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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

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Jim and Jody - Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary; it was one of the biggest decisions of your life, but will you change your mind before your future is sealed?

Warnings; angst, mentions of abortion (everyone is permitted to do what they want with their body, in this imagine the reader wants to keep the baby, but pro choice, as everyone deserves control over their bodies and all 🤍), brief mention of sex and threats

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To see him so relaxed, so completely and utterly himself was a paradise all on its own. There was a heaviness aboard your shoulders, but as you watched him goof tirelessly about, you had no other concerns, not even as you subconsciously raised your hand over your stomach. You shook your head at the sentiment, the two of you had already made the decision to abort this child, it was unknown how the poor fellow would turn out to be; with the combination of your powers and his super everything, it was sure to be quite the complication, and not one that you supposed was to be an easy course.

A smile pried at your face, simply from viewing him with the pack of children, the wind from the docks swept your hair into your face, and in turn, you swept the locks out and away from your vision, so that you had further access to watch the man that you loved in his absolute element. Through the years, past and recent, he had lost so much, and this child was just to be another mantle on the wall of memorial in his mind, it was sad really. If the two of you were normal, with average and lives that had perceptions with no regards of being heroic, there’d be no query about it, you’d keep the baby.

That life though, to your grave misfortune, did not exist, it was merely a fantasy living painfully inside of your mind, haunting you whenever you closed your eyes, with the flashing images of a resolution and end to the errors in your lifestyle. There’d be a big house, yet nothing to prissy, just enough room for the pair of you and few children of your own, a grand garden with a swing set and sand pit, where the infants could grow up and play in once they were older. Then there’d also be a shed for Bucky to work on small projects, such as attaining some love and care to his motor bike, as well as storing the supplies that he’d need to do so.

All that is a universe away, muffled from possibility by the stars expediting through the gorgeous veil of the galaxy, corrupting the possibilities of ever gaining access to such... peace. That was the one thing that the pair of you wanted, however catching a break was rather rare within your predicament. A stifled laugh reeled from the conjunction of your lips as you simply and endearingly surveyed how the boys, specifically Sam’s nephews hung from the vibranium branch of his arm. It was all your attention was focused on, until an extra person took a seat on the picnic table beside you, his sweet yet musky scent detailing whom it was. “If your not going to eat that, I’m sure Barnes Junior might want an opinion on that.”

The underlining of the words caused an abstract grimace to forlorn your features, as you stared not at the speaker of whom you were close with, but instead the slather of cake that was planted on a paper plate before you, the icing beginning to become slightly sick from the beating of the viable son. “You’re glowing, you know? Motherhood is a good look on you y/n/n, I wouldn’t be so soon to let that go.” Your fingers pried at the dismantled crumbs off your section of desert as you looked to your new captain, a resonating conformation fo bridled suffering and hopelessness clouding your view of his attempt at making you atone before you made a sin that you’d forever regret.

He, like many others, knew that the family life was what you wanted; you wanted to be your child’s hero, tending to their each necessary (and unnecessary) need, them being your main focus and project and life. Instead, you had been handed your options on a short stick, and thus, your decision, albeit somewhat of a sensible one, didn’t make it hurt any less. “Sam.” You spoke his name, observing from the corner of your eye how Bucky paraded around the dock with Jim and Jody. It’d be nice to give him a slice of this kinda life, he was thriving as an adult around children, you could only imagine him in the case of this one being birthed into the world. “It’s not that easy.”

“No one said it was going to be easy.” Sam responded quickly, affirming your fears to your nerve wrecked face. “I get it, I do. People will be after this kid, and that is no way to live, but you two aren’t alone in any of this, nor will you be in that. You have me, along with many other old friends of ours, hell even the Wakandan’s. Do you really want to sacrifice this one life so you can continue living this one? You and Bucky have both lost so much, you don’t have to force yourself to willingly give away something else. The decision can be changed the last minute, it’s a lot to take in, I get that, but I see the way Buck is with my nephews, and how you watch them when you think nobody’s looking over at you. With your state pardon, you two can retire, and go far away, and abandon everything for this one little guy or gal, because I know that if you do, no matter what, they’ll be worth it.”

Bucky wailed a warrior’s shout as Jim and Jody playfully struck him down, his unsheathed metal hand grasping at the cloth that was tightly aboard his addictive chest. He rolled on the ground as the children ran to retrieve their toy lightsabers, leaving him to be expendable against their weapons. There was a giddy and fitting smile smouldering his usual stoic expression. It was no wander why he found calm in visiting Sam and his sister’s small, and accepting family. The kids brought out another side of him, which he had been tortured to refrain from showing, but you had seen, and were contemplating many things within your mind. You were lapping up the image, as though you were dehydrated and the sight of him appeased by the company of young ones was a source of water.

Sam was right, he always was and had been. “The decision was on both of our parts, you don’t think Buck’ll change his mind, or do you?” You were invested in getting a responsive answer, yet the man spluttered a laugh at your confused expense. He heaved for a moment, bracing his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. There was nothing stopping him from gaining it back, unlike Bucky whom had grabbed a saber of his own and lightly began to paddle against the one that was directed against him, other than another round of hysterics that abandoned him. A reasonable smile resonated a comfortable position upon the former falcon’s face, as he tentatively patted your knee, watching as you broke off a small rupture of cake and popped it in your mouth, feeding not only yourself but the inmate within your womb.

“There isn’t really much for me to say, it’s easy, look at him. He will be fine with whatever decision that the pair of you succumb to, after all, it’s your body, but it will pain him like nothing else ever has if you go through with the abortion, and if not, then trust me, we’ve both seen how hard he fights; think of that but ten times the mass in consideration of this baby, because I am certain that he’d do anything for them. He lost his entire family when he awoke from his mode of hydra assassin, this could be him getting it back. Different members, but a family all the same.” He stole a little of your cake, making you lightly elbow him as a smirk rendered a beauty upon his face.

“What’s that going to make you, the patriotic uncle who just can’t keep himself from flashing his shield?” Now it was his turn to retaliate, he lightly scuffed your ankle with a feather light tap of the toe of his shoe, causing you to promiscuously roll your eyes. “I’m joking, that was Steve’s aesthetic, this new version of cap is your baby, I have great faith in you to make this world a better and safer place. The funny thing is, when you finally accepted that shield was yours, that’s when my mind shifted to the possibility of keeping this kid. It was and has always been a sign of hope and protection to Bucky, maybe it could be the same for our little one. It was just a thought, I’m not meaning to put pressure on your or anything bu-“

“I get it, and I’m honoured. And if that is how it seems, then I want you to know that I’ll be there to protect them too. The main bump in the road for now is for you to talk to that grumpy ass boyfriend of yours and figure this sperm plus egg equation out, send Jim and Jody over here, I got somethin’ to show those two anyway.” With a nod and a grateful pat upon your friend’s head, you slowly plodded over to where Bucky was being cornered against the side of the truck by the boys. His blue orbs danced around their small and imaginative beings, until they landed on you, it was as though his pupils were calling out for help, begging for you to spare some mercy upon him.

“Jim, Jody, your uncle Sammy has something for you two to see.” They groaned lightly, having been pulled away from the narrative of their play time, but nevertheless their faces were clean slates as they expressed hyper smiles, and bolted their route towards their mother’s sibling, carrying their lightsaber replicas along with them. “Two kids beat an infamous, deadly badass with a metal arm. I think you might be getting too old for these kinda battles Buck, you were losing, and quite terribly if I say so myself.” Crossing your arms, as he came to an upright stand, hoisting himself off the ground, so that he could be more level with you.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in. Thought you were supposed to be supportive of me and all that, as you said to Zemo, you’d quite happily cut his dick off if he compared me to the shadow that I used to be.” His brow raised, as he reminisced on the thought of you threatening Zemo; it was hot, and certainly had gotten him going, which had shortly left you in this predicament, trying to save the world and execute the one last thing that exhumed hope to either one of you. The baby. It was almost a certain and solid fact that the little one inside of you had been procreated on the Baron’s private jet, more specifically, the small and clean bathroom that had became dirty with your primal sins.

“And I still regret not doing that, he’d have had much less leverage in any sense of the word of phallic if he had it sectioned off.” Silence emitted between the two of you, although a humoured smirk tantalised upon Bucky’s graceful face. For a change, he was not prompting the expression of a grumpy cat that was refused its nip, no, instead he could be compared to a future - actually, he already was a father to the bean held in the shield of your body, having been an ample ingredient in bringing the small person into being. “So, you having fun with Sarah’s kids, sure looks like you were quite in your element before I cut in.”

“I’m always in my element when you’re around doll.” He smiled, wrapping his uncoordinated hands around the oval of your waist, and tugging you sentimentally closer, your hips bumped with his, as your eyes ogled infatuatedly up at him. “They’re great kids, makes me realise exactly what we’re gonna be missing out on.” Bucky gulped, sparks of emotion taunted the behind of his eyes, like saucers of resentful fire. “You’d be the perfect mother, you know that right? After all you’ve done for me, you’ve nurtured me close to the man that I once was, the only difference is that I want to settle, but I don’t know how to go about dropping everything. This kid is killing me, he’s making me question everything.”

“That’s what kids are supposed to do, unborn, or very much avidly attacking grown men with false lightsabers.” Bucky deeply into your frustrated and corresponding eyes, your hands reaching up to play defiantly with the smooth dip in his chin that could be seen through the shading of his light stubble. “What if we did have a Jim and Jody of our own some day? We could keep him or her, they’d be our greatest concern, we don’t have to go down this painful and longing, rusted road. We could bring something good into this world, protect them against all forces that threaten to disrupt their life, I want this with you Bucky. We could move far far away, or go somewhere close to home.”

“Brooklyn.” He stated, causing a line to crease gently in the plain of his forehead. “I want to call them Brooklyn, if I am to fight the rest of my life for something, I want it to be my home. Last time I had to leave there, but it’s my amends to never leave this child of ours, if we’re going to do this, we need to put them in front of everything, and I mean everything.” He spoke, in reference to the other avengers and other aliases that you had stood by for so long. Bleakly you nodded, grasping his jaw down for an amorous kiss, humming against the palette of his lips, as your hands entwined behind his neck, pulling his face closer to your own, prompting his tongue to travel deeper within the realm of your mouth.

“Brooklyn is a nice name. How about Brooklyn Margaret Barnes? I think that has quite the ring to it.” You offered, and he hardly reacted, instead quickly appraising a pleasant smile onto the canvas of his work of art face, as he ducked his head down, conjoining the pair of you into a passionate and meaningful collide of your lips. Sam smiled as he watched the pair of you, pointing at you two from afar, as his nephews from afar. He was giving them a man to men talk, offering them advice that they would have valuable usage of in the future.

“Now that is love. You don’t give up for the one thing that connects you, and those two, well Bucky and y/n have been through a hell of a lot. They deserve this, and when you meet a woman when you’re older, and your mum is watching on towards the two of you, I want you to make her proud by treating your girl like a princess, willing to sacrifice everything simply to create the future that she wishes for you.” He emotionally wiped his eyes, rushing to stand before he grasped a lightsaber, leaving the other to spare for one of them. “Now Jim and Jody, which one of you will be my padawan?”

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3fluffies · 3 years

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I struggled to wrap my mind around what was happening that day. Now I have trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that it’s been 20 years. The memories are still so vivid.

I was a 20-year-old intern in my Congresswoman’s office at the Cannon House Office Building right next to the U.S. Capitol, fulfilling every political science major’s dream. I was one week into the internship.

I remember the sound of our legislative director, Bob’s voice from watching CNN in our boss Karen’s office as fellow intern Orrin and I opened mail in the foyer, right about 9 am: “Oh my god, a plane hit the World Trade Center!”

It began far from us, just an awful event on the news that our Representatives would need to know about and react to, as we all wondering who had family/friends in NYC. We watched the broadcast a few minutes then went back to work.

I remember the pitch of Bob’s voice shouting about “another one”. I remember how we all stampeded back into Karen’s office. I remember my shoe falling off as we did and not going back for it. I remember the strange sensation of reality shifting, to see the replays of that second plane, recognizing what it meant. No accident. An attack on a scale our nation had never faced before.

I remember talking to Mum on the phone briefly, both of us just dismayed and worried at the implications.

I remember junior staffer Paula and I seeing a report of “smoke at the Pentagon” and half-joking: “You think?” Mentioning it to Bob and him shrugging it off, “Nah,” because there had been construction going on at the Pentagon.

Then another report of a “large plume of smoke and significant fire” at the Pentagon. Again, my sense of reality starting to shift a little and Paula and I calling out at the same time: “…Bob?”

I remember all cellphone signals jamming, then even the landlines jamming. Trying to reach any member of my family with no luck. For the first time in my life, my immediate family had completely separated only a few weeks earlier: @hazelhills to start her freshman year at college, me for my DC internship, Da for his new job in Oklahoma, and Mum back in Gainesville finishing up the move from our old house. My folks had been sad and stressed about it even before that day. As rumors swirled of a bomb at the State Department, a fire on the National Mall less than a mile away and as many as 6-8 planes missing, I knew my family had to be frantic.

I remember Karen arriving with more staff, one reporting confirmation that a plane had hit the Pentagon as she commuted to the Hill. I remember the crowds filling the streets as the Capitol itself evacuated, watching them stream past our second-story windows. First questions and discussion of whether we should evacuate, then Karen deciding we would head for her house a few miles away when reports came in of another plane headed our way. Figuring out who would ride in the few cars.

I remember riding in our chief of staff’s van, staring at the Capitol dome that I loved so much, wondering if I would see it explode with the impact of a jet like Tower Two had. I remember all traffic stopping hard at once at the sound of jets - fighter jets, scrambled to defend Washington.

I remember arriving at Karen’s shortly after 10 am and being appalled at all the smoke in NYC. Remarking that I couldn’t even see the Towers now, and hearing Karen’s voice: “They’re gone. They’re both gone.” Trying to grasp what she meant until the videos of the collapses played.

I remember seeing the Green Berets forming a staging area nearby, directly across the Potomac from the Pentagon and that massive, black smoke plume we could now see.

I remember eventually going home once the Metro reopened late that evening, and the dazed silence in the trains, all conversations murmured.

I remember the stories and shock among my fellow interns in the emergency program meeting The Washington Center held in our building. Then sitting alone in my bedroom, looking at my calendar and saying aloud several times, “September 11, 2001”, knowing this date would never be normal in living memory again. Labeling it in my journal as “the day the world came crashing down.”

I remember feeling patriotic and inspired by the unity in the days that followed, but disgusted by the ignorance, racism, and Islamophpbia. Believing at first that the “divisions” of the Clinton years had ended and Democrats and Republicans would now come together in response. Realizing more and more as time went by how wrong I was, as the Bush Administration seized on the tragedy to grasp and manipulate and destroy on whole new levels.

I remember my grief and anger as Karen was gerrymandered out of her district in 2002. Moving back to DC in 2003 and marching against the invasion of Iraq. Learning a classmate and friend had died in Iraq just before I started law school.

20 years of “war on terror.” The blood of thousands on our soil, the blood of millions on our hands. Bush, Obama, then Trump. The faith I once felt in our Constitution and our institutions faded to a dull echo of memory.

On January 6, 2021, watching the news from my law office in Florida, I did something that I hadn’t done on September 11, 2001: cried. Raged. Seeing the Republican Party achieve what even Bin Laden couldn’t - the penetration of our seat of government, waving hideous enemy flags and mocking our sacred halls.

On September 11, 2001, I watched the world spin so sudden and wildly off its axis, knew nothing would ever be the same, but vowed and believed with complete confidence that our attackers would not achieve their goal of a demoralized, broken America. In the 20 years since, in the gleeful opportunism, greed, and power lust of the Republican Party, the endless appeasement by the Democratic Party leadership, and the complacency and cheerful apathy of the center and the majority of the population, I’ve had to face the fact that those 9/11 attackers are closer to success than any American would have thought possible.

#9/11 #september 11 #september 11 2001 #war on terror #9/11 memories

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knackerman · 3 years

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Hey KnackerMan if this is a hard question to be asked, feel free to change the subject.

What was your experience hearing about what was happening in new york 20 years ago when America was attacked?

This is a hard question for me to answer, but probably not for the reasons one might expect. I actually really don't like my answer, and part of me thinks I'm making a huge mistake for answering this honestly, but I do not want to lie. Maybe it would be better if I just stayed silent then, you might say, but that doesn't feel right either. So I'll answer this, but if you think less of me for it- well, I probably deserve it.

Let me preface this by saying that I was in high school twenty years ago.

I must have been a sophomore or junior and I was kind of a little shit-head. It would not be inaccurate to say that I was something of a goth/punk dweeb. We're talking all black ripped up cloths, black combat boots, black trench-coat, black nail polish, spiked collars, and elaborate Egyptian/skull and cross bones jewelry - the whole nine yards. I also carried around a duffle bag instead of a backpack just on the off chance I might make someone nervous - just to push them that little bit further. I didn't exactly go around kicking puppies or anything, but I thought it was funny if I made someone nervous or scared and I enjoyed giving the school administration a hard time.

I hated the world and everyone in it.

I am not proud of any of this, but that's the kind of person I was at the time.

Now, considering I was the type to rebel against pretty much any authority figure you happened to put in front of me and had a very casual and twisted philosophy concerning death, you might be able to hazard a guess as to how I responded to finding out that the World Trade Center (a place I associated with wall-street shitbags and their corrupt government puppets) had been blown up.

I didn't spare a thought for any of the innocent people involved or their families. When my English teacher told us the first tower had collapsed, my only response was, 'good' - She gave me such a horrified and concerned look that even though I was as I said, a shithead, I immediately stammered out something lame about it being 'better that the building had collapsed than fallen over on any of the nearby buildings'. It was pretty clear she didn't entirely buy it, but I didn't say anything else about it so neither did she.

(As much of an asshole as I was at the time, I actually didn't hate my English teacher all that much. She was the only other Edger Alan Poe fan that I knew, or had ever met in our little town, and I didn't really want her to realize just exactly how ambivalent I was to all human suffering except my own bullshit drama).

I'd like to say that over the days and weeks that followed I learned the error of my ways, came to appreciate the sheer enormity of what had taken place, and felt a swell of patriotic pride for the heroic men and women who worked so hard to save what lives they could on that terrible day - But I would be lying. The truth is I never really grew out of the whole 'goth phase' like everyone expected me to, and it took me a long-long time to start to develop anything like empathy or concern for my fellow man. (Sometime after I might my now wife, but that's a story for another time.)

I know for those that lost their lives or their loved ones, 9-11 was everything. A day that they could never forget even if they wanted to. For those uninvolved but with even a shred of human decency what happened was shocking, terrifying, and something that should always be remembered. For me, it was just one (admittedly surprisingly successful) terrorist attack out of thousands that were occurring all over the world all the time and there was nothing special about it except it happened in the United States - specifically New York - somewhere people had thought that they were safe, for some unknown reason. Bare in mind I was also alive for the Oklahoma City Bombing, the fall of the Branch Davidian Compound, and The Troubles in Ireland. There was a lot of bad stuff going down in the years before 9-11, so the response to me seemed like it was blown a little bit out of proportions, even though admittedly the suddenness and number of lives lost was staggering.

Having said that, to a degree I still think that its a little overblown.

'Patriot Day' is the most bizarre holiday for me given all the evil that came out of it (The Patriot Act, Guantanamo Bay, the formation of Homeland Security and the TSA, the two decades of blood spilled in Afghanistan) I sometimes think that everyone else is remembering things happening in a way that I simply don't. They seem to have taken away some grand nationalist message that for me rings incredibly hollow. The whole ritual and pageantry of the thing plays out not unlike the Two Minutes Hate, with everyone crowding around to express sentiments that we're encouraged and compelled to join in with even if it's not something we feel ourselves.

So that's the long way around to saying that my experience with hearing about the attack was stupid, awkward, and confusing - my memories more than a little colored by my own idiotic drama and disdain not just for my government, my country, and its people, but myself as well.

The slogan is 'Never Forget', but I really wish I did not remember.

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science-lings · 4 years

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Hey I saw you were asking for prompts/AUs, so I thought I'd send one in! Could you write an Irondad Foster Kid Peter and Foster Parent Tony AU? Lots of hurt/comfort or fluff?

There were few things that motivated Tony more than the need to become better. Better than he was, better than he was treated, good enough to deserve the praise that he was given so freely. Normally he wouldn’t even consider becoming a father. He felt as though he was doomed to repeat his own father’s sins. His heart always sunk when someone told him how similar he was to his late father. There was no one he hated being compared to more. Well, that wasn’t quite true, he also hated being compared to Captain America when he was a kid. Still, Tony’s father wasn’t exactly his hero.

It started when he began to visit orphanages when he couldn’t sleep, restricting himself to rocking babies, and occasionally when he was left alone with them, he sang lullabies. He liked the feeling of helping someone, a very small someone who didn’t know who he was or that he was important. He liked it when they fell asleep in his arms.

That expanded to him telling stories to older kids on days that he had time. He found himself buying hundreds of picture books to read to them, starting out slightly awkward and flippant but turning more animated and dramatic as he discovered which voices made the kids laugh.

When he ran out of books to read and songs to sing, he created his own. Making up stories of heroes and bad guys, the kids loved those ones. Full of epic battles and cameos from the other avengers, when he wanted to switch it up he told the stories in different settings. He portrayed himself as a golden king with a dragon, fighting monsters with his knight friends for his kingdom, as a zombie killing ninja trying to find a cure for the zombie plague, and when requested, he was a Jedi knight fighting Darth Vader.

Sometimes the kids asked dumb questions about the story, and sometimes they’d ask very smart questions phrased only in the strange way that only a child can.

Over the years, Tony got closer to the kids, but one in particular really piqued his interest. The boy was one of the oldest there, almost fourteen. He was very quiet and almost crazy smart. Tony didn’t know how smart a junior high student was supposed to be but it was nowhere near this kid was. He loved science books and any high tech Tony brought near him. There were almost visible stars in his eyes when he got to see the Iron Man suit up close.

Tony never wanted to be a father but this nerdy kid, Peter, was really tugging at his heartstrings in a way that he had never really experienced. Not many kids could sit through his purposefully complicated explanation of the arc reactor but Peter did so with such enthusiasm that he couldn’t help but dig the old one out of storage to show it off.

He learned about Peter, that his parents died when he was six and he was taken in by his uncle and aunt, who also died a few years after. That he used to wear glasses but had grown out of them, that he had always wanted to be a hero like Iron Man. Tony made sure to mention to the kid that being a hero is not as great as it looks on TV and Peter just looked at him and whispered that he knew. Tony had a weird feeling when he said that. It was too understanding.

Pepper had suggested it, after hearing him talk about the kid for weeks and seeing him look pensive at the sight of alcohol and become more responsible instead of pretending to be a larger than life celebrity that the world saw him as. She could tell that he was ready.

It took a lot of paperwork and time but eventually Tony was able to become a foster parent for Peter. Tony wasn’t sure if it would be a good idea to go as far as to adopt the kid, he knew that there would be someone better for him out there that knew more about actual parenting but at least he was extremely well off and had the stability that would be very helpful for a genius child. The closest he had to a parenting guide was a mental list of Howard's behaviors and a promise to himself that he would do the exact opposite.

The adjustment period was weird, neither of them really knew how to act but after enough movie nights and long periods of time in Tony’s lab, they got used to their new normal. They just fit together like perfectly placed gears, they understood each other so well. Sure, Tony wasn’t the perfect dad-figure, but he tried so hard and cared so much. He did his best and he truly knew Peter like he was his own kid.

This was why he knew exactly when something was wrong. Peter came home bruised, he would try to start a conversation as if it were something important then chicken out after bringing it up. He would sneak into the lab when he knew Tony was busy and spend whole afternoons after school “with friends” even though Tony was fully aware that there was only one of those.

At first Tony thought that Peter was getting bullied. But the pieces didn’t quite fit, so he decided to confront Peter about it.

It was late, Peter had tried to hide a limp when he got to the penthouse like he had twisted his ankle and was treating it as gently as possible. Tony was waiting for him. Peter looked at him nervously before trying to shuffle to his room.

“You know kid, I’m trying to give you your privacy and all but I’m really starting to get worried about you.” Tony held out Twix bar like an olive branch. An offering of sorts.

“I’m fine... is this about P.E.? You know I’m trying to get my grade up...” Peter took the candy bar and sat down carefully next to his foster father, still trying to hide whatever was hurting him.

“No, no. I’m not worried about school for you, You’re probably as smart as I was at your age and you actually care about your education. No, I’m worried about you. I want to know what’s going on with you. Are you being bullied? Is someone hurting you? Did you try to kick a steel pillar? What?” Peter seemed to go a little pale and he was quiet for a minute. Tony just waited for any sort of reply.

“I uh...” Peter started after a long pause, “Can you promise that you won’t be mad.” Tony thought for a moment of his own father's outbursts of rage when he wasn’t perfect when he didn’t live up to Howard's astronomical expectations.

“I don’t think I could ever truly be mad at you Pete. You could probably kill someone and I trust you enough to realize that they deserved it somehow and take you to therapy or something. Being angry never really helps anyone, I mean aside from Bruce Banner, he has some benefits from being angry once in a while.” He saw Peter sigh in relief.

“I... I’ve been lying to you. I’m not who you think I am.” He said quietly.

“What, are you like a jock or something. Do you play basketball and want to audition for a musical? I think you would be pretty good in a musical.” This caused Peter to crack a little smile but normally he would laugh at a joke like that. Tony realized that this might actually be serious.

“No, I’m not Troy Bolton, I... something happened to me a while ago. I know it sounds crazy but I-got-superpowers-from a-radioactive-spider-and-I-kinda-became-a-small-time-vigilante-that-thwarts-like-bank-thieves-and-creepy-dudes-that-stalk-women.” He said the last part quickly like if he said it fast enough Tony wouldn’t completely process the information or not hear it completely. Tony did in fact hear all of the information.

“You know... that’s not what I thought you’d say but I’d be lying if I said that I was completely surprised by the fact that when you gained superpowers you immediately turned to helping people,” Tony said after a few seconds of processing what had been revealed. “I do think you need to reevaluate my standards for crazy because I work with spies and a Norse god and a guy that survived being frozen and patriotic for seventy years and that isn’t even it. Out of weirdness standards, spider super-kids are not even in the top five. I mean we had an alien invasion not too long ago this world is full of weird shit. Don’t tell Pepper that I said a bad word in front of you...”

“Yeah and I think I broke my leg.”

“WHAT!”

#Disclaimer: I have no idea how the foster system or orphanages work #or anything tbh #send me prompts!#ask gay #writing prompt #my writing #my drabble #joyful-soul-collector

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angelicichor · 5 years

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I always imagined that either versions of Leatherface would have the most hectic family time on the 4th of July. Tons of family coming over, distant cousins etc, bbq, tons of meat to prepare for it,drinking, loud music and fireworks, Drayton/Hoyt bitching about how the food isn't that good although he would not do better if he were to cook himself. Even grandpa is there wearing patriotic accessories. Just pure absolute mayhem 😂

Oh, absolutely!

Thomas would be forced to do SO MUCH heavy lifting for the family, because sure, their family consists of 4 people and the rest either doesn’t exist or doesn’t care to visit them, but they’ll for sure invite the trailer ladies as well and Hoyt ain’t gonna disappoint America with a half-assed 4th of July!

So we’re talking crates of illegal fireworks, setting them up for the evening, dealing with a big group of people that Hoyt went an extra mile to find, getting them ready for supper, and just... Luda Mae will have a lot of cooking to do, yeah, but THOMAS’ POOR BACK help this BOY.

Hoyt would only be really useful for bringing stuff from the city, like beer, whiskey, smokes, veggies and all this kinda stuff, but everything else is purely Luda, Thomas and if he has one - his s/o.

They’d only celebrate after 11 pm, because you know Monty and Hoyt would get too fuckin’ drunk to function for more than 2 hours, singing old country songs and watching the TV, but that’s only AFTER the marvelous dinner Luda prepared.

And I think this is one of those few rare days during which Tommy let’s himself relax, sits down with his uncle and Monty, maybe gets something to drink, but he doesn’t really get drunk... boy’s got a hard noggin for this type of stuff, but he enjoys the feeling of being included, of the family being, well, happy together, no butchering to be done, no fear for the next day, just plain fun. He can do that.

With Sawyers however, oh god, brace yourself, Texas.

There’s at least 30 people. AT LEAST. Not counting the people in the basement, because, you see, Drayton ain’t the only one leadin’ the butchering life.

Bubba, just like Thomas, is made to do all the heavy lifting, but Nubbins helps him a bit, well, mostly just keeps him company and plays with the victims.

You know there’s this one auntie who has 5 children, who all immediately swarm Bubba, demanding to be lifted up, squealing at him so he does the same in return and they LOVE IT, because they love their cousin, especially that one blondie baby, who just has stars in her eyes when she sees him and Bubba gives her one of his masks at some point.

Nubbins only really pays attention to anything once Chop Top comes around, and then the two start fighting, wrestling, biting each other, like the feral rat men they are, meanwhile Drayton is off discussing something with another family member, talking about how sex ruins all good things, even though he should be getting the children off Junior, so he can make his delicious Chili.

The first guests have arrived at 6 in the morning and it’s an old couple that will be leaving later, but just wanted to chat with grandpa, help him dress up as Uncle Sam before leaving, the granny kissing Bubba’s cheeks with all the love in the world, but Nubbins just gets a cheek pinch, because she knows he’s a naughty, naughty boy.

The second ones to arrive are the married folks who brought like... way too many fireworks. Like, they needed two pick-ups to get them to the house. There’s too many, please --- And they’ve been shooting those babies from 10 am till the end of the party and somehow STILL have some left, which they’ll use on their ride home, because fuck law.

But honestly I LIVE for the headcanon that the Sawyers and The Hewitts are cousins.

Mostly because I just wanna see Tommy and Bubbsy interacting.

Like they arrive and Bubba immediately squeals in happiness, running to hug his big cous’, whining and giggling as he lets him go, only to squeeze him again and Thomas just goes with it, because why not.

They both help each other while unpacking everything and you KNOW Bubba’s fucking amazed by Thomas, the way he can carry more than him, how he’s more precise with the meat, how fast and focused his hands are... Just a star eyed baby watching like Thomas is the most talented person in the world. And Tommy feels so awkward with it, so he just... skits over and motions to one person’s face, pointing to Bubba or more precisely - his masked face, then to his own and it takes moment for the youngest Sawyer to register that he just got asked FOR A MASK. And oh gosh is he excited.

And the rest of the family still comes, but while everybody is excited to see Bubba, Thomas kinda... intimidates them, so the giant tries to make himself as small as possible, not to scare the children, but don’t worry! Bubba’s here to rescue him!

The moment Bubba interacts with Thomas, everybody is more willing to do so as well, and soon enough Tommy is just... covered by little slimy gremlins that those people call their children. He’s loving it.

Drayton and Charlie argue the WHOLE DAY, but at the end of it their argument comes to a close - because it’s time to prove who’s the better head of their family. And there’s only one way to do that! BUBBA, TOMMY, ARM WRESTLING, NOW.

Thomas laughs it off, but... But Bubba is ALL ABOUT THIS. He sits down fast as lightning and is giving Thomas that expectant look, but his cousin is just... confused, why would he? He doesn’t want to hurt Bubbsy, they’re family and sure this is only arm wrestling, but that can do SO MUCH DAMAGE when it’s two giant, powerful men doing it.

But Bubba insists, so Tommy listens and is surprised that Bubba is actually... fucking STRONG. He should’ve expected that and he did, but not to that extent.

They both give it their best, but in the end Thomas ends it with a loud slam and to his shock the table flips over and Bubba falls to the floor, but damn it, he’s SO STARSTRUCK.

Thomas is called the best man in the family instead of Hoyt, who is FURIOUS about it, but nobody cares and LUDA IS SO PROUD OF HER BOY.

Speaking of which, whenever Bubba and Thomas are alone Luda Mae will come up to them, praise both, tell them how handsome they are, tug their ears affectionately, because their cheeks are PROTECTED DAMN IT.

And she’ll definitely have a tissue with her to swipe away any dirt on Bubba’s face, he loves his auntie and doesn’t understand why Thomas is so embarrassed when she tries to clean his mask too.

Around 6 pm everybody sits down, gives grace and starts F E A S T I N G. Except Thomas, but when asked he just hangs his head and gives a shy smile, but the family understands, he isn’t the most open person. They make sure to leave food for him for later, when he won’t have so many eyes on him.Instead of eating he carves a dope-ass knife out of a bone that he found on the floor, leaves it on the bench for anyone to pick up and it just dissappears at some point.

Also - DO NOT mix Nubbins and Thomas. Tommy has thrown the rat man against a wall before and is NOT afraid to do that before. They just... don’t work.Chop Top though gets on with Thomas surprisingly well, but it’s probably because Tommy is absorbed by his vast CD collection. He sure as hell comes back home with at least 15 of them and a player that he borrowed. Luckily Chop Top can drive himself to retrieve it at some point.

kjaklsjalldk I could write headcanons for those bastards interacting for HOURS, but that would be too long ｡ﾟ･（>﹏

#virgo talks #bubba sawyer #texas chainsaw massacre #thomas hewitt #nubbins sawyer #chop top sawyer #drayton sawyer #hoyt #Luda Mae

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clubsfit · 4 years

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The funniest sports quotes of the decade

Here is a list of some of the funniest sports quotes of the last 10 years.

“We’re going to find out who did it, and probably do nothing about it.” — Pittsburgh Penguins defenceman Ben Lovejoy, after he and fellow rookie Mark Letestu found their hotel furniture in the hall as part of a prank

“We can’t protect him all the time.” — New England Patriots offensive lineman Stephen Neal, on quarterback Tom Brady getting into a minor car accident

“NASCAR’s Drive For Diversity Program Successfully Hidden From Fans.” — Headline from The Onion, on theonion.com

“I don’t know what that word means, but he’s weird.” — Canadian centre Brayden Schenn on whether his Canadian world juniors roommate, Louis Leblanc, was eccentric

“The Kentucky Derby is coming up. This year, the horses may be subjected to a surprise drug test. Isn’t everything a surprise to a horse, though?” — David Letterman

“It seems like there’s going to be lots of murders. Make sure we have enough ambulances.” — Philadelphia Flyers goaltender Ilya Bryzgalov, on his early impressions of the rivalry between the Flyers and New York Rangers

“Right now it’s a mid-body. But picking my nose, it’s an upper-body.” — Maple Leafs defenceman Carl Gunnarsson, on whether his injured ring finger qualified as an upper-body or lower-body injury

“I didn’t have a lot of fun today, no. But it’s early.” — Andy Roddick, after losing in the quarterfinals at the U.S. Open

“Brunette girls.” — Michigan kicker Brendan Gibbons, on what he was thinking when he kicked a game-winning 37-yard field goal against Virginia Tech in the Sugar Bowl, after his coach told him to visualize whatever made him happy

“Manny just asked if I was the video co-ordinator. Our relationship can only go up from here.” — Oakland A’s pitcher Brett Anderson, after slugger Manny Ramirez joined the team at spring training

“I’m probably gonna have one of my own when I get older.” — Ottawa defenceman Erik Karlsson, on the moustache of Senators coach Paul MacLean

“Phoenix Coyotes Pretend Homeless Drifters At Greyhound Bus Station Are Fans Welcoming Team Home.” — The Onion

“What the hell they gonna do? Play the Wii?” — New York Jets linebacker Bart Scott, on quarterback Tim Tebow and hurdler Lolo Jones, both of whom had vowed chastity until marriage, going on a date

“I don’t know. I guess he will be disappointed. I’ll see when I’m home.” — Tennis star Novak Djokovic, asked what his dog would feel about him losing the Wimbledon semifinal to Roger Federer

“New Brain Study on Concussions Finds ... WOOOOOO! FOOTBALL! WOOOOOO!” — Headline on Sportspickle.com

“He owes me his first born or something. Actually, I don’t want that. Maybe a sandwich or something.” — New York Giants tight end Martellus Bennett, after catching a fan who fell from the stands

“I don’t know. It was a parole thing.” — Legendary Brewers broadcaster Bob Uecker, on why he never left Milwaukee

“Pumped I am no longer an unemployed 23-year-old living with his parents.” — Nashville Predators centre Colin Wilson, on the end of the NHL lockout

“A time machine. So if I wanted to be in Florida, it’d be like ‘boom’ I’m in Florida.” — New England Patriots tight end Rob Gronkowski, on what superpower he’d want

For more sports and fitness content, check out www.clubsfit.com.

#sports #quotes #football #hockey #funny #gym #workout #books #ebooks

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swiftiealex13 · 6 years

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I did something really brave today. Today, was the concluding day to our senior spirit week at our high school and today was “freedom friday”. As predicted, everyone dressed in red, white, and blue and wore patriotic stuff. I on the other hand decided to wear my pride flag. I wasn’t trying to make a statement, I merely wanted to express what freedom meant to me and for me I feel extremely thankful for all the people that fought for so long for the legalization of same sex marriage in all 50 states. Because of those people, one day I can marry the girl I fall in love with. When I arrived at first period I originally wasn’t wearing it. Weirdly I was terrified of any reaction I would get. There wasn’t any reason to be though. I basically came out fully when I posted a picture with my pride flag on insta. I guess what really made me scare was the fact that I have never outwardly shown who I am in such a bold way. Everyone else was wearing American colors and I was wearing a rainbow flag so of course it was gonna draw in a lot of attention. Soon enough first period was over and I found my heart beating so fast as I made my way to the hallway. My school isn’t known best for the people so I wasn’t sure how people were going to react. All DAY I had nothing but positive comments from not only people I know, but random people I passed by saying “I love your flag”. Also a junior friend from one of my classes even asked me if I was going to NYC pride and asked me if I wanted to go with her and a group of people. It was nothing but love. It felt so liberating to finally take full custody of my identity and show the world in the way that I did today. I’m never going to forget this day. Today I was more me than I have ever been in my life. @taylorswift I really hope you see this because I just need you to know how quickly things got better for me after coming out to you. Time heals anything and after 4 years, I can finally say that I’m fully out to the world. I love you infinitely for being a part of my coming out journey. And I hope I can fill you in on everything in my life when you’re in Watch Hill and I’m at URI ;) I miss you so much💕

#pride #pride month #tayyyyyyyyy #lookwhatyoumademedo

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romancatholicreflections · 6 years

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14th August >> Saint of the Day for Roman Catholics: Saint Maximilian M Kolbe, Priest and Martyr (Memorial)

St Maximilian M. Kolbe, Priest and Martyr (Memorial)

Maximilian Kolbe was born Rajmund on 8 January 1894 in Zduńska Wola, which was at that time part of the Russian Empire. Rajmund was the second son of Julius Kolbe and Maria Dabrowska. His father was an ethnic German and his mother of Polish origin. He had four brothers, two of whom died very young. His parents moved to Pabianice where they worked first as weavers. Later his mother worked as a midwife (often without charge) and ran a grocery and household goods shop in part of her rented house. Julius Kolbe worked at weaving mills and also grew vegetables on a rented allotment. In 1914 he joined Józef Piłsudski’s Polish Legions fighting for Poland’s independence from Russia and was captured. Regarded as a Russian subject, he was hanged as a traitor in 1914, aged forty-three.

In 1907 Rajmund and his elder brother Francis decided to join the Conventual Franciscans. They illegally crossed the border between Russia and Austria-Hungary and joined a Conventual Franciscan junior seminary in Lwów. In 1910 Kolbe entered the novitiate. He professed his first vows in 1911.

In 1912 he was sent to Kraków and then on to Rome where he took final vows in 1914, adopting the names Maximilian Maria, to show his veneration of the Blessed Virgin Mary. In Rome he studied philosophy, theology, mathematics, and physics. He took a great interest in astrophysics and the prospect of space flight and the military. While in Rome he designed an airplane-like spacecraft, similar in concept to the eventual space shuttle, and tried to patent it. In 1918 he was ordained a priest. He earned a doctorate in philosophy in 1915 at the Pontifical Gregorian University and a doctorate in theology in 1919 at the Pontifical University of St. Bonaventure. During his time as a student, he witnessed demonstrations by Freemasons against Popes Pius X and Benedict XV. This inspired him to organize the Militia Immaculatae (Army of Mary) to work for the conversion of sinners and enemies of the Catholic Church, through the intercession of the Virgin Mary.

In 1919 he was diagnosed as having tuberculosis and returned to a newly independent Poland.

Here his main work was teaching Church history in a seminary. Another attack of tuberculosis was followed by the re-siting of his printing presses at Niepokalanow, near Warsaw. Here Maximilian founded a Franciscan community which combined prayer, cheerfulness and simplicity of life with modern technology, as well as a seminary, a radio station and several other organisations and publications. He was also very active in promoting the veneration of the Immaculate Virgin Mary. His movement had its own magazine, Militia Immaculatae, in which he particularly condemned Freemasonry, Communism, Zionism, Capitalism and Imperialism. Not long after, the presses were moved to Grodno, circulation increased to 45,000 and new machinery was installed.

Between 1930 and 1936 he went on a series of missions to Japan, where he founded a friary on the outskirts of Nagasaki, a Japanese newspaper and a seminary. Because, against local advice, the friary was not built on the ‘propitious’ side of the mountain it was spared the devastation caused by the atomic bomb in 1945. After founding another community at Nagasaki in Japan, Maximilian was recalled in 1936 as superior of Niepokalanow, which grew to number 762 friars.

When the Germans invaded Poland in 1939, Kolbe, realising that his monastery would be taken over, sent most of the friars home, warning them not to join the underground resistance.

During the Second World War the friary provided shelter to refugees from Greater Poland, including 3,000 Poles and 1,500 Jews. Maximilian was also active as a radio amateur, attacking Nazi activities through his reports. For some time his newspapers continued publication, taking a patriotic, independent line, critical of the Third Reich. Kolbe, who had refused German citizenship, was finally arrested on 17 February 1941 as a journalist, publisher and ‘intellectual’. Gestapo officers were shown round the whole friary and were astonished at the small amount of food prepared for the friars. He was imprisoned in the Pawiak prison and on 25 May was transferred to Auschwitz I as prisoner #16670. In the camp the heavy work of moving loads of heavy logs at double speed was enforced by kicks and lashes. Maximilian also had to remove the bodies of those who died of torture. At the same time, he continued his priestly ministry, hearing confessions in unlikely places and smuggling in bread and wine to celebrate the Eucharist. He was noted for his sympathy and compassion towards those even more unfortunate than himself.

In July 1941 a prisoner from Kolbe’s barracks vanished, prompting the deputy camp commander to pick 10 men from the same barracks to be starved to death in the notorious Block 13 as punishment for his escape. (In fact, he was found later to have drowned – deliberately? – in the camp latrine.)

When one of those selected, Franciszek Gajowniczek, cried out in distress at having been chosen, Maximilian volunteered to take his place. He stepped forward, saying: “I am a Catholic priest. I wish to die for that man. I am old; he has a wife and children.” During the days in the death chamber of Cell 18, he led his companions in songs and prayer. After three weeks of dehydration and starvation, only Kolbe and three others were still alive. He was finally put to death on 14 August 1941 with an injection of carbolic acid.

He was beatified by Pope Paul VI in 1971 and canonized on 10 October 1982 by Pope John Paul II, a former archbishop of Kracov, the diocese where Auschwitz was located. Among those present was Franciszek Gajowniczek, the man whose place Kolbe had taken.

Maximilian Kolbe is the patron saint of drug addicts, political prisoners, families, journalists, prisoners and the pro-life movement. Pope John Paul II also declared him the “Patron Saint of Our Difficult Century”

Kolbe is one of ten 20th-century martyrs depicted in statues above the Great West Door of Westminster Abbey, London.

Franciszek Gajowniczek

He died on March 13, 1995, at Brzeg in Poland, 95 years old – and 53 years after Kolbe had saved him. But he was never to forget the ragged monk. After his release from Auschwitz, Gajowniczek spent the next five decades paying homage to Father Kolbe, honoring the man who died on his behalf.

In December 1994, the 94-year-old Pole visited St. Maximilian Kolbe Catholic Church of Houston. His translator on that trip, Chaplain Thaddeus Horbowy, said: "He told me that as long as he . . . has breath in his lungs, he would consider it his duty to tell people about the heroic act of love by Maximilian Kolbe."

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an-olive-crown-blog · 6 years

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THE A TO Z OF RYAN FLYNN

a.d.d. // you don’t get diagnosed with a.d.d. until you’re in the fourth grade. you’ve always know how smart you were, but translating the things going on in your brain into being a productive student caused you to struggle. your classmates always just assuemd you were stupid - the class clown who sat in the back and made the other students laugh. it was a role you happily slipped in to; even after the diagnosis.

boston // it’s always been boston or bust for you. you didn’t grow up that far outside of the city but there was never a place in the world that felt as much home to you as boston does. you live and die by this city.

chinook // she’s named after a strain of hops - because of course you would do something like that. she’s the light of your life, the center of your world, the best brewery dog to ever grace the earth. she’s a swiss mountain dog; big, slobbery, and full of love. your girlfriend hates it, but she sleeps in the bed, nestled down by your legs. no amount of fighting will ever change this.

david ortiz // he’s a legend in boston and as a die hard red sox fan you almost crap your pants when you think you see him sitting at the bar in strip by strega on arlington. it doesn’t turn out to be him, though, even after you’ve made a spectacular ass out of yourself in front of your date. you don’t get a kiss at the end of the night, not the you were expecting one after the noise that came out of your mouth when you first thought it was big papi sitting three bar stools away.

exeter street // the last time you see olivia she’s outside of her hotel, clambering into a cab that’s idling on the curb of exeter street. you thought that seeing her after all these years would be fine, that you were over it. it was just coffee, for crying out loud. but she’s leaving again, back to the new life she made for herself in california. there was supposed to be closure but not it just feels like you’ve ripped the bandaid off the bullet wound she left in your heart.

forward // hockey has always had a presence in your life, as it does for most guys who grow up in new england. you’ve been going to bruins games since you’ve been old enough not to cry about the noise or the cold. you’ve even worn your own sweater in highschool as a forward. you were good, but not great. a career in the NHL was certainly never in your future. but now that you’re older you appreciate it more; appreciate the fact that getting your ass up on sunday mornings to play as a forward for the beer league is important to your health (no matter how much your achy body says otherwise come monday morning).

griffin’s wharf brewing // you go through name after name after name before you find one by mistake. griffin’s whart if the supposed site of the boston tea party, an integral part of the history of the city that you love so much. when you come across this fact in a book, it doesn’t take much convincing for your partner to agree that it’s the perfect name for the brewery you’re planning on opening.

harvard // it was silly, ridiculous to think that you could be a harvard man. but it was what was expected of you - to attend your father’s alma mater, to get a degree in chemistry. but school was never easy for you, and while the classes you take aren’t hard, you can’t help but dig yourself so far into a hole that there’s no way out. you drop out at the end of junior year, just one year shy of graduation. looking back, you can boil it all down to self-sabotage.

isla // everyone says that she should have been the first child, and honestly, you can’t help but agree. she’s two years younger than you but she’s always had her shit together, has always known where she was going in life and how she was getting there. she exudes what you’d expect from the oldest sibling while you’ve always flown by the seat of your pants. no one ever believes it when you say that you’re the older sibling.

january // there’s new england blood running through your veins, a fact you can’t deny. there’s something peaceful about the cold of winter; when it reaches it’s peak right at the end of january, your favorite month. the city bustles along as usual, but there’s a quieter quality about it that you can’t quite put your finger on.

kayaking // it’s one of the few things you love about summer, when the city is sticky and hat and ridiculously overpacked with tourists. the charles is actually nice when you’re on the water when in comparison to when you’re on the esplanade. it’s quieter, too, especially if you go in the morning before the sailing academy starts it’s lessons for all those privileged children of beacon hill.

loan // you’re well versed in the world of loans - you’ve got a mountain of them from those unfinished years at harvard. but this is different. this loan, a business loan, could make or break you depending on what the bank says. there’s a fledgling, fragile dream you’ve concocted of owning a brewery and it’s the only thing you’ve ever felt so sure of over the course of your entire life (save for maybe one other thing, a girl named olivia, but that’s nothing more than a pipe dream at this point). when the bank gets back to you and agrees to the loan, it’s the only time you’ve ever cried tears of relief.

massachusetts avenue // the location couldn’t be better - a refurbished building on mass ave in central square. it’s technically not in boston, like you’d originally wanted, but the rent is cheap and the space is good. central square is up and coming, anyway, bustling with hip college students and young professionals. it’s the perfect place for a brewery.

newton, massachusetts // it’s a nice town, you can admit now that you’re older. you can’t really complain about the life you had growing up there because it was a good childhood. it was every suburban cliche you can think of, but it was your parents dream. and while you don’t necessarily share that dream with them - the white picket fence one - it really wasn’t such a bad place to grow up.

olivia // she may be the only girl you’ve ever really loved. she was the big one, the epic love of your life. you’ll never admit it out loud, but it’s not like you have to. anyone close enough to you knows the damage that was done when she left for stanford and you stubbornly refused to follow her. there’s been an aching in your heart ever since.

patriots // you aren’t as big of a patriots fan as you are a fan of the red sox, but there’s no denying that your blood runs navy and red. you are a walking, talking new england cliche, but there is nothing quite like shotgunning beers to stay warm in the parking lot of the stadium in foxboro.

quincy market // it’s the only part of the city that you truly detest and avoid as much as possible. it’s too touristy, too filled with people walking slow and doing what’s expected of them while visiting boston. the only time you ever go is in the dead of winter, when the big christmas tree is all lit up and beautiful in the middle of the marketplace.

red sox // you’ve been going to games since you were too little to remember. there’s a familiarity about fenway; the green monster, the cold beer in flimsy plastic cups. you were there when they broke the curse in 2004 and won the world series, and while you don’t get to go to as many games as you’d like anymore, there’s a calender hung on the fridge of your apartment with the season schedule.

simcoe hops // the first beer you ever sell to your first customer - your first real customer, who isn’t in any way, shape, or form, related to you or your partner - is made with simcoe hops. it’s one of your early favorites - dry hopped and earthy with fruity finishing notes. it quickly goes on to be one of the breweries most popular beers.

thirsty scholar // you meet olivia at the bar in inman square as a sophomore with a fake ID. you don’t even know why you’ve strayed so far from the usual bars in harvard square, but when you lock eyes with her from across the dimly lit bar, you feel like the stars have aligned. like every decision you’ve ever made in life has led to this one moment in time (in a dirty, college bar of all places).

urban legends // it’s a weird quirk, even for you. you’re very scientific minded - logical, analytical, quick to solve puzzles and rational, above all else. you can’t seem to define what the draw of urban legends are or why they are so enticing to you, but they are. you collect them, catalogue them in your brain. for every place you’ve ever visited, there’s some obscure urban legend you’ve researched and recited, much to the chagrin of your friends.

verb hotel // it’s tucked behind fenway, not even really that from where you live. the sushi bar on the first floor is one of your favorite haunts. it’s always packed and busy, brimming with the after-work crowd and tourists. it’s a good place to people watch and the sushi isn’t half bad, so when you feel like you need to get out of the apartment but that you want to be alone, you always find yourself ending up here, even if you didn’t mean to.

wonderland t stop // you take the blue line all the way out to wonderland. normally you wouldn’t be caught dead in revere but there’s a peacefullness on the beach that’s right down the street from the t stop. sometimes you just need to breath in that salt air, feel the sand beneath your toes. sometimes you need a break from the suffocation of the city.

xfinity center // it’s a hike to get to mansfield from boston but when you’re young and carefree you don’t mind. you’ve seen dozens of concerts at the ampitheatre, and were there in 2003 when pearl jam played the longest set they’ve ever done. there’s memories tucked away in the back of your mind of piling into cars with all your friends and olivia and making the trek down.

yellow // it’s the color of the mug that olivia gets you for the last birthday you two celebrate together. yellow, with black writing that reads ‘i am a ray of fucking sunshine’. you still have it, tucked way in the back of your kitchen cabinet, one of the few remaining reminders of your time together.

zombies // it’s childish, maybe, but you’ve always loved a good zombie move. it doesn’t matter what kind (although comedic are your favorite). every year on halloween you sit down and force your loved ones to watch shaun of the dead with you. it’s tradition, and not one you’re likely to break any time soon.

#gravityrp #this took....way longer than anticipated lmao #ch: ryan

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avengerleague · 6 years

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‘Mimic’

Avengers x Female Reader

(Pairing: Steve x Reader)

Chapter 3: You Don’t Have to Stay, but Why Would You Ever Want to Leave?

Summary: Tony, Bruce, and Stephen run tests to try and figure out what’s wrong with Y/n. Some of the other Avengers come and introduce themselves. After hours of trying different things, they finally figure it out and Y/n becomes an Avenger.

Word Count: 4962

a/n: Every chapter is getting longer and longer I don’t know what I’m doing. I really hope you guys like it, it took me forever to write (that’s mostly because I’m in the middle of finals but whatever). If you have any ideas for where I should take this story let me know because I’m open to suggestion and I’d love to hear them! You can reply to this or inbox me or whatever you’d like. If you like the chapter be sure to like and reblog this, I’m working hard on the story and I’d love for as many people who appreciate Marvel to read it as possible! ty again xx

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

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“We have some good news and some neutral news. What do you want to hear first?” Bruce said. It was the morning after your night in quarantine at the Avengers Facility with Steve, Peter, and Wanda. Tony, Stephen, and Bruce had just walked back into the lab. Before anyone could answer, Bruce continued. “You know what? Never mind, I don’t know why I asked. I’m going to do it my way because that the only way that’s going to make sense.”

Tony looked at him and scrunched his face.

You looked from bed to bed at your fellow detainees. It couldn’t be that bad if there wasn’t any bad news, right? Only good and neutral?

Bruce put the clipboard he was holding on the table. “The good news is that you all no longer need to be quarantined.”

Peter hopped out of bed. “Really?!”

Tony patted Bruce on the back. “Yep, all of your results came back fine. You’re not radioactive or anything like that, so the three of you can go back to your normal rooms.”

Steve walked up and leaned his hand on the glass. “Hang on, the three of us?”

The doctor scratched his beard, “That’s what we would call the neutral news. Since we know Y/n isn’t radioactive, we still aren’t sure exactly what’s going on with her. She’ll have to stay here and run some more scenarios until we can figure out what happened.” You nodded to yourself, accepting that this was how the rest of your day was going to go. You were beginning to feel a bit like a lab rat. On the upside, at least you would be able to get out of this fishbowl.

“From a biological standpoint, there are a number of tests we can run and factors we’ll analyze to figure out what was in the explosion and how it made you do what you did,” Bruce said, making his way across the lab towards a panel with a key in hand. “And from a physical standpoint, we’ll try to recreate the situation and see if we can replicate the results.”

Tony chimed in, “But hopefully we don’t and it was a onetime thing. Can you imagine a world with two ‘Wanda’s?”

Wanda sat up, “Hey, you should be so lucky as to have a world with two ‘Wanda’s.” She looked over at you and cocked her head. “Anyway, Y/n would make a great ‘Wanda junior.’”

Bruce unlocked the panel and flipped four switches. As he did, each of the isolations chamber doors slid open one by one and just like that, you were free. The four of you left the cubes and walked out to the middle of the lab. Tony, Bruce, and Stephen walked to separate parts of the lab to get the equipment they were going to need.

Peter’s put his hand on his forehead, “Does the air out here feel different, or am I being dramatic?”

“You’re being dramatic.” Doctor Strange called back from across the room.

Peter shrugged and he and Wanda made their way through the doors and out of the lab, waving goodbye to you on their way out. You waved back, slightly nervous that it was now going to just be you in room with a bunch of scientists. It had been nice having people to talk to and it had been really nice getting to know everyone; you had a lot in common with the two of them.

Steve was still next to you and still shirtless. He was almost so good looking that he was hard to look directly at. Like the sun. He turned to you and broke your train of thought. “I’ll stay here.”

You crossed you arms and suppressed a smile. He really was the nicest guy. “Steve, no. I’ll be fine I promise,” You weren’t so sure, but you were speaking it into existence. “You should go back.”

He was hesitant, “Are you sure? Because I’m perfectly fine just hanging around here…”

“No really, don’t worry about me. Go change your clothes, and get something real to eat, and take a shower.”

“Yeah Steve, please go shower. Also put on a shirt. I insist,” Tony yelled from the far side of the lab.

Steve promptly ignored him. “You’re really sure?”

You nodded, “Yes.”

He resigned, “At least let me bring you something to eat. Whatever you want.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Whatever I want?”

“Anything in the world.”

You thought about it. “A cheeseburger.”

He made a face, “A cheeseburger?”

“What’s wrong with a cheeseburger?”

“Nothing’s wrong with a cheeseburger, I love cheeseburgers. It’s just that when given the choice of any food in the whole world, you picked a cheeseburger.”

“Well what did you want me to say, a lobster dinner?”

“It’s also 9 a.m.”

“I know it’s 9 a.m. But this is America, Steve; and cheeseburgers are like the most American food.” He crossed his arms and smiled as you continued. “You might not be aware, but cheeseburgers can’t tell time so if I want a cheeseburger at 9 a.m., it is my right, if not my obligation to eat one. And as Captain of America, I would have thought you’d understand.”

He shook his head and laughed softly, “You make a solid argument.”

You put your hands on your hips and shrugged. “I’m really just being patriotic.”

Just then, you heard the doors bust open and you both snapped your heads to see three people walk into the room. You recognized them as other members of the Avengers. Steve had told you about all of them; there was the Falcon, the Winter Soldier, and the Black Widow. Sam, a.k.a. Falcon, cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled “Hey Cap, stop flirting with the new girl,” to which everyone in the room let out a laugh. Steve’s eyes widened. “He’s like the senior football captain who asks a freshman to prom.”

“I was not—”

“Oh relax man, I’m just playing.”

Steve blushed and looked down at his feet. The three of them stopped in front of you.

The Black Widow hit him playfully on the shoulder, “Well don’t be rude Steve, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Steve scratched the back of his neck. “Y/n, this is Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, and Bucky Barnes; Nat, Sam, and Bucky, this is Y/n Y/l/n.”

Natasha stuck out her hand and you were about to shake it when you heard Bruce yell “STOP!” You pulled your hand back and Natasha put her hands up like she’d been caught by the cops. “Sorry. You can’t touch her until we’re done with the tests.”

Steve looked from you to Bruce, “I thought you said she was fine.”

“She is fine, she didn’t retain any radiation, but we still don’t know what happened in New York. It’s mostly just a precaution.”

Natasha dropped her hand, “Another time.” Bucky leaned his arm on her shoulder. “We just wanted to make sure ole’ Steve was doing alright. And introduce ourselves to you of course.”

Sam turned back to you, “So, ending up in a radioactive explosion with the half of the Avengers must have put a damper on your weekend plans.”

You looked over at Steve, then around the lab to try to play it off. “I’ll be honest, not my worst Friday night.”

The three of them laughed and waved a ‘see you later’ to you. They greeted the scientists on their way towards the door. Once they got there they stopped and looked back to pause for Steve.

“Well, I’d better get going,” Steve shoved his hands in pockets.

“Yeah,” and even after you said it, he stood in front of you unmoving. He was a few feet away from you, but it still felt so intimate, kind of like you were the only people in the world. At least like you were the only people in the room.

You were abruptly reminded that this was not the case when Tony picked up the pajamas with that had his face on them and threw them at Steve. “Hit the showers, Rogers.”

Steve picked them up sheepishly and gave you a half smile. He walked towards to exit and met the other three Avengers as he walked out the double doors. You tried not to stare but his back muscles were literally insane. You simply did not have the restraint.

“Alright Y/n,” the doctor’s voice called from across the lab. You walked over to him and leaned on a table as he continued. “We’re going to have to give you an MRI if that’s alright with you.”

You looked around the room. “You guys have an MRI machine in here?”

The three men laughed and looked at each other. “We have everything in here,” Bruce said.

Tony cocked his head, “I’m kind of a multi-billionaire, in case you’ve never seen the news.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “Well let’s get started, I guess.”

---

“Let’s go through this one more time,” Bruce said looking at a marked-up whiteboard that had been erased and rewritten more times than you could count.

Bruce, Tony, and you were sat in rolley chairs a few feet away from the board. Stephen was leaning on his armrest and had his chin in his hand, Tony was sat back in his chair with his neck thrown back and his eyes looking at the ceiling, and you were slouched in your chair looking at your split ends. You had all been working on this for hours and hours and you still couldn’t figure out what had happened to you in New York. They’d done an MRI, another physical, looked at your tissue samples under a microscope, not to mention you’d unsuccessfully tried moving things with your mind about 50 times, but everything came back normal. You were beginning to think that you’d never get to be an Avenger, or more importantly, that you’d never get to have a movie night with Steve. You sighed. The outlook seemed grim.

Earlier Steve had brought you that cheeseburger he’d promised you because he was a sweet angel baby and was now sitting in a far corner of the lab on beanbag chairs with Sam and Wanda that they’d brought in. The two of them were scrolling through their phones and every once in a while Wanda would lean over and show Sam some meme on her phone, while Steve looked acutely worried, glancing occasionally to where you and the scientists were working. Another thing was that man was just too big to fit in a beanbag chair in the first place.

“We’ve been through it a million times,” Doctor Strange said through gritted teeth.

F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice sounded throughout the lab, “Actually, Y/n has only told the story 23 times.” The doctor gave a look of annoyance and slight disgust to no one in particular but the air.

Bruce waved away the doctor’s negativity but rested his chin on the table in front of him out of tiredness. “Just one more time Y/n. Please.”

You felt bad that you were in the middle of all this business in the first place. Almost like you were guilty of something. Maybe if you had done something differently you wouldn’t be causing the Avengers all this trouble. You nodded you head and began to retell the story once more. You said how you had been walking home when you heard people screaming and ran over to see what was happening, you said how you brought the kid to his mom, and you said how you turned and saw Steve, Wanda, and Peter fighting a bunch of guys in the street.

Tony put his face in his hands. “Banner, we know all of this. We’ve heard it already.”

Bruce barely noticed he’d said anything, “Go on Y/n.”

You stood up and walked around your chair to stretch your legs. “Then the explosion hit, and I got knocked over to the ground, and Wanda came and helped me up, and I tried to shake Steve’s hand and he—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Bruce said lifting his head off the table. “You say you touched Wanda?”

“Yes, she said Wanda pulled her off the ground, just like she said every other time we asked her to tell this story,” Stephen said impatiently.

“Wanda and Steve, come here,” Bruce walked over to an open space in the lab near the glass isolation chambers and waved them over. “Steve, shake Y/n’s hand.”

You were reluctant. “Are you sure? He’s gonna be okay if I do?”

Bruce nodded warmly, assuring you. “Yes.”

Tony crossed his arms in front of his chest and spoke loudly from across the lab, “Probably.”

Bruce snapped his head to Tony and glared. He turned back to you and waited. You looked at Steve and he gave you a small nod, putting his hand out. You gave him a small smile back and slowly reached towards his hand. Your hand hovered next to his for a second before you finally just did it. You breathed a sigh of relief as nothing happened.

Steve shook your hand and smiled, “Pleasure to meet you.”

You tilted your head to the side. “The pleasure is mine.”

Not to take away from the slightly tense situation you were currently engulfed in, but dude had baby soft hands. It was like touching a cloud. And his hands were so big around yours. It wasn’t like you had particularly small hands or anything but WOW.

“Now, Wanda, shake Y/n’s hand.” Steve dropped you hand and took a few steps back. Wanda steped up and reached her hand out. You touched her hand and once again, nothing happened. You were confused. What was different between yesterday and today? “So what, am I cured? Was it just a one-time thing?”

Bruce didn’t seem to hear you. He had that kind of tunnel vision that only scientists get. “Thank you Wanda, you can go back now.” She turned around and walked back to Sam and the beanbags. “Now Steve, shake Y/n’s hand one last time.”

You reached your arm out and Steve shrugged, walking over to you “Alright, but I don’t see how this is—” just before your hands were about to touch, Steve was flipped and thrown back against the glass wall of the isolation chamber by the same reddish stream of energy that came from your hands yesterday. The room was silent. Your hands flew to cover your mouth and your eyes were wide. You looked from Steve, to Wanda, to Tony, Stephen, and Bruce.

Sam finally broke the silence, “So, is Wanda contagious?”

Wanda’s hands flew to the sides of her face and she gasped, “Am I contagious?”

“Of course not.” Tony said. He looked back at Bruce and squinted his eyes with uncertainty, “Right?”

You ran over and kneeled next to Steve. You were about to grab onto his arm to help him up but quickly pulled back realizing that you didn’t know what was going to happen if you touched him again. “I’m so sorry Steve, are you okay?”

With a small groan he pushed himself up onto his elbows. “I’m fine, I promise. But wow Y/n, twice in two days?” Sam jogged over and helped him up.

“That’s going to make a great YouTube video,” Tony mocked. “It’s got viral potential.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “What video?”

Tony looked up and pointed around the room. “This is a laboratory, there’s cameras all over the place. For scientific purposes. Motion activated. And I’d certainly call your little fall a motion, wouldn’t you?”

“Hilarious, Tony.”

“No, I was kind of serious, I really do think it’d go viral. Maybe I should be come a YouTuber. A vlogger?”

Wanda pointed both index fingers at Tony in enthusiasm for the idea. “You absolutely should” she gasped.

More than anything, you were still shocked at how Tony could manage to joke about anything and everything at anytime. Your head was still spinning but he seemed as laidback as ever.

Meanwhile, the other two scientists had wholly ignored the short exchange. Stephen looked at Bruce, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Bruce raised an eyebrow and the doctor shot up from his chair.

“I know I’m not.” Tony said, hopping up on a lab table. “The science part of ‘STEM’ has never really been my forte. I’m much more of a ‘TEM’ kind of guy.”

Stephen and Bruce were looking at a sample of your skin tissue under a microscope from earlier in the day. As they mumbled to each other and worked on the slide, you sat in a chair a few feet away from everyone tapping your foot anxiously. You tried to listen in but all of the words they were using were way too scientific to mean anything to you. Finally, they turned around to face the rest of the room. Bruce stepped forward, “Alright so we have a hypothesis. Don’t get too excited because it is just that: hypothetical.” Strange turned on a projector that showed a hologram of the tissue you’d all previously examined under the microscope. Half the screen showed the slide at an insanely close distance while the other was a little more zoomed out.

Bruce spoke while Stephen worked on the slide. “This is a sample of Y/n’s skin cells. Now here if we take a sample of Doctor Strange’s skin cells and put it in contact with Y/n’s…” the projector showed the doctor using a tiny instrument to put the samples in contact. The second they touched, you could see changes on the microscopic side of the projection, but nothing on the more zoomed-out side. Bruce motioned to it. “When the cells come into contact there is a change on a microscopic level, a kind of absorbing of the foreign DNA.” He walked to the open space in the lab. “Y/n, Wanda, if you could come over here one more time.” You walked over and met them in the middle. “Y/n can you try to make a little ball of energy with your hands? Like Wanda; Wanda can you show her?”

Wanda twisted and contorted her hands and a little reddish light formed between her fingers. You reluctantly tried the same thing, concentrating the way it seemed like she was and after a second a similar light came from your hands. You gasped and smiled looking up at Wanda and back to your hands. It didn’t feel like it had before, you felt more in control.

“Okay now forgetting about that for a minute, we’re gonna have you touch Doctor Strange.”

You took a step back. “That feels like a bad idea.”

Stephen walked to stand in front of you. “Don’t worry about it. The scientific method and all that” he shrugged.

“Yeah, besides I wanna see this,” Sam jeered from across the lab.

Stephen laid his hand out palm up. You took a deep breath and slowly rested your fingers on his. You waited a moment. Nothing happened. You nodded your head with approval. “Alright well that’s a good thing, nobody went flying across the room this time.”

“So just you Steve.” Sam quipped.

The doctor dropped his hand. “Now step two. Try this.” He waved his hand in a small circle in front of him and that same firey circle he had created the day before was drawn in the air.

You threw your hands up in resignation. “How am I supposed to—” You stopped yourself short. Nothing was really worth arguing at this point. You shook your arms out and focused all your energy on the space in front of your hands. You mirrored the motions that you had seen Stephen make and closed your eyes. You took a deep breath and suddenly your mind was clear. You felt like you were in total control, that for a moment your body couldn’t constrain you. You opened your eyes and watched as your hands began to carve a sparkling circle in the air. You laughed, completely dumbfounded at how you were managing all of this.

You dropped your hands to your side and looked around the room. Sam, Wanda, Steve, and Tony’s jaws were practically on the floor, while Bruce and Stephen were already mumbling to each other and writing on a clipboard.

The laboratory doors swung open and in walked Natasha. “So, what did I miss?” she asked in response to the general vibe the room currently had of a combination of shock and confusion.

Sam took a few steps toward her, “We think the new girl is magic.”

“Magic?” you sputtered. You weren’t too sure what was going on with yourself, but magic?

Steve intervened, “What he means is that we’re not exactly sure what’s going on with her right now.”

Wanda joined the other two and leaned her elbow on Sam’s shoulder. “Really? Because I’m inclined to just leave it at ‘magic’.”

“Yeah, I have no problem with the diagnosis of ‘magic’.” Tony agreed.

This was all very overwhelming. Every part of the past two days had been overwhelming; you weren’t sure how much more you could take. Steve must have been able to sense how you felt because he took a step closer to you and lightly patted your shoulder “Don’t worry about them, Bruce will figure it out. He always does.” You looked up at him and managed an appreciative smile. He dropped his hand and looked down at his feet.

“As a matter of fact, we already have” Bruce beamed as he and Stephen skipped down the steps from the work table to join the rest of you in the center of the lab.

Tony pushed himself up and jogged over to the two men, “Yes we did.” Stephen shot him a glare from the corner of his eye. You and Steve were stood in front of them as Wanda, Sam, and Natasha walked over to hear what they had to say.

“To start out, you should know that all of the tests we’ve run have lead us to believe the changes I’m about to tell you are permanent; at this point at least.” Stephen waved his clipboard in the air as he spoke. “The good news is, as of right now we haven’t detected any negative side effects that might impact you in the long-term, Y/n.”

Natasha looked from doctor to doctor, “So…”

Bruce continued where Stephen left off. “We’ve never seen anything like this before so it’s difficult to explain, but essentially when Y/n’s skin touches another person’s skin, her body… what’s the simplest way to put this… basically “scans” theirs and pinpoints the anomalies and–” He cut himself short, obviously frustrated with how he was explaining it. You leaned in encouraging him to finish. “Well long story short, your DNA temporarily changes allowing you to mimic whatever abilities the person you touched has.”

Natasha nodded, clearly looking for something more. “So…”

Stephen pressed a button on a remote causing the projector to replay the holographic cells they had shown earlier. “Power mimicry.”

Silence. Nobody was quite sure what to say. It was so different from anything else the Avengers had encountered. A couple people were nodding absentmindedly while others cocked their heads, thinking. You were just standing there with eyes wide as could be, wondering what all of this would mean for your future.

Wanda broke the silence, “So, no ‘Wanda junior’?”

“Not really, no ‘Wanda junior’.” Doctor Strange fielded her question. “She can kind of become anyone ‘junior’ depending on who she touches. That’s why she could do your thing after she touched you and why she could do my thing after she touched me.”

You looked up to your side at Steve, and he looked back down at you. You had a feeling that suddenly your whole life was about to change. You guess it already had.

“Well is she ‘in’?” Sam asked. ‘In’ you wondered. Like ‘in’ the Avengers?

Tony walked away the group to a rolley chair in front of a big computer. All of a sudden, he seemed on edge. “She’s could be dangerous.”

“Not as long as she’s on our side” Steve said taking a step in Tony’s direction.

“Then she could be in danger.” Tony swiveled around in his chair. “Look I have nothing against her, really, but we just met her.” He looked at you. “No offence kid, but we don’t know what you’re like, we don’t know if you’d crack under the pressure, it’s just – there’s a lot of factors. It’s hard enough for me putting Peter in the middle of all of this but now having someone else on my conscience?”

Wanda testified, “Peter, Steve, and I spent hours last night talking with her and she’s legit Tony. You three have spent all day with her, I’m sure you can tell.” She walked over so she was standing next to you. “Listen, I know that you guys love to not listen to me, but she really is a good person. In Manhattan we watched her risk her life to help this little kid she’d never met. What else do you need to know?”

She looked back at you and smiled. It was nice to know you already had people on your side. At the same time, you felt bad being at the center of all of this drama.

“Is it okay if I say something? I hate to be causing any sort of trouble. If there was any way I could go back in time and not, I don’t know, be hit with some weird, DNA changing radiation, you have to believe me I would. I really have no issue just going back to New York and pretending like none of this ever happened. The last thing I would want would be to cause any problems between earth’s mightiest heroes.”

Tony pursed his lips for a moment and turned back to the computer, starting to type viciously. You looked around the room hoping someone would say something. Anyone would say anything.

Sam shrugged, “Well I think she should be in.”

Steve nodded his head and grinned, “Me too.”

“I could always use another girl around this place,” Natasha crossed her arms with approval.

“A truer thing has never been said,” Wanda agreed.

“I was always pro-Y/n” said Bruce.

Stephen put his clipboard down. “I’ll be honest, I’m here for the science and was never super invested in this portion of the argument.”

Just then the computer made a small ding and Tony swung his chair to face the lab. “Well first of all this isn’t a democracy, I would like to make that very clear, but I did come to the conclusion that she can stay if she wants to on my own.” You gave a small gasp and grinned ear to ear. You looked over at Wanda and up at Steve who seemed to be trying to suppress his contentment.

Tony pushed himself up and took a few steps toward you. “I’ve already run all the background tests; she is who she says she is, she pays all her taxes, her record is clear so she’s never been arrested for murdering anyone in cold blood –”

You raised an eyebrow jokingly and put your hands on your hips, “Or maybe I’ve just never been caught…”

The Avengers stared at you. Tony narrowed an eye.

You put your hands up, “Obviously kidding! Bad timing? Poor taste? I’ll try to feel out the audience better next time. But no promises.”

“I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into. If you say yes, nothing is ever going to be the same for you. There’s no going back.”

Bruce patted Tony on the shoulder and looked to you, “You don’t have to stay—”

Wanda cut in, “-- But why would you ever want to leave?”

You looked from person to person. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you’d be in this position. The opportunity to work alongside the coolest and bravest people on the entire earth? In the entire universe? Not to mention the most beautiful. If things didn’t work out for the Avengers as superheroes, they could all get jobs no problem as supermodels; it had to be something in the water. If you stayed you would get to figure out this new power you had and use it to help people all over the world. Nevermind that you’d get to wake up everyday and see Steve Rogers in the flesh. Maybe you would get to have that movie night. And what if you went back? You’d walk in Monday morning to your boring job and live with your boring roommate in your boring non-Avengers-facility apartment. Was it really even a question?

You nodded your head and smiled. “I’m in.”

Tony clapped his hands. “She’s in! This is gonna be a lot of paperwork. I’ll tell Pepper, she loves paperwork.” He put his hand on your back and led you towards the lab doors.

You looked up at him, “Would I be able to get some gloves? You know, so I can touch Wanda without accidentally throwing someone across the room?”

He nodded, “You want gloves? I can get you gloves. That can be like your thing, you can be ‘glove-girl’.”

Natasha snorted, “Tony, no one’s gonna call her ‘glove-girl’.”

He looked back. “Really? Because I’m Iron Man. Peter’s Spider-Man. These people aren’t super creative when it comes to us.”

You laughed at his remarks. You kind of hoped people didn’t end up calling you ‘glove-girl’. It was pretty lame. At the end of the day though, how bad could it be? You we’re an Avenger.

---

Tagged Blogs:

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sincerely-marigold · 6 years

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Hurt so Good: A Songfic (Part One)

(So, I’ve been listening to a lot of Mipso lately. They are a glorious bluegrass band from North Carolina and this song came on (not to be confused with Mellencamp’s, which is also brilliant) and I thought, “WOW. This just *sounds* like Tristan and Darren”. It’s a very sweet little tune about falling in love for the first time and just... being bratty kids. Lol. The result was my first ever songfic. If you are unfamiliar with my work, a quick peek at “The Ballad of Virginia Hardwick” on my FF.net account might be helpful so you aren’t totally confused by this modern-day pairing. I’m nearly done with it, but the document is so large that I did not want to spam everyone’s newsfeed with it, so I am uploading it in parts. Yay!)

Hurt so Good (Part One)

A “Patriot” Oneshot/Songfic by TheCaffeinated Hummingbird

Pairing: Wilkins/OC

She felt badly for him. Being plucked from his hometown at such a young age, tossed back and forth through the Carolinas by both of his parents and adopted by a new, local family before turning 15 would take a toll on anyone. Darren was no exception. They remembered one another from kindergarten and the beginning of grade school. This was before Tristan found her books and Darren found his plethora of varying interests, all leading to the same place—trouble. Cliques formed and grew in impenetrable mats long before the children who were part of them could realize how brutally the excluded one another. During open activities and recess, Tristan and Darren mixed with the others like oil and water and thus, gravitated towards one another.

Of course, they would find each other. Of course. The magnetism between them was centuries old and counting, altered only by their changing names and the sands of time. At their core, she was Hardwick and he was a Wilkins. That knowing, welcoming glance across the playground on the first day that they spoke would do more than enough to reopen that channel; it would allow them to let the other in and seal that nearly ancient bond. He felt badly for little Tristan, too, that day and so, he made that journey across the playground, unaware of what was being set in motion.

There was something about Tristian that Darren liked. His eyes would often drift to the mirror-like sheen of her obsidian hair that grew to her waist and hung above the floor as she sat, Indian-style, two students in front of him at story time. During other activities, she would sit across the room, always adjacent him, like the loyal, unwavering secondhand of a clock. He thought that she was beautiful, although he didn’t quite understand this concept just yet. She reminded him of one of his mother’s porcelain dolls, fair and round in face with dark eyes that glimmered with a permanent smile. Despite her modern attire of washed out overalls and t-shirts that were once neon but faded by the secondhand cycle for goodness knows how many years, Tristan had a timeless face, like one that you might find in an old-fashioned photograph or in the pages of a storybook.

Somehow, she had managed to hoist herself onto the tallest swing in the set beside the sandbox. She swung her feet, trying to move, but her little legs weren’t powerful enough to give her flight. Thank heavens Darren was so tall! He moved in swiftly, giving her no more and no less than a reaffirming smile. He touched his hands flatly to her back, feeling the sharpness of her shoulder blades and her warm, soft body expanding with air. He might have been too young to comprehend it in full, but those moments of contact that they shared before she shot off into the air, as far away from him as the chains on the swing set would allow, revealed to Darren how precious and fragile she was.

Darren did not know. How could he possibly have known? That this was the same cycle that they had followed through in every life prior? He would have her for only a moment and then have to watch as she flew out of his grasp. Again and again. He held her steady before pushing her away, weaving his hands through the curtain of her long, black, strawberry-scented hair. Her tresses left behind a trail of sweetness on the breeze as she climbed upward into the cloudless sky. Most children would shout, “Higher! Higher!” But not Tristan. All that Darren could hear was a gentle, satisfied trill of laughter in those brief seconds that she was perched on his palms.

They remained in a world all their own until recess finally came to a close. Even after the bell rang, Darren gave Tristan not one, not two, but three tiny voyages across the sky before helping her back down onto the rough, brown earth. She continued to laugh, shyness stealing away most of the volume. The wind had ruffled her otherwise pristine hair and Darren watched with fondness as she patted it back into place, laughing with quiet breathlessness. The teacher shouted for them, but neither moved. At least, not until the moment that Tristan realized that she hadn’t thanked him for the sweetest gesture any of her classmates had ever shown. He was easily three heads taller than any of the other boys his age and Tristan had to get up onto the tips of her toes to… well, once she decided what she was going to do, there was no stopping little Tristan Stone!

Spurts of laughter sounded from the perimeter of the playground where their classmates had assembled, dumping sand from their shoes and lining up for the fluoride-rich water of the drinking fountain. Darren didn’t mind the ridicule. Neither of them did, really. The warm, partially damp brush of her lips against his cheek and the semi-tight wrapping of her arms around his waist were all that mattered, really. Many would argue that the human heart needs years of wear and tear, a certain accumulation of knowledge and understanding in order to feel love. I say that a heart knows how to love from its very first beat. What’s more, his heart was made to love her, and it did. As her face disappeared against the netting of his jersey, Darren felt his chest begin to throb. It was a familiar pain, one that you might feel moments before crying. But he did not cry. All at once, joy rushed in to anesthetize that aching, making it fairer and identifiable only to those who have loved in full.

It would take years for Tristan to make that same discovery. She and Darren would play together until the day that he left Waterford for Raleigh. Once he was gone, she would find solace and friendship in the library. She never played again. But she also never forgot, despite the kinship that she formed with the consistent and unfailing characters of science and mathematics. Tristan never let go of the sweet, ephemeral memory of human contact. There were other boys in Waterford who tried to befriend her. The witty, charismatic lads of her junior high debate team and the young Einsteins of the science club. Any one of them could have easily filled the void in her heart, any one of them would have been a more compatible match, but it was not meant to be and so, fate saw to it that it merely did not happen.

Tristan’s first weeks of high school passed in a blur. She rejected involvement of any kind, befriending only a handful of teachers and the exceptionally kind librarian who allowed her to have her lunch in the stacks. She was coming into her own, as anyone could see and no longer donned those overalls, t-shirts and cross trainers, stained red by the natural Carolina clay that collected on them as she trudged through the neighboring woods for her biology “experiments”. Her part-time job as a docent at the Waterford Planetarium provided her with just enough income to acquire a collection of jeans, jean jackets and eyeliner, all in varying shades of grey and black. Unapproachability, that was what she thrived for and she did not disappoint.

One late afternoon, several months into her freshman year, Tristan was scrambling from the heart of the library to where its exit met the hallway. Her lunch period had ended over five minutes ago and she had missed the transition bell’s chime from over her headphones and grey hood. The next grouping of students were already migrating down the hall to the cafeteria and a noisy cluster of boys wearing their brand new letterman jackets cut her off. They grouped around a table by the computers, dumping cans of Pringles of every variety across the surface and hardly paying any mind to the pieces that had fallen onto the carpet.

“You aren’t supposed to be in here,” Tristan growled, “there’s a geography class going on by the maps two stacks over.”

The boys elected their candidate to scare Tristan off, a portly bully by the name of Chris, nicknamed “Crispy” by the others. Not only was the freckled redhead with a permanent scowl intimidating, he knew how to identify just about anyone’s weakness and cut straight to their heart with very few words. “We can go anywhere we want!” He gave her an ugly glare. “Unlike you. Hiding in the library at lunch because you don’t have any friends. How pathetic!”

The other boys munched rudely at their Pringles, one initiated a quarrel by pulling a vial of Sriracha from his sleeve, soiling the smorgasbord and drenching the table with bright red. They were perfectly intent on watching the ‘show’, save for one. Darren watched at the center of the group with a straight face as Tristan’s large, dark eyes filled with unconcealable pain. She stood her ground for a moment more, staring daggers at each glutenous jock. She didn’t break contact once to look at the floor or shed a tear, but as their laughter swelled, she stepped back. Darren stood immediately. What his next step would be, shush his friends or go after her, he could not tell. Tristan looked at him last, confused by how familiar he was, pained by how unpleasant the reunion with her one friend was turning out to be.

“What?!” Was the single, defensive word that she gave him before storming away. TO BE CONTINUED.

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mattpajak · 4 years

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An Ode to Late-Bloomers

Late-bloomers don’t just exist – they are abundant. They are the essence of the phrase that many acknowledge (and only some truly believe): development is non-linear. Some kids are big, strong, and fast at 15-years-old, others are small and wiry, others still are uncoordinated, disproportioned, and slow – but what will they be when all is said and done? In this blog, I have called out a handful of professional athletes that I would define as late physical developers.

Late Physical Developers – athletes who are late to the party in some combination of size, speed, and strength.

In addition to the late physical developers, there is a second category of late-blooming professional athletes that I would define as late optimizers.

Late Optimizers – athletes whose potential was unlocked after their physical development peaked by either a skill-based adjustment or a strategic-usage adjustment.

Late optimizers have become quite popular in baseball with a number of private- and affiliated-specialized coaches tapping into everything from movement-inefficiencies to using technology to provide feedback for skill development.

A second lens of late optimizers is strategic-usage (think Bill Belichick). Find what the athlete does well and maximize it (as opposed to forcing the square peg into the round hole).

This is a reminder that not every impact-professional athlete walked into the gym as a freshman in high school (and some, not even in college) and said “here I am,” with their aesthetic physical gifts or skill.

This is an ode to late-bloomers.

Late Physical Developers

Aaron Rodgers - QB - Green Bay Packers

Aaron Rodgers was 5’3” as a freshman at Pleasant Valley High School in Chico, California. After receiving no Division I offers out of high school, he attended Butte Community College before transferring to the University of California, Berkeley and becoming a first round NFL Draft Pick a few years later.

Josh Allen - QB - Buffalo Bills

Josh Allen grew up in a small town in northern California and banged the doors down to play at Fresno State, but they didn’t want the then-6’3”, 180 lb. quarterback – nor did any other Division I school. After a year at Reedley College, Allen was 6’5” and 240 lbs. – he received one Division I offer and it was from Wyoming.

Allen became the seventh overall pick in 2018 NFL Draft and in 2020, led the Buffalo Bills to a 13-3 season and a trip to the AFC Championship game. He has taken the Bills to the playoffs in his only two seasons as a starter in the NFL.

Anthony Davis - PF - Los Angeles Lakers

As a freshman in high school, Anthony Davis was a 6’ guard and it wasn’t until his senior year that he shot up from 6’4” to 6’10” and became the most highly sought-after recruit in the country:

“Anthony Davis went from non-top-100 player to the top player in the country in a span of five or six weeks” - Dave Telep (ESPN Recruiting Analyst)

Prior to his late-height addition, Davis had one Division I offer and it was from Cleveland State.

Davis is 28-years-old, an 8-time All Star, 4-time All-NBA, and 2020 NBA Champion.

Scottie Pippen - SF - Chicago Bulls

This one is mind-boggling to me. Scottie Pippen was a 6’2” equipment manager as a freshman in college at the University of Central Arkansas. After a handful of scholarship players fell-off, Pippen was given a chance to play and he came back for the start of his sophomore year at 6’7.”

Not that it needs mentioning, but just a reminder that Scottie Pippen won 6 NBA Championships with Michael Jordan and 2 Olympic Gold Medals.

Kyle Dugger - S - New England Patriots

Kyle Dugger was selected with the 37th pick of the second round of the 2020 NFL Draft by the New England Patriots out of Division II, Lenoir-Rhyne in North Carolina. He was the highest selection of only three, non-Division I draft picks in the 2020 NFL Draft – which begs the question, why did New England take him so high? And if he’s that good, why was he playing DII? Dugger was a late physical developer. Per an article by Jeff Howe in The Athletic from April 2020:

Dugger dabbled in [football and basketball] and was ultimately first-team all-county as Whitewater High’s point guard as a senior. It was hardly that easy for him in football, though, as he showed up to the freshman team at about 5-foot-7 and 140 pounds soaking wet, according to assistant coach Wes Hardin. Dugger split time between cornerback and running back. He didn’t get called up to varsity until his junior year and finally became a full-time starter at corner and wide receiver as a senior, when he was still maybe 5-foot-11 and 170 pounds.

Once at Lenoir-Rhyne, Dugger continued to grow into the 6-2, 220 lb. frame that we now see in New England. In his first NFL season, he saw action in 14 games and collected 64 tackles – good for fifth best on the team.

Late Optimizers

Blake Treinen - RP - Los Angeles Dodgers

This story may take the cake. So make sure you follow this link and give it a read. Blake Treinen pitched on the junior varsity team at NAIA Baker College. At the time he was throwing 82-85mph. He got with the right coach (Justin Wichert) who was able to tap into his size and athleticism and he ended up at South Dakota State where he pitched around 90mph. After his senior year, he signed with the Oakland Athletics.

In 2018, Treinen broke out when he went 9-2 with 38 saves out of the A’s bullpen and struck out 100 in 80.1 innings with a 0.78 ERA. Treinen was a key member of the 2020 World Series Champion, Los Angeles Dodgers bullpen and will open up the 2021 MLB season in a similar role. He regularly pitches at 96-98mph.

Josh James - SP - Houston Astros

Probably one of the lesser-known athletes in this post, Josh James pitches for the Houston Astros. Shout out to Eric Peterson for the call-out on this one. James struggled with sleep apnea at the onset of his career – and as we know, sleep is vital to performance. After a teammate pointed out his snoring, James sought a sleep specialist and his career took off:

The effects on James' career began blossoming this season. He went from sitting at 91-94 mph with his fastball, occasionally hitting 95, to touching 100 mph, to go along with a good slider and changeup. A beast was unleashed.

As of the start of the end of 2021 MLB Spring Training, James is competing for a spot in the Astros rotation.

James White - RB - New England Patriots

In 52 games at the University of Wisconsin, James White caught 73 passes for 670 yards and 3 touchdowns – not too shabby for a running back. In his first 33 games in the NFL, White caught 105 passes for 984 yards and 9 touchdowns and receiving-usage has only increased from there. Through the 2020 NFL season, White is averaging 4.1 receptions per game vs. in college where he averaged 1.4 receptions per game.

In Super Bowl LI, White was the Patriots leading receiver (14 catches) and caught the game-ending score in overtime. 7 years into his career, he is one of the most trusted backfield receivers in the game and has been a key-contributor on two Super Bowl champion teams. The Patriots identified something that White was good at and strategically-optimized it.

Sonny Gray - SP - Cincinnati Reds

At the end of the 2015 season, Sonny Gray was a 25-year-old, right-handed starter for the Oakland Athletics and had just secured a third-place finish in the Cy Young Award race with a 14-7 record and a 2.73 ERA. From there, he went 15-23 in parts of two seasons with Oakland and the New York Yankees. In 2018, he pitched to an 11-9 record with a 4.90 ERA before the Yankees traded him to the Cincinnati Reds in the offseason. It was prior to his 2019 season, in a technologically-aided development session with his college pitching coach that he learned that he needed to throw his curveball more and his slider less.

Sonny went 11-8 with a 2.87 ERA while striking out 205 batters in 175.1 innings – the first time he ever struck out more batters than innings pitched in his career. For the first time since 2015, he finished top-10 in the Cy Young Award race and appeared in the MLB All Star Game. Sonny identified something that he was good at and strategically-optimized it.

Conclusion

Advice to athletes: be patient with your physical development and seek areas for improvement. If what you have been doing for an extended period of time is not working, just remember what Albert Einstein may or may not have said (disputed apparently):

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

Moral of the story: every athlete is different and development is non-linear. Don’t compare yourself to others – just do your best to be a better version of yourself today than you were yesterday.

#holisticdevelopment

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