than tony stark.”

“tony stark, as in the owner of the hotel he was found dead in?” steve said.

“why was he even in a hotel room? doesn’t he live in a tower on the east side of new york?” you asked with concern.

“was he meeting up with someone?” steve asked.

“the hotel said the penthouse was under his name.” sam chimed in.

“suspicious.” you muttered to yourself.

“stark was probably killed by someone who was probably pissed at him and wanted some of his money.” bucky said.

“stark pisses a lot of people off and everyone wants his money. i don’t think that’ll get him to meet up with someone.” you counter-argued.

“maybe he was threatened by someone.” steve said.

“none of the above actually.” wanda said as she and thor walked in. she placed more images onto the board. “jarvis went through the tapes of the camera angled at the entrance to the penthouse and found stark entering the room.” she pointed out as everyone examined the low quality image of what looks like tony stark with an arm around a lady’s waist.

“the female has blonde hair. that could be pepper potts, his wife.” steve said.

“that’s just motive. if he dies, everything goes to her,” you added. “is there footage of her coming out?”

“unfortunately, no. it seems that the camera went out as soon as they entered the room and did not come back on until seven in the morning.” thor explained.

“interesting. talk to the widow.” fury ordered.

-

you and steve were escorted through the stark tower, meeting up with a grieving pepper potts.

“hello mrs. stark.” you greeted.

“mrs. potts. i decided to keep my maiden after tony and i wed. but please, call me pepper.” she said, giving a small smile.

“pepper, first off, i’m sorry for your lost.”

“thank you.” she sniffled.

“we just have a few questions to ask you that could help in solving your husband’s murder.” steve said.

“of course.”

“to start off, where were you on the night of your husband’s murder?”

“are you suggesting that i’m a suspect?!” pepper exclaimed.

“it’s a standard question we ask everyone. it’s just procedure.” you said, getting pepper to calm down.

“obviously i was at home. i was busy with paperwork for stark industries.”

you and steve looked at each other, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

you looked back at the widow. “pepper, we have you on tape with your husband around the time of his death. steve said, handing her a photo taken from the security camera.

“what are you suggesting?” she said, sounding appalled. “how dare you, i loved my husband!” she practically yelled.

“i’m sure you did. but with him gone, that leaves you, what, at least $500 million and sole inheritance of all of his property, including the company?” you said coldly. steve knew you had to get pepper to start talking, even if it meant being a little rude.

“you’re a bitch.” pepper practically spat at you.

“look, just tell us what happened.” you said, unfazed by the harsh comment.

pepper looked at the photo, holding it close to her face as it scrunched up.

“wait a minute, that isn’t me.” she said as she placed a hand over her mouth. “h-he’s been cheating on me?”

steve looked at you in shock.

-

back in the precinct, steve looks at the board, taking in every image and written detail as he tried to piece everything together.

“so if that’s not potts going into the room with stark, then who is she?” steve said to himself as he stared into the photo as if it would give him a clear answer.

you walked up next to steve, holding a cup towards him.

“coffee?” you asked, eyebrows slightly raised.

“sure. thanks.” he said, grabbing the cup from your grasp, loudly chugging down the hot beverage, masking the beating of his heart.

“obviously tony has a mistress. i thought he had stop his playboy days after meeting pepper.” you said as you took a sip of your own drink while looking at the board. steve couldn’t help but look at you, not moving even when you turned to catch him already staring. your face started to heat up until you both hear someone clear their throat behind them.

“i’ve got a lead.” wanda said, smirking as you two snapped your heads at her as if you two had been caught.

“what’d you find?” steve said, straightening his back.

“well, jarvis has been going through stark’s call logs, and there have been many calls over the past three months to and from one number. it belongs to a natasha romanoff. here’s her address.” she explained, handing you the file, letting you take a look. you were slightly confused at the red hair that sat on top of the lady’s head in her license photo.

“i’ll drive.” you said as you grabbed you jacket and headed over to the garage filled with squad cars.

steve was about to follow after you when he felt wanda grab his arm.

“so, you like the new girl?” she smirked.

“i just met her.”

“you’re not saying no.”

“i mean, she’s cute and very intelligent.”

“so you like her.”

“yeah, is that what you wanted to hear?” steve raised an eyebrow. wanda smiled, walking away from him like nothing happened, leaving him flushed.

-

later that day, you and steve arrived at the address. you knocked on the door.

“natasha romanoff, nypd.” you said loudly.

the door opened slightly as a blonde woman peaked through the small opening.

“may i help you?” she asked softly.

“we would like to ask you a few questions about tony stark.”

“the millionaire?” she raised an eyebrow. “he’s a celebrity. what’s that got to do with me?”

“oh not much, just that you’ve been seeing mr. stark for the past few months.” steve said.

“i don’t have to tell you anything.” natasha panicked, trying to close the door. luckily, you stopped the door with your foot.

“miss romanoff, you know if you don’t talk to us it just makes you look even more suspicious, right?” you raised an eyebrow at her. she managed to get your foot away from the door, slamming it in your face.

that went well.

-

“think she did it?” sam asked after you and steve explained what had happened to the squad.

“she won’t talk to us, which raises suspicion that she might be involved.” you answered.

“she could be involved, but do you think she had the will to carve up his body like that?” steve asked.

“who knows? she’s a mistress. tony’s probably been buying her expensive things and when she gets cut off or tony might want to break things off with her, she must’ve had a lot of anger built up and took it out on him. if she can’t have him, no one can.” you said as steve nodded at your wishful thinking.

“i got off the phone with hill,” fury said as he exited his office. “she got the warrant for romanoff’s residence.”

steve quickly drove you two back to the address, not minding how dark it had become outside.

you loudly knocked on her door.

“what are you doing?” she exclaimed. “i said i’m not talking.”

“you don’t have to.” you said as you held up the warrant to her face, pushing pass her. you and steve looked through her apartment, noting the different expensive brands that littered her rooms. “where do you work miss romanoff? i’m curious to know how you could afford all of these things.” you said as natasha sat on the couch, bouncing her leg anxiously.

“i found condoms in the trash,” steve said, exiting one of the rooms. “if we have them tested, will it match tony’s dna?”

“i suggest you start talking to us natasha.” you said as you and steve sat near her.

“fine.” she sighed. “tony and i have been having an affair – but i would never in a million years hurt him. i even bleached my hair for that man just so people would think i was pepper.”

“then why were you at the hotel the night he was murdered?”

“sometimes we would go there when we didn’t want to go back to my place. but that night, i wasn’t feeling up to it, so i told him i wanted to go home. he understood and let me leave. i think i left ten minutes after we entered the room.” natasha explained.

“well that doesn’t explain the cameras going out.” steve said.

“tony had automated the cameras to go off from the moment we enter the room until around seven in the morning to give both of us time to leave separately, so we can avoid getting caught.”

“he was covering up his affair.” you scoffed.

“i know i’m not a good person. i loved tony, and i would never hurt him, let alone kill him.” natasha said as her eyes glossed with tears.

“i believe you.” you said, laying a hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

you and steve shortly exited her apartment and sat in the car. you let out a deep sigh.

“if we have more than eight hours of footage missing, how are we going to know what happened?” you asked, sounding frustrated as you leaned back into the passenger’s seat.

“it’s gonna be okay y/n. it’s only the first day of the case and your first day in intelligence. you did an impressive job so far.” steve said as he patted your shoulder.

“thanks steve.” you smiled tiredly.

“it’s getting late, do you want to grab some dinner before i drop you off to your place?” he asked.

“sure, i’d like that.” you shyly smiled.

-

you two munched on your burgers at the local diner as you two talked.

“i know sam beat me to this question, but seriously, how was your first day at intelligence?” steve asked, taking a sip of his coke.

you chuckled. “i liked meeting everyone. they’re very interesting. it’s refreshing actually. new people and a cleaner building.” you answered, emphasizing the “cleaner” part. steve laughed.

“oh yeah? do you like your new partner?” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“i do. even though he likes to zone out while i’m talking, i think he’s very cool.” you laughed as steve pouted at your comment.

“well, does he live up to the hot detective expectation like everyone says?”

“oh definitely.” you smirked.

later that night, steve drove you back to your apartment complex, walking you to your door.

“thank you for today and for dinner. do you do this with all of your partners?” you teased.

“you’re actually my first partner.” steve said, nervously laughing. your eyes widened.

this man really never had a partner?

you blinked back into reality. “well, i’m honored to have the title of being your first partner.” you smiled

steve smiled back, getting lost in your eyes. he unconsciously flickered his eyes from yours to your lips, making you blush. you reflected his actions, leaning in. steve leaned in as well, meeting you in the middle as your lips met, molding perfectly against each other. what was supposed to be one kiss turned into a few and then to many kisses. you pulled away to unlock your door, leaving it open to invite steve in. as soon as you closed the door, steve pushed you up against the wall, continuing what was happening moments before.

-

the next morning rolls in. you wake up to see your body entangled around someone else’s bare and muscular body. you looked up to see steve sleeping peacefully as you smiled to yourself.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer.” steve said as his eyes were still closed. you laughed as you lightly smacked his chest as he slowly opened them. “good morning beautiful.” he said, kissing your forehead.

you checked the time on your alarm clock.

“it’s almost noon.”

“it’s still morning.”

before you could respond to him, you heard a ringtone echoing through your bedroom.

what a way to ruin the mood.

both of you sat up to see steve’s phone ringing on the floor. steve picked up the phone.

“hello?” he said as you watch him listen to the person on the other side of the line. “okay.” he said as he hung up the phone, laying himself down back onto the bed.

“who was that?” you asked.

“fury. there’s a new lead in the case.” he said, relaxing himself into your pillow. you furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“okay? get your ass up, we gotta get going.” you said, hearing your phone ring moments shortly. you answered it, getting the same message steve got earlier.

“do we have to get up?” steve groaned.

“yes,” you said sternly as you got off the bed. “maybe this is why i have a higher success rate than you.” you joked.

“wow. that hurt.” steve sarcastically said as he reluctantly got up.

-

“crime lab came back with the results from the evidence found in the many blood samples taken from the scene. there was one sample that had another set of dna that did not belong to tony stark.” fury said. 

“our perp got cut in the middle of wounding stark.” bucky said.

“results show that the dna belongs to a virginia potts.” fury added.

“also known as pepper potts.” steve said.

“the wife?” wanda asked.

“it makes sense now. she probably already knew about the affair. that night, she probably wanted to catch them in the act, but natasha left early, leaving pepper to confront only her husband. whether or not he denies the affair, pepper loses control and kills him.” you said, earning impressed hums from the squad.

“you think that woman really tortured her own husband?” sam asked.

“if she already knew, she probably had to keep her emotions to herself. all that built up anger can make you lose control. she wanted him to suffer like she did.” you answered.

“l/n, rogers, pick up mrs. potts. she was said to be seen at a house just outside the city.” fury said.

“yes sir.” you both said as you both grabbed your jackets from your desks.

“also,” fury said, making you two look up at him in confusion. “nice matching hickeys.” he smirked as he walked back into his office.

you and steve looked at each other, only now noticing the faint bruises on peeking out of your shirts. you both blushed as you briefly shy away from each other. the rest of the squad tried to contain their laughters.

-

you and steve arrived at the suburban residence.

“mrs. potts? nypd.” steve said as he knocked on the door. there was no answer.

“pepper?” you shouted through the door. no answer. 

you looked at steve, then looked down at the door handle, gesturing to him to check if the door is unlocked. steve grabbed the handle, slowly turning it to prevent any noise. he successfully opened the door. both of you pulled out your guns as you searched through the house as quietly as possible. most of the rooms were cleared. but when you two reach the kitchen, you were both surprised to see two figures standing behind the island. one of them was natasha, fear written all over her face as a gun was held to her head by none other than pepper, whose face was ridden with red eyes and tears.

“natasha. pepper.” you said, acknowledging the both of them.

“pepper, please put the gun down.” steve said as you two aimed your guns at her.

“no!” she exclaimed.

“well that didn’t work.” steve muttered.

“i thought you were more of a blade kind of gal, virginia.” you smirked, obviously mocking her.

“excuse me?!” pepper yelled, feeling offended.

“come on. we know you killed tony. you found out he was having an affair, and you were pissed. you took out all of your anger out on him. you tortured him, wanting him to suffer like you did.” you said.

pepper buried the barrel deeper into natasha’s temple, causing both of them to cry even more. natasha’s begs became louder.

“no one needs to get hurt. let natasha go.” steve said.

after a few moments, pepper pulled natasha away from the gun, shoving her towards you two, suddenly aiming her gun straight at you. natasha ran towards steve, causing him to pull his gun down to grab her.

“get out of here steve.” you said, never breaking eye contact with pepper.

“i’m not leaving you.” he argued.

“it’s okay, i’ve got this, just get natasha out of here.”

steve knew you weren’t going to back down. he sighed as he escorted outside, reporting everything through his radio.

“listen to me pepper, you don’t want to do this.” you said, your gun still aiming at her. you watched her pull the safety off the gun, ready to pull the trigger. you weren’t affected at all.

“pepper, i don’t want to kill you. and if you kill me, you’ll also be arrested for murdering an officer, adding more to your sentence.” you said as you kept your cool. although, it didn’t seem to convince pepper.

steve’s eyes widened as he heard a gunshot ring through the house. “shots fired, possibly an officer down. i need back up and an ambulance.” he immediately called in. he was about to run back inside when he saw pepper walking outside as you followed right behind her, holding her cuffed hands behind her back. steve let out a breath in relief.

-

“mrs. potts. you need to start telling the truth about what really happened to tony that night.” steve firmly said in the interrogation room, with you sitting next to him.

pepper sniffled, the handcuffs that wrapped around her hands jiggling as she tried to adjust herself in her seat.

“okay. our marriage was going downhill and tony had been acting different. sometimes he would stay in one of his hotel rooms just to get away from me for the night. but then i found out about natasha. i’ve known for a few months, only getting angrier when he would try to be nice to me. that night, i walked up to the room he was staying at and i knocked on the door, seeing a surprised tony.” pepper said, sadly chuckling. “before he even knew it was me, he said “you’re back so soon?” and he had fear in his eyes. i honestly think he shat himself. i looked behind him to see how he had the room set up, ready to make love to natasha like he couldn’t do to me.” pepper cried. “so yeah, i only wanted to confront him, but i lost control.”

you honestly had no sympathy for her.

“only wanted to confront him? well, mrs potts, seeing that you knew about the affair months prior and there is clear evidence of torture, you planned all of this.” you said, acid basically dripping from your words. pepper gulped nervously.

“i want my lawyer.” she said quietly.

“well, we already got your confession.” you said as you and steve left the room.

you turned to fury and a.d.a. maria hill who were looking through the one-way mirror from the other side.

“think she’s doing time?” steve asked.

“definitely. she just confessed to premeditated murder – that’s murder one in my books.” maria said as she and fury left the hallway.

after closing a case on your second day in the unit, you relaxed at your desk as you finish some paperwork.

“you scared me earlier,” steve said as he sat across from you, interrupting your focus.

“aw, were you worried about me?” you playfully pouted at him.

steve smiled at you. “yes, i don’t want my partner and girlfriend dead on the second day of her job.” he said, making you laugh and blush at the same time.

“oh, so i’ve also earned the girlfriend title?” you joked.

“that’s if you want it.” steve smirked.

“being the hot detective’s girlfriend? sign me up.” you said, making him laugh. you didn’t care that you heard throwing up noises from bucky and sam.

“come on, let’s get out of here,” steve said as he stood in front of your desk. “you had a long day. how about we grab some food and crash at my place?” he asked with a cheeky smile

you smiled as you grabbed your bag, taking your free hand in his.

“i would love that.”

[mechadress]

Saw a literary challenge to write about one of your average days in quarantine. They picked Tuesday May 12th. Since all of my days keep blending together, I thought it would help me set a benchmark for how I handled quarantine. So here it is-

May 12th 2020,

My alarm goes off at 7am. I roll over to turn it off and promptly go back to sleep. This was a normal practice even before the world shut down. I don't have set hours at work, but I prefer to start around 8am. Since my work computer is only across the apartment, the motivation to wake up before I absolutely have to is extremely low.

8am rolls around and I can't bring myself to leave the bed yet. It all seems so pointless as no one seems to care what hours I keep and I don't have any early morning meetings. I scroll through Facebook and Tumblr on my phone, I check my email more times than I really need to, and pet whichever cat is closest, usually Sierra. I find a post from a page that I follow that talks about Victorian parlor games and I share it to the Steampunk group I administer. There hasn't been much content in the group for awhile. I wonder if it's because steampunk isn't as popular as it once was or if no one has anything to say. It gets a few likes and one 'Care' emoji. I think it's because it indicates that people miss hanging out together.

Around 8:15 I need to use the toilet, which is enough to get me out of bed and sign into my work computer. CY yells out from his work station at the living room table to remind me to buy the camper table and a spray bottle he wanted for grilling. I order them from Amazon and feel guilty about getting nonessential items in the middle of a pandemic. I spend the first few hours of work scrolling through FB or Tumblr and knitting. While I knit I watch an hour and half long youtube video from ContraPoints about different types of second-hand embarrassment or 'cringe'. I identify a lot with what she says.

I am knitting a pair of socks simply because I have the yarn and I've never done it before. I tested out the gauge to make sure I had the right sized needles and I do. They are long dpns that were given to me by CY's mother once she realized I enjoyed knitting. Apparently she used to knit as well, but it would hurt her hands so she gave up on it. I had tried to use the dpns as intended, even looking up a video and practicing a few times, but I kept dropping stitches and getting annoyed with them. I eventually decided to order a circular needle from Amazon to use instead. I felt very guilty about this since there's all sorts of post-people and delivery people out there who are at risk moving all these boxes around, and here I'm ordering a stupid pair of needles that are a duplicate size to ones I own, but I just don't want to use. The circular needles are extremely nice and easy to work with and it is a pleasure to knit the socks. I still use the dpns as a stitch holder while I knit the heel. Today I'm connecting the insole and knitting along the foot. It's easy and enjoyable work especially after already completing the first sock.

I eat a prepackaged ube cake while I drink my tea and appreciate the nice pairing of flavors.

I feel bad about not getting more of my actual work done. However, I can't bring myself to concentrate on anything related to work. I keep moving my mouse around every 10 or so minutes so it looks like I'm active.

An old D&D friend of mine named Sam posts on FB about how he is proud of his company for continuing to let people work from home despite Ohio loosening some of the Stay at Home restrictions. I reply "We were told to expect to work from home until at least August. I'm grateful since it's one less thing to think about." Sam and I go back a forth a bit more, expressing gratitude and an interest in meeting up again once its safe. It's the first I've interacted with him in about 5 years and it makes me glad to hear from him.

I start lunch early because I don't have anything better to do. For lunch I make myself and CY a sandwich. We have some really good Italian bread we got from the grocery store that we can make into a decent replica of a Philadelphia style hoagie. I already chopped up the veggies so I can just take them out of the fridge and start layering them on. CY likes his sandwich with mayo and turkey. I don't like handling either of those things, but it's easy enough. I make his first then make a veggie version for myself. We use the new hoagie oil which isn't as bad as I had originally feared, but it isn't as good as the name brand one we had before. Pity they were out of it at the store when we went.

My 2019 tax refund from Ohio lands into my investment account. I plan to use it to invest in assorted stocks I feel will bounce back once the economy recovers.

After lunch I watch a few more youtube videos while I knit. One is a career review of the one-hit wonder band 'Living in a Box' and another is a recording of 'the world's worst singer' Florence Foster Jenkins. I had found an article that talked about people who had a medical condition which made them unable to percieve how poorly they performed a skill. In her case, she was a renowned as a very poor singer who believed she was very good and people would come to watch her ironically. I try to watch a congressional hearing where they discuss the health crisis with Dr. Fauci, but it's too depressing so I stop.

My anxiety related to work continues to grow. I figure that I'm not able to bring myself to do any investigation on my own, but I'm still able to ask people questions. I reach out through Skype to a colleague who I believe had worked with this business group before. I am surprised by how helpful she is and how quickly she is to respond. We get on a call and she shows me some reporting she did that is similar and directs me towards a table she thinks would have the values I'm looking for. She recommends another colleague to talk to and I schedule a meeting with him for the next day since he was busying for the rest of today. I feel instantly better. My anxiety about my work plummets and I find the energy and motivation to start investigating another task I've been given. I quickly find 1) the task was way easier than I initially estimated and 2) the data I want isn't available where I thought it would be. I even find out a new way to pull code out of Tableau and I excitedly share my discovery with another colleague. Around this time it's getting close to 4pm, my usual time to stop working and just become available for questions, should anyone need to reach out to me. I feel better about myself and allow myself to take more pleasure in my activities.

I start to prepare for the online D&D game I host each week, Tuesdays at 7:30pm. One of my favorite things about quarantine is that it's given me the time and ability to play again. I've missed having a regular D&D game badly. We had a very good game the previous week and I'm excited to make new material for this new game. I decide to include a villain who is a Banksia Man, one of the anatognists from the Australian fairy-tale Snugglepot and Cuddlepie. CY had helped me over the weekend come up with a cool backstory for him. I take notes and save some pictures so I can display them to my players through screen share.

A group of our friends are doing a Plank Challenge while we try to stay in shape while in quarantine. Colette set up a FB group with a list of exercises to do for 13 days. Each day, you do your assigned exercise then you post to the group to indicate you completed your day's tasks. CY and I made a point to work out for a bit each day after work and were already doing a fair amount of planks so the challenge as it was written was too easy for us. We tend to double the amount of time for each exercise or we double up the reps. My tasks for today are 30 seconds each of planks, rocking planks, hip dips, and up downs. I do all the exercises straight through twice with a short break in between sets then post to FB in the group.

After doing planks, CY and I go out to a nearby park to walk for a bit. We go for about 2.5 miles. It's a nice day, nearly 60 degrees. I am happy to see wild flowers starting to sprout up and the leaves coming back to the trees. Most people in the park are polite and keep their distance. It's rare to see people wearing masks while they are walking or running, so it almost feels normal.

We make it back with enough time for me to start getting my notes ready for game. CY offers to make me food and asks what I'd like to eat. We had just gone to Trader Joe's the weekend before and gotten a truly ridiculous amount of frozen food. He insists I pick something from the freezer to eat. In the end we decide he'll cut up the jackfruit crab cakes and make them into 'seafood tacos'. He even makes some sriracha ranch to go with it. The crab cake is surprisingly greasy, but it's very tasty and filling. Not sure I'd get it again though.

I go into the gaming group call and we quickly realize that only Gene and Aaron are going to be able to join game. We don't think it will be enough to continue the campaign I prepared for so I offer to do a one-shot just for them. I show them a cute rpg I found awhile ago called 'Fuck! It's Dracula' and we give it a shot. We have fun but I feel a bit unprepared since I have to ab lib most of the plot and come up with secret plans on the fly so they can be betrayed by their NPCs. The game is much shorter than I initially anticipated and we finish up around 9:30pm, much earlier than normal. I don't feel like Aaron and Gene enjoyed this game as much as they would have enjoyed the larger campaign I made, but at least we got to play together for a bit. I appreciate the social contact at the very least.

We dismiss ourselves from game and I join CY on the couch. He is watching some cooking tutorial videos, trying to teach himself how to smoke brisket properly. I go back and forth between different apps on my phone, not really paying attention to the TV. I try to read for a bit, but we eventually settle down to sleep before I get very far. I feel good about how the day went and I'm proud of myself for getting work done on the sock and researching my projects. I feel better about my life than I did when I first woke up this morning.

[poorquentyn]

Hi there! You have said it multiple times that Doran is a man caught between his desire for vengeance and his caution for not losing lives (idk if I am phrasing it right). I agree wholly that Doran is not the chess-master and his plans are bad. but can you please, please explain how this failure to reconcile his desires and his caution actually led to Quentin dying, or the Queenmaking or the new plan with the Sand Snake infiltration thing? sorry if it's a dumb question.

Not a dumb question at all! The core problem with Doran’s approach is that he doesn’t give his children—who are not merely useful agents but the central pillars of his plan—the resources they need to succeed, and that’s rooted in the war going on in his head between acting on behalf of his murdered family and holding back on behalf of the children of the Water Gardens. Barristan sums it up best: “Your father keeps his secrets well, Prince Quentyn. Too well, I fear.”

So, how does this play out with Arianne and Quentyn? Sam lays out for us in the first book how you groom an heir:

“When I was little, my father used to insist that I attend him in the audience chamberwhenever he held court. When he rode to Highgarden to bend his knee to Lord Tyrell, hemade me come. Later, though, he started to take Dickon and leave me at home, and heno longer cared whether I sat through his audiences, so long as Dickon was there. Hewanted his heir at his side, don’t you see? To watch and listen and learn from all he did.”

This is what Doran failed to do with Arianne. Instead, he pushed her away, both emotionally and politically. Compare Arianne to Margaery, who was raised to play this role in a way that nourished and encouraged her own talents, to the point where she could be trusted to be in on the Purple Wedding (which she was). Doran talks about his mother molding him as a leader. Where was that for him and Arianne? While she definitely bears responsibility for the decisions involved in the queenmaking, that event was symptomatic of a long-running problem with how Doran viewed Arianne and her role in his plan. It brought that pre-existing tension to the surface, forcing him to recognize and talk about it in “The Princess in the Tower.” 

Why did it take that long? Because he was afraid the Lannisters would find out. Which I get: if they find out, the children of the Water Gardens might die. But the long-term consequences are that he alienated someone he really needed on the inside and failed to give her what she needs to play her part in his plan. Everything he doesn’t trust about her makes his plan look that much worse, because his plan depends so much on her. She needed to be an ally, not a puppet; Doran puts it all on her “nature,” but where’s the nurture? Arianne’s very clever and has some great political instincts along with the not-so-great ones (as we see in her released TWOW chapters), and if Doran wishes she was better at conspiring, well, as Sam would point out, maybe he should’ve brought her into the council chamber instead of leaving her on the party planning committee. Maybe he should’ve put those books in her room when she was a child, instead of waiting until she was twenty-three. It’s the equivalent of “no one will hire you because you don’t have any work experience.” Doran’s fretting about Arianne not being a great conspirator, without acknowledging that he never taught her to conspire…because of his conspiracy. What tangled webs we weave, and so on.

And then there’s Quentyn’s quest. If there’s one thing Prince Doran doesn’t lack for, it’s contacts in Essos: he’s cut secret deals with the Sealord of Braavos and the Archon of Tyrosh, he has spies in Lys and (via Lady Nym) potentially contacts among the Old Blood, he has Oberyn’s time there to draw upon, and of course, Mellario lives in Norvos. Doran easily could’ve made use of these resources to ease Quent’s passage, to make his appearance before Dany more formidable, to compensate for Quent himself not being an ideal candidate (and also really, really not wanting to do it).

Doran arranged for precisely none of this, instead sending Quent with a minimal crew in secret, because of, again, the risk that the Lannisters might find out what he’s up to. And again, I get it. But the result was Doran went half-in on the plan, which in this case was arguably worse than not doing it at all. Quest’s quest had already gone horribly wrong before the dragontaming; that was the cherry on top of the nightmare sundae. Dany refused him in part because his offer was so unimpressive, especially in context with his entourage and presentation, and in part because he came too late—and why did he come too late? Because he lost so much time in Volantis and then the Astapor/Yunkai area just trying to get there, improvising at every step, and it simply didn’t have to be that way. Yes, Doran sent Cletus Yronwood and Maester Kedry to run things, but that’s not enough because of precisely what happened—they got killed and there was no backup plan. Good plans have backups, redundancies, multiple avenues of reaching one’s goal. This was a bad plan, consisting of sending Quent into a war zone and wishing him good luck. Quent, like Arianne, ultimately is responsible for what he did after the plan failed, but he was so desperate in large part because his father impressed upon him that the fate of Dorne depended on his success. Not for nothing is this how GRRM has Quent express his anguish, near the end: “Father, why?”

Let me say again: I thoroughly sympathize with Doran’s motivations. I think he’s a highly intelligent and good-hearted man working through heavy shit and doing his best to bring justice. That Doran is haunted by his murdered relatives is entirely relatable, but I think it’s leading him to fail the ones who are still alive. 

[killthebxy-archive]

GIMMIE meta on how Daenerys and Sansa and Arya are going to challenge Jons beliefs when it comes to how he sees what women are 'supposed' to act.

[ @obuljagon ]

okay, this is such a good one — where do i start?

          maybe with something very important: Jon has a very traditional mentality, which naturally comes with being inserted in a medieval society. yes, he is sexist sometimes; yes, he is racist sometimes; yes, he’s narrow minded sometimes. i never shy away from portraying any of this, because this is an important foundation of his personality and values. bastard born or not, he’s Ned Stark’s son and he places honor and duty above most things. 

          on the other hand, Jon is also a rather curious soul, and open to adventure and different sights and people and mentalities — he may know nothing, but he’s quick to learn. for example, he does not consider a woman weak simply for being a woman, nor considers that a woman’s only use is to cook and sew socks and produce children. but he does envision most women as being more fragile than men, and, therefore, in need of protection. again, it’s the society he lives in, and it’s what’s normal to him.

          now, the figures you mention. undoubtedly, Jon is aware that his little sister is not the stereotypical lady. Jon and Arya have always been the closest of the Stark (Snow) children, and part of this is justified by the fact that they are both outcasts, in their own way — Jon is the bastard, Arya is the daughter who loathes sewing and is not good at handwriting or other (considered) girly chores, and she would much rather spar with the boys outside. and he doesn’t love her in spite of this, but BECAUSE of this. he loves that Arya is so independent, so different, so unafraid to break stereotypes and to go for what she loves, rather than what others expect of her. and he clearly encourages it, as shown by gifting Needle to her. even in the later books, when he’s convinced Arya is married to Ramsay, he thinks of her and worries because he can totally see her trying to fight Ramsay like the warrior lady she is. hands down, Arya’s role in his personal conceptions of women is fulcral.

          now, with Sansa. Sansa is much closer to what Westeros considers a “true” highborn lady, this much everyone knows — and Jon has spent most of his life agreeing with this. however, he never disliked Sansa for it — they were never close, but for completely distinct motives. tbh Jon 100% supports women who want to be what they want to be — Arya wants to be a tomboy, great, he supports her; Sansa wants to be a lady, great, he supports her. there is something that Jon learned from Ned and that he says to maester Aemon when trying to convince him to take Sam as his personal steward, right now i do not remember the exact words but it’s around the lines of: every man is different and every man has his use. you cannot hammer tin into steel, but this does not mean tin is useless. which is pretty much his opinion of Sansa and Arya. however, in s07 Sansa is also surprising him (a lot) and opening his horizons — by showing him that a woman can be as good at ruling as any man — which is, precisely, why he chose to leave the North in her hands. not because she is his sister, not because she is a Stark (also, but not only), but because he knows she’s capable of a good job and trusts her with all his heart. Sansa saved his life in the Battle of the Bastards and he has no issue with acknowledging this, and he is also very much aware that she’s far better at playing the game than he is. Jon is too honest and too blunt, he excels at ruling and leading but he has no talent for politics. he rules with the heart, while Sansa rules with the brain, and this is why they are complementar. 

          Dany. okay, so this part will be a bit more based on our own threads/chats, because alas D&D think character development is a waste of time and never gave us much of a decent conversation between them. even so, clearly Daenerys is a challenge to Jon’s beliefs and perspectives. Jon has spent his entire life pretty much at Winterfell only — the books give us no insight, but i personally headcanon that he never traveled south of the Neck, because, even when Ned would visit a lord, it was Robb who traveled along with him, for being the heir and the one in need to learn how to be a diplomat. Dragonstone is his first time ever out of the North, so obviously he’s restricted to the values and habits and traditions of his homeland. whereas Dany, she’s traveled to so many different cities and met so many different folks. by far, she’s seen things Jon never even dreamed existed and she’s familiar with habits he never even considered. therefore, when she shares this with him, it’s only natural that his first reaction will be confusion or even to think it as wrong or unnatural — but he will be willing to listen and to learn, once again. as well, it goes without saying that Dany is the epitome of girl power, to be corny here. indeed, i personally headcanon that Jon fell for Dany not (only) because of the good heart and the pretty face, but because of her “power”, so to call it — you don’t just watch a tiny cute girl mounted on a badass huge dragon who goes off to fight the enemy armies herself and keep your knees unquivering lbr.

          before i end, let me just point out two other names you did not mention but who are essential in this reasoning. first, the Mormont women. Maege Mormont, most of all, but also all her daughters — they are the reason why Jon sees warrior women as natural, despite the usual ladies tradition. because of them, he knows that women can be fierce and strong and blunt and a force to be reckoned with, all the same while still being loving and kind and honorable and loyal and motherly. and, of course… Ygritte. if there is a woman who’s opened Jon’s mind and shaped the manner in which he sees women, it is definitely her. if Jon is who he is nowadays, so preoccupied with the free folk and with being inclusive and saying things like “we’re all on the same side, we’re all breathing”, it is vastly thanks to her. her free-spirited nature clashed completely with his rigid honor (so much that it reduced his vows to dust lmao) and helped him start growing much more empathetic and much more tolerant of the difference. and it taught him to never take a woman for granted, and definitely to never believe that there are things “for men only”.

          then, let me wrap this up by summing up the essential: Jon has some very traditional, very rigid views of what a woman “should be like”, born from his upbringing and his life story and experiences. but he is also very open to the women who are willing to show him that matters aren’t so linear, and he’ll be the first one to praise them and acknowledge them for their achievements. AND. one thing is never changing, this much i can guarantee: even if it is a woman, any woman, thrice his size and thrice as strong as he is, he will still ALWAYS want to protect her. it’s just in his nature, not only towards women but especially towards women.

[rilenerocks]

The other day I exchanged messages with a friend I’ve never seen. We met in an online Merkel Cell cancer support group. Her husband was a decade younger than Michael when he was diagnosed with Merkel, in his early fifties. The course of his disease was short, less than a year and a half from discovery to death. I got banned from that support group after being in it for a little over a week. I was bringing up questions about emotional issues rather than just talking about the nuts and bolts of the disease and its possible treatments. After I was kicked out, this friend begged the administrators for my email address and we’ve been corresponding ever since. The anniversary of her husband’s death was last week and I always check in with her on that day. I expressed my hope that she was getting along well and had found some space for small joys in her life. When she answered, I felt like she was troubled by her current emotional state. She wrote that we’d both had wonderful experiences in our marriages but that now we had to learn how to live again in real time. That caught me up short.

Live in real time? I’ve been living about as hard in real time as a person can, in my opinion. Since Michael’s death, I’ve traveled alone several times, organized my 50th high school reunion and seen my favorite tennis player, Roger Federer, twice in real life tournaments for the very first time. I’ve been to half a dozen music concerts from John Prine to Pete Yorn to Janis Ian and Paul McCartney, among others.

I swim five days a week. I go to movies and have joined a book club. I’m going to serve on my city’s historic preservation committee. I’ve taken a number of classes, had both my knees replaced and knocked many items off my to-do  list. Isn’t this living in real time? I think what she meant was that my constant emotional engagement with Michael means I’m living in the past. But that’s simply not true for me. Our long and deep emotional connection is still alive in me. He’s only been gone a tiny percentage of the time we were together. And he’s not going anywhere, not out of my head or my heart or my soul.

But that seems to be a point of contention in regard to how people are “supposed” to be after a death. Michael isn’t in my way in terms of daily life. I am. He doesn’t interfere with what I do. He didn’t when he was alive either. And that’s the way it is.  I thought to myself, this exchange is another case of more and less, the story of my life. I am always talking about the things which are “more” while many around me could do with a little “less.”

I certainly know more now about lots of things than I ever have  in my life. And that “knowing” is not yet close to its endpoint. I’m learning every day. I’ve always been learning. I’m motivated. As long as my brain is healthy I expect I’ll continue increasing my stash of both useful and useless facts and ideas. I retain volumes of it, stuffed in the corners of my mind. And I like to talk about it all. In traditional terms that seems ok. Certain areas of my conversation are acceptable. For example there are topics which are nice and neutral. There’s gardening. Sometimes there’s politics, although I can’t say I’m exactly neutral in that regard. But there’s  school.  This fall I’m taking three classes. One is about current affairs in the Horn of Africa about which I know very little. Another focuses on Persia and Rome and will feature readings from Herodotus. I’ve always wanted to read Herodotus, especially after watching the smolderingly sexy Ralph Fiennes carrying around a battered leather copy of his histories in the film The English Patient. The third is about early Scottish history. I know a little bit about that, but after watching the Outlander television series with the equally smoldering Sam Heughan, (who just happens to look like my husband when he was young,) I figured it couldn’t hurt to learn more. I’m a curious mixture of intellectual and pop culture knowledge – I can disappear into the classics world and pop back into current entertainment pretty seamlessly.

I was taking biology classes for a time during the past couple of years. Another socially acceptable conversation topic. But the science class offerings this fall weren’t that interesting to me this semester and frankly, I’ve got enough cancer stuff happening in real life without exploring more theory right now. Fucking cancer. I know several people who are actively engaged in their cancers, some of which are new and others which are old pals that lay dormant for a long time before reappearing in new places to create havoc. Now I’m moving into the “more” arena. This is where things get uncomfortable in my world. For example,  I think that the majority of people who live for a long while will get cancer. We actually have it every day, mutations that crop up at the genetic level but are squashed and eliminated by healthy immune systems. That is, until the mutations get tougher or the immune system gets weaker. After all my years of reading, that’s what I’ve concluded. Some treatments buy time. Others are still primitive. You don’t get to know whose body will react poorly or positively to what is attempted. Until there are wholly individual treatments that’s the way it’ll be. So where does that take me? I try to be a helper and do what I can for those I know.

I think about myself too. I have no idea when my turn might come. I think a lot about the advocacy I was able to provide for my family and most especially my husband. Will I be able to advocate well for myself if necessary? That’s one question I have no answers for at this point. I think about this stuff a lot and I try talking about it but my kids don’t like it and some friends are taken aback. They say what I know they intend to be nice, defusing comments that move rapidly away from the morbid topics. I guess that having thought about death for all the years during Michael’s illness, coupled with my longheld death anxiety from my childhood, as I watched my mom go in and out of hospitals, has locked me into what some think is the morbid side of life. To me it’s more practical than morbid. But it’s one of “those” topics that I tend to bring up that is off-putting to a lot of people. When I talk about it I’m not sad or scared or maudlin. I’m just wondering. Death is something that will happen to everyone and pondering it doesn’t stop me from living a reasonably positive daily life. But the death arena fits into the “too much” category.

The issue of my feeling Michael’s presence so often is another “more” topic. I guess it makes some people uncomfortable. Maybe they think I’m nuts. Maybe they think I’m not living a healthy life. I don’t view other people’s opinions as my problem. I’m open to sharing but am also aware that red flags pop up when I start waxing eloquent about my “ghost.” I can feel that it’s time to move on to something else, a subject more palatable for whomever is the listener.  It seems that I’ve always brought up issues that no one wants to talk about. Michael used to say that if I would only be quiet about certain topics life would be perfect. But I never believed anything was really perfect. Rather, I thought that if you kept working on problems or disturbing ideas like death, or basically anything that caused people psychological discomfort, that the process itself was almost more important than the end goal. I really enjoy thinking and discussing and sorting through virtually everything. I always thought that the more I knew about any issue, the better off I’d be. Michael, more reserved and less prone to the deep inward dives I do, loved me enough to go outside his comfort zone, sometimes kicking and screaming, into places he’d rather have ignored. In the end these explorations brought us incredibly close and gave us the stamina to go through our personal challenge that ended with his death. But what’s perfectly clear to me is that a lot of people prefer doing with less of these internal explorations into what I think are life’s and death’s fascinating mysteries. So when I bluntly bring up one of the off-limits topics, I’ll often feel the invisible hand up in my face and I know I’m supposed to be quiet. Despite the fact that I think we humans share a considerable amount of commonality in life’s essential business, talking about those things out loud just doesn’t happen enough for my taste.

There are all kinds of self-help books and advice websites about virtually everything. But say I decide to open up a sex conversation? Lots of people cut me off fast. I want to talk about how dreadful it feels for me to acknowledge that this most essential part of my life is over. I know that because I’m completely uninterested in being with anyone but Michael. But my drive isn’t dead. I’m going to miss intimacy and kissing and being touched in the way you build with bonds with another person for as long as I remain cognitive. But that’s a “less” conversation. I often wonder what other people feel and if they’re still sexually engaged but I rarely talk about this stuff because it feels like I’m crossing a social boundary line. Maybe I am.

I just think there’s comfort in sharing information and feelings that to me, must be widespread across our species. Am I outrageous? I guess some people might think that. But to me, I’m just myself. I’m still struggling with the separateness that I feel when shut down by the unwritten rules of social exchange. I just can’t stand all these implicit boundaries. Still, I have to live in the culture I occupy so I mostly abide them. More and less. Death and illness and sex are apparently for my private ruminations except for a very few people who accept me for who I am. With the others I guess I can talk about taxes and the weather. I’m glad I still feel Michael so strongly inside me. I can still talk to him about anything and he knows I’m living in real time. With a vengeance. Another thing he always told me was that he thought I was very polite to ask him his opinion on an issue when we both knew I would do exactly what I wanted to no matter what he thought. Still valid. Ultimately, I really don’t care what anyone thinks about my choices. But I’m pretty sure they’d like them if they gave me a chance to say more.

More and Less The other day I exchanged messages with a friend I’ve never seen. We met in an online Merkel Cell cancer support group.

[elysiumrp]

Congratulations MARLEY! You have been accepted as Samuel Stokes. Please go through the checklist and send in your account within 24 hours. If you need more time, make sure you send a message to the main.

Can I simply start off with how on point your application was? Samuel is an intricate person, someone who knows how to build himself while also maintaining the capability of being humble, something you pinpointed many times. Sometimes explaining a person like that is difficult to do, yet you were able to summarise it easily in the answers you gave. Your explanations speak for themselves – your experience just a plus! There are many connections who will benefit off Samuel being in Elysium, and to have you play him with the comprehension you already have for him – like, wow! that para – we would be crazy if we didn’t accept you! Plus, it’s destiny for you to have him, remember? How could we keep that away from you! Welcome to Elysium!!

OOC INFO

Name: Marley Age: 23 Timezone: PST Preferred Pronouns: She / Her Previous RP Experience: [RFP] Activity Level: Active (though I do Work most of the week) Anything Else: N/A

IC INFO

Character Name: Samuel Stokes Why did you choose this character:

I have always been interested in playing a Charles Michael Davis role, however most tend to be for Vampires which never were my forte. Werewolves have always been my infatuation and where most of my supernatural knowledge is based in. So once I stumbled upon this group, seeing that you have him as a werewolf I felt it was almost destiny to try and apply for the role. Another aspect that caught my attention to the role was his background, seeing how he was raised to work hard yet seeing how he remains almost under the radar in a tactful way intrigues me as a writer because I feel it opens up ample opportunities for him to be more observant as opposed to reacting right off the bat like most werewolves are portrayed to be. Another aspect of Samuel that I felt was fitting for me was that Sam had very wolf like traits without even being a werewolf, such as refusing to beg or ask for anything, he would rather show his worth than have things be given to him. I feel that his traits were mostly wolf like from the start and that it could have been the reason a wolf was drawn to attack him in the first place. His fearless nature to even defend himself while being mauled goes to show that he had the nature of a wolf within him so to speak, which is probably why he transitions so well after accepting what it is he has become later on. Lastly I was drawn to the role because he is a bouncer, which I found interesting since that doesn’t seem like a job an accountant from the south would take on, so I feel it shows a more Adaptive nature which I would enjoy exploring further.

Describe your plan for them:

If I were to be accepted as the role of Samuel I would explore deeper into how Sam works for things rather than begging or asking for it, I feel that bring real authenticity to not only him being a werewolf and having that sort of pride in himself, but also him being southern. It gives him a humble but determined since that I hope to bring to life even more if accepted. I would plan to get him more involved with members of the Davidson Pack since that seems to be his motivation as of the moment, and doing so in a way that stays true to his nature will be stimulating to my need for something a bit more than what is usually out there in roleplays. Of course writing out his experience with other supernaturals and humans will part of the plans as well, since he appears to be fairly new to being a werewolf still it will be exciting to see how his interactions go not only as a werewolf trying to remain under the radar but as a Bouncer as well, that has yet to be a job a character of mine has ever had and I feel that it will be something new and exciting avenue to branch out in and experience as a writer myself. Hopefully it will bring many opportunities to develop his personality as a werewolf and his role within the city further.

Describe your character’s feelings and reactions to the initial reveal of the supernatural world:

Being from a small town he never really knew about the Supernatural, he never was one to speculate on what could be rather than what was and what he could do to change it if need be to better his own personal life. Hell it wasn’t until after the fact he had become a werewolf that he even started to toy with the idea that Supernaturals existed. Because it had taken him nearly four months before he began to learn about what he was I feel that would explain why he was not very knowledgeable from the start. Samuel didn’t initially want the life he was dealt when he was bitten. In fact it had taken him some time to accept the fate he was thrown into. Going through full moons without really understanding what was occurring had been testing on the man’s resolve. Learning more about Supernaturals from those he has met along the way has only given him understanding towards what he has become. With that understanding he accepts the supernatural world as just another part of life that has changed majorly along the way, like Gay marriage. It didn’t bother him what other people had going on in their life, as long as it didn’t negatively affect his.

It wasn’t until he began to live with the wolf curse rather than fight against it that he began to see how the supernatural world could build himself up from something he never would have thought of prior to the exposure of supernaturals. Moving to New York allowed him the opportunities to meet those who aided him in controlling his wolf for the most part, which opened doors for him along with his accounting job to connections he otherwise would have never had in the South, or had supernaturals not been exposed.  Working those connections tactfully has slowly began to turn him from that small town Southern boy to a wolf with his eyes and ears alert to all that goes on around him. Thus allowing him to utilize those he chooses to associate with to reach his ultimate goal of becoming more than just someone from some small town in South Carolina. Of course, just because most are exposed doesn’t mean he will be trying to get noticed as a Supernatural himself, for his own benefit he prefers to remain under the radar.

Describe your character’s feelings and reactions to the current state of the world, and how it impacts them as an individual:

Samuel doesn’t spend too much time worrying about the state of the world as it is now. More so he worries about the state of his own life and how he can better it from the life he had back home. He has learned to roll with the metaphorical punches life has given him. Moving to the big city has given him a new perspective on life however he isn’t big on the political aspects going on, sure he attended a few council meetings, however those were mostly out of his own interest in what the supernatural community was about. He had also attended a few resistance meetings, though it was also mostly to open himself to a new experience rather than to take a stand. Samuel is tactful but patient enough to sit back and weigh his options where he can versus wasting his energy and time on the things he can’t really change, such as the state of the world as it is now. So far he has gone unnoticed as a werewolf aside from the few he has entrusted with the information which has also allowed him to not have to experience any backlash from the community. Perhaps if things were to change and he were to be exposed it could place a target on his back so to speak; he might change his mindset and focus more towards the world rather than building up a world for himself in New York City that was different from the lack of life the south.

Para Sample:

It was a feeling unlike any other, the wind rushed past Samuel’s tight fitting polyester athletic shirt as he moved through the near empty streets of Keyser. Sam was always constantly in motion, The last three years had been nothing but moving from town after town and state after state until he reached his final destination; New York.  Sure he was in a hurry to get to the place where he felt his life would change for the better, however, Stokes didn’t want to miss out on the experiences he could have gained along the way while traveling up north. With each powerful bound from the rugged pavement beneath his worn running shoes came a hypnotic like rhythm that Samuel had found himself lost in as his mind wondered over the possibilities he could come across once he reached the busy streets of New York. As his mind wandered so did his feet, carrying him far beyond the town front he had originally began his nightly jog on. It wasn’t until he lost his sense of direction though that he stopped and took notice of how far he had actually managed to run. Slowing his pace as he turned his torso slightly to look beyond his shoulder into the darkness that faintly revealed a glimmer of light that represented the small town he had just been running through.

Sam took a moment to control his breathing, it was not heavy like most would have been after running so far for so long. This was a daily lifestyle for him, and with that meant it would have taken more distance to wind him like most people. He more so took the moment to enjoy the silence not only around him but in his thoughts as well. It would be a big change from his small town life, however it was what he wanted. Though it still didn’t mean that the man wasn’t nervous about the transition ahead of him. In the few minutes Stokes took to rest before heading back to town he barely caught an off sound within the darkness around him. It was enough of a sound to cause him to whip around and scan the area around himself. A blue hue was cast over the land due to the full moon’s ominous glow. It was particularly bright on that night, though the thin clouds crossing over the full moon had caused shadow like figures to dance across the landscape which played on his mind. His dark eyes strained to see what the source of the sound was in the pale blue darkness, almost brushing it off until the same sound rang out in the night. It was louder this time, implying that meant whatever was out there had gained ground on him. Stokes turned sharply once more, a brow rose in an intense expression as he clenched his fist preparing for some sort of assault or attack from a stranger.

Even as Samuel stood there prepared for an ambush he could not be prepared enough for what came from the darkness at him. Before his brain could catch up with what was happening to his body, Sam was horizontal in the air for a moment. It was one of those experiences where time seems to slow down due to adrenaline is causing the body to function faster than normal. All he saw was blackness and fluffs of fur before he hit the rugged pavement with his back and everything went white for a moment. The oxygen in his lungs was released entirely from within him as the force in which Stokes hit the ground had caused the air to be pushed out of him. The initial instinct that was triggered was to hold up his arms and defend himself, which only protected his throat from flashing white canines that lurched out at him from the fluff of black fur that was now attacking him. It wasn’t a black bear attack due to how small the animal was compared to a black bear. Though the force of the attack could have been mistaken as such. Once he could breathe and regain his focus he saw the animal attacking him was some kind of large black dog.

Assuming it was a stray and feral based on how it was mauling him Samuel allowed his fight or flight nature to take over. He lifted a heavy elbow and brought it down on the mutt’s muzzle hoping the shock would cause the rabid animal to release his forearm long enough for him to run away. “Agghh!,” he groaned out in pain as the force of his elbow coming down upon the animal snout only caused the beast’s fangs to burrow even deeper into his flesh. He tried pulling free out of reaction though it only caused him more pain until the animal released its jaws. Once the stunning blow had caused the savage dog’s grip to loosen enough from Samuel to finally pull his forearm free he didn’t hesitate and yanked free while rolling away from the stunned animal before kicking his feet underneath himself and by sheer energy from the situation he managed to begin running towards the direction of the small glimmer of light that was the town just out of reach.

Though he had pulled himself free it was not without risk, he had further injured himself as he rushed to get free, causing more blood to flow through the wounds as he ran with all that remained of his stamina. His eyes stayed forward, not daring to look back in risk of seeing the dog right on his heels. He didn’t stop running despite the jolts of pain he felt through his body as he ran, and the fading sensation he felt as the blood loss was battling against the surge of adrenaline that was keeping him upright and moving. He didn’t slow his pace until he charged through the door of his home and slammed the wooden door shut, locking out the animal he assumed had followed him entirely home. He leaned against the door panting until his breathing became more balanced. It was then that he leaned up off the door with some effort, wincing as he accidentally placed his forearm against the door to catch his balance. He peered out the blinds of his front window and looked into the darkness which was muted out by the streetlights. Nothing stood out there in the darkness though he could feel eyes upon him in paranoia to the situation. Everything was surging and swirling within him as he backed away from the window, taking heavy breaths as the blood coated his arm and began dripping down his trembling fingertips.

Darkness tunneled his vision as he tried to reach the kitchen to wash the wound and get some water to ease the dizziness he was feeling take over him. Even with great determination he only managed to make it a few feet from the window before collapsing face first onto the hardwood floor of his small home. He was feverish but cold, and his vision vibrated before the black tunnel eventually consumed his sight and he faded into an unconscious state from the lack of blood that was now pooling on the floor around the wound against his forearm. Samuel was unsure if he was dying or not, and yet as he slipped in and out of consciousness from the blood loss he wondered if he would actually make it to New York City. Something inside of him knew there was more than this, and that there was no way this could have been the end for him. As his mind slipped further he hung onto the thought of his goal and with that thought he clung to his life as the darkness took him over. He refused to go out like this without meeting his full potential, and that had possibly been the fire in his heart that managed to keep him alive through the night.

Any questions/concerns/things you’d like to change: (siblings to add, pronouns, sexuality you’d like to specify, personality, face claim, history, etc., etc.)

Nothing needs to be changed, I like the Role as is K

[writingfromkitchenator]

Queen of the Crossroads

Masterlist

Chapter 11: Let’s Start

Before the Apocalypse, Crowley had never really had the chance to see Sarah properly, all tales of her spoken with a certain level of fear for the demons that were lucky to get away.

Now, he was getting to see it for himself.

The rumours always circulated that she was a fast learner, something she proved more and more now as she joined in the court, the number of souls coming in at a steady incline since she started.  Not only had she learnt how to speak to the others properly, but was also quickly mastering contracts.

Further rumours were of course to do with her intimidation, one that Crowley knew was true from the first moment she had returned.  She knew how to be intimidating when she wanted to be.

And yet she never was with him.

It gave him some concern, because he knew she could be manipulative if she wanted to be, and there was no doubt that she was careful to him.

But never threatening.

It was like she was calmer, more in control, but this just made him more careful, about as careful as she was being with him.

Not that it stopped the flirting now, despite the rumours that were still circulating amongst the demons.  The first time Sarah had done it, she was nothing short of amused by the expression it left on his face, but now he was actually reciprocating it, it brought a whole new level to the game, one that neither of them were intending to lose.

The more Sarah was learning, the better at being a demon she was becoming, already giving tips in the field to other crossroad demons, as well as training several others to fight better, which only happened because Crowley enforced it.

He knew it was help settling her edge.

Sarah was no fool of course, she knew that Crowley doing this was keeping her in his control, and for the current time, she didn't mind.

It just meant she had to give up a few things in return.

"Do you mind telling me where we are going love?"  Crowley asked as Sarah led him through a small town.

Sarah was smiling, hands buried in her pockets.  "What?  We can't just go our for a stroll?"

Crowley frowns at her, but it just made her laugh.  "I hardly find this amusing."

"I am simply making sure that we aren't being followed."  She said.  "I hardly need someone finding this that doesn't need to."

Crowley pauses, letting her walk forward to watch her with a slight frown, but she just glances back, still smiling.

"Come on, you wanted more, did you not?"  She doesn't wait, knowing full well he was too curious not to follow.

Crowley followed Sarah to a small garage beside a small little house, which he eyes up and down.  "Yours?"

"Call it a retreat."  She said, pulling a key from her pocket.  "But that's not important right now."  Crowley goes to step in but she quickly holds out a hand over his chest to stop him.  "Now Crowley, surely you don't think it's as easy as opening a door?"

Smirking, she carefully slides inside against one of the walls, pressing a hand against something hidden and the air shifted.

Crowley raised an eyebrow as the lights came on, it appearing as if it was just full of tools.  "Bit of heavy enchantments there."

"Well, I have some powerful enemies."  Sarah moves to the back and twists a hammer, the sound of a door unlocking, before she slides it open.

Crowley stares at the devil trap on the cage door.  "Really love?"

"Don't worry, it's only active if someone sneaks in."  She said and easily opens it, stepping inside.

"What's the point of that?"  He asked, following her in.

Sarah looks at him.  "I've had this since hunting days Crowley, what do you think?"

He doesn't get a chance to answer as she climbs up between two shelves, turning till she faces him and pushes a panel in the roof open, sticking her head through.

Crowley's gaze travels up her, eventually meeting her gaze as she smirks down at him.

"Enjoy the view?"

"It's not everyday that I have a woman above me."  He grins and she chuckles and hand him down a small box.  "What's this?"

Sarah jumps down before handing him a small key.  "Part of our bargain."

"Oh?"

"Take a look."  She said easily before moving to other shelves, checking stock of several items.

Crowley watched her for a moment before curiosity got the better of him and he carefully opened it.

He froze.  "Where on earth did you get that?"

"Little Saphie enjoyed collecting,"  Sarah said, checking through a box.  "I managed to acquire a few things before she figured out what I was doing and moved her stashes."

"You do realise what this is?"

"Of course I do, why do you think I-"  She turned to face him, only to find him directly behind her, his expression unreadable.  "What?"

"You are going straight to the expensive stuff."  He said it lightly, but she didn't miss the inflection.

"We made a deal, did we not?"  Sarah asked.  "I figured this would be a good way to show that I'm keen on it."

They hold each others gaze for a long moment.

"Surely you would need this more than me?"  He asked quietly.

"Why?  Because of Saphriel?"  Sarah shakes her head.  "She won't kill me for the same reason that Lucifer won't kill Sam, nor Michael, Dean.  True vessels aren't exactly common.  Sure, it won't stop Lucifer," She gives a small smile.  "But rumour has it he was just as much after you."

"Love, you realise this has the potential to kill anything in existence right?"  Crowley asked carefully.

She nods.  "Now it's yours."  She thinks for a moment.  "Surely, as the King of Hell, you'd be happy about this?"

"Ecstatic." Crowley said.  "But it doesn't change the fact that you are just giving this to me."

Sarah's eyes narrowed.  "It's the Winchester thing, isn't it?"

Crowley shrugs.  "Well, your brother is out of Purgatory."

"And I told you he would get out.  I do know my brothers well."

"Have you heard from them?"

Sarah raises an eyebrow.  "Crowley, don't you think you'd be the first person I'd tell if I had?"  When he doesn't answer, she scowls.  "What?  All this time and you still don't trust me?"

"I don't trust anyone," Crowley said.  "But given who you are-"

"Has earned me a reputation, I get it."  Sarah was more than a little exasperated.  "But do you really think that if I was working with Sam and Dean, I'd be giving this to you?"

Crowley purses his lips as he holds her gaze.  "I guess not, however," He stepped closer, boxing her in the corner even though she didn't move, the two of them barely inches apart.  "It doesn't change my concern."

She held his gaze, unperturbed.  "I'm no threat to you Crowley."

For a single second, he glanced at her lips before returning his gaze hers.  "Good."  He steps back, looking around the rest of the space.  "Care to share anything else?"

Sarah rolls her eyes as she strides past him.  "This is quid pro quo, not 'how much can I give the king'."  She stands at the door.  "Or do I have to lock you in to teach you that?"

Crowley smirks and chuckles, shaking his head.  "Are you sure your not interested in my position?"

"If I was, I definitely wouldn't have given you that."

He follows her out.  "Well, for all I know, it could be an elaborate ruse."

"Crowley, I'm a Winchester," Sarah rolls her eyes.  "Even if I were to go for your throne, I can guarantee, demon or not, powerful or not, that no demon is going to stand by and let me rule them." She sighed.  "But this is all of course, irrelevant, because I am not interested."

Crowley watched her lock up, noted the tension in her as she moved, but he decided to push it anyway.  "Why?"

Sarah sighs and slams the door.  "Because I'm not, okay?  I...power doesn't interest me, not politically anyway.  As it is, you've already given me more than what I've deemed wise, just look at the rumours flying around, but I've gone along with it because I knew a position would give me certain bit of protection, something that I was starting to need."

"So you are using me?"

She snorts in amusement, raising an eyebrow.  "And you are not using me?"

"Well, you did come to me."

They hold each others gaze for a moment before Sarah laughed.  "I did, and I gotta say, it's been working out."

"It has so far."  He said calmly.

"Good," She nods a little and smiles.  "Then why are we discussing this?"

"I'm trying to work out your motivations."

"They are my own, just as yours are."  She brushed past him, purposefully, waving a hand back.  "Now, are we going to move on?  I'd like to go before anyone notices."

Crowley watched her go, his gaze dropping unabashedly her hips, which she was purposefully swinging, and knew exactly what she was trying to do, a grin crossing his lips as he followed, missing her small smirk back at him.

He knew and he'd be damned if he wasn't falling for it.

[themissingmarvel]

Love/Hate

((A/N: A request from my favorite smol bean, @ellen-reincarnated1967 as follows below:

Welcome back!!! I'm happy too!!!! Can i request please a reader and Tony where they bicker and banter all the time until one day even bucky can't stand the tension and just physically pushes them together until they kiss?

Writing this was the bees knees. I loved it. Per usual, her requests are on point and usually up there with my faves. Thanks, lady. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Word Count: 3k (oops)

Warnings: Lotsa swearing ))

“I said I wasn’t in the mood for Italian. Is there a reason you keep insisting on it?” Your voice was thick with irritation as you glared at Tony Stark from across the table.

His own eyes rolled dramatically as he leaned back, “Because there’s no way anyone ‘hates’ Italian. You’re just pissed off that I’m not in the mood for sushi,” he spoke with more of a bored tone, but you knew he was just trying to goad you into getting angry. Which, unfortunately, was working.

Your face flushed with ire as you leaned over, “That’s because you always say that when we order out! It’s literally my favorite thing and you just ‘happen’ to never be in the mood! Even when it was my week to pick!” You threw your hands up, truly angry now.

Clint stood from the table, a bored look on his face, “I’m gonna make a sandwich. This could take a while. Anyone want anything?” He glanced at Natasha who looked like she was about to punch either of you and Scott whose head was down on the table and potentially asleep. Steve was reading a book and clearly ignoring everything going on while Bucky stared at both of you, boring a hole deep into your skulls, Clint was sure.

When no one responded he simply threw his hands up, “Sandwich it is.”

Once more it was time for the group of you to order takeout. Often time people took turns, but the last time it was yours Tony had thrown such a fit about sushi you had decided to return the favor. You had politely (albeit begrudgingly) changed your order, though it appeared Tony wasn’t going to.

Since joining the Avengers things had been rocky between you and Tony to say the least. Oil and water, Maria had called it, and she wasn’t wrong. Tony often made little quips and remarks that drove you up a wall and your own stubborn nature had made him want to drink even more than usual. Fury had insisted you were an asset to the team and Rogers had agreed wholeheartedly. He had seen you in action, powers and all, and it just made sense.

For the most part you got along with the team swimmingly. Scott Lang had taught you a few secrets and tricks about breaking into places and after Clint had pranked you Scott had worked to help you return the favor. You and Nat had shared secrets and confided in one another while Steve and Bucky helped to train you in combat. Even Thor was your drinking buddy given how upbeat and positive he was and Banner did some teaching when you weren’t busy training. Everyone worked well.

Except for you and Tony.

Going out for dinner as a group was a chore since he had adored the attention that was brought your way. While Sam was pretty unknown to the public, Steve and Bucky kept their hats on and heads down. Tony, however, always made a deal of things. You’d roll your eyes and get irate.

Fighting as a team was arguably even worse. He’d try and head the team despite Captain America being at the forefront. When he attempted to boss you around (and with your role to always just ‘keep watch’) you’d give him attitude and step forward to fight regardless. Those powers you had weren’t an accident and it irritated you that Tony acted like they were. Suffice it to say things had frequently gotten tense.

“You know what, Tony? Order all the Italian you want. Order enough Italian to come out of your damn eyeballs and sprinkle it with hundred-dollar bills! I’m going out to get sushi.” You stood with a rather large amount of aggression, almost toppling over your chair. Instead you slammed it down and grabbed your zip-up hoodie from the back of the chair and tossed it on your person. Sure, it was unnecessary to add that bit about money, but you were angry. You were pissed. He constantly did this and you were tired of being cooped up in the same room as him.

As you were walking out you heard Tony shout back, “It’s those hundred-dollar bills that pay for your room, Y/N!” Always a sore spot to be sure, he was aware you hated living under his roof. They all did, but you didn’t like accepting what you felt were handouts. Even if it was compensation.

Your response was simply to keep walking and hold up your middle finger, flipping him the bird. You were so sick of him and knew that seeing his face might just result in punching it rather than a civil conversation. Throwing up the hood over your head you continued for the elevator, grateful that it was programmed to work strictly for this floor. It made it easier to take it down.

“Maybe I should make the elevator stop on every floor.” Tony muttered as he stared down at his clear tablet, considering it as he brought up the security camera on said elevator. You were still giving him the middle finger.

Bucky raised an eyebrow and Clint strolled back in with his turkey on rye, “She’ll actually murder you if you do. Let her go.” Clint spoke with his mouth full of food, Tony rolling his eyes and leaning back.

“Fine. But when she comes back the elevator might be broken completely.” He didn’t look at Clint but knew the words before they came out.

“Your funeral, Stark.” _____ Going out to get sushi had proven to be more helpful than you had figured it might be. Many folks didn’t really know your face at this point which meant you could maneuver into restaurants without a problem. The fresh (relatively) city air felt relieving from the stuffy apartment. It was good to walk down the street and feel finally alone despite being surrounded. Even the half-full restaurant was a relief, sitting at the sushi bar and simply having some sake to yourself.

Honestly, Italian would have been just fine, but there was something inside of you that felt the need to be obstinate around Tony Stark. He constantly pushed and prodded you and you were tired of it. Others seemed to find those one-liners cute and endearing but you always just wanted to hit him. It never failed.

Popping the final avocado roll into your mouth contentedly you paid your bill and made your way out. Evening had begun to descend upon the city and it was again relieving. For now you had forgotten about your little tiff with Tony as you had begun to call them. There was all that pent up energy, but you felt like it was manageable now. Very little in your life had felt that way nowadays but being with the Avengers had given you such purpose. You’d become friends, honestly, with all of them except for Tony.

Strolling back to the building you made your way to the elevator, contemplating just walking around the city instead for a moment. You needed to get some training in, though, and this seemed as good a time as any. It would be helpful to get out that remaining bit of anger and frustration before heading to bed. Besides, it was Friday which meant Tony was either getting ready to go out or would already be parading around downtown.

Getting into the building you made your way to the floor with the training facilities on it. Part of you had expected to hear FRIDAY’s voice booming and informing you that the stairs were required. Instead, you were brought to the floor you’d chosen and stepped off without issue.

Tony must be out already. I don’t hear anything. You had considered to yourself, already removing the hoodie as you strolled down the hall and into the locker room. There were sounds of punching and grunts echoing in the main gym which you recognized as Bucky’s. He had worked to try and get out all that aggression still felt in his body and all that energy he couldn’t quite shake. Maybe he’d help you with some training.

You changed with ease once in the locker room and brought out your phone, queuing up a Spotify playlist as you indeed noticed Bucky. You were in much more flexible gym attire now as you strolled onto the mats. It was an open gym, the one with proper equipment housed next door. This one was designed for combat practice with an open floorplan and high ceilings. Mirrors lined the walls to give one an indication of what was going on to prepare for practice.

What you’d found especially nice was the sound system Tony had installed. It made lone workouts that much more fun. Even when sparring with Barnes or Rogers you’d blare “Turn Down For What” as loud as you could and wind up laughing hysterically when the old men got into it more than you.

The thought brought a smile to your lips and Bucky noticed you walk in, “Hey, Y/N.” He pushed back his hair, already having worked up a sweat as he tossed a smile your way, pausing his workout.

“Hey, Buck. Wanna go a few rounds? I’ve got some frustration to get out.” You forced a bit of a smile, waving your phone a bit which meant you were going to put on music. For the most part, Bucky adored your same music. He’d found that much of what you used to get yourself moving he also found motivating. Even your guilty pleasures, like “Call Me Maybe” were ones he’d accidentally hum around others, realize, and walk away before anyone could catch him.

He grinned widely, “Only if you promise to put on the Beastie Boys. I liked that one you played last time.” Bucky rubbed the back of his head before wiping perspiration from his face and strolled to you. He was clearly more than happy to help you be distracted from “hating” Tony. Of course, he used the term is quotes since he wasn’t stupid.

Apparently the two of you were, however.

Pressing a few buttons on the device that had been designed especially for you (not that you knew that), you opened the playlist and put on the Beastie Boys. Of course, “Sabotage” would be the first one to play as Bucky had been referring to that. After would be “Intergalactic”, “Make Some Noise”, “No Sleep”, “Ch-Check It Out”, and then “Girls”. You knew the man’s preferences, and if nothing else those were your favorites.

As soon as the music started you tossed your phone down and ran at Bucky. He was quick to dodge and immediately the sparring had begun. It was of course in time with the music which had kept the two of you going. Even as you dodges, spun, kicked, and took a few hits that Bucky had held back on, it felt good to be moving.

Soon the first song had ended and the next song was beginning. Which was when you heard it.

Without much warning other than some heavy bass, you knew almost immediately what was going on. The sparring paused and Bucky felt his eyes roll hard as he watched you stop and look up, “Is that… Ozzy?” You squinted a bit as the music came into play, eyes widening once it was clear, “That mother fucker,” you spat the words out with vitriol and clenched your fists.

“Not this again.” Bucky muttered to himself as he turned to watch Stark stroll in without a care in the world. His hair was pushed back and he was donning a simple form-fitting black t-shirt, probably a size too small, and loose-hanging sweatpants. The man was here to piss you off.

He flashed a smile, “Oh, Y/N! Bucky! Fun coincidence, right?” Tony strolling onto the mats without a care in the world, keeping eye contact with you while Bucky tried hard not to say anything. He was the type to keep to himself and had avoided listening to you vent about Stark. Normally you kept it professional anyway, but he had a bad feeling.

Your eyes narrowed and you felt your fists clench, “We were in the middle of something, if you hadn’t noticed, and I had music playing.” It was clear how hard you were trying to keep your tone calm and even. Your heartrate was going up and your body was tensing but your tone and voice kept steady.

Stark shrugged, “Oh, you mean that garbage? Figured some good music might change things up a bit.”

Bucky placed his hand gently on your arm, “Y/N… Don’t.”

Closing your eyes you took a breath, trying to let go of the anger that was building, anger you had just worked so hard to get out of your system, “I don’t appreciate the change in music, Tony.”

He began to walk towards the lone punching bag he’d had soldered into the floor (thanks to Steve) and shrugged, “Not like it could make you any worse.”

Oh no. That was it.

“Shit.” Bucky muttered, stepping back as he watched you quickly storm towards Tony.

Angrily you got as close as you could without pushing him, “How fucking dare you, Tony! I’m a better fighter on my worst day than you could ever be! If you weren’t so goddamn full of yourself you might be able to see over your inflated ego!” Quickly your voice and tone had elevated, carried more by the acoustics in the room.

Tony turned back with his face just as irate, “Please! At least I put my skills to use. What were you doing? Wasting away until Fury happened to find you! Only motivation you even have is from this garbage music you listen to!”

Your face turned red as Bucky’s voice trying to calm the two of you down was lost, “Speaking of music, could you be any more inconsiderate? Just because the world doesn’t all bend to your will doesn’t mean you have to force it that way! You barely even let me fight when we’re working as a team! Which, by the way, is a fucking joke. The idea of you working with anyone other than your right hand!”

Arguably Bucky tried hard not to laugh, though Tony’s face flushed crimson at the low blow (no pun intended), “I get plenty of action thank you very much! At least I used to before you stepped in to this fucking place! Do you even leave?”

Now you had stepped closer, your face mere inches from his as you kept your eyes narrowed and fists clenched tightly, “You are such a piece of shit, Tony! I stay in here to get better at what I do! You just wander around and soak up the limelight because you’ve got such shitty self-esteem you need validation from the rest of the world!”

This fight was not about to end, and that much was clear to Bucky as he walked behind Tony. No, he was going to fix this. As Stark leaned in, probably to scream even harder, Bucky made a quick push to the billionaire’s back between his shoulder blades.

Tony hadn’t been paying attention, and neither had you, so he had no chance to stop himself as he felt his body crash into yours. You were pushed back against the firmly placed punching bag, surprised as Tony’s lips fell onto yours in a sort of perfect moment of collision. What had shocked you both, however, was that there was no fighting from the kiss.

Instead what happened next was more of a happy continuation, his lips staying hard against yours as he deepened the kiss, his eyes closing as he soaked in the feeling of himself against you. Your own arms wrapped around his neck and you tilted your head, feeling yourself explode at once with passion. It wasn’t anger, you realized, but an intense need. Tony hadn’t had women over because he’d felt so terribly distracted by you. Not because you were a burden, but because you were what he’d really wanted.

The only one who’d actually known was Bucky.

He watched as the two of you connected, rolling his eyes as he turned, making his way across his mat towards the door, “Friggen finally. Maybe now we can actually order dinner.”

His voice echoed, carrying to where the two of you were, both of you breaking from the kiss to laugh at his comment. As he walked out completely, leaving the two of you in peace, you grinned up at Tony, “Guess this means we’re going for sushi next time?”

He smirked down at you, a devilish look on his features, “I dunno. I sort of like what happens when I insist on Italian. I think I like disagreeing with you if this is where it gets us.”

You shook your head, “So what gives, Stark? I thought you hated me.”

He chuckled a little, leaning down and bumping his nose gently against yours in a surprisingly sweet gesture, “Call it envy. Spending all your time with everyone but me. Can’t help it if a guy gets a little jealous over a beautiful woman ignoring him.”

You laughed and smiled at him, giving him a chaste kiss on his lips before leaning your head back, “How about you just ask me on a date next time?”

He smirked, once more beginning to press his lips against you, “Are we fighting again? Because I think I like us fighting. But can we fight somewhere uh… more comfortable?”

You grinned, “I think we’ve got a lot of fighting to get out of our system.”

((Tagging: @skymoonandstardust @little-red-83 @holywaterbucketchallenge @kazchester-fanfiction @spookydefendordreamer @doct0rstrange @flintera @ohheyitsmik @growningupgeek @growleytria @iwantthedean @oriona75 @kittenofdoomage per usual, ask to be added/removed))

[randomthingsthatilike1]

So this is regarding the Supercat AU I just posted about yesterday (link here)--who in the supergirl cast would fill what position?

So first thing’s first: Press Secretary.

As Annabeth put it, for 6 years CJ Cregg managed the press through charm and disarm, a seduction. And yes Cat could do it, but you know who would both be good at it and enjoy it?

James.

Alex is obviously chief of staff (and for more comparisons between Jed and Leo and Kara and Alex, I p much already wrote like 2k already tbh). But I will leave here: you gotta best friend? Are they smarter than you? That’s your chief of staff. (And yeah former Surgeon General and army medic turned chief of staff Yup that’s Alex)

As for Lucy? Lucy I can see so much as Deputy Chief of Staff. She’s smart and determined and never sleeps and has So Many contacts in DC—former lawyer that briefed the joint-chiefs-of-staff, General Sam Lane’s daughter, and a Democrat? Yeah, she knows the game. She speaks Republican, since she was raised by one, and knows exactly how to charm and intimidate alike. So many Republican asswhipes just see an attractive woman or a shy little girl and just get absolutely hammered by Lucy. Very few see her coming. She’s been in Washington before sure—but there’s a new Congress every 2 years, and a lot of them have either forgotten or never knew that Lucy wasn’t just a damn wave, she was a tsunami (she was military back then. And her job consisted of keeping her mouth shut, both regarding the secrets she knew and her opinions on the (then) current political climate. This isn’t opening up a debate or anything but even most of the staunchest Republicans were like ‘that’s legit’ when former General Mike Flynn got fired for bad mouthing Obama when he was in uniform. People never really realized she had the blinders on, pretty much always.)

Oh man, and VP Hank Henshaw (yes I know his name is really J’onn but I’m making Hank his middle name and Henshaw his mom’s maiden name. He’s going into politics—a name like J’onn Jonzz doesn’t exactly play the best), former General and joint-chief, Kara’s foil. Most people see the sunshiney optimism, her youth, and her career background and forget that she’s former military. They see Hank, all of his experience with foreign affairs and military and wisdom and are comforted because there’s just one meter in which you judge the Vice President—on their ability to assume the Presidency. And this is politics—they don’t only want him as VP because he’s black, but it definitely made it easier to make that decision as opposed to Chief of Staff.

Winn. I blame @civilorange for this but cat and winn really could have a potential for friendship and really lbr Winn is Sunny and Awkward enough to be this version of Sam, the two of them the Batman and Robin of the White House (and oh man—the scandal isn’t that he accidentally slept with a call girl. The scandal is he’s the toymaker’s son). The boy can write, can knock socks off and has a phenomenal grasp of written oratory and syntax. But he’s completely fucked if he tries to do it in front of like. Anyone he doesn’t know very well, he just freezes up. The Toymaker’s son didn’t exactly have a sheltered childhood, filled with encouragement and support. He learned how to trust, but it’s tentative. He’s not right for Communications Director but as Cat’s deputy? That’s enough.

And then Kara. My kiddo. The star of the show. Like I mention before she was a ROTC college kid, didn’t have access to her trust fund because she was put in witness protection as a kid—her parents’ killer Non is apprehended when she was a sophomore in college but her parents very much instilled a sense of duty in her. She kept going. She comes from a very wealthy family sure, but she can’t access it until she’s 25 anyway Her mom was a Supreme Court Justice and her dad an astronaut at NASA (less of a commute than you might think when you have your own small private plane and are a pilot. Kara grew up knowing that the sky was never the limit), her aunt one of the youngest generals in military history—yeah, a lot of people wanted them dead. She’s a bit aimless in college, Art and Political Science and Linguistics, double minor in military science and astronomy. I don’t think most people realize just how smart Kara is, not to mention easily she bores. She likes being busy, being faster than any thoughts of her past (also no way does Astra ‘I love my niece more than anything in this life’ not teach kara at a v young age how to fight. Kara is very good at it)

She does her requisite 4 years, spends the next two years kind of just enjoying life as an artist, taking it easy and dealing with both childhood trauma and the shit she’s seen in the past 4 years and just slowing down a bit. She sells some of her art, not because she needs the money but because she wants to have it out there. She’s still in her 20’s when she starts working as a diplomat—her record definitely helps. She never really got to travel much but now she does—and damn does she just soak in languages like a sponge.

When she finally feels like setting roots, she goes back home, gets her grad degree in Astronomy—she’s always had a love affair with the stars. Maybe becomes a professor for a little while—you know the one, the one everyone has a crush on and is the one

And kara would 10/10 would be that person that stands up to some bigoted politician and just be absolutely Done with his policies and everyone else is just afraid of him, the guy’s been their district’s representative for decades and is corrupt af so she kind of gets into politics because fuck him she’d do a better job and she cares way more about their country than he does and oh man what if it’s like the Horton Wilde Campaign and the only other candidate has had four heart attacks (and God I’m just reminded of that line “There are worse things in the world than no longer being alive.”), so. She runs and lmao Kara’s surprised that she actually does win but 0/10 is anyone else because she’s dripping with charisma and sincerity and is so damn smart and inspirational and not to mention she’s pretty much looks like a Greek pantheon, along with an exceptional pedigree and has a spotless record (except—it’s not spotless. She was expecting it to come out, but she’s been discrete with any relationships she’s ever had, women with just as much skin in the game as she does. They don’t come up).

She wins, and then she keeps on winning. She moves from the House of Representatives to Governor and she’s two year into her second when her sister comes back to their home state, unannounced, with a crumpled up napkin she’s been carrying in her pocket for the past few days.

Danvers for America

And that brings me to my next point--Cat as Toby, White House Communications Director—there’s too much of a conflict of interest for the former (she takes a leave of absence) head of a media conglomerate to be the press secretary. Not to mention—Cat can charm the pants off of anyone but she is biting and sarcastic and sometimes a bit hostile. So can she do it? Sure. But more like a fill in kind of thing. There’s never any secret plan to fight inflation kind of thing. She could do it long term, but she doesn’t really want to. Cat was first and foremost, a journalist. A writer—there are very few people good enough to write for the White House, and Cat is one of them. (and you know who’s a grumpy cat? Toby. You know who else is a grumpy cat? Cat.)

Seriously, Toby and Cat would get together so well, they have such a similar sense of humor and idealism “it cant go far” “yes” “somewhere in this building is our talent”—or setting aflame horrible writing. She’s an award winning writer, able to inculcate hope and optimism into an entire city with just a few words, and almost completely on the fly. She takes a leave of absence from CatCo, brings Carter to DC—he’s young, he bounces back. She has plenty of savings that the lack of salary doesn’t really bother her.

And it’s been years but Cat feels re-energized, driven, motivated again. And it’s all because of Kara, brilliant, beautiful, wholly and sincerely good. She feels a tugging in her gut, fingers itching to smooth that little crinkle between her eyes, the one that shows up at the end of a particularly difficult day at the White House, one ending in body counts, absolute devastation in every glance and gesture because Kara takes everything so personally and Cat just wants to see her smile again. But Cat knows how this story goes. She tells herself that this is simply admiration, that she isn’t half in love with the most powerful person on the planet, that what she feels is just what the rest of the staff feels, and she’s misreading all the signs and gestures and body language because the President of the United States is not gay.

Except, that all goes right out of her brain whenever she sees Kara’s smile—like the sun. Kara’s sunshine, all of it, relieving warmth that envelops you like the softest, gentlest hug, rays of light breaking through after a snowstorm, light erupting through the clouds after a night you aren’t sure you’ll ever survive—the harsh, unrelenting, UV waves, burning everything in its path. Sunburns and melanoma, droughts, forest fires, sun’s rays harnessed to the point of combustion, going from pleasantly warm to scorching in a matter of minutes—the two Karas.

But Cat sees them both--and it’s not that she doesn’t care, because that’s the point. Cat does care. She sees both sides of Kara, and with every stolen moment, every conversation, every time she promises herself just once more—and it’s never enough. God help her if (when) Kara finally clues in, because there’s no going back—Cat is ruined. She’s fallen in love with her President, and Cat may be the woman with a plan but not this time.

[haledamage]

So my free time has evaporated, but I still want to finish the MEA Countdown thing, so here’s all the ones left that I haven’t done, including the ones that haven’t come up yet, so I can make sure I get them done :)

19 Days: Where would Ryder fall in the classic Paragon/Renegade morality system? What would their D&D alignment be? If you know their personality type in any personality typing systems (such as MBTI and Enneagram - you can find various type descriptions and tests using Google), feel free to add and discuss them here.

Lottie is very strongly paragon, unless you fuck with her brother or her friends, in which case she is not above kicking you out a window. She’d probably be neutral/chaotic good; she’s a good person through and through, but she’s not above sowing a little chaos if the mood strikes, and she can be positively ruthless to enemies.

18 Days: What qualities does Ryder like and dislike in other people? Are there any things they particularly appreciate or can’t stand?

She likes empathy and curiosity. She likes people who care, basically, whether that be about knowledge or experiences or other people, she likes when people care about something. The worst thing a person can be, in her opinion, is apathetic.

17 Days: List some of Ryder’s favorite things - colors, food, music, etc. Is there anything of this nature that they hate? Do they have any hobbies or skills outside of combat?

Lottie loves music, and usually has something playing on her private channel on her com. She also tends to hum to herself, which I imagine would annoy SAM to no end if he’s capable of annoyance. Her favorite color is sea green, and she has a terrible sweet tooth; her favorite foods are mostly desserts, her most favorite being ice cream.

Outside of combat, she’s a tinker. She likes to build little things, or work on cars. She also makes some really nice jewelry, when the mood strikes.

16 Days: How would Ryder define their sexuality?

Pansexual. She cares more about forming connections with people, and it doesn’t really matter to her their gender or species.

15 Days: Delve into the Ryder family background - how is/was their relationship with their father, sibling and mother? Do they get along, hero worship, close twin connection, sibling rivalry, was it strained, was it distant, etc.

Scotty and Lottie have always been very close. Scott is her best friend. Mom and Dad both worked a lot, but tried their best, which Lottie understands, though she sometimes wishes they’d been closer.

14 Days: Describe some important or formative events in Ryder’s history. How did these impact and shape them?

When her biotics developed was pretty important, obviously. The fact that she's a biotic while her twin brother isn't was interesting to a lot of scientists, so she spent a lot of time in labs and hospitals “under observation.” It awakened a curiosity in her about how the world works, though, and she went to college for anthropology. It also awoke her wanderlust, as she learned she really didn't like sitting around all day.

13 Days: Why did Ryder join the Alliance military? Later on, what were Ryder’s reasons for signing up to the Andromeda Initiative? Were they seeking adventure (or glory, or a challenge), wanting a new start, running from something, following their family, trying to secure a future for humanity, did they simply feel railroaded into it, etc.

She joined the Alliance to see the galaxy, and because they'd pay for college. The Andromeda Initiative was a no-brainer. Lottie and Scott were both excited about it as soon as Dad told them about it; wanderlust is a family trait, and the Ryders were all very much on board to boldly go.

12 Days: How will Ryder feel upon waking up from cryo? Relieved, excited, scared, impatient to get going, lost, etc.

All of those, yes. Lottie first felt relieved that she actually woke up, then overwhelmed as the full weight of what they were undertaking settled over her. The excitement of exploring the unknown won her over fairly quickly, though.

11 Days: Once in Andromeda, what are Ryder’s goals? What drives them?

Pursuit of knowledge. Finding a safe place for her people to live. Finding her place in Andromeda.

10 Days: Will Ryder ever miss the Milky Way? What things and places will they miss most?

She does sometimes. She misses her old Alliance friends, and her apartment in the Citadel wards. She misses takeout food and microbrew beer and other little things that she never thought about until they were 600 years behind her.

9 Days: Did Ryder have any notable friends or connections in the Milky Way? How about past relationships? Which friendship or relationship was the most significant to them?

She doesn't have any really close friends she left behind. She was a rambler, and never stayed in one place long enough to form close friendships. She's friendly and open, though, so she made friends easily enough. Her closest friend has always been her brother.

8 Days: How does Ryder feel about aliens? Are they uncomfortable, wary, intrigued, curious, intimidated, not bothered, etc? In the Milky Way, where did they stand on humanity’s place in galactic society - Earth first, Terra Firma, human superiority, peaceful cooperation, pro-galactic integration & unity, etc? How will they feel upon discovering that there are sentient alien races in Andromeda?

Lottie is curious of aliens and other cultures. She loves to learn about other people's perspectives and try and understand their way of life. She is very pro-galactic integration, and wants to take that same approach to any alien races she meets in Andromeda. She believes that we're stronger together than apart.

7 Days: Ryder’s father gave the twins informal N7 training in the past. How did Ryder feel about this (pressured, resentful, grateful, motivated, overworked, excited, etc)? What are their feelings on “N7” as a symbol? How do they relate to it, if at all?

She recognized it as what it was: her dad trying to connect with his kids. It wasn't something she was really interested in, but she wanted to know her dad better and that was a way to do it. N7 never really meant much to her, and it was never something she aspired to, but she recognizes that it means a lot to her father, and that's enough for her.

6 Days: Does your Ryder know your Shepard? What do they think of Shepard? Would they get along? What would Shepard think of Ryder?

Lottie knows of Alexi Shepard, of course. Everyone knows of Shepard, but they've never met. She appreciates what the Commander does for humanity's relationship with the other Council races. I think they'd get along, though. Both are people who put others before themselves, and I think they'd find a lot of common ground there.

5 Days: Out of the squadmates, Tempest crewmembers and other characters shown so far, who do you think Ryder will get along well with? Who do you think they will get along best with? Why?

Lottie and Peebee will bond over the joy of exploration, and she and Suvi over a love of science. I don't think there's anyone she won't get along with. She and Liam will get along best, though. Both are idealists and proud space cowboys, and that along with the bonding power of fighting side by side will make them nearly inseparable.

4 Days: Out of the squadmates, Tempest crewmembers and other characters shown so far, is there anyone you think Ryder won’t gel so greatly with, dislike or otherwise come into conflict with? Why?

She'll probably get along with everyone, as least to be polite to, but she and Cora may butt heads a little. Cora knew Alec better than Lottie every did, and she'll always be a little jealous of that; Lottie ended up in a job that should have been Cora's, though, and that'll she'll always be a little jealous of that. They'll be friends, but I think that wedge will always be between them. She and Drack may have trouble seeing eye to eye, as well, as she prefers diplomacy as the answer and he much prefers to punch his way out of an argument; she'd wholeheartedly trust him at her back, though.

3 Days: Do you plan on romancing anyone with Ryder? If so, who? Why? What qualities would Ryder find attractive in a partner (if applicable)?

Lottie will either romance Liam, Peebee, or Vetra. I love all of them a lot and I don't know who I'll choose until it happens. She'd be very attacted to Vetra's intensity, Peebee's curiosity, and Liam's optimism (and to their faces, because they're all beautiful). I think Liam may end up edging out the ladies and winning Lottie's heart, just because they go through a lot of shit together before they ever meet Vetra and Peebee, and his support and compassion when she needed it most is something she would never forget.

2 Days: Provide a “famous quote” from Ryder that sums them up as a character (like the ones for the squadmates in their official character profiles).

“We're like the Enterprise, Scotty! Boldly going where no one has gone before!” (maybe I'll eventually finish and post the thing I wrote in which she says this lol)

1 Day: Which song/songs would be “theme songs” for Ryder? Are there any symbols you associate with Ryder? If you’ve created a moodboard for them, share it here. If not, what sorts of things would be on their moodboard? Describe their aesthetic. What Hogwarts house would they be sorted into? If you’ve written fanfic involving Ryder already, share it here. [you don’t need to do all of these, they’re merely intended as creative exercises]

“Born for This” - Paramore, “Wherever I Roam” - Metallica. Her aesthetic is cups of coffee and half-built machines, long walks under the stars and notebooks full to bursting and piles of photographs, blue and pink and black. She's probably a Griffindor, maybe a Ravenclaw?

1 Day too long: In Citadel space, AIs are illegal. How does Ryder feel about Artificial Intelligence? Are they wary or afraid, are they pro-AI, do they consider AIs to have personhood, etc? How does Ryder feel about SAM and their constant connection to it? Are they glad for the upgrade, do they find it invasive, have mixed feelings, etc?

She doesn't have a problem with AI. I don't know if she considers them all like people, because there are different levels of AI, but she thinks they have the capacity to become person-like. She loves SAM, she loves its bad attempts at humor and the way it always reminds her to eat and makes sure she doesn't overwork herself.

2 Days too long: How does Ryder feel about being thrust into the role of humanity’s Pathfinder (burdened, honored, rewarded, excited, etc)? Are they confident or unsure about this? How will they cope?

She is terrified, but wouldn't admit it even under torture. Pathfinder isn't a role that was meant for her, not really, and the fact that she's now burdened with the literal survival of the human race, maybe even the whole Initiative, is terrifying. She's her father's daughter, though, and knows that nothing was ever accomplished by giving up, so she does the best she can and trusts in her team and her friends. She's not alone, and that's what really keeps her going.

[celtic7irish]

Tell-A-Vengers

Written based on this prompt from InvisbleDragon on AO3:

"Tony talks to Rhodey, who talks to Sam, who talks to Steve, which is overheard by Clint, who spills it to Natasha, who mentions it to Bucky. But like the game Telephone the original words have gotten scrambled and now Bucky wants to know exactly what Tony meant. Unfortunately, he can't seem to find him."

Enjoy!

THE BEGINNING (RHODEY)

  Tony scowled at the blueprints that Jarvis had provided for him at his request.  It had taken some sneaky maneuvering to break into the appropriate files at SHIELD Headquarters with no one the wiser.  As an extra bonus, Tony now knew that Phil Coulson was alive, and had confirmed that Fury was still a lying son-of-a-bitch. 

  “How does that even work?!” he demanded, stabbing a screwdriver at the schematics.  “I mean, I get that it was seventy years ago, but there’s no way that’s not hurting him.”  He muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath.  Around him, the inner workings of the Winter Soldier’s cybernetic arm spun in lazy blue circles.

  “I swear, I could do better in my sleep,” he sighed, dropping the screwdriver.  “All right, Jarvis.  We’re going to fix this.  Think he’ll let me? I mean, I’ve gotta admit that I might have ulterior motives here.”  Despite the fact that there was no way that arm was functional without causing James Barnes an incredible amount of pain, the technology itself was fascinating.  Tony had wanted to get his hands on it for quite a while, and he just knew he could make something better.  More sensitive, more durable, less painful.  And without any of the hidden control or disabling triggers that Hydra had undoubtedly implanted into the prosthetic.

  “I have no data from which to extrapolate the reaction of Sergeant Barnes,” Jarvis replied.  “However, perhaps Captain Rogers would be amenable to discussing the possibilities with him.”  He paused.  “Of course, you could simply ask Sergeant Barnes,” he suggested.

  It was sound advice.  Which meant, of course, that Tony felt free to ignore it.

  “Nah. He’ll love it!” he decided, clapping his hands together!  “All right, J, let’s get to work,” he decided.

  Jarvis made a noise reminiscent of a human’s sigh, but broke down the specs nonetheless.  “Colonel Rhodes is requesting entrance,” he added politely.

  Tony’s grin widened.  “Fantastic! Let him in!” he ordered, and the doors slid open, admitting a harried-looking Rhodey.  “Honeybunch!” Tony exclaimed.  “Did Barnes finally finish kicking your ass across the gym?” he demanded.  For some reason, the two soldiers had taken to each other immediately upon introduction, and oftentimes sparred together.

  Rhodey rolled his eyes.  “Cap came by,” he said by way of explanation, wandering over to take a look at the diagrams and schematics spread out in the air around Tony.  “Wait, is that…Barnes’ arm?” he asked, intrigued.

  Tony grinned.  “Yeah.  I think I can make some improvements.  Wanna help?” he asked.  Rhodey might not be an engineer like he was, but he did have a degree in Aerospace Engineering, and he was an excellent partner.  Like Bruce, he knew enough to ask the right questions, and understand the answers.

  His best friend grinned back at him.  “Why do I get the feeling this is more than just you being nice, Tone?” he asked wryly.

  “Because you know me and tech,” Tony retorted, reaching out to rub a hand against one of Dummy’s joints, causing the bot to make a whirring sound of contentment.  “I’ve been dying to get my hands on that tech since I first saw it.”

  Rhodey made a face.  “Ew, Tony. I don’t need to know about you and your damn technophilia in regards to Captain America’s best friend!”  He paused for a moment, considering.  “Please tell me Cap doesn’t know,” he pleaded.

  Tony just laughed, throwing an arm around the other man’s waist.  “Come on, sourpuss, help a guy out, would you?” he teased, pulling Rhodey into the middle of the schematics.  With a huff, Rhodey gave in, and Tony grinned in triumph, reaching for one of the images.

  “He’s gonna love this!” he exclaimed excitedly, delving merrily into the world of engineering and dragging his friend along for the ride.

  THE FIRST MISTAKE (SAM)

  Sam was eating a yogurt at the kitchen bar on the Avengers common floor when Rhodey strode in, his hair still damp from a quick shower.  “Hey, man,” Sam greeted.  “Stark finally let you go?”

  The War Machine pilot grinned at Sam, walking past him to rummage in the fridge.  “More like he got so involved in his work that he forgot I was there.  So I snuck out,” he admitted.  Sam laughed.

  “I hear you,” he replied.  It wasn’t unusual for Stark to bury himself in the workshop for days on end if somebody – usually Bruce or Cap – didn’t drag him out of there.  “What’s he working on now?” he asked curiously.  As far as he knew, the Iron Man armor was in perfect working condition, and none of them had put in requests for updated weaponry or armor.

  Rhodey shrugged, his back turned as he threw together a couple of sandwiches.  “He’s working on a new arm for Barnes,” he replied easily.  “Pretty sure he’s in love.”

  Sam froze for a moment, his head snapping up to stare incredulously at the other man’s back.  There was no way he’d heard that right.  “A new arm?” he repeated dumbly, unable to even think about the second part without breaking his brain.  “Why?”

  Rhodey glanced back at him with a shrug.  “Who knows?  Apparently he thinks the guy needs a new arm.  We didn’t really get around to discussing why.”  He set his plate at the bar and then settled on a stool next to Sam.  “Speaking of Barnes, where is the guy?” he asked.

  Sam was grateful for the change of conversation.  “I think Steve took him to a museum,” he said, licking the last of his yogurt from the spoon.  “I think he got a couple of those City Pass things, so they’ll be gone all day.”   

  Rhodey nodded.  “Cool,” he decided.  “Hey, you wanna take those fancy wings of yours for a spin?” he asked.  “I don’t know about you, but I need to think about something other than Tony and his newest obsession for a while.”

  Sam nodded quickly.  “Yeah, yes, let’s do that,” he agreed, wishing he could bleach his brain.  He did not want to think about Stark and Barnes – or about Cap’s reaction to Stark’s interest in his best pal.

  Standing, the two men headed for their suits.  A long flight was just what they needed.

    THE SECOND MISTAKE (STEVE)

  The space between Steve’s shoulders was itching, and he twisted his head around, catching sight of Sam watching him with an odd expression on his face.  Sam blinked at him when he realized he was being watched in return, then looked away.  Steve frowned.

  “Stevie?” Bucky murmured from behind him.  Steve turned to his best friend and offered him a reassuring smile. 

  “Yeah, Buck?” he asked, deciding to check in with Sam later.  He was sure the other man would’ve approached him by now if it was urgent.  Sam didn’t seem to be panicking.  He was more considering, so Steve did his best to ignore the feeling that he was being watched, again.

  His friend was looking at him oddly now, and Steve blinked.  “Oh, sorry.  What is it?” he asked sheepishly.

  Bucky just gave him a sharp look.  “I asked if you’ve seen Stark around lately.”

  Steve shook his head, wondering why Bucky had been looking for the engineer in the first place. “He’s probably in his workshop,” he said vaguely.   “That’s where he spends most of his time when he’s not on a mission or at SI.”  And if he could wriggle out of going to SI and hide in the lab, Steve was sure he would, too.  Tony Stark had never met a board room he couldn’t wriggle out of.

  Bucky considered that for a moment, then accepted Steve’s answer with a nod.  “Am I allowed in there?” he asked next, curious.

  Steve tipped his head.  “I don’t know,” he said honestly, biting his tongue before he could ask why Bucky would want to go visit Stark’s lab.  The Soldier hated labs and workshops with a passion, anything that reminded him of the torture he’d been put through as an asset of Hydra.  “Jarvis?”

  “Sergeant Barnes has an access code to the workshop,” Jarvis replied.  “Sergeant Barnes, I will ensure that you are provided with the code should you wish to enter.  I apologize that you were not informed of  your access privileges.”  He did sound regretful, which still managed to surprise Steve, even after all these months.  How could a computer sound so very human?

  “Cool,” Bucky decided, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.  “Is Stark in there now?”

  “Sir is in the workshop,” Jarvis confirmed.  “Shall I alert him to your impending arrival?”

  Bucky was already wandering off, but he grinned.  “Nah.  If you tell him I’m comin’, he’ll just run away,” he drawled.  He paused to considering . “Unless you’ve gotta tell him,” he amended. “I wouldn’t want you to break protocol just ‘cause I wanna see the guy.”

  As Jarvis assured the soldier that he had no protocols in place that required him to alert Tony about any of the Avengers who wanted to enter the labs, as long as they had an access code, Sam wandered over to Steve.  “Where’s he running off to?” the man murmured.

  “To see Stark,” Steve admitted mournfully, completely confused.  It took him several seconds to realize that Sam had gone completely still next to him.  He turned his head to stare at the other man through narrowed eyes.  “Sam?” he questioned sharply, which seemed to snap the other man out of it.

  Sam blinked, then let out a harsh breath of air.  “So I guess it’s true, then,” he muttered.

  “What’s true?” Steve demanded.  “Do you know why Bucky is going to see Stark in the workshop?”

  Dark eye flicked up and then away again, and Sam frowned.  “If he hasn’t said anything to you yet, then I probably shouldn’t, either,” he sighed.  Steve fought the urge to reach out and shake the other man.  Same must’ve had an inkling about is thoughts on the matter, because he shrugged.  “All right, but only because the last thing we need is you storming down there after your buddy and taking down the building or something,” he sighed at last.

  Steve couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t take off after his best friend anyhow, but he nodded to show that he understood.  “Stark’s kind of got a crush on Barnes,” Sam said quickly.  Steve’s mind stuttered, then came to a grinding halt as he tried to process that.  “I guess he hasn’t gotten around to actually telling him that, though,” he surmised.  “I mean, Bucky hasn’t said anything to you, has he?” he asked, looking askance at the taller man.

  Steve shook his head.  “Um….no,” he replied, his voice strangled.  “He hasn’t said anything.”  Steve wasn’t even sure if Bucky liked guys.  He’d always been popular with the dames.  Not that Steve wouldn’t support him if he wanted to have a guy, but Stark?  That just sounded like a horrible idea.  Bless Pepper for her steadfast loyalty, but if even she couldn’t hold out, then what was to keep Tony from breaking his best friend’s heart?

  Sam sighed.  “Look, maybe I misunderstood,” he said uneasily.  “I mean, maybe Rhodes meant something else.”

  Steve just frowned, staring blankly at the elevator Bucky had disappeared in.

  He really, really hoped it was something else.  Because if Stark pursued Bucky, he’d have to get through a pissed off Super Soldier first.

    THE THIRD MISTAKE (CLINT)

  Clint rubbed his hands together gleefully, grinning.  So Tony was interested in Bucky, was he?  Oh, this was good.

  Steve and Sam hadn’t noticed him yet, perched as he was in the vents above the common living area.  He had seen Bucky wander off, but had figured it was just because the Soldier had been promised fancy new weapons by Stark.  Clint had cheerfully shown off his Stark-made bow and arrows, and even Natasha had been proud to show Bucky the slender, perfectly balanced blades that Tony had made for her.

  Tony being in love – or in lust, at least – with Bucky would explain a couple of things, though.  For one, the fact that the man seemed obsessed with Bucky’s enhancements in a way that he never was with Steve.  Technically, they both had Super Soldier serum in them.  Maybe it had more to do with Bucky’s programming?

  Oh, Nat was going to love this!  As much as she pretended not to care, Clint knew that Natasha had an interest in Tony’s well-being.  They were actually friends now, which seemed to surprise both of them.

  Still, he’d better verify things for himself.  If he brought this to Nat without any evidence to back it up, she’d nail him to the floor.  And then tattle on him to Coulson.

  With only one option open to him, Clint grinned as he moved along the vents, heading for Tony’s labs.  He was pretty sure that Tony had designed these walkways to be large enough for him to crawl through easily, knowing his penchant for doing so.  Tony insisted that the tunnels were for the security and cleaning bots that moved around the ceilings and walls of the building, but Clint rarely came across them, and they were still smaller than the vents.  Clint was pretty positive that Jarvis had standing orders to monitor his location when he was crawling around the building and to keep the bots out of his way.

  Ten minutes later, he was crouched above Tony’s workshop, just in time to see Tony reach out and touch Bucky’s metal arm.  Wordlessly, the dark-haired soldier held it out to him for inspection.  Tony’s head was bent as his fingers felt along the ridges and plates, occasionally murmuring questions that Bucky answered just as quietly, his attention focused entirely on the other man.

  Clint drew back; he didn’t need to see anything else.  Just before he was away and gone, Bucky looked straight up at the vents.  Clint didn’t stick around long enough to read his expression.

  THE FOURTH MISTAKE (NATASHA)

  Clint grunted as Natasha threw him to the mat for the third time.  He was actually doing pretty well holding his own, and had managed to pin her, briefly, once.  However, he was usually better than that; he was distracted today.

  “Want to fill me in?” she asked when Clint tapped out, keeping his arm pinned behind his back.  Clint turned his head so he could scowl up at her, but Natasha wasn’t impressed.  She just wrenched his arm a bit harder, and he yelped.

  “All right, all right! I’ll talk!” Clint cried.  Natasha released him, standing up so Clint could roll over onto his back, clutching his wrist.  “Geez, no need to be so brutal, Nat,” he grumbled.  She just crossed her arms, content to wait him out, and Clint sighed, his head dropping down onto the mat.  “I think that Stark’s got a crush on Steve’s war pal,” he muttered reluctantly.

  Natasha felt her eyebrows rise in surprise.  She rolled over that statement in her mind for a moment, admitting that she could see it happening.  Maybe.  Stark was a notorious playboy, but after Afghanistan, that had mostly stopped.  Pepper and Tony had been together for a while, but Natasha had known that they wouldn’t make it, as awful as that knowledge had felt.  Pepper hadn’t been able to handle Tony being Iron Man, hadn’t been able to deal with the risks he took on a near-daily basis.  And once he’d joined the Avengers?  Things had started going downhill rapidly.

  But Barnes….Barnes was a soldier.  He knew the risks, took them himself.  He could stand with the rest of them, fight side-by-side with people like Steve and Tony and the Hulk.  But that didn’t negate the fact that Barnes had killed Stark’s parents.  Could Tony move past that, enough to actually be a good partner to Barnes?

  “You have proof,” she surmised, well aware that Clint wasn’t stupid enough to come to her with nothing more than a rumor.

  Clint allowed her to help him to his feet, his eyes sharp and intelligent as the met her gaze.  “Nat, they were in Tony’s lab,” he admitted.  “Barnes let Tony touch him.” Natasha stilled; Clint wasn’t talking about the kind of touch that happened amongst teammates, or even friends.

  “He gave Tony access to his metal arm?” she asked, dumbfounded.  Barnes guarded that arm as fiercely as Tony had once protected the arc reactor in his chest, terrified of what could happen if it were to fall into the wrong hands.  Natasha knew that there were traps and triggers hidden inside the arm, possibly a kill switch, though the Winter Soldier had never confirmed that.  Not even Steve was allowed near it outside of the gym.  For Barnes to let Tony touch it...that was both unexpected and somehow terrifying.

  She frowned.  “Does Barnes know?” she asked.  If he was letting Tony that close, he might be aware that something was going on, but Tony wasn’t exactly forthcoming about things like emotions, and Barnes was still pretty oblivious to anything more subtle than an outright confession.

  Clint shrugged, then shook his head.  “Maybe?” he said.  “I dunno.  I don’t think so, because otherwise we’d probably have to hold Steve back from throwing Tony out a window or something,” he observed wryly.  Natasha had to agree.  Which left only one course of action.

  She needed to talk to James Barnes.  Soon.

  THE FINAL MISTAKE (BUCKY)

  Bucky wasn’t exactly surprised when Natasha cornered him one evening, following a brief but satisfying scuffle with a small AIM cell that had built – and released – a horde of electricity-devouring locust bots.  Part of downtown New York City was still in the dark.  Clint was recovering from a nasty electrical shock under the careful eye of one Phil Coulson, Thor was with Steve at the battle site, and Tony and Bruce were happily ensconced in Tony’s lab, dissecting a couple of the locust bots to see if they could figure out how they’d stored the electricity they’d absorbed – or where they’d sent it.

  Bucky was busy dismantling and cleaning his guns and knives, more for his own peace of mind than any real need; there had been no need to use the guns against the locusts, and his primary job had been to destroy the control unit, which he had done quite expediently by crushing important pieces of it with his metal hand after Iron Man had dropped him practically on top of the device.

   His arm twinged painfully, spasming so that his metal fingers clenched tight before relaxing, and Bucky bit back a curse.  He should probably have that looked at sooner rather than later, lest the arm become wholly inoperable.

  He acknowledged Natasha’s presence with a soft acknowledgement.  “Black Widow.”

  “Soldier,” she replied flatly.  There was something off in her tone, though, and Bucky found himself looking up and giving her all of his attention.  But Natasha wasn’t looking at his face.  “You should have Tony take a look at your arm.”  Her expression gave nothing away, and Bucky shrugged, turning back to his weapons and securing them about his person.

  “He’s busy,” he said in reply.  “I’ll go see ‘im before I become…inefficient,” he reassured his former protégé, taking a moment to decide which of the words cascading through his mind would be least offensive to her.

  Natasha sighed.  “I think he’d probably prefer to see you now,” she huffed at him, her tone bordering on exasperated.  Bucky glanced at her in surprise, blinking when she glared at him, her hands on her hips.  Part of it was an act, he knew, but Natasha seemed genuinely irritated with him. “His research can wait.  I’d think he’d want to make sure you’re okay first,” she said pointedly.

  Bucky finally realized that what she was saying and what she was saying weren’t the same thing.  “Spit it out, little red,” he said. “You ‘n archer-boy have been dancing around somethin’ for ages now.  Wanna fill me in?”

  Natasha frowned at him, then closed her eyes.  “Ah, Soldat,” she murmured.  “Tony hasn’t said anything to you.”  It wasn’t a question, so Bucky didn’t answer.  Instead, he propped his hip against the table and crossed his arms, wincing as his metal arm whined in protest.  Natasha gave him a wry smile.  “Tony doesn’t like to talk about his feelings,” she said mysteriously.  “Maybe you should take the lead, if you’re interested.”

  With that, she turned and walked away, her hips swaying.  Behind her, Bucky narrowed his eyes.  Just what was it that everybody knew that he didn’t?  And why did they think that Tony held the answer to the question?

  He supposed there was only one way to find out.  He had to go find Tony.

  THE HUNT FOR TONY

  Finding Tony turned out to be considerably harder than Bucky had anticipated.  He had assumed that Stark was still in the lab, but it seemed that their resident genius – or one of them, anyway – had wandered off at some point.  Bruce politely informed Bucky that he didn’t expect Tony back for several hours at least, and then proceeded to continue his research.  The Soldier had left, having no further business in the lab.

  Stark wasn’t in his workshop, either, tinkering with cars or the Iron Man suit.  Bucky frowned, then tipped his head up to the ceiling.  “Jarvis?” he asked uncertainly, not sure if the AI would answer him or not.  When they’d first been introduced, Bucky had jumped like a scalded cat and been almost unforgivably rude.  Jarvis hadn’t held it against him, and he’d managed to apologize about the robot butler comment, but Bucky was still uncomfortable around the AI.  The others treated him like a person, and Bucky had a hard time considering a machine that he couldn’t see to be a person, but he did understand that it was something Tony had created , and that it had its own personality.  He vaguely remembered Howard Stark talking about a family butler once, and wondered if this Jarvis was modeled after that one.  From all accounts, Tony had adored Edwin Jarvis and his wife Ana. They hadn’t been part of the Winter Soldier’s mission, so beyond knowing that they existed, Bucky knew only what Tony had told him.

  “Yes, Sergeant,” Jarvis acknowledged, his tone gentle and non-threatening.  Bucky relaxed a bit.

  “D’you know where Tony’s gone?” he asked, grimacing at the plaintive tone.  He was anxious to get this mess over with, a leftover from the Winter Soldier.  Complete mission as quickly and efficiently as possible, don’t waste time or resources.

  Jarvis hesitated for only a millisec – but he did hesitate, Bucky noticed – then admitted, “I do not.”  Bucky’s breath caught in his throat, a thrill of alarm going through him.  “Sir deviated from his itinerary and left the Mark Forty-Seven and his phone behind.  I have been attempting to locate him through…less official means.”  Which meant he was probably hacking city cameras and SHIELD computers this very instant, Bucky surmised.  He sometimes wondered if Tony hadn’t given the AI too much autonomy, but Jarvis never seemed to overstep his bounds without instruction. Unless, apparently, Tony disappeared.  Then all bets were off.

  Bucky considered the implications of what he was about to do for all of three seconds.  “I’m gonna search the old fashioned way,” he decided.  “If you’ll let me have his phone and the suitcase armor, I’ll go find ‘im.  Where was he headed?”

  There was no hesitation this time, Jarvis providing what information he could, even as Bucky stalked out the door and headed for the Quinjet platform.  The sooner he found Tony Stark, the sooner he could find out what was actually going on.

  THE EXPLANATION & RESOLUTION

  It turned out that Tony Stark was apparently an expert at being kidnapped.  Fortunately for him, he was also an expert at escaping after he’d been kidnapped, usually by causing so much trouble for his captors that they realized it would be far safer for their sanity if they just let him walk away.

  Of course, the part that pissed Bucky off was that Tony had known the bad guys were after him, and had offered himself up as bait.  It actually was the most expedient way to gain access to AIM’s latest technological nightmare before it was released on the streets of New York, but that didn’t negate the fact that Tony could have died.  And the Avengers would have had no idea what had happened to him.

  For the first few hours after recovering a battered, singed Tony Stark from downtown Mahattan – AIM had been foolish to keep him so close by, the morons – Bucky was content to let the Avengers have at him.  Banner had nearly hulked out, Steve’s fists hadn’t unclenched before he’d finally stormed out after benching Tony for the next month barring world-ending disaster, Clint had just mourned the fact that he hadn’t been allowed to tag along, and Natasha had delivered a blistering lecture and a well-placed punch that had left Tony whimpering and curled as far away from her as possible.  Thor had been the only one who had praised Tony’s inventiveness, though he had noted that having friends around to help was more likely to succeed than by going alone. 

  Once Tony seemed properly chastised, he was left alone with Bucky, who just stared him down until Tony dropped his eyes, one hand picking at the sheets tossed over his lap.  “Umm…could you just, maybe, yell at me now and get it over with? And if you’re gonna punch me, please avoid my face.  It’s my best feature.”  He looked like he wanted to say something else, but stopped himself, and Bucky sighed, uncrossing his arms.

  “Yer a damn idiot, ya know that, right?” he demanded wearily, his Brooklyn accent thicker with weariness.  “But you’re alive, and I think the others have yelled at ya enough.  That’s not why I’m here,” he admitted.

  Tony looked up sharply.  “It’s not?” he asked, confused.  “I figured you were here to guard me or something.”

  Bucky snorted.  “Jarvis has got that covered,” he said pointedly, and Tony winced.  Jarvis was in a snit, which meant that Tony couldn’t so much as hobble to the bathroom without the AI sending an alert to the rest of the Avengers.  Bucky didn’t envy him in the slightest.  After all, it wasn’t like the AI would get tired.  Bucky wondered idly if Jarvis was capable of holding a grudge.  He was pretty sure the answer was ‘yes’.

  “Okay, then,” Tony said, bringing them back on track.  “So what’s up, Red October?”

  Bucky allowed himself to be distracted for a moment.  “Red October?” he asked, intrigued.  He knew that Tony had a variety of nicknames for his teammates and friends, but he’d never been given any name other than Soldier by the other man before.

  Tony rolled his eyes.  “Jarvis, next movie night, queue up The Hunt for Red October.  Do we have the book?”

  “The Hunt for Red October is in the library,” Jarvis replied with amused tolerance.  “Shall I have a copy delivered to Sergeant Barnes’ suite?”

  “I can get it myself,” Bucky protested, blushing.  “Jus’ tell me where it is?” he asked.

  “Certainly, Sergeant Barnes,” Jarvis agreed.  “Please let me know when you would like to retrieve it.”

  Bucky murmured a sincere thanks before returning the conversation back to its original topic.  “What did you say about me six days ago?” he asked.

  Tony blinked at him, confused.  “Uh, you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific, Elsa,” he stated.  “I don’t remember what I said ten minutes ago, much less six days ago.”

  Bucky scowled, unconsciously straightening his spine from its exhausted slouch.  His flesh hand touched briefly along his metal one; if Tony didn’t boot him out in the next minute, he’d ask the other man to help with repairs.  “I dunno,” he admitted.  “But you said somethin’, and now everybody’s lookin’ at me funny.”

  Tony tilted his head back to lean against the wall with a frown.  “Jarvis, do you know what conversation he’s talking about?”

  There is a moment of silence while Jarvis reviews the logs for the past week.  There is laughter in his voice (Bucky is finally starting to see why the others consider him to be more human than machine) when he says, “I believe Sergeant Barnes may be referring to the conversation you held with Colonel Rhodes regarding a possible replacement for Sergeant Barnes’ prosthetic limb.”

  “Play recording,” Tony ordered.  “Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

  “Because you know me and tech,” Tony’s voice filled the room, as clear as if he was speaking right in front of Bucky, and the two men stared at each other, confused.  “I’ve been dying to get my hands on that tech since I first saw it.”

  Rhodey’s voice was filled with amused disgust.  “Ew, Tony. I don’t need to know about you and your damn technophilia in regards to Captain America’s best friend!”  There was a brief pause.  “Please tell me Cap doesn’t know.”

  The playback ended, and Tony said slowly, “Okay. Well, that was true.  Your arm shouldn’t work the way it’s set up, but it does.  But I’m, like, ninety-nine percent sure that it’s gotta be causing you a ton of pain.”  Bucky didn’t deny it, and he sighed.  “But I was going to ask, I swear,” he added.  “Just a soon as I had a working prototype to show you.

  Bucky shook his head.  “I don’t care about that,” he said impatiently.  “If you think you can do better, I’d appreciate the help,” he admitted.  “What I wanna know is how that turned into the Black Widow ordering me to come talk to you about feelings.”  He put all the disgust behind that single word that he could manage, and Tony huffed a laugh, grimacing as that agitated his bruised ribs.

  Jarvis obligingly played snippets of other conversations, with video in case the audio wasn’t damning enough.   By the end of it, Tony was howling, clutching at his ribs, and Bucky was wishing he could sink into the floor and disappear.  Or else murder the Avengers so that he could escape this humiliation.

  “Oh my god.  It’s like Telephone!” Tony was chortling, tears of laughter streaming down his reddened cheeks.  It wasn’t a pretty look, but his amusement was contagious, and Bucky found himself relenting enough to give him a wry smile in return, grudgingly amused.  He was still gonna strangle couple of people, though.

  “Telephone?” he asked.  “Is that like Russian Scandal?”  It wasn’t a game he’d ever played, but some of the younger ones in the Red Room would play it in the beginning.  The Winter Soldier hadn’t understood why their trainers tolerated such a game, until he realized that it was, in a way, training of its own, helping the children to understand how easy it was to change just a single word in a sentence, and come out with an entirely different result than what was originally intended.  It was a practice they could later put into real life, the subtle twist of words over time to slowly change the direction of history.

  Tony grinned.  “So, what do you say we really give them something to talk about?” he chortled.  Bucky shifted position to indicate that he was listening, and Tony’s smile widened.  “I have the prototype almost finished, it’s in the fabricators now.  Then I’ll have to handle some fine tuning, but I’ll need data for you for that part.  So…I’m thinking we go into the workshop, lock everybody out, and darken the windows.”

  Bucky considered the other man’s proposal, his head bowed so that his bangs shielded his eyes from view while he thought.  Stark was proposing that they encourage the rumors that the two of them were…together.  Was he suggesting a prank? Or did he just like stirring up trouble? Was there a difference?

  And, of course, the most important question: did Bucky care?

  With a shrug and a carefree grin that hinted at the man underneath the Soldier, he said, “Why not?”  He paused for a second, giving Tony a look that forestalled the other man’s reply.  “After you’re healed,” he stipulated.

  Tony sighed, but slumped back with a pout, crossing his arms carefully over his chest.  “Fine,” he grumbled.

  Bucky smirked, pulling a chair up next to the bed and settling into it, handing over a tablet that he’d brought with him just in case he needed the bribe.  “Now, how ‘bout we get some plannin’ done?” he suggested slyly.  “’s not like we ain’t got the time.”  He offered Tony his most charmingly rakish grin; it felt a bit unusual, but Tony’s eyes darkened appreciatively, and his smile grew more sincere.

  “Yeah, okay, let’s….yeah,” Tony managed to choke out, his hand reaching automatically for the tablet Bucky was holding out to him.  He didn’t even complain about being handed something.

  Bucky relaxed back into his seat, content to have the mystery solved and a new project to focus on.  The Avengers weren’t going to know what hit them.