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aurumacadicus · 3 years

Note

Title: Dollars to Donuts

Pairing: Good Dad Howard/Maria

Ohoho ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Dollars to Donuts

"Good morning, beloved," Maria murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to Howard's head.

Howard snorted awake, then let out a grunt, squinting around blearily. "Where am I."

"In the nursery, in the rocking chair, spoiling our son, like you have since we brought him home six months ago," Maria answered patiently. "I've brought you coffee."

Howard grunted again, hefting Tony further up his chest, before he settled back into the rocking chair, eyelids drooping.

"Don't fall asleep again," Maria scolded, but there was no heat in it. She prodded his shoulder. "Howard, come on."

"I was up with Tony half the night. Let me sleep," Howard growled.

Maria stared at him, mouth dropping open as she tried to figure out if she was offended or not. She looked at Tony, who was snuffling miserably, tear tracks still dried on his chubby cheeks. She sighed. "Give me the baby then. He needs breakfast, at least, even if you don't."

"Pry him from my cold dead hands," Howard growled.

Maria stared at him again, then turned, examining the room.

"Mrs. Stark," Jarvis said, managing to make it a reproachful bark and a baby-accommodating-whisper at the same time. "Put that high chair down immediately."

Maria mulishly set the chair down. It would have served Howard right to get hit with it, since it was her baby, too.

Jarvis continued frowning at her severely for a moment, then turned his attention to Howard, grabbing the cup of coffee she’d brought him and wafting it under his nose.

Howard jerked upright with another grunt, one hand supporting Tony's bottom as the other groped in front of his face. Jarvis carefully pressed the coffee into his hand, then turned and left the nursery.

"Give me the baby," Maria barked.

Howard looked like he was considering saying no, but thought better of it, letting her carefully take him from his arms. "I'm letting you have him because I want to, not because you scare me," he muttered petulantly.

Maria rolled her eyes, taking a moment to fuss with Tony's onesie before she gently kicked Howard in the shin. "Give me your wrist."

Howard held his arm out gamely and didn't flinch when she shook a few drops of formula onto his arm. "Feels just right."

"Good. Hopefully this will give him less gas and discomfort," Maria sighed. "And we can finally get some sleep."

"I don't mind sitting up with him at night," Howard muttered, watching as Tony began suckling at the bottle as if he hadn't just had a couple ounces two hours ago.

“I know,” Maria said, trying to sound stern, but even she could tell it came off as fond “But I’d like to have breakfast as a family someday. Can’t do that if you’re falling asleep in your eggs.”

“I would not fall asleep in my eggs,” Howard muttered mulishly. “I’d fall asleep in my toast.”

“And what sort of example would that set for Tony?” Maria continued, ignoring him before he could go off on a tangent about the comparable comfort levels of breakfast food. “Daddy staying up all night, falling asleep whenever he sat down. We want to teach our boy healthy habits, Howard.”

Howard spluttered, offended. “It’s not my fault that he has acid reflux and a dairy allergy!”

“I offered to take turns,” Maria pointed out. “And that was before you started just getting up and going to him. Howard, you’re still working! You need rest.”

“I don’t,” Howard muttered, still petulant.

“And you want the company in tip-top shape by the time Tony is a person instead of a little tortellino so that you can spend time with him then,” Maria added, a little louder so he could hear her over his sulking. “When he’s finally walking is when I’m really going to need your help.”

Howard frowned, immediately concerned. “You said your stitches healed up well. Are you having trouble walking? Should we make an appointme--”

“Howard, unfortunately, I can already see that Tony is taking after you,” Maria cut in. “I’m certain. I can tell. Dollars to donuts, this baby is going to grow to be someone who wanders off in thought. Or runs off to check something out that he’s curious about. Or holes himself up in his room for hours without food or drink so that he can get his thoughts down.”

“Oh no,” Howard said. “Maria. Four-year-olds are so much faster than forty-year-olds.”

“Yes,” Maria agreed. “Perhaps Jarvis and Ms. Carter can help you get into shape before Tony starts walking.”

Howard turned wounded eyes on her. “Maria, how could be be so coldhearted. Jarvis and Peggy will run me into the fucking ground.”

“You can only sprint ten feet now, and Tony will outpace you quickly. Maybe you should put your cigars away and focus on deep breathing,” Maria said, and Howard sighed miserably in response and slithered out if the rocking chair and onto the ground to sulk properly.

.-.

Maria only felt a little badly when Howard crawled into bed the next night with a whimper and moaned ‘everything hurts.’ She’d have to tell Jarvis to be gentle with him. Tony wouldn’t start walking for a few more months yet, after all. They didn’t need him running a ten minute mile immediately.

“I’ll speak with Jarvis,” she whispered, brushing his hair out of his eyes so she could press a kiss to his forehead.

Howard jerked back to glare at her, disgruntled. “No. I’m going to do it. You can’t fucking stop me I’m an adult.”

Maria sighed and sincerely hoped that her son would not be a contrarian like his father, but she knew she wouldn’t be that lucky.

#aurumacadicus answers #ask meme #fic title meme #howard/maria #good dad howard #maria after finding both howard and tony in the lab without eating for six hours: i fucking KNEW IT

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forever-more-never-again · 5 years

Text

Family First (A Tony Request)

Requested: @allbuckywantedwerehisplums

Word Count: 4258

Pairing: None, Sibling!Tony X Sibling!Reader, Implied!Steve X Reader

Warnings!: Mentions of Rape, Noncon Elements, Torture, blood, gore, wounds (Please heed the warnings! This is not super graphic but it does go slightly into detail!)

Request: Eyyy, was wondering if I could request something? Was thinking of tony having a sister who fights on Cap’s side during CACW and ends up getting tortured on the raft. Lots of angst plz!!!!! (And if ur comfortable could you be more descriptive with the torture part?)

Masterlist

a/n: You asked for angst...I deliver angst. Also, I made Tony sorta an asshole. Sorry not sorry

“[Y/n]?”

The soft, agonized sound of your name coming from the Iron Man suit floating across the airport from you tore at your heart.

But you didn’t let your face betray your churning emotions.

“Tony...They chose their side.” Steve’s voice carried across the distance without a need for shouting. The strength in him bolstering your own.

Even though you were Tony’s little sister, you did not agree with his way of handling the current issues happening within the Avengers, especially when he locked up Wanda without talking to anyone.

Blood may be thicker than water, and all that jazz, but you needed to stand by your beliefs. Which led to you being on the opposite side of your brother, ready to fight him.

“[Y/n]...” You felt, more than heard, the sigh your brother gave.

Once more your heart pulled at you to comfort him.

For so long, it had been you two against the world. A distant father who never wanted anything to do with you, a mother who tried her hardest that you barely remembered, because they had been killed during a car accident when you were still a child.

Tony had raised you single handedly, and you helped build Stark Enterprise from the ground up after your brother inherited it. You had cried and screamed when the video surfaced of your brother being tortured and held captive in Afghanistan. You had been beside him when Fury approached him about the Avengers initiative. You had teased him for years about his crush on Pepper.

He had held your hand when you walked to school the week after your parents deaths. He had taught you how to build your own Iron Suit. He had helped you hone your mutation. He had let your cry on his shoulder when your date stood you up and later, he took you out for ice cream after scaring the boy into apologizing. He called you as soon as he escaped and Rhodey found him in the desert. He let you handle the inner details regarding the Avengers Initiative and he was the one who talked to Fury about letting you join. He had teased you about your crush on Steve.

“Whatever. Underoos!”

And a small red bundle flew by and ripped Steve’s shield out of his hands and weird white fluid stuck his hands together.

And the next thing you knew, you were running alongside Clint towards your former teammates and family member.

Using your mutation, you kept Rhodey from hitting Scott as he flew through the air on one of Clint’s arrows.

Keeping an eye on your brother and Bucky, you kept Wanda safe as she let Bucky and Steve run into the hangar where the Jet was.

Running, you tried to stop the weird guy in the fursona of a cat, but a swift kick to your head knocked you to the ground.

Groaning, you looked up and a blurry image of a red android floated before you.

“Stay down Ms. Stark. For your own safety, please don’t resist.”

The calm, cool, and confident voice of the previous Jarvis turned Vision, made its way into your foggy head.

Flopping back down, you heard the rumble of a jet and watched with a satisfied smirk as the jet flew overhead.

Vision didn’t leave your side, tilting his head at your prone self, he noticed the smirk, “You are glad that Rhodey seems to be paralyzed?”

You froze. Your smirk sliding off your face. You squinted at the android. The kick he had delivered to your head still messing with your eyes.

“What?”

Vision nodded slowly, no emotion on his face, “It seems Rhodey fell at a high velocity and crashed.”

Your heart broke for your brother’s best friend. The man who was a sort of Uncle to you.

“Hands in the air! Raise them up! Stay still!”

Orders screamed through the dust settling across the airport. Men in black ops and holding rifles stormed the area.

As one roughly dragged you up to your feet, you dimly registered that Scott, Clint, Sam, and Wanda were getting similar harsh treatment.

But Steve and Bucky were gone. You were glad. The mission at least was somewhat a success.

“Can I have a word with my sister?”

Vision somewhat stable now, you turned your head to see your brother, still in his Iron Man suit, his mask receded so that you could see his bruised face.

Wincing, you steadied your feet. Staring at your brother, you saw the tired, dead look in his eyes as he looked at you.

The man holding your arm leaned over and whispered so softly that Tony couldn’t hear, “Give me a reason to shoot your brains out you freak.” Before he let go, only took a few steps back, his rifle still trained on your head.

“[Y/n]..” Tony groaned, running a hand down his face. Smearing dirt and blood.

You kept your calm, your voice steady, “I know what you’re going to say. But I don’t regret my decision. You were going to far Tony. The Accords? Really? It would be prison for people like me. We would become weapons sold out to the highest bidder. And You let that man,” You spat, remembering how Ross twisted words and lied to your brother, “lie to you and you...the so called genius of this family, didn’t look up the validity of his words!”

Tony flinched as if you had hit him.

His eyes hardened and he gestured to the man standing behind you. Your arms were twisted behind your back again, the rifle pressed against your skull.

“It hurts me to turn you over to the government...you’re still my sister...I still Love you. I hope you can come to your senses soon.”

Your brother’s words were soft. But you growled at him, your mutation flaring up before dying away as you remembered the gun at your head.

“Shut the fuck up, Tony!”

Tony stumbled. Vision catching him before he could fall.

You continued, words falling like acid from your lips, all the rage and betrayal you felt coming into your tone “You don’t care about me! You never cared about me! You never listened to me or my opinions! You always treated me like glass, like I would break if I so much as tripped! News flash, Tony! I’m stronger than you will ever be and I’m glad that Steve got Bucky out of here because you have become the Villain in this scenario!”

Your wretched scream, that tore at your throat, was accompanied by bitter tears, both fading as you were drug aboard a plane and the gangway slowly closed, encasing you in darkness.

Once away from the prying eyes of Team Tony, the black ops military men wasted no time in clipping on handcuffs to your team members.

But, then they pulled you and Wanda to the other side of the plane.

Scott pulled at his handcuffs, his eyes wide with worry, “What are you doing to them?”

The men didn’t respond. And then there was a click and the cold feeling of metal encasing your neck.

Looking over at Wanda, you saw her watching you with horror mirrored in her eyes. She had a collar on her neck, which you figured was what was around yours as well. It was blinking red.

With a growl, you reached for your mutation, intending to get away from these men and escape with your team.

But the minute you tried to focus your mutation, your entire body jerked as electricity was shot through you.

A strangled gasp left you as you fell to the floor of the plane, your elbows hitting metal, sending pain through your arms as you tried to protect your head.

“[Y/n]!? What did you do to her!?” Sam screamed, fighting against the hold of two men while another was removing his wings.

The leader looked over at him with disinterested eyes, “It’s a prototype. A suppressant collar that prevents them from using their mutations.” He turned to look over you and Wanda, a sinister glint entering his eyes, “If I were you, I would not attempt to escape. The shocks will grow in intensity the more you try to use your freak powers.”

Panting, you rolled over to your knees, your hands cuffed in front of you, pushing yourself to your feet, muscles straining against the tightness that the electricity had caused.

Wanda’s own handcuffed hands fluttered over you as you let your head loll onto her shoulder. Pain still jolting through your body. If that was the first shock, and if what the man said was true, you didn’t want to know what the next shock would feel like.

The next few hours passed in relative silence.

Scott, Sam and Clint spoke to each other in whispers on their side of the plane, shooting you and Wanda the occasional comforting looks.

You and Wanda stayed next to each other, holding onto each other’s hands, grip so tight, you thought you both would lose blood circulation.

The destination was kept away from you no matter how many times you asked. And each ask got you the same answer...a fist to the cheek.

Blood dripped from a split lip and your left eye was swollen shut by the time the drone of the engines was cut.

“We’re here.”

Men grabbed your arms, ripping your hands away from Wanda. She whimpered, but kept quiet when you shot her a look of warning.

The men stood behind her as you stood next to the man in charge, waiting for the gangway to lower.

And how you wished you weren’t in the front when it did.

A loud roar of crashing waves reached you first before your vision computed what you were seeing.

A floating building. In the middle of the ocean. Rocking violently as the huge swells of sea water crashed against it.

“No no no nonononononono!” Your words reached a fever scream as you pulled against the arms dragging you forward.

The words your teammates said faded into white noise as your vision went white in terror.

The ground that you were now standing on, rocking back and forth, your legs gave out on you.

You didn’t drop though, as the hands tightened on your arms, leaving bruises as they simply continued walking, dragging you now into the building.

“Hey! Where are we!?”

“What is this place!?” “We have rights!”

The men laughed at that. Clint scowled.

You were brought back to the present as you began being dragged down stairs.

Your knees hitting the metal grates, new cuts and gashes and bruises appearing on your skin.

“You are traitors to the US Government. Prisoners of the state, and you have no rights. This is the Raft, and it will be your home until the day you die.”

Stumbling to your feet, you looked around. The floor wasn’t moving as bad, but your terror was barely held back due to the knowledge that it wasn’t moving as bad because you were under water.

Right now, you were standing before a gate, that almost looked like an airport security scanner. Beyond that, you saw a circular room, with various cells in the walls.

You were dragged into the airport looking security scanner.

A bored looking guy stood behind a glass window, looking at a computer screen. His voice came through an intercom, “Strip.”

Baring your teeth, you lunged towards the window.

Ignoring the yells of Clint to stop.

That was the last thing you heard as you felt a blinding pain to the back of your skull before you vision went dark as unconsciousness took over.

“[Y/n]!”

“Stop!”

“Get your hands off her!”

“[Y/n]!” “No!”

“Stop!”

“Please!”

“Let her go!”

“Stop!”

“What are you doing!?” “No!”

“Stop!”

“Please!”

“Please!” “Don’t!”

“She’s unconscious!” “You can’t!” “[Y/n]....We’re sorry…”

When consciousness finally returned to you. The first thing you noticed was the soreness between your legs.

The second was the fact that you were naked.

And the final thing was the amount of blood that was pooled around your sprawled body.

“Wanda?” Your voice was hoarse, and you had to cough several times to clear it. “Wanda? Clint? Sam? Scott?”

You called out for your team. Looking around as you recognized a cell.

A single toilet and a metal bed frame decorated it. Standing up, wincing at the pain you were in, you took stock of yourself.

Cuts littered your body. A large gash on your arm had you hissing as you saw the white muscles open to the air.

Your legs were shaky as you realized what had happened while you were unconscious. Bile drew up to your throat. Choking it down, you fought the urge to cry as well.

Limping on bare feet to the metal cell doors, you peered out. Your eye still swollen shut, your face stinging with new wounds that you couldn’t see.

“Guys?”

“She’s awake!”

“[Y/n]...god. I am so sorry! I tried to get them to stop!” Sam reached his hands out through his cell bars. He was directly across from you. Clint and Scott on either side, you could barely make out their faces as the cells curved. You noticed that they were still wearing their clothes, you being the only one naked, that you knew of, since you couldn’t see Wanda.

You could feel the, now warm, metal of the collar still around your neck.

Biting back a groan as you realized one of your ankles was possibly twisted or broken, you asked the boys, “Where’s Wanda?”

Sam’s eyes flickered beside you for a moment. But it was enough for you.

Leaning against the cold concrete wall, you spoke softly to the cell next to you, “Wands? How are you doing?” You heard a snort, before her soft Slovakian Accent floated towards you, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Geez, Stark. They did a number on you and I only heard it, while the boys had to watch.”

Wincing, you couldn’t stop the moan of pain as something tugged at your cheeks and liquid fell to the floor from your waist.

“Kid. Are you….Were you...aware?” Scott’s voice was not the bubbly, hyper, positive voice you remembered.

Dimly, you were reminded that he had a daughter. And what it was probably like for him to witness what you were almost a hundred percent sure had happened to you.

Shaking your head at him, you cradled your arm against you. Sam shouted, “Fuck!” Before punching one of the walls of his cell.

Clint had tears falling from his eyes as he winced from the sound.

“Wanda?” You questioned, your working eye roaming around, looking for any signs of guards of the black ops, “Can you pass a piece of cloth, from your uniform, to me? I need something to wrap around this wound.”

An intake of breath. And then you could see a strip of red dangling near one of your bars.

Stretching out your arm, you grabbed it and felt Wanda let go.

Using your teeth, you wrapped your arm so that the muscles weren’t exposed anymore, tying off a tight knot despite the shot of pain that was sent through you.

“How long have I been out?” Your voice still held authority as you fell to the ground to sit with your back against the wall that was connected to Wanda’s cell.

Your eyes floating up the bright white fluorescent lights as you wondered if your brother was aware of what the government had done, was doing, to you and the team.

Scott was the one to answer you as Clint’s breathing shuddered under the weight of his tears and Sam paced angrily in his tiny cell space. “Roughly three hours. They….left you alone about an hour ago.”

Nodding numbly, you shivered as the cold air of the Raft finally reached your desensitized state.

“[Y/n]....”

You held up a hand, stopping whoever spoke from continuing. You were lost in your thoughts.

Remembering warm summer nights with Tony. Laughing as Dum-E sprayed him before an explosion went off. Rubbing Tony’s back as you worked with him through a panic attack. Playing cards with the team in the common room of the tower. Blushing when Steve walked in on you working out. Giggling with Wanda and Natasha about the boys. Meeting Scott and cooing over his pictures of his daughter.

Then arguing with Tony. Throwing a vase as he left your room. Punching a security guard as he tried to stop you from going on a mission. Screaming during a mission briefing as Tony said you were the only one not allowed to go. Listening around a corner as a woman approached Tony about her son who was killed. Overhearing Ross thank the woman and pay her for the lie. Trying to talk to Tony only for him to discard you at every turn. Steve approaching you about Bucky. Hearing about Tony locking Wanda up in the tower. Agreeing to side with Steve after one last attempt to get Tony to listen to you that ended in tears and screams as he blamed you for your parents deaths.

“Looks like our little plaything is finally awake.”

You shot the person who spoke a withering look.

Dressed like a normal prison guard, the scruffy, greasy looking man simply laughed at you, “Aw does the kitten have her claws out? What? You seemed to enjoy it when you were unconscious. Body squeezing me just right…” Leering down at you, the man eyed your naked form with a feverous glint in his eyes.

Your vision went red with hate. When he leaned closer, you took the chance and hocked a huge glob of spit at him, smirking when it hit his cheek.

“No…[Y/n].” Clint whispered. Sagging down to his knees as he watched.

The man leaned over and clicked on his walkie talkie that was clipped onto his shoulder, “Prisoner 5569 seems to be up for more fun. Anyone want to join?”

And with a sinister smile, the man opened up your cell as feet pounded into the room.

Screaming, your fists and feet flew from your vulnerable position on the floor against the wall.

Rough hands gripped your wrists, hands a blur as more joined in, smiling twisted faces of greasy men hovering over you.

An agonized scream ripped through you at the audible snap of your wrist. The pain rocketing down your arm at the broken bone.

You were dragged up to your feet and taken out of your cell towards the center of the Raft.

As your team watched, they dragged your arms up, tying them together with leather and hooking it to a metal hook that was hanging from the roof.

Your feet swung wildly as your toes barely touched the ground, all your weight now resting on your arms.

Fresh blood rushed from the giant wound on your arm, soaking through the makeshift bandage from Wanda’s cloth.

Unbidden, and unwanted tears fell from your face to mark the cement floor as your broken wrist screamed and your hand twisted in an unnatural angle. You could no longer feel your fingers and you knew that was a bad sign.

Head hanging low, you tried to focus on your team’s voices.

Scott’s ragged breathing, Sam’s angry yells, Clint’s whispered pleas, and Wanda’s silent strength.

Your head flew up as a metal pipe slammed into your back.

A hand to your face.

A boot to your leg.

A face between your chest.

A hand between your legs.

A gunshot to your hand.

A whip across your stomach.

Fingers digging inside your arm, twisting the visible muscle.

A knife dragged down your spine.

Laughter. Jeers. Groans. Moans. Screams. Pleas.

Blood, spit, snot, tears, and various liquids on your face, stomach, dripping down your legs, pooling on the cement.

As you drew in a breath, about an hour into the torture, now ignoring your team, hating that they were able to see what was happening to you, a static sound pierced the room.

The men stopped, except the one currently using you.

“A Tony Stark has landed and has been granted access.” A Monotone AI voiced to the men.

You didn’t show sign that you heard. You just didn’t care. Your brother had thrown you into this hell. He was responsible.

As the men frantically tried to clean up. Tony stepped into the doorway. Everyone froze.

You kept your eyes closed.

“Get away from my sister.” A cold voice. Tangible anger and terror hovered in the stale air of the Raft.

Slow, methodical footsteps echoed as more frantic ones ran away from where you were still strung up.

The sound of a fist meeting flesh and the last man stopped and fled. Leaving you alone in the center of the Jail.

“Oh….[Y/n]...what did they do to you?” You didn’t bother looking at him. The tears in his voice not doing anything to you. You didn’t have the capacity to care anymore.

Hands grabbed your wrists, causing an indrawn hiss of pain as the broken one was touched, before you were lowered to the ground.

Tony stared in horror at his, now blood covered hands.

“You caused this. You did this to your own family. Your own sister! Look at what you did Stark!” Sam’s voice was loud, watery, and filled with disgust.

Your breathing was wet as fluid filled your lungs.

Hands ghosted over your face, “[Y/n]. Baby. Please wake up.”

A groan, “I’m awake. Get away from me.”

“What?”

You forced your one good eye to crack open and glare at the man kneeling over you.

He quickly removed his suit jacket when he saw your eye open and pulled it around your limp form, covering most of you.

“[Y/n]...if I had known. If I knew that-”

You harsh, barking laughter, accompanied by blood flowing down your chin, cut him off.

He stared in horror at you as you fixed him with an empty look, still lying prone on the cement ground. You couldn’t feel the cold.

“What would you have done, Mr. Stark.” He flinched Backwards when you called him that instead of Tony, “You would have requested I be put in a different cell? You would have left everyone to rot here while I got five star prison treatment? Should I kiss your shoes? Cry thanks for your concern? News flash...it’s a few hours too late.”

A coughing fit overcame you. Tony’s hands helping you sit up. Immediately letting go when you snapped your teeth at him.

“[Y/n]...he’s still your brother. Let him help you.” Wanda finally spoke after hours of being silent.

Another caustic laugh from you, “Sure. A brother who fought with me. Who didn’t believe in me. Who let me be raped. Beat. Cut up and tortured. Who let the government call me a terrorist and place me in here. Who was willing to let me rot in this place-”

This time Tony cut you off, his hands gripping your shoulders as he yelled at you, eyes wild in confusion and fear, “No! I wouldn’t! I...I was in talks with Ross about these drastic measures...trying to work it so that all of you would be allowed a lighter sentence in state prison instead. I...didn’t know. I didn’t know! [Y/n], you’ve gotta believe me! I didn’t know!”

You simply stared, no emotion, as he began crying, as he drug you towards him and buried his face into your shoulder, his tears mixing with the blood on your skin.

“No.”

He pulled back to look at you, head tilted in confusion. Tears still running down his face.

You looked right at him. Right through him.

“No?”

“No. I will not be the element for your tragic redemption or your backstory. I want no part of you. Of this family. I am no longer a Stark. I want you to leave me.”

Tony jolted. Your voice was so monotonous. No emotion reflected through it. Not an ounce like he remembered you.

Not the sister he once had.

“What?”

“[Y/n] don’t..”

“He left her, I say good for her.”

“[Y/n]...I’m not leaving you. I’m not going to leave you again. I promise.”

As Tony went to hug you. You swung your arm with the broken wrist at his face, hitting his cheek, not feeling the pain.

“I said…” You drew in a breath and then screamed, “Leave me! I am not a Stark! I am not your sister! I am a broken plaything and you are the one who made me this way!”

Tony scurried backwards on his hands and knees as you began kicking at him. His eyes wide in terror and pain and sadness.

Your words morphed into an endless scream. Blood dripping from your throat as you tore your vocal chords.

Only stopping when Tony finally shook himself back to his senses, and with tears on his cheeks and an apology on his tongue, knocked you unconscious with a single hit to your head.

You had truly become broken. In just the few hours you had spent on the Raft. You were no longer [Y/n] Stark.

In truth...no one knew who...or what...you were anymore. Your family was gone. Broken. Just like your body. Just like your spirit. Just like your mind. Gone.

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t @mialeelavellan @rainydaysrnevergrey @platonic-plots @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @ayyidkeither @queenbbarnes @mythixmagic @chas-z @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger @princess-evans-addict

Avengers Taglist:

@jadepc @marvel-is-a-mood

#Avengers #avengers tower #avengers civil war #tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony x reader #tony x sibling!reader #sister stark #reader insert #angst #imagine #imagine request #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagine #please give credit #please give feedback #rose writes

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windfighter · 5 years

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@stony-week, day 5: Soulmates

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Relationship: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Wings, Hurt Tony

Summary:

In a world full of people, meeting your soulmate isn't a guarantee. Steve had hope when he was young, but as the years went by the hope disappeared.

Enter Tony Stark.

—

Steve used to dream about meeting his soulmate. He had been sure he would some day, that even someone like him – a scrawny kid from a poor home – had someone out there for them. When he laid eyes on Bucky the first time and instantly fell head over heels in love he thought it was real. They touched, a jolt ran through his body. Then nothing. No magic explosion of colours, no flight, no change in his white wings. Bucky laughed at him, white wings flapping happily behind him. It must have been so obvious what Steve had been hoping.

Bucky introduced him to lot of dames over the years, sometimes the occassional bloke, but nothing ever happened. For every person he touched, for every time his wings didn't change colours, he kept losing hope.

He met Peggy. It was the second time he fell head over heels in love and maybe, just maybe, she would be the one. She was a respectable dame, never let her skin touch anyone and Steve kept his distance. Then he ended up getting the serum. Peggy eyed him, looked at his new muscles. She let her bare hand trace over his bare chest.

Nothing. Maybe Steve was cursed. He smiled at her, then chaos errupted around him and his life got too busy to even think about soulmates. When he crashed into the ice he said a quiet prayer for whoever was his soulmate.

Please, don't let them ever feel lonely.

Steve opened his eyes to a completely new world. People looked different, sounds were different, the skyline was different, the houses different and even smells were different. The first person that touched him was a man named Phil Coulson. Coulson's wings were already coloured, glittering in the lights of the jet they were in. Steve wanted to say something, didn't know what, and looked away again. His own soulmate was probably long since dead.

He didn't touch people after that. Took clues from Peggy – only shook people's hands when he wore gloves, stood far enough away that they wouldn't accidentally touch each other, stuff like that. It was easier than he thought, people in the new world were reserved. He was introduced to Natasha, to Bruce, to Thor and to Tony Stark. Only Bruce's wings had colours – two shades of brown and some green – the rest of them had white wings just like him, except for Thor who didn't have wings. He observed them, the way they interracted. Tony touched everyone. Occassionally a pat on the shoulder, a pat on the back, a firm handshake. Natasha's touches were reserved, careful, planned. Thor's were strong, abundant, friendly. Bruce's were shy, quick to disappear, as if he was afraid to hurt them.

Clint joined their group, his wings the same colours as Coulson's and Steve smiled, nodded at him. Clint was almost as touchy as Stark, but in a different way, a more natural way.

Once Steve tried to pat Tony's shoulder. Tony flinched, pushed his hand away and then patted Steve's shoulder instead. Steve made note of it but didn't know how to take it.

Tony Stark fascinated him, but their interactions left a lot of room for improvement. Half of the times it ended in shouting matches, the other half in cold shoulders and one of them leaving the room. Tony tried to introduce him to the new world's technology, Steve turned right around and asked Clint instead. Steve tried to teach Tony to draw, Tony turned right around and designed him a new suit to get him to stop.

”I can draw, I just draw different things than you do”, he had said when he gave it to Steve.

They all moved into the newly renovated Avengers Tower. Thor on the upper floor, then Steve, Clint, Tony, Bruce and Natasha. One floor for each of them. There was a communal floor between Tony and Clint where they could all gather. Most nights they did, all of them except Tony who was in his workshop.

Occassionally they would sit in the communal floor and take care of each others' wings. Thor would watch them as they worked, fascinated by the midgardian tradition. Tony never joined for that and yet his wings were always spotless, not a feather out of place. Clint laughed and joked about Tony going to professional groomers but the way Tony had flinched under Steve's touch made him doubt it.

”I can't have a soulmate”, Natasha confessed to Steve one day. ”It's easier to be a spy when your wings are clean.”

”But Clint and Coulson?”

”They don't use Clint for spywork any longer. He's still great when they need an assassin.”

”My wife hates that though. She'd prefer if I retired.”

Steve blinked and looked at the vent Clint's voice was coming from.

”Wife?”

”Yeah, man. Coulson's great and all but I'm a married man. Plus, I love her.”

”But...”

Steve shook his head and decided it wasn't his place to pry. The new world had its own rules and he had tried to learn them, but when you hadn't lived them it was hard.

Steve started feeling comfortable about touching his team mates after a few months. All except Tony, who now that he looked closer was equally careful when touching people as Steve was. Except the occassionally firm handshake of course and Steve just couldn't understand it. He came to understand it when he was going to the workshop after a mission to talk with Tony.

Tony stripped out of the armor, stretched. Steve stopped outside and watched him move. He felt a weird warmness in his chest whenever he watched Tony. Tony put a t-shirt and sweatpants on over the undersuit he wore for the suit. He blinked when he saw Steve outside the door, gestured for him to come in.

”Hey”, Steve smiled. ”That was... You did good during the mission.”

Tony picked a pair of gloves up from the desk, smiled at Steve.

”Well, we have a pretty great leader.”

He put the gloves on, pressed a button on them. They formed themselves after his hands, their colour changing to match Tony's skin and Steve let out a small ”oh”. Tony gestured to Steve's hands.

”I can make you a pair as well. I've noticed your habit of wearing gloves.”

”It's fine, thanks anyway.”

Tony nodded, brought up some holograms and started making notes. Steve decided not to risk another shouting match and left him alone.

They kept working together, kept living together. They became more and more of a family over the eight months they had shared lives. Tony was a little outside, spending more time in the workshop then on the couch with the rest of them, but he came up one afternoon when they had another grooming session. Steve put the finishing touches on Natasha's wings, then patted the stool Natasha left and smiled at Tony.

”Come on, let me do you next!”

Tony and Clint both burst out laughing and Steve blushed.

”Not... not like that, come on guys.”

The laughter died out. Tony looked at Steve, sipped a cup of coffee. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. After half a minute he held up a finger, then went to the elevator.

”Jarvis?” Steve asked, uncertain about what had happened.

He could feel the others exchange glances as well, Jarvis stayed suspiciously quiet. Then Tony returned with a bag, placed it next to Steve and sat down.

”Use those. And be careful.”

”I know how to groom.”

The others sat down around the room, their eyes all locked to the two. Steve was nervous. He opened the bag, pulled out the tools. The brush was the softest he had ever held and he placed it against his cheek just to feel it.

”Impressed?”

”Definately. These must have cost a fortune.”

”They did.”

Months ago Steve would have thought Tony was just flaunting his riches in their faces, but they had grown closer since then. He placed the brush against Tony's wing and Tony pulled away.

”Tony...”

”Sorry, sorry. Just... You need to tell me what you're doing.”

”Okay”, Steve laughed. ”I'll start brushing your left wing now, okay?”

Tony nodded. Steve gently pulled the brush through the feathers, used his fingers to make sure they ended up correctly. Tony flinched again. They all had their problems and Steve knew that even if he hadn't learned what Tony's were yet.

”I'm using my fingers as well”, he said. ”Does it feel okay?”

”Mm...”

Tony sounded relaxed and Steve continued. The others were still staring, Clint perched on the kitchen table, Natasha in the couch leaning against the back of it, Bruce on a chair sipping on tea and Thor sitting on the floor next to them.

”I'm stretching your wing now so I can get to all the feathers.”

Tony flinched, pulled away and fell of the stool as Steve grabbed the wing. It slipped out of Steve's hand and Steve stared at Tony.

”Sorry, shit, ow. Sorry I flinched. Don't... ow.”

Tony's wings pulled back and Tony turned around so he was between Steve and them. Steve blinked, stared at his hand and stared at Tony again. Now that he thought about it he had never seen Tony fly like everyone else did, he only flew in his Iron Man-suit. Was there a problem with his wings?

”Did I grip too hard? I tried being gentle.”

”They're just...” Tony hung his head. ”They're very sensitive.”

”I'll be more careful.”

Steve patted the stool again. Tony hesitated, then sat up again. He stretched the wings himself and Steve noticed how they didn't quite reached their full lenght. He decided not to comment on it.

Tony's armor broke during one of their battles. That's when Steve learned what was wrong with Tony's wings. The armor fell off him and he fell towards the ground, stretched his wings to slow his descent. He crashed to the ground, cursed loudly. Steve ran over to him, he was lying on his stomach, one of his wings was bent, bone sticking out and feathers ripped off and spread over the ground around them. Steve crouched, placed a hand on Tony's shoulder. Tony hid his face in his arms and groaned.

”Again. Always the wings. Shit.”

”You stay there, I'll protect you and then we'll get you to medical, okay?”

Tony turned his head to glance at Steve, a frustrated smile on his face.

”At least it wasn't kidnappers that destroyed it this time. Should heal better now.”

Steve wanted to ask but it was neither the time nor place. He smiled at Tony, warmth spreading through him when he realized Tony hadn't waved him off, had actually agreed to let him play the knight in shining armor. He gripped his shield and went to work.

Clint had said he loved his wife even though Coulson was his soulmate. Steve hadn't understood it, but maybe soulmates wasn't always about getting married and living happily together ever after. The world was full of people after all, it should be statistically impossible to find one soulmate among all of them. Steve stared at Tony over the breakfast table. Tony was flipping through his tablet, working on new arrows for Clint. They had touched each other so many times, were always so close. There was no way Tony was his soulmate, statistically their skin must have touched sometime during the year they had worked together.

Still, he was certain he was in love with Tony. Not as head over heel as he had been with Bucky or Peggy. No, this love had built slower, started with laying a foundation. Friendship. When did friendship turn into love? Steve bit his lip, still staring at Tony. Tony's lips twitched and formed a smile but he didn't say anything. Steve kept poking at his breakfast.

”What is love?” he asked his cereal, not expecting Tony to listen.

”Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more”, Tony answered with a smile and Steve raised an eyebrow.

Maybe love was just stupid jokes shared over the table.

Tony used to dream about meeting his soulmate. Then Howard took that dream from him. Stark men are made from iron, they have no need for silly things like soulmates. He didn't need a soulmate, he kept himself happy with one night-stands and alcohol and stupid jokes. Kept himself busy with building weapons. Then Afghanistan had happened and his wings had been destroyed. After that he didn't even want to meet his soulmate. He stopped touching people, kept more to himself. Built himself a suit to be able to fly again.

Then he had met Steve freaking Rogers. Captain America. Who could in no way at all be his soulmate. More like his soul nemesis. They argued, fought, argued, helped each other and shared another shouting match. But with each game they played, each time they evaded each other, shouted at each other, praised each other, they got closer. Steve's wings were white as snow, beautiful, and sometimes Tony tried to imagine them with blue and brown feathers. Then he'd blush and hurry away from Steve.

They had worked together for eight months when Tony realized he was desperately in love with Steve freaking Rogers. He hid the fact deep in his heart.

Steve was there to help him when his wing broke during battle and Tony's walls crumbled hard. He let the truth slip out, the truth he had promised to never let anyone other then Pepper and Rhodey know. Had told Steve all about what happened when he was kidnapped.

They had worked together for one year when he realized Steve freaking Rogers was desperately in love with him.

”What is love?” Steve blurted out and Tony knew he wasn't supposed to react to it but he couldn't help himself.

”Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more.”

He smiled, but didn't look at Steve. Steve finally returned to eating his breakfast. Tony didn't need a soulmate, didn't need love. He had his inventions, his company, his robots and his found family. But when Steve got up from the table Tony did as well. He grabbed Steve's hand. He never made those gloves for him.

”Steve”, he whispered.

His courage was gone, he fell quiet. Steve looked at him, tilted his head. Warmth spread through Tony's body as he met Steve's eyes, made him feel a little more couragous. There was nothing to fear. Steve Rogers was in love with him. He was in love with Steve Rogers. He took a deep breath.

”I love you.”

Steve took a shaky breath. Tony didn't expect an answer. He pressed the button on his gloves, pulled them off. His hands were shaking. He had only ever allowed Pepper and Rhodey to touch him since then, had only ever touched them this intimately.

”I love you”, he whispered again.

The gloves fell to the floor. Steve wasn't wearing his, he didn't do so in the tower any longer. Nothing was going to happen, there was no way Steve Rogers was Tony Stark's soulmate, and Tony grabbed Steve's hand.

The world exploded in colours only for them. A jolt ran through Tony's body, through his wings. His eyes got wet when Steve's white wings slowly turned blue and brown and he could see Steve's eyes getting equally wet. The colours around them calmed down again, returned to normal. Tony was breathing heavily, hadn't gathered himself, when Steve pulled him closer, pressed his lips against Tony's, and they were warm, perfect, soft and Tony melted even though the kiss in itself was lacking, panicked and greedy.

”I thought I wouldn't find you”, Steve breathed out as he pulled back.

”I didn't want to find you”, Tony whispered, ”but I'm happy I did.”

They shared another kiss, less panicked, softer, full of promise of a lot more to come. They had both dreamed about finding their soulmates.

They didn't need to dream any longer.

#stonyweek #avengers #tony stark #Steve Rogers #stony #fanfic #My writing #that turned longer than I planned #but so does most of my stories #I'm not very good at soulmate AUs #nor pining #you can probably tell #was a bit fun to write though #I used this type of soulmate AU for an SSSS-story once #I dunno I like it #there are so many different soulmate-AUs out there

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servicedogsforsuperheroes · 5 years

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Director's commentary on Tony and Diva? Or Rhodey and Valor? Or any of them you want to talk about, I just really love SDfSH and will read pretty much anything about service dogs!

!!!! oh my god Yes I would Love to talk about both of those teams/their stories okay (this got long i am so sorry)

Tony and Diva first (story here):

i made tony and diva the second team to show up in the series because i honestly thought that after the success with clint and lucky, nat would be looking at dogs for Everyone, and bruce was her first thought

but then she started to realize just how bad tony was doing, and started to see Just How Much Energy tony was putting into accommodating lucky and she just “hmm...” (also, if she fucks up with diva’s training a little bit, So Be It, because tony’s a little wild too, they can be wild childs together)

i think JARVIS is programmed to compartmentalize information for the privacy, protection, and security of Everyone in the tower, but i think he’s also a lot more human than an AI should be capable of, yknow? and i think nat would definitely have been able to get him to explain more about tony’s trauma with water.

i think tony was really, really scared to accept diva as his service dog, mostly bc tony doesn’t trust himself with anything (he’s watched himself self destruct in relationships, he can’t bring himself to hurt a dog like that), and so it took him time to trust himself

also he felt like he didn’t deserve a service dog bc it’s “not that bad” (the way the other avengers kept looking at him and diva made him feel bad for weeks), and he was worried about making service dog teams “look bad” because of his own reputation

Rhodey and Valor next!! (story here):

rhodey and valor were originally team three (3) but then nat noticed the trainwreck that is tony, and then bucky showed up and nat was like “well shit”

nat trusts tony a lot more than she lets on re: picking a dog, knowing what rhodey is like, etc, but also at this point she’s still just kinda barely coping with “shit i was wrong abt some things” and that’s wild when ur someone that usually knows exactly what ur doing All The Time

rhodey deserves more credit for literally Everything he has ever done in the MCU, thank u for ur time (iron man 1, 2, and 3? age of ultron? civil war? infinity war and endgame?? like Seriously)

okay, think what u will, but i’m a big proponent of “do what works best for ur disability, not what supposedly looks best,” and i sure as hell don’t think that the leg braces are a constantly feasible option.

like that has to be painful and draining to use constantly, and i definitely think that rhodey using a wheelchair for more day to day life is way more reasonable, yknow?? so u can pry my “rhodey uses a wheelchair” headcanon from my cold dead hands

do u know how much the “You didn’t have to think of me, but you did. I appreciate that.” line killed me as the writer?? bc first of all, rhodey gets consistently left out of fandom and that makes me So Mad, and second of all, rhodey is so goddamn underappreciated?? both in universe and out of universe??

the other headcanon i have that you can pry from my cold dead hands is that rhodey doesnt feel like he sizes up well against the other avengers even though he is literally A) smarter than most of them, B) literally a fucking badass, C) way more reasonable and understanding than most of them, and D) so goddamn badass for a dude that does not?? have powers?? at all?? like seriously okay

alright this was a Lot i am so sorry but i love them so much aaaaa

(ask for my “director’s cut” of scenes from SDfSH)

#asks #commentary from the author

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demogorgans · 6 years

Text

Shipping Game

Pick your top 10 ships without reading the questions. [or if you’re a one ship dedicated blog, feel free to answer all of them for just that one, or do all the ships from one fandom, this is just for fun].

I was tagged by the amazing @rebelmeg (I’m gonna do this will like all my fandoms)

Tony x Rhodey (marvel)

Sam x Cas (spn)

Tony x Bucky (marvel)

Tony x Ziva (ncis)

Mickey x Ian (shameless)

Tony x Stephen (marvel)

Kirk x Bones (star trek)

Shawn x Jules (psych)

Poe x Finn x Rey (star wars)

Rudy x Liesel (the book thief)

Do you remember the episode/chapter/scene where you first started shipping 6? "Protecting your reality,,,,, douchebag” i was a goner thank you

What’s your favorite fanfiction for 4? uuuuuuh honestly? never read a damn thing

What’s your favorite fan art/picture for 2? hooooooooooo booi you done it now i’d have to say this one and this one bc in this house we stan wendigo

What’s your favorite headcanon for 1? DWEEEEBS ok they learned morse code to talk with each other in the lab and rhodey is dum-e’s godfather and u’s godfather and butterfinger’s godfather and JARVIS’s godfather and they had the time of their lives at MIT and they’ve been in love with each other since day one

What do you like most about the dynamic between the people of 7? "dammit jim”

When 9 have sex is it more giggly or more serious? uh no thanks

Out of all the ships who do you think have the best chemistry? shawn & jules from psych. they fuck me up every god damn time i mean that kiss in An Evening With Mr Yang? they kill me 10x over

Which ship has the strongest bond? Sam and Cas. next question

Which ship to you spend the most time reading fanfiction for/talking/writing about? hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck sastiel, winteriron, and ironhusbands are all top contenders. i write for them, read about them, and talk about them a lot

Which one was your first ship? like ever,,,,? Max x Fang from the Maximum Ride series. on this list? Tony x Ziva from ncis

If 6 were to break up, how would it happen? hysterically dramatic with strange making portals

Between 3 and 8, who would last the longest if they were in a zombie apocalypse? winteriron vs shules? the logical thing here is to pick tony & bucky but god can’t you see jules kicking zombie ass while shawn screams

Does 7 hide their relationship, and if so, why? oh absolutely and i will tell you why. kirk thinks bones hung the god damn stars ok he knows his doctor is the single most amazing person he’s ever encountered and he so doesn’t want to deal with the whispers and the staring and the questions

What is 9′s favorite date to go on? you absolute fools. these kids nap. they watch rey move rocks and play with bb8

What’s your favorite canon moment between 10? you mean before rudy died and ripped my heart out of my chest? well it’s the bit where everything about them you will pry my love for these kids out of my cold dead hands

“how about a kiss saumensch”

What do 5 argue most about? this is an awful question for this otp bc mickey and ian will argue about everything aren’t they great

If you had to pick an OTP which would you chose? ironhusbands

What’s the biggest kink that 1 shares? they’re secret love for shitty sci-fi movies

Do 8 want children? not sure, i can see them with kids and i can see them cooing over Lassies daughter

Between 10 and 4, which would you rather become canon? tiva was already canon ok i want rudy and liesel to grow old together

Does 2 do much PDA? And does it annoy their friends? oh absolutely not, these boys are Soft in private besides can you imagine the fuss Dean would make

Which of the ships would you say is the most romantic with each other? shules absolutely shawn and jules

How would the proposal between 5 go? hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh knowing mickey it would be loud and impressive and probably slightly inconvenient in timing

Who cooks more often in 3? bucky he likes to experiment

I tag: anyone who wants to do this honestly it’s so much fun

#the Queen does a thing #please ignore my insane chatter oh my god #also I'm fucking EMO about The Book Thief

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nedraggett · 6 years

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Thoughts on 2018

No need for me to be fancier than that! And yeah I realize that nobody should be using Tumblr any more but until I figure out a proper revive of my old Wordpress site, this will do for now.

So anyway: I wrote this up for a private email list reflecting on the end of the year in terms of things I especially enjoyed culturally. Well, why not share it?

My year went very well — steady at work and in life, being 47 means more aches and pains but you have to learn to live with it. The state of the world is something else again of course and we need not spend more time on the blazingly obvious. That said, the history bug in me has been constantly intrigued by the slow drip of the investigations (and revelations) and were it all fiction, I’d be thoroughly enthralled instead of quietly apprehensive, of course. November did provide some partial relief on that front so bring on the new year. In terms of my own written work, nothing quite equalled my heart/soul going into last year’s Algiers feature for NPR, but my two big Quietus pieces this year — on Gary Numan’s Dance and Ralph Bakshi’s Lord of the Rings — were treats to write, while my presentation on the too-obscure Billy Mackenzie at PopCon was a great experience.

In terms of music this has been one of the most concert-heavy years I’ve spent. Even having moved to SF in 2015 I only did the occasional show every so often — there was so much going on (even in a local scene lots of long-timers say has been irrevocably changed) that I was almost spoiled for choice, and part of me also just wanted to relax most nights. But deaths like Prince’s and Bowie’s among many others served as a reminder that there’s no such thing as forever, and you never know what the last chance will be. More veteran acts than younger ones in the end for me — greatest missed concert regrets this year included serpentwithfeet, Lizzo, Perfume Genius and Emma Ruth Rundle among the younger acts, while being ill when Orbital came through will be a lingering annoyance, still having never seen them live. But the huge amount of shows I did see outweighed that, ranging from big arena stops like Fleetwood Mac to celebratory open-air free shows like Mexican Institute of Sound to small club sets by folks like Kinski, Six Organs of Admittance, Kimbra and many more, including, for the first time in years, a show in the UK, specifically a great performance by Roddy Frame of Aztec Camera. If I absolutely had to grade my top picks among shows, Cruel Diagonals, Johnny Marr, Wye Oak, Peter Brotzmann/Keiji Haino, John Zorn/Terry Riley/Laurie Anderson, Laurie Anderson again separately, Nine Inch Nails, VNV Nation, Jarvis Cocker, Beak and, in terms of no real expectations turning into utter delight and thrills, a brilliant set by Lesley Rankine under her Ruby guise, with Martin Atkins on drums. Best damn combination of righteous ire, hilarious raconteurism and compelling, unique approaches to how performance can work I’d seen in a while. (As for recorded music in general, uh, endless?)

TV, as ever a bit sporadic, with a few things on my to-do list — still need to catch The Terror for sure, and what I saw of The Alienist looked good; I love both books so I need to see how it all worked out, similarly with the just-dropped version of Watership Down. Pose I definitely need to catch up with since it sounds like Ryan Murphy stood out of the way to let the best possible team do the business on it, but my real unexpected delight of a show this year was also Murphy-based, American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace. While not down the line perfect, it was absolutely more compelling than not, and in fact at its best was a shuddering combination of amazing music cue choices, a reverse structure that helped undercut any attempt at making Cunanan seem sympathetic or an antihero, and, at its considerable best, a ratcheting up of terror and horror that a friend said was almost Kubrickian, and I would have to agree. And, frankly, Darren Criss really did the business as Cunanan, a controlled and powerful turn. Only a few of us seemed to be following it at the time, but when it scored all those Emmys, then while it was as much a reflection of Murphy’s status, it honestly felt well deserved. Meantime, you’ll pry my addiction to all the RuPaul’s Drag Race incarnations from my cold dead hands but it’s the amazing online series that Trixie Mattel and Katya do, UNHhhh, which remains my comedy highlight of the year, with at least a few jaw-dropping/seize up laughing every episode. (Kudos as well for Brad Jones’s The Cinema Snob, ten years running online and still funny as fuck while digging up all kinds of cinematic horrors.) Also, tying back into music a bit, late recommendation for something you can only see on UK TV/streaming so far, but get yourself a VPN and seek out Bros: After the Screaming Stops, in which the two brothers in the late-80s monster hit pop band Bros (never had any traction here but pretty much owned the entire Commonwealth and beyond) try for a comeback. It’s an unintentionally hilarious and harrowing portrait of two twins who have a LOT of issues, have clearly been through a LOT of therapy, but are still…not quite there. UK friends said it was a combination of Spinal Tap, Alan Partridge and David Brent and they were ABSOLUTELY RIGHT.

Movies, less specifically to choose from — I remain an essentially sporadic populist when it comes to what I see in theaters, but I can say for sure that Spider-man: Into the Spiderverse is a hell of a thing and will almost certainly prove to be a real year-zero moment down the line. Possibly the most affecting watch was Bohemian Rhapsody, in that I also saw this in the UK — in Brighton, which besides making me think of the band��s song “Brighton Rock” is also notably the country’s most LGBT-friendly city; those I was with felt the movie’s themes, successes and flaws/elisions deeply, and the constant discussion of it for the next few days was very rewarding. As for books, John Carreyrou’s Bad Blood, delving into Theranos and the amoral duo behind it, was properly enraging and compelling, while Beth Macy’s Dopesick, if not perfect, nonetheless adds to the good literature on the opioid crisis, while as ever indirectly calling into question who’s getting the focus and care now as opposed to in earlier times and places. My favorite music publications as such probably remain the two I most regularly write for, The Quietus and Daily Bandcamp, while Ugly Things is the print publication that I most look forward to with each issue, and am never disappointed.

Podcasts now consist of a lot of my regular cultural engagement, kinda obvious but nonetheless true. Long running faves include My Favorite Murder — Karen and Georgia are an amazing comedy team who have figured out how to reinterpret their anxieties in new ways — The Vanished, which at its best often casts a piercing eye on how official indifference from law enforcement is almost as destructive as their more obvious abuses (recent discovery The Fall Line does this as well, even more explicitly), Karina Longworth’s constantly revelatory Hollywood histories You Must Remember This, Patrick Wyman’s enjoyable history dives on Tides of History, my friend Chris Molanphy’s constantly excellent investigations into music chart history Hit Parade, the great weekly movie chats by MST3K vets Frank Conniff and Trace Beaulieu along with Carolina Hidalgo on Movie Sign With the Mads, and The Age of Napoleon, which really has hit my history wonk sweet spot. New to me this year was It’s Just a Show, a really wonderful episode by episode — but not in exact order — deep dive into every episode of MST3K ever, by two fun and thoughtful Canadian folks, Adam Clarke and Beth Martin. (Adam also cohosts a new podcast, A Part of Our Scare-itage, specifically looking at Canadian horror. It’s not just Cronenberg!). Among the excellent one-off series this year: American Fiasco by Men in Blazers’ Roger Bennett on the failed US World Cup attempt in 1998, Dear Franklin Jones, a story about the narrator’s experience growing up in a California cult and how his parents came to be followers in the first place, and the Boston Globe’s Gladiator, their audio accompaniment to their in-depth story of the life and ultimate fate of Aaron Hernandez. Finally, totally new series this year that quickly got added to my regular listening: American Grift, a casual and chatty look at various scams and schemes, overseen by Oriana Schwindt, The Eurowhat?, a running look at the Eurovision competition throughout the year from the perspective of two American fans, and The Ace Records Podcast, an often engaging series of one-off interviews with various musicians, fans and so forth by UK writer Pete Paphides (I highly recommend the interviews with Jon Savage and Sheila B). Hands down my two favorite totally new podcasts of the year were The Dream, a more formal story of American grifting in general hosted by Jane Marie — this first season’s focus was on multilevel marketing, and Marie and company’s careful way of seemingly backing into the larger story makes it all the more compelling and ultimately infuriating, especially in the current political climate — and the hilarious Race Chasers, a RuPaul’s Drag Race-celebrating podcast by two veterans of the show, Alaska and Willam, loaded with all kinds of fun, behind the scenes stuff, guests and an easy casualness from two pros that strikes the perfect balance between going through things and just shooting the shit. Returning podcast I’m most looking forward to next year: the second season of Cocaine and Rhinestones, hands down. Check out the first season for sure.

And there ya go! Keep fighting all your respective good fights.

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