#tony may even buy the whole museum

[fangirling-tussisque-noncaelatur]

[Tony is planning a date]

Bruce: Hey, what is all that?

Tony: It's the Guggenheim Museum's site. Steve likes art...

Bruce: *nods*

Tony: ...and I like funny words.

Bruce: *shakes his head*

[marksbear]

How about really famous dom reader. Like he a avengers and then sub Steven grant. Then his works place is hosting a party and everyone is shocked about his partner. And they all try to talk to him but he just doesn't care that much and only wants to talk to Steven and be around him. And Steven is wearing a nice suit and reader keeps flirting with him and saying how he looks so gorgeous and can't wait for tonight. Which leads to reader not waiting till they get to the bed and fucking him barely when they walk inside. And fucking Steven at the door. This man deserves only the best and making everyone jealous. -🐻‍❄️

Okay I love the idea! And I hope you enjoy reading this! 🐻‍❄

STEVEN GRANT X FAMOUS MALE READER

WARNINGS! Dirty talk in public, hella famous reader, SMUT, overstimulation, masturbating, car sex. H/n= Hero name!

The crowd roars with cheers and applause. Cameras flashing with their bright lights and interviewers bringing their microphone to who you may ask. Well of course The H/n.

Even though he just joined the avengers he is already the most famous man on earth. His great strength and personality did help him get by but what really gave him a boost is his looks.

He easily became a fan favorite and honestly the world's favorite. Teenage girls, boys and their mom swoon over him. While the straight men or fathers envy the man to the point like he was a god.

With the whole world swooning over him he didn't get much privacy. But the only thing the world didn't know was who is H/n dating?

H/n constantly talked about his boyfriend. Like I mean constantly. He always found a way to brag about him. Always showing him off but never revealing who he is until today.

"Everyone please quiet down." Y/n raises his hands to the air making everyone shut up. "Thank you~" Y/n winks at everyone making them all blush. Lots of people are live recording Y/n. "Okay. I want y'all to meet someone very special to me. Hes my everything. Hes my heart and soul. And especially hes my moon. Everyone meet my boyfriend Steven Grant hopefully future L/n!"

Y/n steps to the side revealing his boyfriend to the world. The room emerges in cheers and people trying to ask questions while cameras snap photos of the two of you. Y/n looks at Steven studying him making sure hes comfortable.

Anytime someone gets too close to Steven Y/n will pull Steven away gently or put his hand in the person chest backing them up himself. "Typical Y/n always makes a grand entrance. " Tony says playfully to Y/n making him laugh. Y/n takes Steven hand guiding him to a quieter place in the party.

Lots of people try to follow the couple but get stopped by Captain America telling them to "Give the boys some space guys."

Y/n sits on a stool taking Steven in his lap. "Oh baby you look so good. So gorgeous. You make me just wanna show you what your beauty does to me right here and now~" Y/n teases kissing the back of Steven's head. "Really? In front of all these people?" Steven's voice cracks a little leaning into Y/n's lap getting more comfortable.

"Mhm Stevey. I mean they are already jealous of you. Cmon just looks at you. You look like a god. So handsome." Y/n moves his mouth to Steven's ear giving it small kisses and a soft bite. "I can't wait for tonight. I'm gonna fuck you all night long how about I start now-----" Y/n gets cut of by a interviewer. "Mr L/n and Mr Grant?" Y/n groans and turns around facing the shy interviewer. "Yes?" "Uhm HI I was wondering can I ask you two some questions it won't take too much of your time." Y/n looks at Steven who nods and Y/n answers saying "Yeah kid. Ask away."

"Okay great! So when did you two meet and who asked out who?"

"Well we met at the museum he works at. I was there with my nieces and they were begging me to buy them a hippo. So I took them to the gift shop and that's where I met the love of my life. And for the who asked out who neither of us. My nieces had set up a date for both of us and we took off from there."

Steven giggles from the memory and adds "His nieces told me he was too shy to ask me out. So they wrote a letter asking me out as him."

"Wow who knew that The H/n is a shy guy. Moving on how long have you two been dating?"

"Way too long. Long enough to know I wanna marry him." Y/n gives out a short answer. "Now will you excuse me, i'll be right back." Y/n gives Steven a deep kiss with tongue and that leads them into making out. But Y/n pulls away from the heated make out. "Find me if you're in trouble." Y/n gives Steven one last kiss before heading off to mingle.

After Y/n spends time with his friends he leaves them to find Steven. He finds him in the corner of the room reading one of Stark's expensive history books. Y/n sneaks up behind wrapping his arms around Steven hugging him from behind. "Y'know if you want to keep just take it. I'll pay him back later." Steven jumps a little but relaxes once he finds out it was his boyfriend that's hugging him.

"Let's go home. I wanna fuck you all day long and I don't know how long I can hold myself back. You look so sexy Steven." Y/n praises him kisses trails on his jaw. Steven sets the book on the table and pushes Y/n face away from him. "Y/nn! Stop embarrassing me!" Steven whines out and finally gets himself free from his boyfriend.

Y/n places a strong hand on Steven waist guides him out of the party saying bye to everyone as they make their leave.

The couple gets into the car and Y/n plays soft music in the back having a calm atmosphere. Y/n opens the glove box and takes a bottle of lube out. Steven doesn't notice it since hes staring outside of the window looking at the stars deeply. Y/n puts his hand on Steven crotch tugging at his pants.

"Wah?! U-uhm Y/n what are you doing?" Steven Jolts up looking at his boyfriend. "Strip. And after you're done I want you to finger yourself okay baby?" Steven opens his mouth to argue to shut it and does what hes told trying to avoid getting punished.

Y/n hands him the bottle of lube and closes the glove box. Steven stares at the bottle embarrassed and opens the bottle and applies the lube on his fingers. Steven squirms in his seat shyly once he feels his boyfriend's eyes on him. Steven takes a deep breath before using one finger circling around his hole teasing himself. Steven lets out soft moans and whimpers. His cock slowly begins to rise and once it's fully hard he pushes his finger into himself.

Steven rolls his hips back and forth before moving the finger up and down twisting and turning it. Y/n watches in awe before taking one hand off the wheel and wraps his own hand on Steven's cock jerking him off slowly. Steven becomes putty in his hands and pleasure over takes him not even feeling embarrassed no more.

Steven adds two more fingers inside of heard thrown back and he fuck himself in a face but gentle pace. His cock twitches rapidly leaking precum out of tip making his cock look shiny.

By the time they get to the apartment Steven cums hard. His moans got louder as he cum onto his boyfriend hand. His body becomes sensitive to every touch and whimpers pleas for Y/n to stop touching his cock. Y/n lets out a mischief laugh and help Steven put his clothes back on. Y/n unlocks the door and turns off the car leaving the car and helping Steven get out. Steven's legs are all wobbling and shaking from his intense orgasm.

Y/n puts his hands on Steven's waist behind him guiding him inside the building. As the two walk Steven feels Y/n bulge pressed up behind him and whines. As the two get in the elevator Y/n grinds his crotch on Steven's ass holding Steven's hips still as he does.

As they make it to their floor and walk to the door. Steven hands fumble around with the keys as Y/n bite his neck and his clothed cock grinding against him making his mouth water.

When the door finally unlocks the door swings open hitting the wall during the process as Y/n eagerly picks up Steven and Steven wraps his legs around Y/n waist. As the couple gets into a heated makeout Y/n closes the door with his foot.

Steven and Y/n messily take off their clothes and shoes never breaking the kiss. Y/n lowers Steven onto his cock angling him right above the tip before thrusting his full shaft into him.Steven lets out a high pitch moan and holds onto Y/n leaving scratch marks on them. Y/n doesn't wait a second fucking him merciless. Steven hides his face into Y/n's neck muffling his moans. Wet skin slapping against each other along slide moans fills the room. As the two fuck on the door from the outside the door is shaking and making a thudding noise.

"G--aHhh~ Y-y/nn!~ CuM im cumming! FuCk" Steven moans out cumming all over his boyfriend and himself. Y/n slows down his thrust but still goes deep inside him attacking Steven's prostate with each thrust. Steven's sensitive cock slowly becomes hard again. "No.No--- Please Y/n~ I-i was a good boy please please just cum in--inside me~" Steven begs as tears fall from his face from being over used. "Okay baby just cum one more time then i'll cum inside you does that sound good?"

Steven whines but gives in shaking his head yes. Y/n picks up his pace fucking him with no mercy and the grip he has on Steven's hips bruising. Y/n aims for Steven's prostate abusing his hole in the process. Steven cock is all wet and shinny cum still leaking out from his previous orgasm. Steven uses his left hand to stop holding onto Y/n and go down to his own cock jerking himself off. Y/n sucks hickeys where it would be noticeable and leaves bite marks on his neck claiming Steven as his own. "Y-y/n oooH~ Please jUst cum inside me p---please! use me just use me please!" Steven begs as he cums again panting Y/n chest white. "Good boy~ Because you were a good boy you deserve an award."

Y/n thrust has gotten faster than it was before. He traps Steven body to the door as he fucks him faster and rougher. His thrust got messy and stopped making an effort to hide his voice. With all the noise you two are probably waking up the entire building. It doesn't take Y/n long to cum deep inside his boyfriend. Y/n keeps thrusting riding out his orgasm until there's nothing left.

Y/n holds onto Steven tighter walking him to the couch laying him down. Steven looks at his body covered in cum and he looks in between his legs looking at the cum that's on all over his thighs and some even leaking out of his hole overflowing.

"Aren't you sight for sore eyes." Y/n teases finding some snacks and water placing them on the table beside Steven. "Got you that book you were reading. You looked like you were enjoying it so I took it as we were leaving." Y/n puts the book beside the snacks and gives Steven his reading glasses.

"So Mr Grant. How was being in the spotlight?" Y/n asks like he was an interviewer using the book as a microphone.

[peterlorres21stcentury]

Films that should be great, but ain't

so uh, with that amazing title in mind, does anybody wanna discuss "The Constant Nymph"?

file photo: the most important yet most underused character ever

Back when I was a younger, even stupider fangirl, this movie represented the second holy grail in terms of lost media (the first was Der Verlorene). I should say difficult-to-find media, as The Constant Nymph was never exactly lost, but it was unavailable on home release or even general theater showings for 70 years. No really. The author's will stated that "the film could be shown only at universities and museums after its original theatrical run ended" (from Wiki). Don't ask me how Margaret Kennedy maintained that much fucking power over a juggernaut like Warner Brothers but it must have been one hell of a rights agreement.

As such, this was one of those movies that was simply unavailable to me for a long time, so when it was finally released from its long purgatory with a DVD home release, I was over the moon. Finally I could see Peter in the sort of lush romantic role he always deserved. Sure, I knew from my reading that much of his subplot was cut, but it couldn't be that bad, right? This movie has everything--a superb cast, a popular source novel, a moving musical score by Korngold. What could go wrong?

...I shouldn't ask that question because the answer is "everything" (with the exception of Korngold, his music can do no wrong). I knew things were off to a great start when the disc wouldn't even play in my computer--the official WB disc, not some cheapo bootleg, mind you--until I turned the optical drive upside down. Things didn't get much better from there. I'll let myself speak (if I may, haw haw), and repeat what I shared in my facebook group two years ago after my first viewing:

"I don't care how they chose to dress it up; it's the story of a grown man falling in love with a teenage girl who has a big crush on him. Sure, he claims not to be interested in Tessa romantically, but how does he explain his seeking her out at literally EVERY opportunity, and how he's much happier with Tessa than he is with his own wife? And the fact that we're supposed to see his wife Florence as a bad person because she's jealous of Tessa… no! Florence didn't do anything wrong! But instead she actually tries to apologize to Lewis for not understanding his "inner world" with Tessa. Ugggh. The whole thing was just super questionable, even for the 1940s, and I did not find it romantic at all.

Oh, and Peter was not in this movie nearly enough. We don't even get to find out about Fritz and Toni's baby! I wanted to see more of their marriage, even if Toni didn't seem to care very much for Fritz apart from what he could buy her." 😕

26-year-old Joan Fontaine fails to convince anybody she is supposed to be 14, while a concerned Peter Lorre looks on

So yeah. I could say a lot more, but I'll let it go for now. This is one of those films that has all the ingredients of a true classic, except somewhere along the way the director, screenwriter, and editor all tripped over each other and sent everything sprawling into the undignified void, leaving us with the awkward result.

[gthreepio]

i’ve been thinking about the future of the mcu and realized there’s a LOT that i didn’t know/didn’t remember in terms of where things are going so i figured i’d sum it up incase anyone else was in the same boat!! 

quick recap of (unresolved) mid-credit scenes:

doctor strange: mordo (a sorcerer that is one of strange’s mentors, who by the end of the movie becomes disillusioned with magic/the ancient one and quits) confronts pangborn (the paraplegic who healed himself with the mystic arts, who tells strange about mystic arts in the first place) and steals his magic because according to mordo, there are “too many sorcerers." of note, this guy is typically a villain in the comics but hasn’t been thus far...

gotg2: ayesha (leader of the sovereign, a golden skinned alien race obsessed with genetic purity), after spending most of the movie chasing the guardians for stealing some stuff, is revealed to have created an artificial being named “adam” which is presumably, adam warlock. (other stuff that is less relevant: kraglin appears to take up yondu’s mantle; the ravagers regroup and several old and obscure comic book characters are introduced [charlie-27, aleta, martinex, mainframe]; the watchers are watching things.) 

far from home: j jonah jameson basically tells the whole world spider-man’s secret identity, and frames him for what happened with mysterio....making him public enemy #1. ALSO, turns out nick fury and maria hill in the movie were ACTUALLY the two skrulls from captain marvel (talos and soren) attempting to do their job, while the real fury (and presumably hill) is ... up in space on some spaceship!!!

wandavision: monica (who we can assume is photon) is called by “an old friend of [her] mother’s,” up in space, which presumably means fury, talos, or carol. ALSO, wanda sits in the middle of nowhere reading the darkhold and hears the voices of her children who.. by all accounts, should not exist. 

aaaaand what we know about future movies (i’m not even going into the tv series.....): 

black widow: 

takes place after civil war

nat confronts a “dangerous conspiracy with ties to her past,” likely has to do with taskmaster who has apparently taken over the red room where nat was trained as an assassin

prominent new characters: yelena belova, who will take over the mantle of black widow after this; alexei shostakov aka red guardian, an ollllld marvel hero analogous to captain america except for the soviet union.

tony stark will make an appearance... SOBS

shang-chi and the legend of the ten rings:

shang-chi has never been seen in the mcu before, but he is, essentially, a superhero that is a master martial artist, and in some adaptations can also create duplicate (fake) versions of himself to confuse opponents

main villain will be the the mandarin who we have *sort of* seen before... he is the leader of a terrorist organization called “ten rings” whose main goal is to destroy world peace. brief history -- in iron man 1: one ten rings cell kidnaps tony stark and tries to force him to make weapons (he of course, makes his suit instead). stark and ten rings become enemies and fight a bunch. nat and nick fury fight them too. in iron man 3, the villain aldrich killian hires a dude to pretend to be the mandarin and claim responsibility for a bunch of stuff, but its not the ten rings or the mandarin at all. this makes the mandarin v mad and he has a dude kidnap the faker to punish him. they also briefly show up in ant-man, when a ten rings agent tries to buy the yellowjacket suit that darren cross is selling. BUT IN SHANG-CHI....... looks like we are FINALLY going to see the real mandarin after over a decade!! 

the villain razor fist will also show up, he is lesser known... he has no superhuman powers but he has surgically replaced his hands (1 or 2, depending on the version) with a steel blade, and is highly skilled at hand to hand combat.

besides the presence of these characters, the only bit of plot we know is “shang-chi is drawn into the ten rings organization and forced to confront his past.” so... yeah. we don’t know much at all.

eternals: 

quick explanation: the eternals are an immortal alien race who have been secretly living on earth for thousands of years. they were created by the celestials, who are most prominently in gotg2. 

more entirely new characters!!! their names are: thena, who can form any weapon out of cosmic energy; gilgamesh, who can make a super strong exoskeleton out of cosmic energy; ikaris, who has superhuman strength, flies, and can project cosmic energy out his eyes; kingo, who can shoot cosmic energy projectiles from his hands; makkari, who creates sonic booms, has super speed, and is deaf; phastos, who has enhanced intelligence, and is also gay (and married with a kid!); ajak, who has healing powers; sprite, who can project illusions; sersi, who can manipulate matter; druig, who can mind control; and dane whitman (black knight), a human with a mystical sword. 

regarding the plot... it seems the eternals have kind of dispersed, but have to come together again to fight the deviants, who are their “evil counterparts” (also created by the celestials, though i’m unclear on why). thena and gilgamesh have apparently been in exile, unclear why; sersi, who is posing as a museum curator, has apparently been in love with ikaris for centuries and it seems as if their love story may be central to the film; and kingo is a bollywood film star in his spare time. aaaaand that’s pretty much all we know.

directed by chloé zhao of nomadland fame! 

spider-man no way home: 

based on the post-credits scene in far from home, peter parker will now be known as spider-man to everyone. unclear if he’s going to be seen as a bad guy due to mysterio framing him, but i guess we’ll see! 

jamie foxx is electro, and alfred molina is doctor octopus; which is VERY interesting considering they played these roles in other spider-man franchises, once again stirring up excitement for possible multiverse. 

there have been *multiple* reports that andrew garfield, kirsten dunst, tobey maguire, and emma stone will be in the movie but tom holland has repeatedly denied this... so... who knows. 

there are also rumors that matt murdock / daredevil (from netflix) will be in several scenes! not confirmed though. 

MJ is still his girlfriend and i hope it stays that way!! 

doctor strange will be featured in the movie, taking on the mentor role now that tony stark is gone :( this will be interesting as i.. haven’t really seen them interact much before. because of this inclusion some people speculate that the film may draw inspo from some comic storylines where peter’s secret identity is restored with magic. 

doctor strange in the multiverse of madness: 

scarlet witch is essentially co-starring!!! it’s going to be really interesting to see if they bring vision or the twins into this at all, though i’m not counting on it. 

seems like mordo will be the main villain -- recall the ds1 post credits scene where he is apparently running around trying to steal people’s magic.

america chavez will make her debut!!!!!! i have no idea how this plays into anything but i am so excited!! 

regarding the plot, all we really know is that strange has been researching the time stone, mordo messes with him, and this results in him accidentally unleashing “unspeakable evil.” presumably there will also be heavy involvement of the multiverse, and who knows what kind of craziness that will bring!! 

initially was going to be directed by scott derrickson who did ds1; however he stepped down to being just EP due to “creative differences.” i am presuming this is because derrickson really wanted to make this more gothic and horror than disney was comfortable with. i REALLY hope they keep some of those elements though and don’t erase the idea entirely! anyway, it will be directed by sam raimi now (of evil dead and spiderman 2002 fame). 

the film also reportedly ties in with the loki series (will loki show up!?) and spiderman 3 (which is obvious enough, given that strange is in that movie and those curious electro and doctor octopus castings...)

thor: love and thunder

directed by taika waititi again, hell yeah!!! and he has stated, the film will be “so over the top now in the very best way" and would make ragnarok look like a "run of the mill, very safe film" .... so.... oh god

so many great returning players!!! including.... valkyrie (now the king of new asgard), jane foster, lady sif, korg, star-lord, mantis, drax, nebula, and kraglin (takes up yondu’s mantle after he dies in gotg2)

in this movie, thor isn’t thor anymore.... it’s JANE!!! she gets cancer :( and is undergoing treatment while simultaneously being thor. i’m a little nervous how this will be handled, but i’m excited. (it’s based off an amazing comic series by jason aaron) 

the big bad: gorr the god butcher, played by christian bale! the gist of it is, this dude HATES gods because nobody helped when his family was dying and in need. his weapon is “all-black the necrosword,” forged from the head of a celestial, and allows the user to create wings and fly at extreme speeds. honestly, he sounds cool as fuck. 

valkyrie is going to be made canonically bisexual!!! 

it will explore more of korg’s backstory, and also include... space sharks!?!?! an alien race from the comics.

taika has called the script “very romantic” so take that as you will 

black panther 2

will again be directed by ryan coogler

not much is known at this point, does not have an official name

t’challa will NOT be recast (which i’m happy about) so..... honestly no idea what to expect for this one. i think we can probably expect shuri to have an expanded role. all we know so far is they will be “exploring the world of wakanda.” not clear to me how this is different from the upcoming wakanda D+ series. 

tenoch huerta has reportedly been cast as a villain, but no one has any idea who. there’s also rumors that donald glover is in “informal talks” to play a role. note all of this is unconfirmed.

captain marvel 2

will be directed by nia da costa (candyman!) and written by megan mcdonnell, who is one of wandavision’s best writers! 

will take place in the present day 

will feature kamala khan / ms. marvel, monica rambeau / photon!!! this will be so interesting.... kamala is a huge fan of carol’s in the comics, she is her mentor/idol. the ms. marvel series will also resportedly lead into cm2. and monica, well, monica knew her when she was a little kid. wandavision implies that there’s some bad blood between carol and monica though, not sure why. maybe because carol left and never came back? (until endgame) 

post-credits scene of wandavision appears to tie into this, having monica go up into space at the reqeust of her “mom’s old friend.” again, not clear who that is. this could also be a tie in to secret invasion though, so we’ll see. or both.

zawe ashton has been cast as an unknown villain... a lot of people are actually speculating that she may play rogue? which would be fascinating, as there’s a comic arc where rogue steals her powers and memories. BUT there’s still no confirmation that X-men exist in the MCU so for now i remain skeptical.

they are looking to cast a ‘john boyega’ or ‘michael b jordan’ type which makes me wonder if they are going to create a new character, a “younger” war machine to be her love interest? (note: carol and rhodey are a huge thing in comics!) carol obviously does not look her age but her and don cheadle.... that just doesn’t work. which is why i wonder.

ant-man and the wasp: quantumania 

in addition to scott and hope, pretty much all the major players are returning including: luis, hank pym, janet van dyne

cassie lang has been recast with an actress 5 years older, which is really making me wonder if they are going to make her stinger in this movie! (aka one of the main young avengers)

the villain: kang the conqueror! this dude time travels. original name nate richards. in the comics, kang travels back in time to rescue his younger self (nate) from an attack that would help shape him towards a life of villainy. kang also gives him some fancy armor. his younger self actually is like, what the fuck dude? and renounces his destiny, becoming a hero. and he makes his armor look like iron man, calling himself iron lad. who is a young avenger. which also makes me wonder about cassie lang.

otherwise not much is known! 

guardians of the galaxy vol. 3

james gunn is returning, i’m mixed about this...he really does *get* the guardians though. 

based on the gotg2 post credits scene, i think we can assume adam warlock will be a HUGE part of this. there are multiple versions of him, some villainous and some heroic, but no idea how this is gonna turn out.

no word yet on whether thor will be involved, or if those ravagers they introduced will be involved. 

fantastic four 

will be directed by the spiderman guy, john watts.

otherwise we know literally nothing.

aaaaand that’s the roundup! 

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 6

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER SIX

Steve left a trail of cool breeze from the outside which sent shivers on the surface of your skin. You immediately closed the door, slightly annoyed at the cold air New York had to offer.

"He seems nice." Bucky commented as soon as you got back inside. The jukebox had stopped playing. It probably already used up Bucky's money. "Looked like he couldn't hurt a fly." He added.

You agreed with Bucky as you sat back down on the high stool. He managed to bring out the drink you guys hid from Steve and placed it in front of you. A big smile spread across his face, still urging you to drink what he made just a few minutes ago. He kept convincing you that the "y/n" drink was a good and mean drink, perhaps "the best drink you'll ever have, I swear!" (even though he hadn't tried it himself). He spoke like a true businessman trying to sell his product. He never broke eye contact and kept his voice firm and strong.

"This is the first and last time I'm taking a drink from a stranger." You mumbled, picking up the drink. It was cold like the air outside.

"Hey, I'm no stranger!"

Before the drink could even reach your lips, you caught a whiff of its smell. It was kind of fruity yet minty at the same time but the scent of vodka still lingered on top of the drink. Bucky added a little umbrella, perhaps finding it in one of the cabinets while you were walking Steve towards the front door.

The first sip tasted like New York's wintery air that soon left. It was replaced by the taste of both spring and summer, basked in a state of glorious heat. "Bucky..." You gulped until there was no more left on the glass. "This is -- "

"The best drink you ever had?" His nose scrunched up.

You didn't want to feed him a big ego but even you couldn't deny that yes, it was the best drink you ever had in your life. There was something weirdly familiar in it; the same feeling that you felt as you stared at Bucky's sleeping face.

"Indeed it is." You sent him a smile. "Something familiar in all of it. For some unknown reason, I can't explain it."

"Because the drink is you." He replied, taking the glass from your hand and placing it on the dishwasher beside him. "Or what I thought about you the first time I saw you."

"The first time you saw me, you were butt naked and I had a bit of a concussion. You got fruity and minty from that?"

He smirked while opening the faucet. "Fruity and minty, huh?"

"Yeah," you replied, leaning back on the stool as you crossed your arms across your chest, "that's what it tasted like."

"Interesting." He hummed.

"Wasn't that what you wanted me to taste?"

"You tell me."

"You're confusing me, Bucky." You groaned. "Man, you didn't even get a taste of it. Not one single sip and you already assumed that the drink would 'fit' my personality."

"Fruity and minty." Bucky started to clean up the glass, then the rest of the counter. You stared at him, waiting for an explanation to what he just said. He looked like something out of Vogue magazine while cleaning the counter. You, on the other hand, must've looked like hell. "I'm like a magician when it comes to drinks, y'know -- "

"If you are," you interrupted, "you could've just made your one night stand disappear. But you're not, so you, Bucky Barnes, suck."

"No," he sighed defeated, "I'm like a magician 'cause a magician never reveals his tricks. And by the way, full name is James Buchanan Barnes."

"James is a lot easier to say than Bucky. It's one syllable against two." You frowned. "You know that, right?"

"What can I say, y/n?" He leaned against one of the cabinets with a smug look on his face. "I've been Bucky my whole life."

"You've also been James your whole life. Where did you even get the name Bucky?"

"Buchanan." He shrugged.

"You got Bucky from Buchanan?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Plus, if I really were magician, Bucky Barnes had a nice ring on it. Don't you think so?"

"Whatever you say, big guy. Now pay up." You rolled my eyes. "And Bucky Barnes sounds like a villain's name. Just sayin'." This earned you a couple chuckles from Bucky.

The wiping cloth slid easily on the smooth surface of the newly-washed glass. Once he was done, he placed it back to where he got it. Bucky moved swiftly as if he knew his way in the bar. He playfully rolled his eyes at you before giving you a hundred dollar bill. "You should be the one paying me, y'know. I made a drink and helped you with a shit ton of boxes."

"James," you chuckled slowly, "between the two of us, you're clearly the rich one. Not richer. Rich. I don't even have a hundred dollars in my pockets right now, except," you grabbed the bill in his hand, "now." You placed it inside your pockets but of course, that would go to the cash register in a bit. "And you did use up some of our liquor. Even those damn new ones."

"Fair enough, then." He smiled. "Now, let's see those photos of yours."

Right. The photos that hang lonely on these chipped vintage walls, sadly deprived of human touch and sight. Before leading Bucky to one of the walls where your printed photos were, he grabbed his polo shirt (more like Peter's) and wrapped it around his body once more.

Your photos were all scattered on the walls, like nesting birds chirping in their homes; except no one would dare to look at them.

The bar was now enveloped in silence with the jukebox not playing. The only thing you could hear was the constant ticking of the wall clock that hung in between two of your photos which Steve framed after buying them from one of your failed photo exhibits. The walk towards the wall seemed much longer than it should. There was a warm feeling lingering on your stomach, the drink from earlier. You just now realized that you haven't had any solid food. Right now, there was a protein shake and liquor swarming inside your stomach like a bunch of bees. Then, a small churn came out. The instinct to hold your belly kicked in, hoping that Bucky didn't get to hear that.

He didn't say anything as he sat down on one of the booths, his gaze fixated on your photos on the walls as if studying every subject, light, and color captured by your lenses. He looked like he was inside the Met, moving from time to time to admire each photo.

"Y/n," he whispered, "these are gorgeous." Then, he turned around, sliding out of the booth to see some more. You didn't say anything. Just a small smile was enough. You were never one to take compliments anyway. "These photos should be out there, y'know, not inside the confinements of a vintage bar."

"The reason why they're here is because people from outside didn't seem to like them." You replied, trailing behind Bucky. "But that doesn't matter anyway.

He turned around with a frown etched on his face. "What do you mean?"

You pursed your lips, avoiding his gaze. "I mean it's not like people like them here. But that's okay, I guess. I mean, I'm doing product photos for small businesses. That's something."

"They're both different, right? Those photos you take in your small studio and these ones." The photos on the wall stole his attention once more. "You have the freedom to take whatever you want."

You stood there, picking at the blunt edges of the booth table, avoiding any eye contact you may have with Bucky. Suddenly, a roll of images from an early memory came to mind: Bucky's school-of paintings, tiny sculptures and the White Wolf headstone. "You seem like you're really into art."

"In whatever medium they're made, yes." He replied. "Film, painting, photography, writing -- everything!"

As far as you remembered, the only things Peter told you about Bucky were his wild adventures during his youth, and how Bucky could "run a hotel even with his eyes closed!" Peter didn't dive into the deep stuff about his stepbrother's life. It was always about girls, party, money, and booze. Perhaps Bucky's stories were only as good as stories you tell when you just want to have a good laugh while drinking. The sentimental stuff, you knew, were reserved for solemn dinner nights or even days like this inside a bar.

"Why run a hotel, then?" You genuinely asked, looking at the back of his head.

"It's the only thing I know." Bucky snickered, slowly turning around. "Besides making a mean drink, of course."

"You're never gonna let that slide, are you?"

"Never. I mean, c'mon. You've tasted my drink. You can attest to it."

You hummed, raising both of your hands up in the air. "Testify."

He grinned in response and put his hands inside the pockets of his jeans. As you looked at him studying each photo you took, you could tell he didn't want to comment anything on his career path. Peter did say Tony Stark, his adoptive father and Peter's stepfather, just gave Bucky a share of his hotel until Bucky started running it on his own. You assumed Bucky just took it out of the goodness of this Tony Stark, for adopting him and caring for him. But the real reason for why Bucky took the chance, you may never know. Even though he was an open book, there were a few chapters in him that seemed intentionally hazy, as if he didn't want other people to read them. If Peter had anything to know about these "hidden chapters" in his life, you didn't know. It looked like Bucky would just tell Peter all his wild stories but not the stories about serious matters in his life. But of course, you were just getting this observation out of the back of his head and some of his body language.

"Peter looks so happy here." Bucky commented, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "These his colleagues?"

"That was the first time he went out with his colleagues." You replied while approaching him. You stood beside him and looked at the photo. It truly felt like you and Bucky were standing in a deserted museum. "They had a pretty good time but not me. They made such a mess that night. It brought me back to when Peter would go home drunk back in college."

"Peter? Drunk in college?"

"Dead drunk. Apparently, he learned that from you." The moment these words slipped out of your mouth, a wave of panic washed over your body as the expressions on Bucky's face changed. A frown started to form. His jaw immediately clenched. His breathing became heavier each second. The uncomfortable silence deafened. "Oh god, Bucky, I'm sorry. Learned wasn't the right word. What I meant to say was -- "

"I'm hungry."

His short reply sent me into a whirl of confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"Are you hungry?"

"I -- "

"'Cause I'm hungry. Come, let's go get something to eat."

"Bucky, listen to me."

"I did." His voice faltered. "I heard you."

"But that wasn't what I exactly meant, y'know. I mean, come on, everyone experiments in college. Partying, getting drunk, all that kind of crap -- it's all normal!"

"That's not exactly how you put it earlier." He replied, suddenly facing you. His body towered over yours. "I believe what you said was he learned it from me?"

"I didn't mean that you taught him, it's just... Come on, Bucky, with all those wild stories of you -- "

"What are you trying to say, y/n?"

"Peter has a very curious mind, especially back in college. He jumped on every opportunity he had once he's offered a new thing or a new experience. Your wild stories would always pop out every time he's drunk or just some random nights really." you released an exasperated sigh. "Look, Bucky, the point is, he was just curious. He wanted to know what and how you felt during those wild times. It's not your fault. If anything, it's his. Peter may be smart but he's a much bigger dumbass. Even you should know that. You've lived with him since he was, what, in high school?"

Bucky raised his eyebrows, a grin slowly forming on his lips. "You know, I'm starting to think you're not his best friend. Talking behind his back."

"I say much harsher things to him to his face, don't worry." You smiled. "But I do love Peter even though he's a pain in the ass. We've been through many ups and downs, him and I. It's kind of what binds us together. And hey, him constantly drinking is none of your fault, alright? It's his." You assured Bucky once more. "He can really be a big dumbass."

He nodded and took out his hands from his pockets then crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm glad to hear he has you. Though, I'm quite surprised you two haven't dated yet."

You nervously chuckled then walked away from him . "What makes you say that?"

"If I were roommates with a girl, I would've slept with her the first day."

"I doubt you'd even have a girl as your roommate." You snorted. "How are you gonna get her out of the apartment?"

The bar was filled with Bucky's roaring laughter. "I like your sense of humor, y/n. No wonder why Peter likes you."

"What?" You stopped on your tracks and turned around.

"I meant, y'know, no wonder why you're still around."

You raised an eyebrow. "That poses more questions than answers, Barnes."

"He likes you as a best friend, is what I meant."

Your tummy started churning once more but you doubted Bucky had heard that with the groan coming out of his mouth after he bumped his toe on one of the tables.

"Hey, is lunch still on the table?"

[cecilspeaks]

172 - Return of the Obelisk

“Nothing lasts forever” is a phrase with two meanings, and they’re both true. Welcome to Night Vale.

All of Night Vale is aglow. There is music in the air. You know what that means, listeners: the Obelisk has returned. It’s been nearly 8 years since the Obelisk last appeared, but it’s right back where it always shows up, in Mission Grove Park over on the east side, right next to the Wailing Pit. But a little bit south of the Memorial Debris Heap. The Obelisk returns every 5 to 10 years, sometimes as long as 50, and it brings with it joy, anticipation, and a deep fear. A terror so deep in the gut that it feels like you’ve eaten too much ice cream, but in all reality, your body is simply bracing itself for death. The Obelisk has always behaved benevolently, but so hast he sun, and we don’t trust that thing fully either, so I dunno. Past performance is not an indicator of future results. Unlike the sun, the Obelisk radiates a soft blue light, but like the sun, the Obelisk makes a lot of noise. In particular, music. The obelisk sounds like a Bach concerto played like a French horn and a theramine from inside a refrigerator. Everyone in town is gathering at Mission Grove Park to see the Obelisk in person, to pay homage to this rare visit, and to confront their fears head on. Hopefully everything works out fine, because there are some cool events I want to get to this weekend, and it would be terrible to have to cancel them over a rogue obelisk.

Let’s take a look at the community calendar, shall we? This Friday night is opening night of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Tony-winning musical “Sunset Boulevard” at the Night Vale Community Theatre. I’m very excited to finally see this show, it’s supposed to be a really lavish production, too. And it’s based on one my all time favorite Billy Wilder films about an aging silent movie star who finds an amulet that lets her travel in time, but whenever she moves through time, she enters someone else’s body and can’t leave until she saves her life. This staging of “Sunset Boulevard” is directed and produced by… oh my god, Susan Willman?? Really? Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrhooonestly, this has been a pretty long week and Iiii might need to just rest at home on Friday. I mean I’m not trying to be rude here, but Susan Willman is the worst! Did you know she once judged the chili cook-off, and I came in third? Third! Behind Joel Eisenberg, which is fine, Joel’s an OK cook, but also behind who else? Susan Willman! You can’t be a judge and win first place. I’m also pretty sure Susan used a prepackaged spice mix in that chili. [laughs oddly] I don’t have that verified through a secondary source, but I can confirm, it was oversalted, again. I’m not saying, I’m just saying. Anyway, go see “Sunset Boulevard” on Friday if you want to watch uninspired actors and muddled blocking.

Saturday afternoon is the PTA bake sale fundraiser to send our Academic Decathlon team to a tournament in our state’s capital. The PTA secretary… [sighs] Susan WiIlman, says this money will go toward hotel and bus travel for our brilliant and talented Ac-Dec squad. “Academic Decathlon is about intelligence and perseverance,” says Willman in this overwrought press release. “Ac-Dec is about freedom and fastidiousness. It is a celebration of hard work, and we want Night Vale to show the rest of the state that blah blah blah blah blah,” God she just runs on! I mean yes, Ac-Dec is very cool and I wish our kids well. But chill with the grandstanding! Anyway, go buy a cake to support those amazing students, even though I’m sure Susan will still manage to mess up a box mix.

Sunday is Youth Reprogramming Day at the Night Vale Museum of Forbidden Technologies. Does your child love learning about new gadgets and advancements in technology? Well, come on down to the Museum of Forbidden Technologies on Sunday for a day-long reprogramming event. Docents and curators will engage those curious kids through hands-on unlearning. They’ll take their patented mindwipe beam and point it right at each child’s forehead until all interest in forbidden technology has been removed. Kids love the mindwipe beam, because it smells like grapes, and they don’t feel any pain for weeks after. Youth Reprogramming Day is a family friendly day of discovering that you know too much, and knowledge is treason.

Today’s appearance by the Obelisk is the 19th in recorded history. Little is known about what the Obelisk is, who controls it, or what it wants. Most scientists and historians agree that it was created by subterranean gods millennia ago, and they think its purpose is a type of census for life at ground level. The Obelisk is about 25 feet tall, it is oily and soft like a fresh brick of parmesan cheese, and when it appears, everyone in town carves their name into one of its four sides. We do not know why or when this practice began, it’s simply how it’s always been done. And to question tradition is to admit weakness. When the Obelisk eventually disappears, perhaps today, perhaps several days from now, it will take our names with it. And when it returns, those names will be gone and we will begin the tradition anew. No one knows what happens to those names. Are they simply erased, or are they read and recorded? Is this data mining for some ancient technology startup, or does the Obelisk truly belong to the gods? We only know what happens to one of the names carved on the Obelisk, and for that person, we feel both envy and pity. For while the Obelisk has always behaved benevolently, past performance et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Let’s have a look now at traffic. Route 800 is shut down until 4 PM today, as it has turned into a river. No cars are on Route 800, it’s just water. Rough and choppy, spiking white rapid caps atop nearly black rushing death. Highway officials are investigating the sudden appearance of this river, perfectly overlaying our main thoroughfare in and out of town. Beneath the quickly moving rush of the river, a single fish, probably a bass of some sort. Highway officials are uncertain because they don’t think about fish. Why would they? Highway officials are annoyed that you think so little of their awareness of fish species. They can tell a salmon from a marlin from a mackerel. “See what you made us do?” one highway official said. “We could have been repairing route 800, but you started picking on us for not knowing if that’s a bass or a mackerel or a whatnot. In fact,” the official continued, “we just looked it up on Wikipedia and it’s a bass. And fun fact,” they added, “did you know that bass can grow up to 25 pounds, have four rows of human teeth, and speak Spanish at a first grade level?” The river is now branching out down sides of streets and into neighborhoods. Pavement everywhere is a network of fresh water capillaries through town. Expect delays of up to 10 or 20 minutes, as you try to get to Mission Grove Park. This has been traffic.

The whole town feels like a carnival now with the flashing lights of the Obelisk and it’s crescendo of lively music filling the cool twilight air. We dance, we sing, we revel in togetherness and share our  fears of what will happen next. What will the question be? And more importantly, what will be its answer? When every name has been placed upon the Obelisk, then the blue glow of the towering monolith will die away. The entire structure will turn black. All except one name. One name will remain lit on the Obelisk, and that person shall be sent forth to ask their question. They may ask any question they choose and the Obelisk will tell them and only them the answer. No one else will hear this communication. If the receiver wishes to share what they now know, they are allowed to do so.

Many years back, this ritual was more organized. Early Night Vale townships planned a democratic approach to this opportunity: a committee of the Obelisk was formed to decide on the single most important question to ask. This approach came about in response to the super blunder of 1932, when a 6-year-old boy named Bartholomew Thomason was chosen to deliver the question. He  asked the Obelisk if he was, quote, “gonna have corn for dinner”. The obelisk apparently said no, because little Bart started crying and the Obelisk quickly disappeared, not to return for almost 10 years. By that time, the committee of the Obelisk was established and they chose the question: “how do you cure cancer?” Ah, this is a good and noble question. But the citizen chosen by the Obelisk was a farmer named Barry McKenney, who tried his best to take careful notes, but a lot of the detailed medical jargon was just too complex for him. The committee tried this question again 6 years later, but the Obelisk refused to respond to any question it had already answered. So Sidney Laynord of Old Time Night Vale, not having a backup question from the committee, asked if his wife Jessica was cheating on him with Gerald Framingham, and the Obelisk said no, but it only said that because Gerald’s actual last name was Framington, so Sidney just messed up.

Over the decades, the committee of the Obelisk asked: “Is God real”? And the Obelisk said yes, but nothing more. After that, they tried to ask questions that would elicit more detailed response. Um, one year they asked: “who planned the assassination of JFK?” and were disappointed to learn that it was a CIA - Fidel Castro – Frank Sinatra triumvirate that conspired to murder our 35th president. This was the most boring answer, but at least it verified what everyone already knew.

By the 1990’s, though, the committee of the Obelisk had kind of fallen out of fashion after years of corporate funding and corruption. See, this controversy exploded in 1997, when the question put forth by the committee, which at the time was headed by the CEO of Pepsico, was: “what’s the best tasting carbonated soft drink on the market today?” The Obelisk’s answer, to the chairman’s great disappointment, was Surge. Today, whoever is called on by the Obelisk is given free reign to ask whatever they choose. However many news outlets regularly publish lists of recommended question, but there is always the risk that someone will ask something frivolous like “what’s Jason Mraz up to these days?” or “where is the body of my missing fahter?” Please, God please, just don’t call on Susan Willman. She will blow it.

And now a word from our sponsors. Are you tired of wrinkled shirts? Do your clothes get static cling? [increasingly angry tone] How many times do you show up to work with your shirt all rumpled and not smelling like seafoam mist? You’re not going to get a promotion looking like that, and while no one deserves anything, you certainly should appear to earn that promotion. You need crisp, clean, non-ionised clothing that smells like seafoam mist. Don’t you wanna smell like seafoam mist?! Try Tide pods. With our special formula of citrus extract, kelp and milk fat, Tide pods can be the all natural solution to all of your laundry problems. You deserve Tide pods, because you deserve that promotion over Michaela, who’s only like 22 years old. What has she ever done to deserve a promotion? What’s Michaela’s deal even? Tide pods. Remember when we seemed like a big problem?

Oooooooo listeners, the Obelisk has gone dark. The music has ceased. The whole town encircles the tower waiting for its declaration for who shall ask the question. In the quiet night, under few start peeking thru the purple sky, we can hear only the sounds of crickets. The Obelisk, so black as to appear cut out from reality, suddenly shines a small blue line. It is a name, it is on the south face and is it… Oh no! No no no, listeners, I don’t know if I can stop this but I will try. Uuuh, let’s go now to the weather.

[“Pros and Cons” by Sugar & the Mint https://www.sugarandthemint.com/]

Welllll it’s too late. She’s asked her question. I’m not sure how I could have stopped this disaster, even if I made it over there before she could ask it. OK, as you know by now, the Obelisk lit up with Susan Willman’s name, and she grinned smugly and did that fake like “who me? What, oh my god!” gesture and then walked on up to the Obelisk. The crowd was calling out questions to her like  game show audience trying to help a contestant, no single phrase discernible above the others, and Susan just looked around, her big goofy eyes scanning the people around her, as if she would actually lower herself to listen to their questions. [scoffs] She thinks she’s so high and mighty with her PT officer status and her hit Broadway musical. No no no, Susan’s above us all, just as important as she can be. She waved her arms like wings for quiet, and the audience obeyed, she’s so self-important, so attention seeking. And then she asked her question. The one question we as a town get only every decade or so, and Susan said: “Hey, so what’s your name?” What’s your name?!! God! What a waste! Did she forget we only get one question? The crowd began to boo, or at least I did. I started booing and I am part of the crowd.

The obelisk began to speak only into Susan’s mind and Susan listened closely. She giggled at first, like a little girl hearing a silly joke from a grandfather, and then her tear-filled laughs turned into tear-filled breaths, which eventually became tear-filled sobs. After about three minutes, the Obalisk vanished, and Susan stood alone on the small hill between the Wailing Pit and the Memorial Debris Heap, and she told us what she heard. Or [scoffs] she told us some of what she heard.

Susan said, in an unusually booming authoritative voice: “Whosoever speaks aloud the name of the Obelisk shall become the Obelisk. Whosoever becomes the Obelisk shall live forever. Whosoever lives forever shall know all things. Whosoever knows all things shall be damned. And whosoever hears the name of the Obelisk spoken aloud shall perish.” The crowd parted for Susan as she left the park. They mumbled their disappointment in both the question and its answer. Some spoke with pity, some with disdain, while some thought it was all pretty cool and now. “Much better than last time, when Dave asked who would win the 2013 NBA championships,” said one person. “Dave won a lot of money on that answer, though,” responded another. “He has a yacht now over at the Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area.”

But most everyone whispered their fear for Susan’s power itself. I mean, Susan received a gif today, a cursed cursed gifts. You know what? I think I might go see that “Sunset Boulevard” after all and I love it. I don’t get to tell Susan very often what a visionary theatrical director she is, but I, I, [chuckles] I might even put some stacks down on her cakes Saturday too. Really support that academic Decathlon team. And the spirit of American ingenuity and perseverance, and all that.

Good question, Susan. I’d like to never learn the answer, but good question nonetheless. You’re one of, if not the, best person I know. Thumbs up.

Stay tuned next for our newest game show, “Nothing will ever be the same”.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Bite your tongue. Fun, right?

[docstark]

Ignite (Avengers/Bucky Barnes Fanfiction) Chapter 2 - He Would Have Liked You

<<Previous Chapter

So this chapter is jumping staying in Doctor Stark's story and will slowly move into the more of a Bucky fanfiction. It's kind of my running story.

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of 18+ activities lol

----------

I managed to get control of my power and I made gauntlets so that I wasn’t getting massive internal arm injuries from the vibrations (Agent Coulson said that I probably used the last bit of vibranium that SHIELD had but as Fury didn’t want me to have broken arms��)

Long story short, my brother is Iron Man, I have powers, Captain America was found, and now after some thawing, a freak out in New York where he was taken to wake up in, Steve Rogers himself is now my patient….kind of. (I’m not a practicing doctor)

“I feel like we’ve met,” he said after a long silence.

“In a way we have,” I said as I looked over his blood work, “You knew my father.” His forehead wrinkled as he was looking at me like he was trying to place me with all the people that he once knew. “Of course, if you were to see my brother you would really see the young Howard Stark in him.”

“Stark? You’re Stark’s daughter?”

“Yep.”

“Is...Is he gone? Like everyone else?” He questioned looking at his feet.

“Both he and my mother died in ‘91,” I replied quietly, “Car crash, I was 15.”

“I’m-“

“It’s okay...it was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier,” he said. I remembered hearing from Aunt Peggy how Steve had lost both of his parents as well and it wasn’t something that you want to have in common with someone, but at least he could understand what I went through. “Anyway, are you doing more tests today doc?”

“No, you’ve got as clean of a bill as a super soldier that has been frozen in the ice for nearly 70 years,” I replied, “Got some interesting data on myself as well…”

“On yourself?”

“Oh...it’s nothing,” I said, not meaning to have said that last part out loud. As a scientist it made me curious to see what my own altered gene sequence looked like to that of Captain America’s since both our serums came from the same doctor and the same time period. I honestly wasn’t expecting any huge similarities, but I was surprised that what had been altered in me had also been altered in him, but because of the way that the serum was meant to activate within my body it didn’t turn me into a super soldier, but a weapon.

“And Bucky used to call me a bad liar,” Steve said, crossing his arms and sitting back in his chair, “What’s going on doc?”

I sighed. He was going to find out sooner or later because of The Avengers Initiative that Fury was putting together, so I just told him everything.

“All for that fact that your brother was kidnapped?” he questioned, “You are a tough one and got heart doc…”

“Yeah, well my brother damn near killed me when he found out what I did,” I replied, “But I’m good with my choices. But this isn’t about me…I brought these from the old SSR storage…” I went to go grab the couple of boxes that I brought with me that morning but he beat me to them.

“Let me get those for you,” he said as he carried them over to the table.

“Thank you,” I said, “These boxes have some of your belongings that were stored away after you went missing.”

He opened the box and looked in, there were some old photos, a signed baseball, his father’s dog tags, his mother’s wedding ring. Small things that were squirrelled away from his Brooklyn apartment for if he were to be found again. “These were in storage this whole time?”

“Yeah, I’m going to guess that either my father or Agent Carter had this done,” I said as I reached into the box and pulled out a picture that caught my eye.

“It wouldn’t surprise me at all if Peggy had it done,” he said, looking at the compass that was sitting on the table by where he had been sitting.

“There are other things that belonged to you that aren't as personal that you can find in the Smithsonian,” I said, captivated by the man in the photo.

“He would have liked you,” Steve said looking over my shoulder.

“What?”

“Bucky…he would have liked you,” he said pointing to the picture.

“This is a much better picture than the memorial one that they have in the museum,” I said as Steve and I sat down, “He has playful eyes…”

He snorted. “Oh you have no idea...he knew just how to make everyone feel happy even on the worst days, but when he was around others...oh and women could not get enough of him. Though thinking about it now he was actually quite picky.”

“Man, romance did die in the 40s,” I said lulling my head back as I put the picture back in the box.

He chuckled. “Guys today not what you wish they were?”

“I get more satisfaction from my hand then men nowadays…” There was a silence in the room and I looked at Steve whose ears were now a bright shade of red. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine…”

A FEW DAYS LATER

“You didn’t,” Natasha said as she blocked my punch.

“As you well know, don’t ask me questions you don’t want an honest answer to,” I replied as we continued to spar. As we did so I managed to grab her arm, twist it and use her own leg to give me a little extra leverage to jump and get my legs around her neck and flip her over.

“Good god, woman…” she said, landing with an oomph.

“I’ve been getting some tips from Agent May,” I said with a cheeky grin, “You are the one that told me not to always rely on my powers.”

She sat up and looked up at me. “Want to play it that way huh?”

“Oh shit…”

After getting my ass thoroughly handed to me (though Nat did say that I did quite well), we hit the showers and after returned to our previous conversation...thanks to her.

“So what did he say after you said what you did?” she questioned as we stood at one of the Triskelion’s coffee stands.

“Who say about what?” I asked at first not catching on to what she was talking about.

“Steve….what did he say?”

“Oh, nothing...his ears turned bright red and I apologised, I forgot that in the 1940s they weren’t exactly open about that kind of stuff.”

She let out a snort. “Oh if only the 1940s could see us now!” she said sliding down the zipper of her jacket with a wink.

“You’re horrible,” I said nudging her with my elbow.

“Anyway, what about that guy that you just broke up with?”

“Kevin?” I asked, wrinkling my nose, “For starters, he broke up with me.”

“Excuse me?”

I just shrugged. “He wasn’t worth the time anyway. He only cared about what I could do for his dick, and not what his dick could do for me. No satisfaction what-so-ever...always ended up sneaking off to the bathroom to get off.”

“I hate that...he’s losing out though,” she said as we grabbed our coffee and headed down the hall.

“I don’t need a guy who leaves me feeling unsatisfied or that tells me that I work too much, or that-”

“He does know that you have 3 Phds and are the co-owner of a billion dollar company...right?”

“Must’ve slipped his mind…” I said shrugging.

“Ladies,” we looked and saw Fury as he walked over to us, arms tucked behind his back.

“Doctor, I saw your final report...is Rogers ready when if we need him,” he questioned.

“I think he is, whether or not he thinks he is will come down to what he does when a challenge is put in front of him,” I replied.

“Very well, are you leaving tonight or tomorrow?” he questioned.

“Tonight sir, I believe that Nat is leaving tonight as well, I finished my work with Captain Rogers, got my training in, and now I need to get back to Stark Tower so that Tony and Pepper don’t completely steal my thunder with the sustainable energy for the tower.”

“Very well...a Quinjet will be available for you to take whenever you are ready,” he said with a nod of his head, “Agent Romanoff...good luck on your mission.”

“Thank you sir,” she said.

He left us standing there and I just looked at her. “Did I just get debriefed?”

“In a subtle way, yes.”

“Agent Doctor Stark or Doctor Agent Stark?”

“None of the above….”

“Party-pooper.”

That evening I did find myself back at Stark Tower, at the very top in Tony’s “Home Away From Home”.

“You know Y/N, technically...you could live here,” Tony said as me, him, and Pepper sat on the couch putting making sure we had all our plans put together for when Tony when to connect the Arc Reactor to Stark Tower.

“So generous, but I like my garden,” I replied, “And I like feeling like a normal human being first thing in the morning.”

“Your house is so small,” he said.

“I’m sorry my 3,000 square ft house bothers you so,” I said, “But it’s my ‘small’ house and has all the upgrades that I need. If I ever need a bigger house I’ll just buy the house next door and evict the neighbors and build over onto that plot of land.” I thought Pepper’s head was gonna snap off her neck with as fast as she turned it when I said this. “I’m kidding Pep...cool your jets.”

“The two of you have deep enough pockets, forgive me if I get concerned sometimes,” she said with a chuckled.

“Nah, I like my neighbors...guy across the street is kind of creepy but-“

“Big brother need to step in and take care of him for you?” Tony teased earning an eyeroll.

“When I moved in there, Nancy, the neighbor to the right of me said he’s been the head of the neighborhood watch for 20 years or something like that,” I replied knowing that though he was teasing me, part of him was also serious, “He apparently didn’t like all the people that came in and out of the neighborhood when I was having the house upgraded with Stark Tech, the lab put in the basement, and then the security around the perimeter...I disrupted the peace.”

“Look at you, turning suburbia on its head,” he said.

“Alright you two, enough...let’s get this finished,” Pepper laughed.

Two nights later project clean Sustainability was a go.

“How’s it look big bro?” I asked as Tony flew back to the Tower as it lit up the New York skyline.

“Like Christmas, only more...us,” he replied.

As he landed I turned to Pepper. “I will leave you two to celebrate, I have other work that needs to be felt with.”

“What? N/N, stay and have some champagne,” Pepper said.

“No, you two celebrate. Date night for you two...enjoy.” I headed to the elevator and to my office where I was greeted by my Artificially Intelligent Digital Assistant or AIDA for short.

“Good evening, Doctor Stark. I would like to congratulate you on making Stark tower the first fully clean and sustainable building in the United States,” she said as I sat at my desk, “Also I am being informed by JARVIS that Agent Coulson is trying to get a hold of both you and Mr. Stark, should I put him through?”

I sighed. “If I don’t, he’ll probably just hack his way-“

*DING*

“Agent Coulson…”

"Doctor Stark, I'm sorry to interupt your evening but there is something urgent that we need dealt with," he said holding out a file to me. Opening the file I saw a picture of a familiar blue cube paperclipped to the top. "What do you know about the Tesseract?"

"Only what was in my father's files," I replied. By now there were five people that knew about the files that were given to my by Aunt Peggy. I knew I couldn't keep them a secret forever so I kept it down to:

Fury Coulson Nat Tony Pepper

Thanks to Pepper and her due dillagence, most of the files were now store electronically on an encrypted harddrive. Though there were somethings that were secret to only me.

"Good, in five minutes send what you have up to Mr. Stark," he replied, "The Tessaract was stolen by an Asgardian by the name of Loki. We will need your help on this....time for you to suit up."

As Coulson headed back to the elevator I went over to my computer and pulled up my files. 'Why my father ever fished that thing out of the ocean instead of throwing it back I will never understand....'

TO BE CONTINUED....

Chapter 3>>

[thestarkerisobvious]

Sixteen - The Masked Librarian

amazing art work by @starker-sorbet​  A snugglefic for @mrstarksbabyy​

Sixteen

1 The Masked Librarian

After his sixteenth birthday, Peter used his birthday money to buy several notebooks and spent the summer filling them up with the facts he had gleaned from Tony, along with the books he had gotten from the libraries.  For fear they would be found, he wrote a lie in bold marker on the covers:  

                                                Novel Ideas:  

                                              Ideas for a Novel

Putting a timeline together with the information he got from Tony was impossible.  Tony was far more concerned with his duties around the farm than who was actually ordering him around.  

Peter’s constant questions finally made it clear – Tony had never been terribly concerned with whom he was serving, as long as he was fed and had a job to do.  Who was the son, nephew or uncle or son-of-the-uncle of whom ultimately did not concern him.  The title of “Master” wasn’t even passed on directly from father to son in every case, although it was, Peter finally ascertained, only given to a male blood relative of the original Post homesteader.  There were other problems, too, with the things Peter was being told.  Tony had no interest in years or wars or anything in American history that Peter could plot along a timeline.  Peter quickly learned there was no point in asking “which war?”  Tony had never understood which wars were which, just that men sometimes left for them.  To Tony, all the wars were “The War.”  To further complicate things, Peter strongly suspected that New York City was referred to as “New Amsterdam” by the Post family long after it was really called something else.

What he could find in the libraries was sparse.  The best he could find was the same stories they had been told when they bought the house: that two Post brothers had come from Germany and married a woman who was related to the royal family in Portugal.  That the boys were always taught German in honor of the patriarchs and the girls Portuguese, for the same reason.  That a Post had been a famous hero in the Civil War until he died by Direct Encounter With A Cannonball.  No other details.

Until the 1920s.  That’s when things got interesting..  The Post Homestead, at one time, had been a type of artist colony, which was to say, the sprawling Post family were famous for inviting artists to live, sometimes for years, as guests in their multi-generation household.    This had started out as a series of artisans hired to tutor the multiple Post daughters.  Over the decades this had become a tiny thriving community.  Mostly painters and sculptors, according to the books, but there were musicians too.  This had caused a conflict between the Post family and the town – for a period of the time the Post Homestead had been bringing in jazz musicians at great expense, much to the delight of the tiny artistic community.  To the town at large, not so much.  (Those of the African American persuasion were welcomed to come and work in Devil’s Hollow, but not “let the sun set” upon them.  The Post Family apparently did not share those same reservations.)

What happened after that was hard to piece together.  Tony wasn’t around to ask, and even if he was, he might not have known the answer.  But the death of Jedediah Post certainly must have been a turning point. 

Or maybe it just seemed that way to Peter because that was the most newsworthy event he could find.  Jedediah Post was a man of considerable wealth, and left a great deal of it to the towns around him, as well as three different museums in New York City.  But none to Devil’s Hollow.  The amount of art the family had amassed was significant, including paintings, sculptures and something called “art deco” which, as far as Peter could tell, involved a lot of very fancy furniture.  The donations were large and it was easy to track down stories about them.  Some of the museums in New York City he had even been to, although he had never seen the art in question (he was more of a Science Exhibit man himself) but some Aunt May had seen. 

The breadth of the donations was breathtaking, but mostly Peter’s research turned up bitterness and resentment.  Jedediah Post had left nothing to the Devil’s Hollow library, nor the museum (there had been one in those days) nor the school.  Apparently After-You-Die Donations had been a local phenomenon in Devil’s Hollow, particularly from the Post family.  That ended, it appeared, with Jedediah. 

Was there a reason?  Did Jed Post attempt to create an artistic community at the Post Homestead, and resent the town’s undue influence on whom he was allowed to invite?  Or did he simply make more friends outside the boundaries of the town than in?  And was that why the sprawling Post family all relocated elsewhere?  Whatever had happened, sometime in between the 1930’s and the 40’s the last Post son was living there completely and utterly by himself. 

Was he hated by the townspeople because he was a hostile misanthrope, or did he become a hostile misanthrope BECAUSE he was hated by the townspeople?   Whatever had happened, the Post estate had gone from a busy, noisy, bustling place to a house with one resident.  

Evan Post.

Evan Post… and Tony.

When Peter wasn’t pouring over his books he was remembering what it was like to be wrapped up in the arms of the thing that lived under the bed.  Which reminded him of his promise to the thing that lived under his bed.  He took long walks daily, getting sunlight and climbing every available surface that looked climbable, doing all those things that he had been promised would make him “healthy.”  Exercise by itself was boring, but the further he could walk the more wildlife he could observe.  The higher he climbed, the same.  Aunt May started to call him “The Spider” as he came home daily reporting all the wildlife he had observed from dizzying heights.  The exercise did him good, it made him hungrier at night and soon he had grown several inches and put on more weight.  He admired himself in the bathroom mirror, he enjoyed standing on the scale.  He was proud of his new body.  

He couldn’t wait to show Tony.

The long walks into the forest and the many hours sitting in trees gave Peter time to think about what life had been like for his friend in the years between Jedediah and Evan Post.  Which led to even weightier thoughts about what life had been like for Tony in the years between life in the monastery and life with the stylite Simeon the Elder.

Primarily, Peter thought about Tony, and what Tony liked to eat.

In the monastery, it appeared Tony and the others (the ones he called “us”) were fed just like guard dogs.  Or more correctly, like hellhounds.  They were fed on cattle and “infernal vapors” and, on rare occasions, people.  All until he was sent to live with Simeon on a pillar where he learned how to feed entirely on feelings.

Peter went over it in his head many times, the things Tony had said about Simeon and his other monk-lover, the one he had left behind without a single thought.  Simeon he had loved, Peter was sure of it.  “I was his beloved,” Tony had said.  (He had also spoken about touching, about pretending to be shy, about needing to be ‘taught.’  Peter tried not to think about that, but he did.  He thought about it a lot.)  

It was true, Tony might have loved Simeon the same way he loved the fields of cattle being raised to feed him, but he loved the man nonetheless.  Spent 12 years with him on a pillar, when he was supposed to be convincing him to return to the monastery.  Protected his ability to ask questions. Took away his hurt and his desire to hurt himself.   Lived on that, and nothing but that, until the day he was forced to kill the man.  That was something he could not control, Peter was certain, any more than he could control being after “sent into the ground.”

The next thing he knew, he was working in the New World.  Was he fed with farm animals, too, working on the farm as he did?  The only thing Peter could think of was the roaring twenties and the artists that lived and created at the Post Homestead.  The layout of the little artist colony was easy to see from his vantage points in the tops of trees or in his hiding place in the empty barn.    Barns, silos, and animal stalls had been razed and almost a dozen cottage-like guest cottages built by Jedediah in his day, only to be raized to their foundations by Evan decades later.  Had Evan despised growing up in that cacophony, unable to find a quiet place to himself, destroying all vestiges of it in his old age?  Or had he treasured that life, growing up in the safety of his title as son of the lord of the manor, removing the artists village when he finally understood he would never see the likes of it again?  Had he hated people as an old man because he had hated people all his life?  Of had he considered the composers, painters and sculptures the ‘normal’ people, and hated the people of Devil’s Holler’ because they were anything but normal?

Even knowing what Evan Post had done, Peter could still sympathies.  He himself had to go to school with boys his age who complained that the “for’ners, n-words and queers” were taking over the country, while he sat in silence and day-dreamed about the day he could go to college in New York City and be surrounded by “for’ners, n-words and queers” again.

Peter tried to picture it, sitting up in a tree and observing the whole of the Post Homestead.  A little village of people, creating, despairing, hoping, disappointing, arguing, loving, scheming, fearing.  And Tony underneath it, grazing on it all.  Tony spoke of feeding from artists after the work was done, or else the work would never get finished.  Did he know it instinctively?  Or did he learn through trial and error?  How much art was never complete because he fed too soon?  It couldn’t have been much, the finished artworks that DID come from the Post Homestead were legion.  Did the artists even know they were feeding Tony their light?  Was it voluntary?  Mandatory?  Tony remembered a grandmother that called him “a musa,” The Muse.  Did they think Tony was the cause of the art that was produced in this place, or did they realize he was simply growing stronger from it?

And where did the money come from?  The Post Homestead was an actual farm, and then one day it wasn’t.  Were the artists all brought here because Jedediah Post was a very rich man, and knew what he wanted to spend his wealth upon art?  Or did Jedediah invest his money into feeding Tony, which in turn made him a very rich man?

And how difficult was it for Tony, feasting on the light of sculptors, painters and controversial Jazz musicians, to learn how to live on nothing but the hate and fear of Evan Post?  What did that turn him into?  Tony readily admitted that he had driven off everyone who had come to live in the Post Homestead before Peter’s family, driving them away because all he wanted to drink was fear.  Couldn’t stop seeking out fear, causing the fear, even when he realized his own greed was driving away his only source of food.

And he had tried to inspire fear in Peter and his little family of three, Peter remembered.  When his quiet family moved into the vast house they decided, that very first night, that there was a good reason why the Post Homestead was considered haunted.  Their quiet country home was anything but quiet. It wasn’t as noisy as their New York City apartment, of course, but still not quiet.  Not only did floors creak and doors slam in empty rooms, but entire wings groaned and floorboards squeaked in the exact rhythm of footsteps.  The wind howled under the porch like an angry monster.  The first night in their new home not a single member of the family slept a wink.

So, naturally, the little family sat at the breakfast table the next and formulated a plan – a research plan.  That very day they set out for the tiny town library, got library cards, and searched out books on architecture.  When the library proved lacking they drove to the next town and did the same.  Soon Peter had a pile of books to read and May and Ben set out to fix up their Still-Quieter-Than-New-York-City farmhouse.  Peter found the books fascinating, had read them to May as she worked in the kitchen or Ben as he worked on the fences, but when those two ran him off he mostly he found himself reading out loud to himself in his room.

And, just like that, the noises quieted down.

The wolves, too, that had howled with alarming frequency when they first arrived (alarming because they had been assured there were no wolves in the woods anymore) dried up the very weekend Peter had come home with an armload of books about canines.  At the time it seemed to Peter that he had superpowers.  Whatever alarming phenomenon their haunted house produced, Peter could make it go away just by researching it.  He joked about it with Aunt May as he read to her about plumbing at the breakfast table (the obvious reason for the growling sounds coming from the basement.)  She called him “The Masked Librarian.” 

Now, he realized, he had been doing something else entirely.  Tony had lived on a diet of fear.  But Peter was only providing Tony with questions, the joy of gaining new information, followed by more information.  The thing Tony called “light.” 

Sometimes Peter wondered if Tony would be happier in a household with more emotional displays – Peter knew that “light” was not simply the positive emotions.  In addition to fear and hate, Tony fed on anger, sorrow and righteous indignation just as well.  But Peter’s little family had certainly put Tony on a strict diet.  May was stubbornly, sometimes grimly, cheerful whereas Uncle Ben raised his voice so very rarely Peter could remember every single instant.  Peter was by far the most emotional of the trio, reading books about pollution that made him cry, about endangered animals and acid rain that made him so angry he felt like punching the walls.  Tony had requested all of those kinds of books, had requested laughter and tears and anger and questions. 

Had requested everything but fear.

He had described Peter as ‘fearless,’ and in many ways that was true.  Maybe Peter had inherited some stubborn, determined optimism from the same ancestor as Aunt May, or maybe he had learned it hanging onto her apron strings.  In any case when he had first discovered that there was a voice talking to him from under his bed, fearlessness and determination had certainly served him well.

But now that the thing that lived under his bed had a name and a backstory, Peter certainly felt some real fears creeping in.

Especially as the season that Tony had told him to wait for came creeping in, a sixteen-year-old Peter was aware of some budding feelings.  His body, he was told, would be changing.  He thought he was prepared for that.  But he was finding, much to his alarm, that his brain was changing too.  Watching the foxes chase rabbits from his perch high in a tree, or watching the owls devour their prey whole from his hiding place in the barn, Peter poked at those fears gingerly, teasing around the edges.

All his life, it seemed, pretending the fear wasn’t real had served him well.   Now he wasn’t so sure.  Normally, when Peter Parker was alarmed by something, he looked it up at the library.  But he wasn’t sure there were any books on this subject.

So he did the only think he could have done, he reviewed it in his brain.  Reviewed everything he knew about Tony.  Everything he knew about the thing that lived under his bed.

As he went over the story in his mind, he found himself with two things that he decided not to label ‘fears’ after all.  He decided it would be more expedient to label them ‘regrets.’

Alright, three.  Maybe four.

[vixeyfoxworth]

this ain't for the best my reputation's never been worse, so you must like me for me.

we can't make any promises now can we, babe? but you can make me a drink

BASICS

Name: Victoria Grace Foxworth Nicknames/Alias: Vixey, Vix, occasionally Tori. She really hates being called Vicky and though she’s nice about it if it happens she does address it and ask if they not call her that. Face Claim: Emma Stone Age: Twenty-nine Gender/pronouns: Cis woman / she/her Sexuality: Pansexual. Vixey’s never really felt like she develops feelings based on gender, it’s always based on the human and their connection and character. Date/Place of Birth: June 6th / New York City Currently:  Avonnola Occupation: Actress, previously performing on Broadway

HISTORY

Childhood/Family Life: Vixey grew up in an incredibly loving and supportive home. Her father’s a veterinarian, primarily serving exotic animals, while her mother, a veterinarian primarily serving farm and domestic animals. Her father spent a few years working around the world before her parents met and then after they met they were able to do a bit of traveling thanks to his job. From day one Vixey was taught to love and care for animals always. She was raised vegetarian, using locally sourced animal products. Growing up Vixey thought her parents may push her to pursue their dreams for her but to her surprise they were fully supportive of her little girl as she pursued choir and the theatre clubs in school. From a young age Victoria loved to perform, commanding a room when she walked in without effort, sometimes due to her striking red hair, but most of the time it came naturally thanks to her personality. Due to her parent’s jobs, and her dad eventually opening his own practice, Vixey’s always lived a very comfortable life. Though Vixey was born in New York City, her parents are both from small towns in Tennessee and made sure to expose Vixey to more than just the fast paced city life.  Education: In high school Victoria was a big of a teacher’s pet. She got her undergraduate degree in theatre performance and went on to get her MFA in acting and most of the time questions if she even needs it. Accomplishments: Pursuing her dream of becoming an actress and performing on Broadway. Being nominated for a Tony Award and being nominated and winning various other drama related awards. Completing her master’s degree as that was one of the biggest headaches of her life. Regrets: Vixey isn’t very big on actively regretting things, mostly because she knows if she does she’ll dwell on things and it’ll only make her feel worse. She tends to be incredibly impulsive and can also be jealous so she doesn’t like to give herself time to think too much about actions. She certainly regrets things she’s said to people in the past, especially when she’s been upset. Secrets: tbd.

PERSONALITY

Positives/Virtues/Skills: She’s kind, loving, empathetic, a team player, self-confident, a good listener, and very efficient when it comes to completing a task. Victoria learns fast, she’s a visual learner and loves to collaborate with others. One of her favorite things about performing on stage is that yes, it’s important to pour everything you can into your character for yourself but also for the sake of the show. Unless it’s a one woman show, you’re never truly alone on stage - and even then you’ve got a tech crew truly making you shine. Vixey’s always been very complimentary of her off stage coworkers. She’s reliable in a way but also unreliable in others. If you want someone to help you, she’s your girl, but if you want to go out on the town with someone who will stick by your side the whole night no matter what, she’s probably not because she’s been known to disappear for the night with a partner or with new friends she’s made.

Flaws/Weaknesses/Negatives: Vixey can be jealous and is often stubborn, wanting to make decisions and do things on her own terms, and it isn’t always to her benefit or the benefit of others. Though she can be patient, she tends to have a short fuse and can go off about little things, though she tries to apologize and own up to her mistakes in that regard and has gotten better. She tends to act impulsively, especially when it comes to somewhat non-life altering decisions. Vixey knows if she thinks too long about something she’ll overthink it so she tends to act without thinking. She’s working on it but it still happens.

Personality Type:

ESFP - Entertainer

Likes & Dislikes:

Vixey’s favorite color is red, she loves anything that sparkles, her music taste varies on the day, she’ll listen to almost everything. She took dance classes as a kid and kept up with them through college. She loved playing the piano as a kid and though she doesn’t play anymore she could if she had to. She loves shopping and thanks to her comfortable life has never really had to worry about treating herself every now and then. She’s not necessarily one for designer brands, unless it’s for a special event or she finds them at a discount. Vixey loved a good bargain but often comes across as materialistic thanks to her hobby. She actually doesn’t like going into designer stores, they feel more like a museum than a store to her. She likes to pick up and try things on before buying them and she doesn’t feel super comfortable doing that in those stores. She likes to be in control of a situation, she’s not necessarily bossy and she doesn’t always like to be in charge or in a leadership position but she definitely likes to be in control of her own thing. She loves plants and comfy beds and naps in the afternoon. She hates phone calls and rude comments on her instagram. 

Dreams/Ambitions:

She’s already achieved her dream of becoming an actress and she only hopes to continue that. She’d love to open her own dance studio someday to help others pursue their own dreams. She figures in another life she’d work in a bookshop or library but she isn’t so sure her own need to constantly have something to do would serve her well in a job like that.

Fears:

Abandonment or being left out. As an only child Victoria had a difficult time connecting with other kids right away until her parents finally enrolled her into a preschool program. That didn’t last long, though and it wasn’t until Vixey was in school that she finally had proper interaction. She was often left out of games early on and a lot of kids made fun of her hair, saying he looked like a fire engine but eventually she just focused on the fire part. Later when she began to date she dated.. a lot, but was either left or left before she could be left.

RELATIONSHIPS

Parents: Katherine and Jeff Foxworth Siblings: Victoria is an only child. Children: None, and though she may not admit it, she wouldn’t mind having a big family someday. Spouse: n/a Current Partner: tbd Ex-Partners: tbd Friends: tbd! message me for wanted connections :) Enemies: tbd! message me for wanted connections :)

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Build: 5′6″, slender, loves to wear heels to appear taller than she is, especially around men who are taller than her. Hair Colour: Red Eye Colour: Hazel Green Distinguishing Marks: Victoria has a tattoo on her left side just under her breast, two butterflies, that she got on a whim after college.

[cagestark]

-Proxy Chapter Three-

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Read here on AO3.

-

“FRI—”

“You’re not having a stroke!” Peter shrieks. “What’s—what’s so hard to believe? You’ve been my hero since I was like, eight years old. I’ve been getting off to those old TED talks of yours since I was old enough to masturbate—okay, TMI, I know—but you’re so smart, and you’re so brave, and fuck, Mr. Stark, you’re like, so, so hot, I don’t know what to do—and I got this dumb idea in my head that if I just asked, you’d offer, but I literally almost just had sex with some guy I don’t even know just because I was too scared to ask you myself, and I—I’m so sorry.”

Tony holds up a hand to stop the profuse rambling. His heart is pounding in his chest, but he doesn’t waste the breath asking FRIDAY if he’s having a heart attack. He pieces together the kid’s words with all the background information, the senseless things that he hadn’t been able to compute until he received this context. Brilliant though he may be, social contexts can often fall to the wayside.

“I should have seen this coming,” Tony says. “I guess my rampant self-esteem issues might have pulled the wool over my eyes. I’m sorry. Jesus, kid, this has been one fucked up game of chicken. You almost lost your virginity for a bluff.”

Peter sighs. “It would have been worth it if you had said yes. It would have been worth it even if it was, it was Daniel, you know? Because you were here, and a part of it. Kind of.”

“Yeah, no. Not worth it. And don’t tell anyone about that part of this—”

“Trust me, I won’t,” says Peter glumly, sniffing. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. Again.”

“Don’t be,” he says. He means it. Peter can’t possibly imagine how much he means it. Because the last sixty seconds have made him feel filled with helium. This must be how that dumb earnest child and his equally dumb hotheaded grandfather felt when they drank those fizzy-lifting drinks at the Wonka factory. Somehow, this incredible young man next to him sees something in him. Tony believes that Peter is the human equivalent of Mjolnir, some detector of worthiness. In the kid's hands and eyes, Tony is uplifted. He feels…honored. “Peter, look—”

“Don’t,” the kid groans, scrubbing at his eyes. “Please don’t give me the whole, let’s stay friends speech or the you're too young speech. All those speeches suck. Just—can’t we pretend this never happened?”

“Maybe you could,” Tony admits. “But I can’t. Friends—yeah, I want to be your friend. But I want more than that too.” The expression on Peter’s face when he peaks around his hands is one he will never forget, the shred of hope that blossoms and blooms there, prettier than any flower Tony’s ever seen. “You’ve got to know how extraordinary you are, and not just genetically. You’re smart. You’re brave. You’re attractive. If I got to be with you, I’d be an incredibly lucky man.”

Peter frowns. “Why am I sensing a but?”

“Because there is one. But—I’m an old man. I could take care of you financially, yes, but I’d do that anyway, no strings attached. You’re going to want someone younger, with less mileage, less wear and tear. You’re going to want someone different someday. Someone better. And contrary to your youthful belief: they’re out there waiting for you, kid. Someone who is everything you’ve ever dreamed of, and who is going to look at you like you hang the moon.”

“Is that how you look at me?” Peter asks, tears glittering in his lashes. “Like I hang the moon?”

Tony swallows.

Peter crosses the bed on his knees, one, two, awkward steps until he is flush with Tony’s side, and then hooking a leg over Tony’s lap. Tony isn’t as wide as Daniel was, but he is wide enough that Peter sits nearly flush on his lap, skinny jeans stretching. The weight is warm and solid, and Peter’s half naked, all abs and soft, pale skin that makes Tony’s fingers buzz just thinking about touching.

“Pete, don’t,” Tony groans, choosing a spot on the wall across the room (where a conveniently placed painting rests) and staring at it resolutely. God, the painting is hideous, something leftover from Pepper’s abstract art buying phase. It needs burned, needs dropped from the roof of the building, needs donated back to whatever museum it came from.

“Why not?” Peter asks softly. He rests his hands on Tony’s shoulders, kneeling up until his chest is in the way of Tony’s gaze. Not that Tony minds, really, because fuck—the kid is positively built. Peter relaxes his legs and whatever pressure he’d been using to avoid sitting on Tony’s lap settles onto Tony’s groin, where his traitorous, half-hard cock takes notice. Instinct has him reaching out to plant his wide hands across the narrow hips, and the skin burns him. It’s even softer than he imagined. “Even if you don’t think we should be together. Why can’t we? If I want you, and somehow you want me?”

“You think I could look at you the same after fucking you, kid?” Tony asks lowly. “I can barely look at you as is because of all the compromising situations I’ve seen you in lately.”

Peter’s face flushes. “It doesn’t make any sense then either. We want each other in all those ways, so why not try? Please, Mr. Stark. Please, let us try.”

And it always comes back to this, doesn’t it?

The fact that Tony can’t say no to this kid.

He tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling and implore any divine deities to have mercy on him. The kid takes the opportunity to press his mouth to Tony’s jaw, just beneath where his facial hair ends. It’s been so long since Tony’s been with anyone that the contact alone has his eyes shutting. The fact that this is Peter makes it transcendental. He feels the warm wetness as Peter opens his mouth and traces where Tony dabs cologne in the morning, and then the gentle scrape of teeth that has him groaning from deep within his chest.

Peter whines at the sound. His hips begin to move, aborted little jerking thrusts that make him arch his back obscenely to try and connect their cocks, and when he does, it’s like lightning cracking up Tony’s spine, makes him hiss through his teeth and squeeze the kid’s hips to bruising.

“Please, Mr. Stark,” Peter pants in the older man’s ear. “’ve been dreaming about this. Please let me have it.”

“Take it then, kid,” Tony says. He uses his grip on Peter’s hip to help him move, to increase the force of their frantic grinding until Peter is giving gasping little pants with every breath, mouth slack. When he’s sure the kid will keep the pace on his own, he lets his hands move away from the narrow hips and slide over all the gorgeous skin. Peter naturally runs a degree or two higher than an unenhanced human, but now it feels obscene, dangerous, like they’re liable to catch a spark between them and burn the place down.

“T-Tony?” Peter pants, mouth still flush against the man’s neck. It’s the first time in memory that Tony can recall Peter calling him by his given name, and it’s—it’s everything he thought it might be. “I’m—I’m close—”

Tony groans, rolling his neck. “Go ahead. I can’t stop you. I won’t.”

“Tony,” Peter whines, drawing the name out obscenely. His hips stutter, desperately chasing a finish line that’s within sight. Tony takes pity on him and helps guide his hips again, thrusting his own up as best as he can in their upright position.

When Peter cums, he shudders all over, mouth open in a silent scream. A high, long noise slips from his throat, and he buries his face in the juncture between Tony’s neck and shoulder, hips slowing to move in long, leisurely strokes as his cock twitches in his confined pants, a burst of heat blooming between them. Tony commits it all to memory. It makes his head swim, his own neglected cock ache. He can’t help but kiss the crown of Peter’s head when the young man sags against him.

“I love you,” Peter murmurs into Tony’s damp skin.

Tony feels those same words bubbling in his throat, but now doesn’t feel like the right time to say them: not when he’s just given the young man his first orgasm at another human’s hands. Tony clutches the kid to him, breathing in the scent of him, filled with a sudden childish fear that if he lets him go—he might disappear. “Tell me that again in the morning, kid,” he says roughly.

He takes the pointed chin in his hand, tilts it up and (it’s not until the momentum has already caught a hold of him that he realizes this is their first kiss, their very first kiss) devours the kid’s mouth. He’s a starving man, and there’s no one who could blame him for it. He sips at Peter’s mouth like it’s a cup and he’s shaking with thirst, licks into that soft burning wetness of the younger man’s mouth. Peter tangles his fingers in Tony’s hair, tugging and tugging, whining as he shifts from one knee to another.

“Let’s get you out of those pants,” Tony says, parting just long enough for the words to slip out before reaching for the button on Peter’s skinny jeans. A firm hand catches his wrist, strong. Tony pulls away, eyes wide, fear sobering him—is he moving too fast? Did he overstep their boundaries? Did he somehow misinterpret the last five minutes (a little tough to believe considering the kid just came in his pants and whispered a touching declaration of love, but these days Tony puts nothing past himself)?

“No,” says Peter. He let’s go of Tony’s wrist and reaches for the man’s t-shirt. “Let’s even us out first.”

And oh—oh, that’s alright, then. He has a flashing moment of insecurity as the shirt goes over his head; he’s softer than he once was, and there is scarring where the arc reactor used to be, where battles have torn away his armor. The two of them could not be further alike, with Peter’s lean, pale, muscled body and Tony’s wider, tanned, scarred flesh. But Peter’s eyes practically roll when he’s got his burning palms flat on Tony’s pecs, running his hands all over the revealed skin (learning, he’s learning, Tony thinks).

“This isn’t fair,” Peter whines, leaning forward to open his mouth and plant it on the arch of Tony’s trapezius muscle. When he speaks, his tongue laps at Tony’s skin and nearly distorts the words. “You’re so fucking hot, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony,” Tony reminds him. He dips his fingers gently into the waistband of the kid’s skinny jeans. “Should we uneven the score again?”

Peter slips off of Tony’s lap and stands before him. There isn’t any shyness when he bends down and shucks the pants off of his lean legs. The underwear makes him hesitate—eyes flashing up towards where the older man is watching, heart in his throat, cock aching in its confines. Tony sees him steel himself before dropping the boxers too, using them to wipe clean his cock which is slowly returning to hardness. He doesn’t have anything to be ashamed of. Tony’s seen a fair share of cocks in his time, and Peter’s is remarkably pretty, average in length and girth, flushed pink as his bruised lips.

“What art museum did you escape from, again?” Tony asks, waving a finger up and down Peter’s body. “You know, the artwork isn’t supposed to leave the building—”

Peter’s face flushes, all the way down his neck and to his chest. “That’s rich, coming from you Mr. Stark.”

“Well, I’m rich—come here.”

Peter does. He comes to stand flush with the edge of the bed against his thighs. Being so close to Tony must excite him, because his cock lengthens rapidly even though he stands, patient and still while Tony peruses his body from the freckle above his abs to the way the hair on his thighs is lighter and softer than the hair on his calves and shins. The fire in him simmers, turned down from the boiling point. Soft, he remembers. He should be soft and gentle with this precious young man.

So Tony reaches out gently, runs his calloused fingers over the hill of one collar bone. Peter’s head lolls to the side like he’s too weak to hold it up. He shivers when Tony flattens his palm over his heart, dragging it until he rolls it carefully over one stiffened nipple. Peter’s mouth clicks shut on a whine, cock jerking between his legs.

“You’re sensitive here,” Tony remarks, taking one of the pale nipples between his fingers and rolling it.

“Yessir,” Peter says, his voice high and sweet.

Tony’s eyebrows lift, but the kid must not even see anything strange about what he’s said, because his eyes stay closed, face relaxed and in ecstasy. Tony begins to add pressure, soft little pinches that have the cock in front of him jerking and spitting precum onto the bed. From the young mouth pours a litany of silky noises that threaten to stoke the heat inside him back to a rolling boil—but Tony isn’t a young man. He isn’t inexperienced. He knows how to hold himself back, to watch his lover with the keen eyes of a scientist to discover what pleases them most.

The kid is too distracted to notice when Tony leans forward to lick the flat of his tongue across the neglected nipple. The noise he makes is somewhere between a shout and a groan, fingers digging into pale flesh where he has them laying flat on his thighs.

“God, Mr.—Tony. Please, don’t stop, please.”

Tony doesn’t. He strokes and pinches one nipple raw and then soothes it with his tongue, blowing cool air across the abused little buds until the kid shivers and whines.

“Am I bein’ too loud?” Peter asks through gasping breaths. “Just tell me to, to shut up if I’m annoying you—”

“There’s nothing annoying about you,” Tony promises. He takes the kid’s palm from where it’s leaving bruises on his leg and encourages him to palm Tony’s cock and God, Tony can feel the heat even through his jeans and boxers, the pressure is divine after so much neglect. “It drives me up the walls listening to you, kid. I’m trying to hear those noises, so don’t hold them back—but make sure I earn them. Got it?”

“Got it,” Peter whispers, smiling.

“I’m vocal too, is that going to turn you off?” asks Tony.

“I’m pretty sure there’s nothing about you that could turn me off.”

“Let’s not test that hypothesis.”

He places an open-mouthed kiss to the center of the kid’s chest and uses his hands to guide Peter back onto the bed. Standing, he doesn’t bother with any fanfare, stripping himself of his remaining clothes and adding to the heap at the foot of the bed. In his favor, Peter watches with wide eyes. When he reaches Tony’s cock, he licks his lips.

Tony climbs back onto the bed, and they tangle themselves together, laying side by side and kissing like teenagers the first time they’re left alone. Sometimes their cocks bump and Peter whines, hips arching.

“Should you get a condom?” Peter asks.

“I don’t think so.”

Peter blinks. “Oh—without one? That’s cool too. I mean, obviously—”

“No, I mean—I don’t think we should have sex tonight. Hey, no, don’t make that face. It doesn’t have anything to do with you. But all of your firsts shouldn’t happen in one night, kid. That isn't healthy. You should space them out.”

Peter sits up, eyes blazing, as he talks, he presses Tony back into the mattress, coming to sit on the flat of his abs. “Space them out? Okay then. But what’s the right spacing? A few days in between each milestone? A few weeks? That—that might work for somebody else. The schedule, thing. But this is my schedule. I want you. Like, now. Tonight.”

Tony groans, hands naturally falling to the protruding hip bones. He dips his thumbs into the hollows and (curiously) coaxes Peter to rub forward and backward until the curve of his ass nudges against Tony’s aching cock. He wonders then; why wait? Peter wants it, Tony wants it, why shouldn’t they?

But of all his anxieties—and there are many, always, growing like mold beneath the floorboards of his brain—there is one that sobers him:

“What if you regret it in the morning?” Tony asks. He licks his lips, which feel a little like trembling. He tries to look the kid in the eyes, but his own keep falling, rising, desperate to be looking anywhere else so that Peter can’t see, can’t see inside him at what an anxious, scared, desperate old man he is.

Peter plants a palm flat above Tony’s navel. “I won’t. But if I did—that’d be okay too. Regrets aren’t the end of the world. Everybody has some, and life goes on. But look at me. Look at me: I won’t. I promise you.”

Tony’s eyes burn. His hands have gone from pressing bruises into those hips to rubbing his knuckles tenderly across the arch of one. “I can’t take that chance, kid. I can’t. This is more to me.”

Peter frowns. Carefully, he climbs off Tony, but doesn’t give the man chance enough to grow cold. Peter presses himself from collar to ankle along Tony’s side, coaxing the man’s arm around him until Peter is nestled there resting his head on the older man’s shoulder. He must be close enough for the kid to hear his pounding heart, because Peter presses a tender kiss against the skin closest to his mouth.

“How long do you want to wait?” Peter asks. “However long you need, I’m cool. Like, I waited nineteen years, I’m sure I could wait—well, God, not another nineteen years, I hope. Please, Mr. Stark, not nineteen more years.”

“Call me Mr. Stark again and I’m going to make it twenty. How about—in the morning. We’ll see how you feel in the morning.”

He feels the kid smile. “Alright,” he says. “But I don’t know how you expect me to get any sleep. This is like Christmas, only sexy.”

-

But somehow, they do.

Because Tony blinks his eyes open. He didn’t tell FRIDAY to activate Sunglasses At Night protocol, so the sun streams in through the window. He’s content to be still: before he moves, he doesn’t feel any of the aches and pains that come with getting older, doesn’t worry about the stress of his day, what might come. But beside him, something shifts, rustling the dark sheets—

Peter, lying awake, naked except for the sheet that covers his hips. He’s holding his phone in front of his face, but at the noise Tony makes, glances over the top to see that the older man has awoken. The phone slips forgotten between them.

“Good morning,” Peter murmurs, voice rough from sleep.

“Great morning,” Tony says, mouth twitching.

Peter sits up onto one elbow, curls a wreck. There’s a bruise on his neck, sucked there in ecstasy the night before. His entire body is a long, lean line that Tony wants to trace and kiss and worship. “Do you remember what you told me I could do in the morning?”

Tony rolls his eyes. His morning wood certainly remembers. “You’re going to be insatiable, kid. Alright. If you haven’t changed your mind, we can—”

It’s Peter’s turn to roll his eyes. “Not that, you perv. Don’t you remember? You said, 'tell me that again in the morning.' So:

“I love you,” Peter says. Those are big words, spoken so softly. The kid means them too. Tony sees: he means them. Maybe he meant them last night too, shivering from his orgasm, but this, with the sunlight and the rumpled sheets and the sleep in the corners of Tony’s eyes to witness it? It’s different.

Tony reaches for the kid and coaxes him closer, kissing him soundly.

“I love you too,” Tony says, and all the things he’s ever doubted—this isn’t one of them.

[aion-rsa]

The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 17 Review: Uncut Femmes

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This The Simpsons review contains spoilers.

The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 17

The Simpsons Season 32, episode 17, ” Uncut Femmes,” is a caper comedy, and criminals Sarah Wiggum (Megan Mullally) and Fat Tony (Joe Mantegna) steal every scene they are in. Over the course of the jewel heist parody at the center of the installment, we learn Chief Wiggum’s wife has a shady past, and the neighborhood mob boss has a paternal presence. They don’t have any scenes together, but they make crime pay off, and prove two or so wrongs can make a right.

“Oh, my hallway-walking God,” the episode opens, as a workplace atrocity leads to a nondisclosure agreement which results in two front-row seats at a Bob Seger concert. The rock star plays himself, but goes against the wind. Yes, this is the Silver edition of his Bullet Band, but when he learns both Homer and Chief Wiggum dumped an overnight field trip with the kids on their wives to make the show, he feels obliged to remind them: a wife, like rock and roll, never forgets. Who knew a Detroit belter like Seger could throw such guilt?

The trip is to a World War II battleship, retrofitted to look like it did back in May 1943. That was the last time it was scrubbed, and the kids and wives get keelhauled into breaking up everything but the barnacles. They swab the decks and are told they’re killing Oxees, which sounds enough like Nazis for Springfield Elementary. Nick Offerman voices Captain Bowditch, who Sarah Wiggum calls Captain Dingdong before robbing his liquor cabinet and sharing a bottle with Marge.  

The police chief’s wife also shares some unexpectedly relatable problems, like the pressures of being married to “a man with a dangerous job he’s just not good at” But her best comic line is about her husband’s health, and how every slice of cheese could be his last. The bonding scene is very effective, warm and witty. Both women give up so much because they are mothers.

Sarah Wiggum gave up a glitzy and glamorous life of crime, like the Ocean’s 8 masterminds. She was the getaway driver on the famed “Hourglass Diamond” heist. Her story is broken down in a flashback sequence with subtitles like “The Grab,” “The Camaraderie,” and “The Double Cross.” To give historical perspective, one of the items which the young thieves steal, while listening to Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl,” are MP3 players which held over 300 songs. 

In the segment entitled “The Honey Pot,” Sarah explains her own role in the robbery. “The Chump” denotes when she met Clancy Wiggum, then a mere security guard, working his way through one of his many attempts at passing the police academy. “I love a man in a rented uniform,” she says. 

Marge had to miss the one event she gets to share with her sisters’ friends, which includes the crumbs of the crème de la crème of Springfield’s LGBTQ community: Watching the annual Gen Gala on TV and making scathing remarks. Marge is jonesing for snark. She’s got an itch to throw good shade. This would be a blast to hear from Marge, who is “still working up the courage to call a man the B word.” This year’s Gala is themed, “The Audacity.” The prior year was called “The Nerve.  Marge breaks her usual reserve to tell Rihanna she listens “to the clean versions of all your songs.”

Marge is so consistently Marge-like, so clearly defined within the vantage point the series has set up for her. Marge’s first words, when trying to start a conversation with Sarah, are “the top 10 ways of starting a conversation.” When she is kidnapped, she observes whoever had the bag over their face before her was a smoker. Julie Kavner also pulls off amazing physical comedy in this episode, even though it’s vocal acrobatics. When Marge is bound by Sarah’s old gang, she hops away – chair, pole and all – to allow them to scheme. She points to their scheme-board with her high mound of hair, which she later uses to blur surveillance cameras. Kavner’s inquisitive or insistent moans fuel every blue follicle.

To distract the mark, Lindsey Naegle, Marge makes small talk about common household chores the VIP would never do herself, like paying attention to whether you switch delicates to extra warm when you’re doing laundry. “You’re not famous, so you don’t exist,” Lindsey, who pocketed the diamond for herself to buy a celebrity lifestyle, snorts at Marge. Her husband, Springfield’s beloved Rainier Luftwaffe Wolfcastle, takes this gag to an absurd conclusion. Wolfcastle has no idea what the two were talking about when he enters the scene, but he is more blinded by his celebrity. He asks his wife why she’s talking to an empty chair. It’s all a punchline which lands on “somebody stop those nobodies,” a masterful twist of social restraint.

Ultimately, one of the snarkiest lines turns out to be a comment on Marge, when she makes a very surprising appearance at the Gala. But only because “she looks like dirt” walking a red carpet designed for 20 plus-size gladiators to carry Beyoncé. The snide aside comes across as exactly what Marge would’ve wanted.

The episode has plenty of successful throwaway sight gags. Homer closes shop at his post at the nuclear plant with the same kind of cage storefronts lock up with after hours. We’re not sure if this means the workers on the other side are locked in the workspace without emergency supervision for the whole weekend, though.

The kidnapping is first reported by Chief Wiggum’s son, Ralph, who was watch commander on deck. Fat Tony will come to be simpatico with Ralph in hysterically edgy ways later in the episode. They both “know nothing about nothing.” Until he met Ralph, Fat Tony thought putting crumbled Oreos on ice cream would be redundant, but now finds it transcendent. It is like a grooming process; the police chief’s son even begins wearing a matching fur coat. And when a kid behind an ice cream counter tells Ralph not to grab at the Gummy Bears, Fat Tony says “if the boy wants this the boy wants to smooch, the boy will spook smooch.” He could be telling The Bronx Tale. Ralph’s rejoinder, “I love you, scary daddy,” is so in keeping with his character of cluelessly deranged innocence.

When Homer and Wiggum first learn their wives are missing, the police chief immediately blames Fat Tony. The reputed, reported, alleged and convicted crime boss is plainly being honest when he says he would never even consider such a crime. First of all, how would he finish the sentence “it would be a shame if something were to happen to?” 

Wiggum is very important to crime in the town. This episode points out how it flourishes under his lazy watchful eye. Fat Tony loves “Chief Bungles” because he’s a horrible cop. Even Sarah admits her husband is “better at planting evidence than finding it.” But, more importantly to Fat Tony, the chief loves the top cop because he is a selfish man. He’s on the take from Burns, Fat Tony, and we know from past episodes he’s in on schemes with Mayor Quimby. But some things, even a cartoon mob boss cannot forget.

Fat Tony is surprisingly woke in his off hours. It’s the espresso. His men only yell respectful innuendoes at attractive women. The boss not only tutors Homer and Clancy on ways to respect their wives, but takes care of Ralphie while he lets the men fix their marriages. The male gaze is all over this episode, and it gets poked in the eye repeatedly. From WWII books to gender-trading action movie remakes. The real Silver bullet is the truth. Seger’s concert T-shirt is actually a list of things he has to get done to keep his marriage happy, including getting a C-PAP for his snoring.

For Homer, this change is as sweet as a donut, the ordeal makes him notice what Marge looks like when she’s happy. Clancy realizes, for the first time in his long career, that there is a museum in town. At their heart, Homer and the Chief are really only paying attention to their wives for themselves. Oh, and for Bob Seger, they did promise him that. The lesson they learn when confronted with their selfish ways is: “it’s all about us.”

The final part of the scheme earns its subtitle as the exact kind of surprise double revenge twist we have come to expect from this genre. The only difference is what kind of spin the parody will take. Things have a special way of falling on The Simpsons. In a classic early episode, Homer took a memorable tumble down the rocky edges of a cliff in a failed daredevil stunt. So, he knows to get out of the way when Lindsey comes tumbling down the stairs at the Gala. She tumbles long enough for Wolfcastle to find a newer, younger, more trophy of a wife. In real life the fall would have killed her, and Marge would feel terrible. Thank god for animation. Kids, don’t try this at home.

“This isn’t about the cash, it’s about righting a wrong and looking damn good doing it,” Sarah convincingly explains when she lays out the premise of the heist. By the end, Marge declares it “best field trip of my freaking life,” which is what the episode seems to be going for. It’s fun, more fun than most school trips, and it teaches a lesson.

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“Uncut Femmes” is a fun and playful movie satire. It captures the suspense, romance, glamour and pace of a heist film, but puts The Simpsons touch on it. Marge shines in the unexpected, manages to clean house at the same time, and brings Homer into an understanding. The crooks get away with it, and nothing will change. Like so many crimes in Springfield, it’s got Chief Wiggum on the case, and that’s like having no one at all.

The post The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 17 Review: Uncut Femmes appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[ks-caster]

The Future is Infinite (Chapter 5)

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Chapter-specific warnings: None. 

Urgent knocking at the door woke her, and Octavia rolled over, frowning in the pre-dawn half-light to squint in the direction where the noise had originated.

“Octavia,” Bucky’s strained voice called. “You in there?”

“Yeah,” she called back, voice raspy either with too much sleep or not enough, she wasn’t sure. She fumbled to her feet and opened the door. “What’s going on?”

“Strange is gone,” Bucky explained hurriedly, as Steve joined him from his own room, pulling on a shirt and reaching inside the door for huge metal arm-shields he’d been using as a weapon yesterday. “Signs of a struggle. We needed to know if anyone else was taken.” Without further ado, he headed off to pound on her other neighbor’s door. “Thor, you in there?”

“Skrish,” Octavia swore, ducking back into the room to pull her clothes back on and grab her sword before heading out and following where everyone else was headed.

“I said clear the room!” Tony was shouting. “This is a crime scene, not a museum. Yes, you too kid.” He added, making a shooing motion towards Peter who, to his credit, was stuck to the wall and therefore not underfoot. He maneuvered lithely across the room and through the door to crouch on the hallway ceiling and watch as Tony scanned things with different colored lasers and asked questions, only to be answered by a woman’s disembodied voice.

“What happened?” Thor demanded.

“Dr. Banner went to see if Mr. Strange was still up because he saw lights under the door,” Peter recited, with the air of someone who’d given this talk a couple of times to different waves of people. “He didn’t answer, but then Mr. Stark thought maybe he was using the time stone thingy to look at the future again so he picked the lock, but when he got in, Mr. Strange was gone, and there was blood on the wall and the bed, and the lamp was broken.” He pointed to the two halves of a tall floor lamp. A smaller splatter of blood was soaking into the carpet near it. It had been broken over someone’s body, most likely.

“The guy can see fourteen million futures but not someone breaking into his bedroom?” She checked rhetorically, already wondering if he had seen this coming, if it was part of the plan. 

The lamp post. A guide. A landmark, showing the way home. Broken on the floor.

She shook herself a little, knowing that she was being ridiculous and reading too much into things. He’d been attacked, he had or hadn’t seen it coming, and he was gone. Probably still alive - she knew she didn’t carry around dead bodies without a very good reason. 

“Think this is still the one where we win?” Rocket commented darkly.

“I am Groot,” the tree said sadly, before returning to his game.

“Tony, is there any chance he didn’t have the stones on him when he was taken?” Steve asked, leaning on the doorframe but very carefully not setting foot in the room.

“If he didn’t take off his unnaturally loyal cape of destiny to sleep, I doubt he took off the infinity time necklace,” Tony responded, never pausing in his sweep of the room.

“Boss,” the disembodied voice addressed him, “I’ve finished scanning the room. Some of the blood belongs to Dr. Stephen Strange - the blood on the carpet isn’t his. From the dirt patterns on the balcony, the outer door hasn’t been opened in the last couple of days, and as you saw yourself, the inside door was locked.”

“I’ve seen three different guys make magic portals in the last 12 hours,” Octavia reminded everyone. “Not exactly a locked room mystery.” 

“Oh, good point!” Peter exclaimed, a glimmer of hope in his voice. “Maybe he used magic to run away from his attacker?”

“He would’ve clued us in by now,” Natasha countered. 

“I am Groot,” the tree added helpfully. Rocket did a double-take.

“What!?” He exclaimed. The tree looked up from his game.

“I. Am. Groot,” he repeated slowly. “I am Groot.”

“Care to translate?” Steve asked Rocket, but Thor answered first.

“He says that Strange gave the soul stone to Quill earlier this afternoon,” he explained quickly, then frowned. “Why would he do that? Quill’s not exactly…”

“Hey, he just lost the love of his life!” Rocket growled. Thor raised his hands placatingly.

“That’s what I meant, of course!” he backtracked. While man and beast (and tree) growled at each other, Octavia turned to Bucky.

“Has anyone checked to see if he’s still here?” she asked. He nodded.

“Nebula did that wing,” he gestured towards the blue woman. “Quill’s still here. And Shuri was able to remove the Mind Stone from Vision - she’s here, and confirmed that the stone is still safe in her lab. Anyone come after you?”

Octavia shook her head. “I was out on the balcony practically all night, and I left the doors open when I went to sleep. May as well have painted a target on my face - never saw a single threat.”

“But,” she added, frowning, “that makes perfect sense.”

“Care to share with the class?” Tony asked, and she realized uncomfortably that all eyes were on her. She wished she’d put her armor back on instead of the soft clothes she’d been given.

“If I was fighting an opponent who could see the future, who could see fourteen million futures and find only one version where I lose,” she explained, “then really my only real threat is the guy who can see the future, right? Eliminate him, make a few unpredictable moves, and then I’m almost certainly into one of the millions of futures where I win.” She shrugged. 

“And if I only had one opportunity to use the element of surprise,” she continued as looks of comprehension dawned on her audience’s faces, “then I’m not going to waste it on people and things who, in the absence of the future-seeing wizard, aren’t a threat, am I? So now the real question here is, why not just kill the wizard? If it had been me, and if everything had been riding on this, I would’ve just stabbed him in the head so that I’m guaranteed a victory.”

“Not necessarily,” Tony responded. He looked like he was going to be sick. All eyes turned to him. “When he was taken the first time… Squidward was saying something about how if he delivered the stone to Thanos while it was still attached to Strange, it wouldn’t go so well for him. And that the spell wouldn’t just wear off after Strange died. They’re, ah. Probably working real hard to convince him to take it off.” He looked really, really sick.

This time Steve did enter the room, followed closely by Rhodey, but Tony waved both of them off, walking quickly out into the crowded hallway as if he was trying to walk away from his own thoughts.

“So Thanos does have the time stone, but he can’t use it for the length of time it takes Dr. Stephen Strange to break under torture,” Octavia caught up calmly. “From what I’ve seen of him, that buys us some time.”

“You’re disturbingly okay with that,” Tony exclaimed, breaths agitated.

“I’m disturbingly experienced,” she shot back. “But there is one positive we haven’t noticed yet - if Thanos was still able to surprise Strange, then clearly fourteen million wasn’t the total number of possible futures.”

“So,” Peter said, his voice sounding so, so young, “we might still win after all?”

“I make it a point never to rule that out until the end,” Octavia assured him, trying to remind herself that not all of the people around her were hardened the way she was. Not everyone had survived what she had.

“So,” T’Challa summed up rubbing his temple, “Either this is part of Strange’s plan and we’re still winning, or it isn’t and that means we still have a chance. Thanos has 3 infinity stones, and so do we, and we need to get the fight off of this planet and away from its people.”

“And we need to rescue the wizard. Again.” Peter added with a small, breathy laugh. Octavia watched the faces of all the adults who didn’t have the heart to tell the kid that they wouldn’t even know where to start, and saw Rhodey usher Tony a few steps away, rubbing his back… and then a thought burned through her brain like an alarm tone.

“Where do Strange’s loved ones live?” she demanded, glancing between Tony and Peter, since they were the only ones who seemed to know him. Everyone stared at her blankly. “His pressure points, people he’d give up the universe to save,” she clarified, hoping they’d get the picture without her having to say the word ‘torture’ again and risk making whatever Tony was going through worse.

“He used to work at New York Hospital,” Rhodey supplied helpfully. “But that was a few years ago - I don’t think he’s been back much.”

“Wong. Wong would know,” Tony muttered, pulling out his phone. The air around Thor crackled. 

“I’m going to London,” he announced, striding quickly through the now vacant crime scene and flinging open the balcony door. “Rabbit, Tree, will you accompany me?” Rocket and Groot followed him, just in time for him to whirl his ax around a few times, and a blinding column of multi-colored light shone down from the sky, vanishing all three of them, and leaving a curling tracery of sparks singed into the balcony. 

“He has an ex he’s still in contact with,” Tony was repeating from someone - presumably Wong - on the other end of the phone. “Dr. Christine Palmer. Still works at New York Hospital. I’m sending in the Iron Legion.” Everyone was yelling at once.

“Don’t draw attention—” 

“—Alerting the local authorities—”

“Can you find her number?”

“—Hospital might be in danger!”

“Any other family? An ex can’t be it—”

“He’d need access to the planet, right?” Octavia murmured, and she saw Nebula’s eyes flit to her. “He brought a whole space fleet here - if he was gonna do that again, then he wouldn’t go too far with them… especially if there are a bunch of other, more powerful planets around who wouldn’t like what he’s doing; people who’d get in the way when he comes back. He’d need somewhere out of the way to regroup, but he’d hang close to the planet. 

“Where nearby could you hide a battle fleet?” She asked, looking at Nebula who by now was clearly paying attention, having levered herself off the wall she’d been leaning on and taken a step forward. 

“The closest planets are called Mars and Venus,” she recited, pressing her temple. Her eye lit up and projected out a map of the solar system - nine planets, and a debris field that might have been the ruins of a tenth. “Mars’s rotation cycle keeps one side dark at all times - Venus’s atmosphere hides the whole of the planet’s surface… and the heat and light make it an excellent location for recharging a number of different kinds of engines without being observed.” 

“Venus will also remain within easy flying distance of Earth for the next few weeks,” Vision’s voice commented - out of a completely normal-looking man with tired eyes and mousy hair. Octavia did a double-take, but she had seen the red man’s face and heard his voice, and she supposed that she saw and heard the resemblance. Maybe his skin had turned red because of the infinity stone now conspicuously absent from his forehead.

Was her skin going to change colors too?

Not the time.

“We need a ship,” Nebula announced. Everyone was listening now.

“Or a Wong,” Tony countered, tapping a colorful square on his phone and holding it back to his ear. “Hey, on second thought…”

“You won’t survive Venus’s climate dressed like that,” Shuri commented, running her fingers over the beaded bracelet on her wrist and generating projected symbols into the air. “Luckily for all of you, I came prepared. Everyone planning on rescuing the doctor, to my lab right away.”

-0-

“We need to slow down and think this through for a minute,” Steve was demanding as everyone crowded into Shuri’s lab in their pajamas. “First of all, this could very easily be a trap—” 

“The surface temperature on Venus holds steady at over 460 degrees celsius,” Shuri was explaining as Tony and Steve went at each other in the background. “The atmospheric pressure is similar to what we would find 900 meters below the ocean’s surface.”

“God, I forgot what it was like to try and save the world while tripping over an overgrown boy scout!”

“Because tripping over your massive ego is so much better!”

More and more of the crowd were moving to the Stark vs Rogers shouting match, either to join, intervene or rubberneck. Shuri glared in the direction of the crescendo of noise a few times, but when it became clear that they weren’t about to stop on her account, she turned her attention to the little knot of people surrounding her. Octavia, Nebula and Wong each took one of the pods she handed out, affixing them to the backs of their necks as she showed. 

“What about my suit?” Peter asked from inside a red and blue metallic bodysuit. He was hanging upside down from a white stringy substance stuck to the ceiling. Octavia ran a hand over the top of her now forcefield-encased head, pressing her palm against her skull like she hoped she could squash out the quickly building headache. 

“Pressure, yes. That level of heat, on the other hand, will eventually fry the electronics in the nanites of your suit. These are designed not only to withstand the heat…”

“No, YOU’RE wasting time with all of this POINTLESS DRAMA, but isn’t that what you do best—” 

“OH, I didn't realize that saving my CAPTURED FRIEND’S LIFE was an inconvenience, oh, WAIT I’ve HEARD THIS ONE BEFORE!”

“THAT’S LOW, EVEN FOR YOU!”

“You’re the one who can get us through to the fleet, yes?” Nebula asked Wong quietly as the man slipped a second suit pod into his pocket for Strange.

“I am,” Wong responded, glancing at the battle lines being drawn around the room.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Octavia muttered, already imagining what a pain in the ass it would be to break up that fight and get everyone to work together.

It was safe to say that she did not miss being queen one bit.

The three of them shared a look, with Peter detaching from the ceiling and glancing rapidly between them and the (so far still largely verbal) fight.

“That room over there is safely insulated,” Shuri continued, accepting that she was only briefing four people instead of a room of them. Octavia noticed that the case she’d opened only had a total of eight slots for suits, so she supposed it was probably better for the team to be chosen quickly and quietly, rather than let the arguing masses debate who should go. “Don’t open the portal until the door is closed; don’t open the door until the portal is closed when you come back.”

“But… Mr. Stark,” Peter started helplessly.

“Is otherwise occupied - with being an idiot,” Nebula finished for him. “Are you coming or not?”

“I… yes,” Peter decided, fixing the pod to the back of his suit and following the adults toward the little room Shuri had pointed out. “I’m coming. Let’s go save the wizard.” 

To Be Continued... 

[katsens-writing]

Holiday Headache

A/N: Sorry this is so very late guys. I’ve been getting adjusted to my new job and new work schedule. This is a little piece I wrote for @bitchassbucky‘s holiday writing challenge. It’s been a while since I’ve written anything, so I’m a little out of practice. I hope you enjoy it and if you want to be added to my Marvel taglist or any of my taglists, just send me an ask or shoot me a message! (To anyone who read it, the epilogue to See You Again is coming soon I promise. Thank you to all for bearing with me!!)

Content: Loads of fluff and a little bit of harmless mischief.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader if you squint

Word Count: About 1.8k

Masterlist   Buy me a coffee? :)

~

     “No, Peter, on the other side, next to Pepper,” you directed. “That’s it. Harley! Stop messing with your sweater and hold still!”     “Why am I doing this again?” Harley complained, pulling on his itchy sweater. It was green with shiny, silver tinsel-thread glinting throughout it.     Pepper sighed and rolled her eyes, explaining for the hundredth time. “It’s for the Avengers’ latest public campaign to wish everyone a safe holiday season.”

     “Again, why am I doing this?” Harley grumbled flatly. “I’m not an Avenger.”     “You’re doing this because it’s a family photo and you’re part of this madness, kid,” Clint grinned as he straightened his elf ears.     Harley’s brow furrowed and his jaw fell open indignantly. “I never signed up for any of this!” He protested.     Maria gave an explosive, exasperated sigh and turned to the young man. “Harley, so help me if you don’t stop whining I’ll web your mouth closed!” She gritted, pointing to the web-shooter on Peter’s wrist. Peter snickered, glancing at Harley.     Happy turned to Peter, narrowing his eyes. “And if you don’t stop moving I’ll web you to a chair.” Peter’s face fell and Harley smirked. Happy rolled his eyes. “I swear, Morgan should be babysitting you two.”     The two boys frowned and looked down at the little girl in front of them. Morgan just looked up at her brothers and gave them the brightest, most angelic smile, her curled, brown hair hanging down her shoulders and down to the big, golden ribbon tied in a bow on her back. Her eyes sparkled in the soft glow of icicle lights decorating the mantle behind them.     “Well, why isn’t Y/N in the picture then, huh?” Harley retorted, shaking his head as if coming out of a trance. He swore Morgan’s smile was hypnotic. If you weren’t careful you’d end up taking her to the International Spy Museum, something Pepper had forbidden after the last time Natasha babysat her. The last time someone stared at her smile for too long, Morgan was seconds away from convincing Bucky to steal her a panda from the National Zoo.     “Hey, someone has to take the picture!” You grinned, looking over the top of the camera on its stand at Harley. He opened his mouth to protest but you had already shifted your attention back to the rest of the group. “Peter, scoot a little to your left, I want to be able to see your whole sweater. I’m no expert but I know the menorah has more than six candles. There you go, perfect! Wanda, step back a little... a little more... right there, stop! Good.”     As you continued moving everyone around and giving directions, you didn’t notice Tony watching you closely. You told everybody that you needed to take the picture, saying you had an eye for things like that. That part was true, but in reality, you had offered to take the picture when you overheard Tony and Pepper discussing the campaign the week before. Tony had plenty of gadgets that could have taken it, but you seemed excited about the idea, so he agreed. Now though, Tony suspected there was a reason you didn’t want to be in the picture and he thought he might know why.     Tony sighed. You had only joined the team a few months ago, but anyone on the outside wouldn’t have known. You got along great with everyone around the compound, connecting with them right away. It may have only been a few months, but already he couldn’t imagine what the team would be like without you, and he knew he wasn’t the only one.     At the Avengers’ holiday party last week, you spent most of the night sitting at the bar in the ballroom, talking with Maria and Pepper. Whenever the team went out after a successful mission, you usually stayed behind, volunteering to do the report for SHIELD. Whenever they had nights in, you’d slip off to your room when you thought no one would notice. It seemed no matter how well you got along with the team, you felt like you didn’t belong. Tony could understand why you might feel that way but he really wished you didn’t. He’d been reading your file since you joined the team. He hadn’t finished it yet, but he knew if anyone deserved to feel like they belonged somewhere, it was you. Tony shook his head lightly as your voice broke through his thoughts.     “Vision, if you could--”     A snickering caught your attention and you turned to glare at Sam and Steve, laughing on either side of an irritated Bucky. You crossed your arms and glared at them. “Am I gonna have to separate you three?”     “No, you won’t,” Steve answered quickly.     “Sorry, Y/N,” Sam apologized. “Bucky was just saying how the picture would look better with you in it.” Bucky elbowed him in the ribs, his face reddening slightly. Steve snorted.     “Oh, I don’t know,” you replied teasingly, peering through the lens and hoping the camera hid the light blush forming on your cheeks. “I don’t think I could top Santa’s reindeer.”     Steve rolled his eyes good-naturedly and Bucky smirked to himself.     “Hey!” Sam protested, lifting his hands to adjust his antlers. “I’ll have you know, we are Santa’s best-looking reindeer.”     “You know, they’ve got a point,” Tony spoke up, giving you a slight start. He had barely said a word since you started arranging everyone for the photo. “Not about the reindeer thing,” Tony rolled his eyes. “But you really should be in the picture. You are an Avenger after all, and part of the Avengers family.”     “Thank you!” Harley threw his hands up in exasperated vindication.     Your cheeks flushed a little, lowering your eyes. “No, I’m fine, really. Someone has to take the picture and besides, nobody would know who I am.”     Rhodey snorted and jerked a thumb at Scott. “You think they know who he is?”     “Oh, come on man!” Scott whined, the tiny bells on his hat jingling as he tipped his head back in frustration. “I turned into a freaking giant, multiple times even!”     Bruce shook his head with a reluctant sigh. “This is why I don’t do group pictures.”     “Come on guys! I would like to be done sometime before New Year’s.” Natasha groaned.     “Natasha is right,” Thor agreed. “The sooner we get this picture done, the sooner we can get out of these uncomfortable clothes.” He scrunched his face as he pulled at the collar on his sweater.     “Hey now, I think you look very handsome in that Christmas tree sweater,” you chided with a grin. How Tony had managed to convince everyone to dress up for the picture you would never understand, although judging by his, Pepper’s and Morgan’s regular dress clothes, you suspected there may have been a misunderstanding somewhere along the line...     You scanned over the group one more time, eyes narrowed in focus. “Okay... I think that’s it. Now everyone, smile!” You grinned in emphasis as you spoke the last word. “Hold it...” After a few seconds, the camera flashed. “Ok.”     Everyone sighed, their muscles relaxing. “It’s about time,” Harley grumbled. Maria rolled her eyes.     “Wait...” The chatter fell as everyone froze and turned to look at you. Harley’s face darkened with a look of murder on his face. “We need to take one more, Scott blinked,” you continued. A collective groan came from the group and Hope elbowed Scott in the ribs. “And Rhodey, stop acting like Clint’s ears poked you in the eye!” You scoffed, glaring at the two.     “Hey!” Clint’s brow furrowed as he turned to Rhodey.     “That’s what you get for saying my Kwanzaa socks don’t count as dressing up!” Rhodey countered.     “Nobody can see ‘em!”     You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed before shaking your head. While you were distracted by all the bickering and squabbling, Tony leaned forward and whispered something in Peter’s ear, all the while keeping an eye on you. Peter’s eyes widened a fraction as he sat up straight with the faintest nod and a small glint of excitement in his eye.     You straightened and smoothed out your red and white striped dress before clearing your throat. “Ok guys, one more time. Five seconds, ok?” your eyebrows arched. “Just keep it together for five more seconds. You guys ready?”     After a few seconds of shuffling and murmuring, Tony answered. “I think we’re ready, Y/N.” He and Peter exchanged a quick glance while you set the timer on the camera.     “Ok, five...” In a flash a web shot out and wrapped around your wrist, catching you by surprise. “Wha-- woah!” Before the cry left your throat, you were yanked forward. Narrowly missing the camera, the force of the pull spun you around as you stumbled into the group... and right into Bucky.     On instinct, Bucky threw his arms up to steady you and ended up catching just as you tumbled into him. “You ok?” he asked as you looked up and shook the hair out of your face. Flustered, you opened your mouth to answer but you were cut off.     “You’d better smile Y/N, ‘cause I’m not standing for another pic!” Harley gritted through a forced smile. Shocked, you turned to face the camera just as it flashed. Once your eyes adjusted again, you stood up to straighten yourself out.     Bucky lowered his arms awkwardly, letting them fall to his side before rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, sorry.”    “It’s ok,” you replied flustered, quickly tucking your chin to hide your embarrassment and your blushing cheeks.     Bucky looked at you in confusion. “You ok?” he asked again. “What happened?”     As you straightened your dress you noticed the web tangled around your bracelet. You frowned and turned to Peter but before you could say anything to him, Tony interrupted. “Let’s check out the picture, huh?” he suggested.     “And that’s my cue,” Harley spoke up as he made for the exit. “I need to stop by the library before it closes for the holidays.”     “I’ll come with you,” Peter offered a little too quickly. “Happy Holidays everyone!” He called over his shoulder as he followed Harley to the door.     You watched him with narrowed eyes before shaking your head with a sigh. You walked over to the camera and with a few taps you brought the picture up. “Wow,” your eyes widened. “That’s--”     “Not bad,” Tony peered over your shoulder. “Not bad at all actually.”     You turned to him incredulously. “Are you kidding? It’s terrible! My hair alone--”     Tony grabbed the camera out of your hand and started toward his office. “Hey FRIDAY, remind me to send this to the ad agency first thing tomorrow.”     You blinked, stunned, as Tony walked away with the camera. Bucky rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly again as he looked at you, wincing sympathetically.     “At least it’s only for the holidays,” you muttered under your breath as you walked away, rolling your eyes resignedly. “I’m already gonna be out of town. I’ll just extend my trip through New Year’s.”

~

Tags: @bla-369 @myworstdays @parkerspicedlatte

~

[pucking-rare]

pucking rare masterlist 2019

below the cut are all the fics added to the pucking rare collection 2019, sorted by team/relationship. thanks everyone who wrote, beta’d, left prompts and in any way contributed to this year’s collection!

fyi: fics are sorted by who was on what team prior to 1 july because trying to keep track of who is on what team is beyond our capabilities right now.

BOSTON BRUINS

Anders Bjork/Matt Grzelcyk/Charlie McAvoy; Anders Bjork/Charlie McAvoy

something worth holding onto by cjmasim 

Anders turns over to face away from Charlie. It really doesn't matter how Charlie would react to him being aromantic. He's not going to come out to him just based on a random thought. There's no evidence whatsoever that Charlie likes him like that. If he did, he'd at least try to sleep in the same bed, Anders is sure.

It was a good hookup, and Charlie wants to do it again. Anders wants to do it again. So they'll do it again, and that's all they'll do. If it gets out of hand, well, he can deal with that when it happens.

Marcus Johansson & Brad Marchand

A 1000 Ways by onlypartly (foreverkneeld) 

Marcus Johansson finally gets an apology from Brad Marchand. Sort of.

BUFFALO SABRES

Rasmus Dahlin/Casey Mittelstadt; Rasmus Dahlin/Victor Olofsson

bloom by eichart

Ras doesn’t mean to keep buying plants for each and every one of his teammates, but he does, creating little explosions of green and orange and purple around the apartment. It’s his nature to look after them, to know when something’s wrong, so he will.

This team: he loves them.

This city: it’s special.

Jake McCabe/Rasmus Ristolainen

emptiness to melody by rawrimmapanda 

Jake knew that the random sore spots were something. He just didn't know what from exactly. After a trip to the doctor he sets off on a mission to find out who is soulmate is.

Bits of You on Me by eafay70 

Three times Jake's soulmate left him injured, and one time Jake was the one to blame.

CALGARY FLAMES

Johnny Gaudreau/Matthew Tkachuk

sealed with a kiss by iknewhim

“You want me,” Chucky drawls, “To kiss you for hockey.”

Elias Lindholm/David Rittich

We’ve Come Too Far, To Give Up Who We Are by Aer

David’s life has taken more than a few twists and turns over the years, but he’s always been able to see them coming, to some extent.

He never would have seen Elias coming in a million years.

COLORADO AVALANCHE

Tyson Barrie/Tyson Jost

soft shines through by somehowunbroken 

Defensemen have to marry forwards. It's a rule, and Tyson's been putting it off for longer than he should've, and now he needs to marry someone before the season starts or he won't be able to play.

Enter Tyson Jost.

J. T. Compher/Tyson Jost/Alexander Kerfoot; J. T. Compher/Tyson Jost

no regrets, just love by ancientdeceiver

The kiss, in the end, is just one friend helping out another friend.

Tyson Jost/Colin Wilson

bring your good times and your laughter too by somehowunbroken 

Sure, the stuffed pink rabbit and balloons had been funny, but it's Tyson's birthday. Colin's maybe in the mood to give him whatever he asks for.

DALLAS STARS

Miro Heiskanen/Roope Hintz

round one, round two by ghosthunter

“Are you nervous?” Miro asks, reaching out and tugging Roope’s thumb from between his lips.

“Are you not?” Roope asks him, his voice quiet. Miro grins at him.

(maybe it's the finnish summer) got me seeing stars when I'm with you by up_and_away 

After they get eliminated, Miro can't bring himself to go home and face his parents' sympathy. He goes home with Roope instead, and finds a way to exhale.

keep it subliminal by carissima

Miro smothers a yawn and opens his door. Roope’s standing there with two coffees and an expression that matches his own mood.

when it hits you by carissima 

And that’s the precise moment he realizes that he may, in fact, have a Miro-sized problem.

MINNESOTA WILD

Mikko Koivu/Zach Parise

You Know My Words (Look Up the Name) by sleeperservice

Zach's soulmark shows up during his rookie season after a game against the Wild. Nobody told him it would take years to find out who else had one show up that night.

NEW JERSEY DEVILS

Taylor Hall/Nico Hischier/Jack Hughes

I won't hesitate for you by theshipstorulethemallwrites 

To be 29 years old, made the playoffs once and be a virgin was not in plans for Taylor Hall. Neither was falling for his, much, younger teammates. Yes, there's a plural in that last word, stop judging.

NEW YORK ISLANDERS

Mikhail Grabovski/Nikolay Kulemin

Windows by blueorangecrush

Kolya's grandmother used to say that dreams were windows into other worlds.

Anders Lee/Devon Toews

I’m on your clock, you’re in control by Mooresomore 

"Breaking up is hard to do...especially when you're not out to the team and you can't let anyone know about it (or that it's over). It really sucks too when you still want the person, but they want nothing to do with you." Mat had never thought those words would apply to him, but here he was.

NEW YORK RANGERS

Brady Skjei/Jimmy Vesey

we’re never gonna win the world by skjei 

Jimmy doesn’t want to die.

(or, jimmy vesey signs with the new york rangers and his live changes more than it ever has).

PHILADELPHIA FLYERS

Carter Hart/Nolan Patrick/Travis Konecny

Hens and Chicks by Hock_hug 

Travis Konecny can’t make coffee

Carter Hart/Claude Giroux/Danny Briere

Shining bright to see what you could truly be by Mooresomore

Just a fluffy look into the life of Carter, Claude, Danny, and their family.

Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick

dumbasses in love by andersens

“So, I talked to Lawson, and it turns out he does think we’re dating.”

“I told you,” Nolan says.

“Yeah and see the thing is, I was gonna tell him he’s wrong. But then he started going on and on about how proud of me he is and how happy. And he was looking at me with his stupid Lawson face with his stupid Lawson smile and I just...I couldn’t tell him he was wrong.”

say that you're into me, let me know how it'll be (if you don't know, just say so) by haruspexes 

Really, the wedding is the thing that sets it all off. Someone self-aware might say it started way before the wedding but Travis has always been a little suspicious about that whole know-thyself thing. So, it starts on an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday afternoon.

***

“Anyways, you know I’m the best wedding date you could get on such short notice,” Travis fires off. It’s a pretty weak chirp, but the chance to say something is just too good to pass up.

“Yeah.” Nolan nods where Travis was half expecting him to argue.

take down some summer time by manybumblebees

Summer is lake days and fishing and coolers full of beer, the boat kicking up spray in its wake, and Nolan coming to stand next to him on the deck in his too-short shorts, holding his forearm next to TK’s and complaining about his Irish skin, which burns and freckles but never tans.

Or: summer makes TK stupid.

trouble's gonna follow (where i go) by carissima 

The first thing Travis learns about Nolan is that he can’t tie a fucking tie.

Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick; Carter Hart/Nolan Patrick; Carter Hart/Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick; Lawson Crouse/Travis Konecny; Nico Hischier/Nolan Patrick

kiss me & take off your clothes by ghosthunter

“You’re so sexy in the morning, God,” TK says.

“I’m sexy all the time,” Nolan says. “That’s why I make the big bucks.”

SAN JOSE SHARKS

Tomas Hertl/Tommy Wingels

blame it, blame it by frausorge

Olive juice? That sounds disgusting.

TAMPA BAY LIGHTNING

Anthony Cirelli/Mikhail Sergachev

Once Smitten by verbaeghe 

It isn’t that Tony’s expecting Misha to already be in their dorm room when he arrives per se, it’s just. Well, it’s junior year, classes start tomorrow, and Misha still hasn’t managed an on-time arrival yet. At least he’s consistent.

A Tale of Courtship by Sugarchev, verbaeghe

“Marriage,” King Anton repeats to a slack-jawed Tony. “The council agrees, it’s time we secure our alliances.”

The King’s cabinet falls silent. Stamkos purses his lips, while Victor pretends to notice something out the window. Cally and McDonagh glue their eyes to the tactical map sprawled across the table and Misha…he should sit down before his legs give out.

Anthony Cirelli/Mikhail Sergachev; Braydon Coburn/Slater Koekkoek

How to Train Your Partner 101 by darkone 

Tony’s previous partner retired a month ago and he’s been anxiously awaiting a new one. He’s tired of going on missions with other well established teams because it makes him feel like a third wheel.

Braydon Coburn/Slater Koekkoek

Yours by Lecavayay

He takes Slater’s wrist, holds it to his lips like the name there is his and not some other Braydon waiting for the man in his bed to find him.

Tyler Johnson/Ondrej Palat

The Playboy of Central New York by blueorangecrush 

Tyler just wanted to be a semi-anonymous graduate student, not the funder of a biotech startup with his old money inheritance.

He thought he'd meet a girl who didn't know or care about his money. He was wrong about the "girl" part.

Cedric Paquette/Louis Domingue; Alex Killorn/Andrej Sustr; Jake Dotchin/Yanni Gourde

I Could Stay Here Forever by TylerAndAlexAndCeddyOhMy 

Ceddy and Louis were fall in love while studying abroad

“We should go to Italy!” Yanni yelled. 

“You just want to sleep with Italian guys,” Louis groaned. “We should go to France. The museums! Imagine all the history!” 

“Yeah! Because there is ZERO fucking history in ITALY, you huge fucking moron,” Yanni yelled at Louis. 

“You aren’t even interested in history! You’re interested in dick!” Louis countered. 

“Yes,” Yanni screamed stomping toward his room. “Big Italian dick!” With that he slammed his door.

TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS

Frederik Andersen/Auston Matthews/Morgan Rielly

Filled Up by eyeslikeonyx

When Auston pictured going on vacation with Freddie and Mo during the bye week, he was expecting to have fun in their hotel room, obviously. He knows Mitch is most likely getting railed on his own trip with Marty and Cees if the suggestive snaps from the night before are any indicator. Auston has been waiting for this trip for a while now, and he’s excited to finally relax and get some much needed sun. He doesn’t want to just have sex the entire time he’s on vacation.

He should have known his body would betray him the moment he, Mo, and Freddie actually made it to their resort suite.

Kyle Dubas/William Nylander

The Lace in Your Dress by elenajames 

There’s a garment box on their bed when Willy gets home.

You’re my golden hour by mozartspiano 

Kyle's condo is terrible. William helps him find a house.

This One’s For You by theshipstorulethemallwrites 

Since his father’s death in a classified military accident, William Nylander has always had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he could be more. And then he gets in trouble in a way that he can’t get out of.

Enter Kingsman

Enter Kyle Dubas

I Hope You Lie by dizzzylu 

"You think that we don't notice?" William asks. "How you take care of us, how you take the blame for us. We notice, Kyle. I notice."

Nazem Kadri/Mitch Marner; Nazem Kadri/Mitch Marner/John Tavares

Knights by eden22 

London Knights are always proprietary with each other.

Mitch Marner/John Tavares

A Monster Under the Bed by eyeslikeonyx 

On the morning of November 9, 1973, Good Hope Sheriff John Tavares is the third man to pull up to the banks of Lake Perry where a body has been found. Principal Patrick Marleau of Good Hope High School was the first, and Deputy Sheriff Morgan Reilly was the second.

Mitch Marner/William Nylander

You Brought Out The Best In Me by Bluejay141519 

Mitch is the sun and Willy's been in the shadows since the day Mitch was drafted. That doesn't mean he loves Mitch any less.

William Nylander/Andreas Johnsson

facts of life (it’s i and love and you) by florabee 

some things change and some things don't. the most set-in-stone fact in andreas's life is this: he loves willy and willy loves him

VANCOUVER CANUCKS

Brock Boeser/Elias Pettersson

boy with love by lilcrickee 

“Oh no,” Brock murmurs, the reality of the situation sinking in. It’s 11 o’clock in the middle of the offseason and he’s holding a baby. The baby is his. Brock is 22 and has a baby and the mother has run off to work on a cruise ship.

Elias Pettersson/Jacob Markstrom

Waiting Tied and Bound by Sister_Grimm 

Jacob knows exactly how to take Elias apart every time

WINNIPEG JETS

Nikolaj Ehlers/Patrik Laine

make my heart sparkle like champagne by softEldritch (assbutts) 

Hey, Niky,” he says slowly, enunciating it carefully so he doesn’t somehow mess up the words, “what if we do get married this summer?”

Turns out there’s a lot more to a wedding than just showing up, saying a few words and putting on some rings.

Adam Lowry/Brandon Tanev

while all his body trembled by onlypartly (foreverkneeld) 

(407): It's very finicky. Like baking. or BDSM.

mixer attachments by snailmailed

“It’s a KitchenAid. You have the same one. Are you feeling okay?” He added when Brandon continued to stare at his brand new mixer.

Brandon blinked. “Yeah dude, I know what it is.”

“Okay well it didn’t seem like -”

“I know what it is! Obviously.” Brandon huffed.

(Adam buys his own KitchenAid, Brandon doesn't take it well.)

FORMER/INTERNATIONAL TEAMMATES

Nazem Kadri/James Van Riemsdyk

hit me with that by landofpromise 

Nazem isn’t sure what to think when James’ name appears on his screen.

Mathew Barzal/Thomas Chabot

careless with my heart again by aimerai 

Mat looks at Chabby, actually looks at him, and wants to kiss him. This is not a new thought, nor is it particularly damning. Mat wants to make him fall apart, and that’s fine, too. But wanting to smooth out the faint wrinkle of his brow and uncoil the tension from his shoulders is a line he can’t cross. Wanting Chabby to go back to the person he was when he was asleep, carefree, is not something he is allowed. Staying the night was a detour; staying in bed was a mistake, and yet, Mat can’t bring himself to regret it. Some things are an inevitability; this may not be one of them, but Mat thinks he’d have chosen to land here anyway. Even if it’s going to hurt, even as he’s trying to pull himself out of one of the biggest hurts he’s ever had.

Anthony Cirelli/Taylor Raddysh

It Started Out With a Kiss (Or: How It Ended Up Like This) by love_stella 

“Who was that?” Misha asks, cutting him off.

“It was no one, don’t worry about it,” Tony tries to say, knowing damn well it’s going to be impossible to get them to stop now that they’ve started.

“No no no, that wasn’t no one,” Misha says, “You don’t just walk up and kiss no one.”

Anthony Cirelli/Taylor Raddysh/Mitchell Stephens

Magnolia by love_stella 

What catches his eye is a hint of blue floating around the water, but before he can reach his hand in to check he’s hit with another coughing fit, only this time he’s able to catch most of the petals in his palms so he can inspect them to make sure his eyes aren’t tricking him. Surely enough, Taylor didn’t even cough up any of Tony’s flower this time, the petals he’s holding are shorter and a pale blue that Taylor might find beautiful if they didn’t just come out of his lungs.

Eric Comrie/Chase De Leo

Trying To Get That Feeling Again by Mooresomore 

Chase and Eric had been together and things were perfect. What happened when Chase got traded to the Ducks changed all that. Can they find what was missing?

Dante Fabbro/Tyson Jost

all these songs of love by somehowunbroken 

Dante's an aspiring musician, so he'll take whatever help he can get, including a boy in 

his dreams who helps him write his music. Everything's going fine until he looks up during a show and sees that boy in the crowd.

Alexandre Fortin/Jeremy Lauzon/Philippe Myers

this doesn’t look that much different from home by aimerai 

Alex is born somewhere between a hope and a dream, made more of magic than of DNA. He’s not quite a changeling child, but the first time he watches Pinocchio, he cries and cries and can’t stop, until he feels like he’s going to throw up with each hitching breath. It feels too similar, and he’s always known what he is.

Or, the moments that make a homecoming.

Marcus Johansson/Evgeny Kuznetsov

putting broken pieces back in place by ghosthunter 

“Evgeny Evgenyvich,” the stranger says.

“Huh?” Zhenya asks, confused. He stops to look up into the black space where a face should be.

“What would you give,” the stranger asks.

“For what?” Zhenya asks. He considers continuing walking, but he can’t. He considers running, but he can’t do that either. He thinks these things, but his body won’t do them.

“For what you want,” the stranger says to him.

Auston Matthews/Patrick Kane

Half in the shadows, half burned in flames by Caivallon 

Between night and day. In this strange endless twilight between yesterday and tomorrow when everything is possible.

They have played a game. A tempting and thrilling game.

Nathan MacKinnon/Mitch Marner

Pine your way to China by Aderam

In which our hero is surprisingly good at talking about it, but not to the right person.

AKA hockey boys are dumb, but we like them anyway.

William Nylander/David Pastrnak

Love and Marriage by blindbatalex 

“Yeah I got married and didn’t tell any of you,” David deadpans before it’s too late, finally able to form words, and there is a moment when it goes so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

WOMEN’S HOCKEY

Taylor Crosby/Amanda Kessel

run it, run it (like a girl) by ghosthunter 

Hockey analysts will make a rivalry out of anything. And if it’s not the analysts, then it’s the media. All they really had in common was they went to the same school and play the same sport.

OTHERS

Leon Draisaitl/Connor McDavid/Dylan Strome

ain't nothing like them summer nights by liroa15 

Connor's got one boyfriend for home and one boyfriend for away, and somehow they're all making it work. Together. Away from it all.

Alexander Ovechkin/Tyler Seguin; Nicklas Backstrom/Tyler Seguin

Icebreaker by myrthrilmercury

Throughout the league, Alexander Ovechkin is known as "Icebreaker" for his prowess at training the brattiest and most stubborn subs. His latest assignment is to transform the rude, rebellious Tyler Seguin into an obedient submissive willing to do anything commanded.

Sidney Crosby/Travis Konecny; Sidney Crosby & Marc-Andre Fleury

Forever in a Minute by elenajames

Sid lets the league send an alpha match for his heat, and he's not prepared for who they pick.

[imaginesmydearfandom]

The Avengers discovering you’re an artist would include...

Did I make this for my own personal wishes? Yes. Do I wish this could happen to me? Yes. Do I regret making this? No.

They're all really impressed first of all

Tony would want your art around the complex and Stark Tower (paying you way too much money for the pieces he wants even if you insist on just giving them to him)

He asks you questions about the iron man armor concerning color and different styles

He would also fund your supplies. Need to buy some new oil paint and brushes? “Here’s my credit card, YN, knock yourself out. Buy all you need.”

He also might pull a few strings to have your art featured in some museums

You and Steve would talk drawing techniques and you would introduce him to kneaded erasers, pencil extenders, and other new drawing supplies that have been invented since the 40s

He’s forever grateful you showed him kneaded erasers

Every time he finishes a drawing, he’ll show you first to get your opinion. You’ll give him your thoughts, critique a few spots, but usually, the pieces are overall really good.

While he’s there, you’ll show him your current WIP and ask him what he thinks (he always says it looks fantastic even if you think it looks like trash)

Nat and Bruce would probably want to paint as a therapeutic thing and a stress reliever

Or they’ll try pottery

Strange would be really impressed but probably not say a whole lot 

You’ll suggest a few methods of painting to him that works with his hands and after that, you'll see him with paint on his hands every once in a while 

Peter would be gushing over your talents and probably commission some stuff along with Tony "Oh my gosh I can't believe someone made a painting of me this is crazy and so awesome thank you yn!"

Bucky might ask you to come up with a new paint design for his arm that would compliment his personality

Clint would really appreciate all of your work (esp the ones of him) and probably ask to buy a couple for his home

Sam would be really impressed. Like wow, I just fly around shooting guys and yn does that and makes art damn...

Rhodey would probably be the same as Sam but would audibly say something like “Holy shit...” when he thought it was in his head.

Wanda would ask a lot of questions and be very curious how you make art (would probably hang out with you while you paint or something and watch you and read a book). 

Thor would be highly impressed and probably say something like your better than some of the most talented artists on Asgard. Might ask to take a few home to keep the team in his mind.

Loki would be impressed but either act like he isn't or says a few words of acknowledgment. May hang out with you and Wanda. Depends on his mood.

Scott would be like Peter and gush over your work (probably would ask you to make a drawing for his daughter of her favorite character or something or paint a mural in her room)

T’Challa would be like Thor and want to take some back to Wakanda. He would be eternally grateful for it and the work you do.

Vision would randomly come through the walls to check up on you, make sure you’re taking breaks and eating enough

Overall everyone is v v v supportive and loves everything you create

[cucamonga-springs]

Death of a Dystopian: The life and legacy of J.G. Ballard - by Joanne McNeil

On the third week of April in 2009, the news included stories about celebrity obsession, empty foreclosed properties, a young medical student who murdered prostitutes, and the death of the man who forecast this media landscape years ago. James Graham Ballard died of advanced prostate cancer on April 19 at the age of 78.

Apart from maybe Samuel Beckett, no other modern writer saw his ideas proliferate across so many platforms. Ballard influenced filmmakers from David Cronenberg to Mary Harron. The French philosopher Jean Baudrillard and the American critic Susan Sontag were fans. Ed Ruscha quotes Ballard in one of his paintings. Joy Division, Hawkwind, and even Madonna have alluded to his work in their lyrics. There was an art show in Barcelona last year entirely devoted to his life and ideas.

J.G. Ballard is best known for Empire of the Sun (1984), a largely autobiographical coming-of-age novel based on his upbringing in Shanghai, where his father was a businessman, and his internment in a World War II prison camp during the Japanese invasion. For those with darker tastes, there is the cult classic Crash, a wild, transgressive 1973 novel about a community of car-crash fetishists that was eventually made into a Cronenberg film. His writing is obsessed with the territories where the organic meets the inorganic; it is absurdist, bleak, vivid, and awake to the psychological effects of media and manmade landscapes. In the words of the novelist Martin Amis, “Ballard is quite unlike anyone else; indeed, he seems to address a different—a disused—part of the reader’s brain.”

Ballard presents particularly gruesome details of his early years in Miracles of Life, a 2008 autobiography, without any sentimental navel gazing or bitterness. While interned, with his father’s encouragement, the boy ate weevils around his plate of mushy rice “for protein.” Ballard accepted the situation as it was and even looked back at the experience with some fondness. “The most important consequence of internment was that for the first time in my life I was extremely close to my parents,” he writes. “I slept, ate, read, dressed, and undressed within a few feet of them in the same small room, in many ways like the poorer Chinese families for whom I had felt so sorry in Shanghai.”

Ballard considered this childhood ordinary. “People who read Empire of the Sun have often said to me, ‘What a strange life, how unusual,’” he told the BBC World Service in 2002. “And I say to them, actually, the life I led in Shanghai before and during the Second World War was not strange; it wasn’t unusual. The majority of the people on this planet today and for most of this century and previous centuries have always lived lives much closer to the way I lived than to, say, the comfortable suburbs of Western Europe and North America. It is here where I live today that is very strange by the world’s standards. Civil war, famine, flood, drought, poverty, disease are the norms of human experience.” Shanghai is an enormous city, but Ballard was isolated there. At the time it had only a small community of Westerners. He never learned a word of Chinese, and he had his first Chinese meal in Britain, long after he left Asia. But it was England, his home for the rest of his life, that bewildered him. In Shanghai fear and hunger and violence were right in front of him; there were dead bodies lying in the streets where he bicycled. As an adult in the comfortable London suburb of Shepperton, by contrast, Ballard had to look under the surface to find the darkest parts of the human psyche.

A characteristic Ballardian situation is the set-up to his 1974 novel Concrete Island. The protagonist has crashed off the highway and onto the triangle of land beside it. The motorists, when they even notice, mistake him for a homeless person and are unwilling to assist. He is left stranded on the concrete island, and he depends on the totaled car for survival—even drinking from the windshield-wiper water reservoir. He thinks about the son he was supposed to pick up from school. “Ironically,” Ballard writes, “in this warm spring weather the line of crippled war veterans would be sitting in the wheel chairs by the park gates as if exhibiting to the boy the variety of injuries which his father might have suffered.”

Ballard emerged as a writer in the 1960s, when he became a part of the “new wave” movement within science fiction; his early novels focused on disaster scenarios created by wind storms, floods, and drought. His finest work from this period is The Drowned World (1962). The title is pretty self-explanatory, but it plays out with a sensitivity to the natural world typically absent in science fiction. When the city of London is finally drained, the characters aren’t pleased. In fact, they’re horrified. They can’t believe people actually lived in these structures and streets so far removed from nature. The “limpid beauty” of London underwater becomes a “jungle of cubist blocks [like] a drained and festering sewer.”

As Ballard’s writing matured, his unique sensibility took shape. He was fascinated with everyday architecture—industrial parks, high ways, billboards, drained swimming pools, tract housing developments, airports—and he described these places as culturally indistinguishable interruptions of the natural landscape. His stories evinced a distrust of both technology and human nature, along with an intuitive understanding of how architecture, especially in its most banal forms, affects our emotions. In the 1970s, he produced a series of experimental novels heavily influenced by the Beat writer William Burroughs: Crash, 1970’s The Atrocity Exhibition, and 1975’s High Rise, perhaps his best novel, about the chaos that emerges among the tenants of a luxury apartment complex who form tribes and refuse to leave the building.

Ballard identified himself as a libertarian. “I’m all for free sex, alcohol and would liberalize the drug laws if some way could be found to protect adolescents,” he once told The Independent. He supported both Margaret Thatcher and Tony Blair, but generally avoided economic issues in his writing. Unlike most American libertarians, he considered himself an anti-consumerist. In his last published novel, Kingdom Come (2006), he drew a parallel between a comfortable mall-going society and a fascist one, with a character declaring that consumerism has “drawn the blueprint for the fascist states of the future. [It] creates an appetite that can only be satisfied by fascism. Some kind of insanity is the last way forward.” He criticized the other sort of “consumerism” too, and for similar reasons. In a 1971 essay, he asked whether Ralph Nader could ever become “the first dictator of the United States,” insisting that the question “isn’t entirely frivolous.…Inevitably, I suppose, the consumer society must produce its own unique demagogue, but this sort of dictator may well be difficult to recognize and unseat.”

In Ballard’s slapstick satire Millennium People (2003), the bourgeois residents of a gated community commit terrorist acts. They riot, clash with police, and bomb upper-middle-class establishments such as the Royal Albert Hall and the Victoria and Albert Museum. What are they protesting? “Double yellow lines, school fees, maintenance charges…cheap holidays, over-priced housing, educations that no longer buy security.” They are rebelling against, in one character’s words, “the barriers set out by the system. Try getting drunk at a school speech day, or making a mildly racist joke at a charity dinner. Try letting your garden grow and not painting your house for a few weeks.”

Like most of Ballard’s fiction from the last 20 years, Millennium People uses the framework of a middlebrow English novel as a way to parody the reader. For Ballard, as he explained to Salon in 1997, the novel is “the greatest enemy of truth and honesty that was ever invented. It’s a vast, sentimentalizing structure that reassures the reader and at every point offers the comfort of secure moral frameworks and recognizable characters. This whole notion was advanced by Mary McCarthy and many others years ago, that the main function of the novel was to carry out a kind of moral criticism of life. But the writer has no business making moral judgments or trying to set himself up as a one-man or one-woman magistrate’s court. I think it’s far better, as Burroughs did and I’ve tried to do in my small way, to tell the truth.”