#and not have to check the country clothes are from to see how complicit i am in genocide and child labour

[starker-stories]

An Accord (WIS), Chapter 5

I’ll be re-creating my individual chapter posts for An Accord over here on the blog that replaces starkerstories. Until I hit the current chapter, I’ll be posting daily. They’ll have links to both tumblr and AO3 chapter links. I’m sorry if that bothers people who’ve seen this all before in the tag. I’m content to leave all my other fic as AO3 only, but this is my current favorite child, so I’m spoiling it rotten.

This fic is on a weekly update schedule. Hopefully every Friday. More chapters may appear sooner if the writing is going well. Because I have 0 self-control.

Tumblr Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13 AO3 Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13

Tags: Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyamory, Cheating, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Domestic Nightmare Tony Stark, Reconciliation, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, WinterIronSpider, Happy Ending, Clothed Sex, Domesticity, Peter Parker is legal age in the state of New York, College Student Peter Parker, Takes place about 2 years after Civil War. Closeted Character

Summary: “Steve Rogers is the one and only voice of authority for the entire world.” Bucky ducked his head. “I may have asked him when he was going to be fitted for his armband.” ——————————————————————————————

Chapter 5: On accounta the stew

“Oh god that smells good,” Peter said, padding barefoot from the bedroom around ten into the kitchen, wearing a baggy pair of sweats and an even baggier, threadbare MIT t-shirt. “But y’know you don’t have to keep cooking for us.”

“I have to eat,” Bucky said with a shrug.

Tony followed next out of the bedroom, slightly less dressed, wearing only a pair of boxers, but apparently a shower had been taken because he was wearing considerably less dirt. “You don’t have to earn your keep here, Bucky.” Tony opened the drawer next to the fridge. “If I don’t have a menu for a place in here, it’s because their food sucks. FRIDAY, give Bucky level 1A access to you and 2 access to everything else.”

“Yes boss.”

“There ya go. Order what you want whenever you want it. Though not if you want to spend seven billion on a microscope.”

“And put a huge dent in the thing,” Peter chided.

Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s the casing. It doesn’t affect how it works, just how it looks. If it offends you so much, I’ll fabricate a new one out of gold-titanium alloy that’s harder to dent.”

“Oh god you’re gonna do that anyway just to make it red and gold.”

“You know me so well babe,” Tony said, grinning. He went over and looked into the huge pot simmering on low on the stove. “What is that?”

“Our late dinner.” Peter stuck a long spoon into the pot. “Stew. And it’s delicious.” He got a bowl and filled it.

“It’s all right,” Bucky said. “I ate about… oh… four hours ago. Y’know, Tony, soundproofing might be an investment worth considering,” he added, laughing.

Peter turned bright red. “Oh god.” He sat the bowl of stew down at the end of the table for Tony and filled another for himself.

“This is actually… good,” Tony said. “Tastes like the Irish stew Jarvis used to make.”

“Vision cooks?”

“Not JARVIS, Jarvis. Our butler.”

“You had a…”

“Of course he did,” Peter said with a sigh. “You get used to him dropping things like that as if everyone in the world grew up in a huge mansion with a butler and a staff. Do not ever expect him to change the sheets.”

“That’s what the staff is for.”

Bucky sat at the table across from Peter, next to Tony. “Steve would say it’s not proper Irish stew because you didn’t have any stout. Like Sarah ever kept liquor in her house…” He stopped suddenly, caught by the memory. “Sorry.” He hesitated. He wanted to talk about it but wasn’t sure of the reception. He decided to chance it.

“Even after your dad’s experiment changed him, he was still Steve. He was different, but underneath the whole Captain America thing, he was still the kid I grew up with in Brooklyn. He was a soldier, like the rest of us. A little headstrong, rubbed up against orders sometimes, but he took them.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, he reached his hand across the table and touched Bucky’s.

“Which is why I couldn’t understand…” Tony shook his head. “A hundred and seventeen countries, including this one… and half of his team… thought accountability was a reasonable request that the world was making of us.”

“It is,” Bucky said. “I spent the last year, since I left Wakanda, listening to Steve. The way he described it, in the context of what happened to SHIELD, not trusting another World Security Council sounded reasonable.”

“Why’d you change your mind?” Tony asked.

“I read them. He had his copy still. I couldn’t sleep. I’d read just about everything else where we were staying. So I actually read the Accords for myself.”

“They’ve been amended since then.”

“I saw that when I signed. I made them wait until I read the addendum pages.”

Tony laughed. “I bet they loved that.”

“After I signed, that’s when I got into it with him. He’s mad I signed. I still don’t understand why he didn’t. You guys, the Avengers, he said you were soldiers.”

Tony scoffed. “I’m not a soldier.”

“Well, you take orders better than one former U.S. Army Captain.” Bucky huffed in anger. “Without an effective chain of command, without oversight, there’s nothing to stop an army from turning on the people and putting someone like Hitler in charge. We both saw that happen. But no. Steve Rogers is the one and only voice of authority for the entire world!” Bucky ducked his head. “I may have asked him when he was going to be fitted for his armband.”

Tony sputtered around a forkful of stew. “I’d’a paid money to see his face.

“But you get it,” Tony continued. “When I found out what Stark was doing — what it was allowed to do — not only by my negligence, but because the DoD writes checks and never pays attention to what’s done with the money — I got out of the business. I couldn’t be a part of that. Is it still a problem with other companies, sure. I can’t right every wrong in the world. But I don’t have to be complicit with it. Rogers, he’s like — anyone who’s an Avenger can do whatever they want, whenever they want, anywhere in the world they want to do it. Which, okay, maybe. There’s less than two dozen of us and we were a team. That’s less of a problem. But there are many more Enhanced who the Avengers Initiative has no authority over.”

“The Accords still don’t,” Peter said. “I haven’t signed.”

“No. Neither has Murdock, Cage, Jones, Skye, Elena, and a whole lot more. A lot have signed, though. But since I’ve been unofficially running things, we monitor those who haven’t. What’s left of SHIELD handles the situation if an Enhanced becomes a threat. You’re not a threat, baby. And if you ever do decide to step out of the ‘friendly neighborhood’, you’re going to have to sign.”

“I will. I’m just not ready yet.”

“And I’m not ready to put you at that level of risk yet either. It’s above your paygrade. Keeping the world safe is my job. Keeping the streets safe is yours.”

“Fury said that for him to be able to debrief me, I had to become part of the Avengers Initiative.”

“So you’re on world-saving duty along with Tony.”

“Peter, that is the highest end dishwasher they make in the world. You don’t even have to rinse the bowl. Just put it in the machine. God,” Tony said exasperatedly as he watched Peter start to lower his bowl into the sink.

“And all you have to do is stretch the elastic corners over the ends of the mattress,” Peter said, noisily clattering both bowl and silverware in the sink.

Bucky laughed.

“Sorry. Old fights,” Tony said.

“We’ve only been together nine months, how can they be old fights?”

“They were old fights two weeks after you moved in and started leaving dishes in the sink and failing to notice that there’s a laundry hamper in the dressing room.”

“Elastic corners, Tony. You don’t even have to tuck them in the way I bet Bucky used to have to do.”

“Oh no. I am not getting in the middle of this. He’s the one who lets me live here, you’re the one who keeps me from destroying the room when I have a nightmare. Nope.” Bucky headed for the sofa. “I’m also not doing the dishes. I cooked.”

“You don’t cook so you can eat,” Tony said in a revelatory tone. “You cook so you don’t have to clean up after!”

“They did tell me you were a genius,” Bucky said, scrolling through Netflix. “After I learned how to cook, my sister got stuck with the dishes because she cooked like Peter says you do.”

“Staff, you guys. We. Had. Staff.” Tony got up shaking his head and emptied the sink of its dishes. He picked up the pot and poured its contents into the side of the sink with the disposal.

“What did you just do‽” Bucky said, leaping up from the sofa.

“You cooked too much. It's no big deal.” Tony started the disposal.

Bucky sputtered. “That was for the next three, maybe four days.”

“Uh, no.”

“Leftovers. Don’t you know the concept?”

“Didn’t most of your generation die of food poisoning?” Tony rinsed the pot and stuck it in the dishwasher with the bowls.

“Because we tried to keep food cold with ICE! Not a fridge that’s more technologically advanced than my arm! Stew is always better on the second day.”

“So’s salmonella.”

Peter came up and put his hand on Bucky’s arm. “It’s useless. I tried to keep leftover Chinese once. Got the same lecture. You learn to live with it.”

“It’s wasteful,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “There are people who…”

“Are eating tonight at one of seven homeless shelters the Stark Foundation funds every year. I am not getting food poisoning over either of yours guilt.”

“Used to be six. But then he threw out my leftover Chinese that I was saving.”

“Make it eight on accounta the stew.”

“If it’ll save my stomach, I’ll make it a round ten. No leftovers.” Tony grabbed Peter’s hand. “Thanks for dinner, pretty. It was good.”

“Woulda been better tomorrow,” Bucky muttered as he headed for the sofa and Tony and Peter headed for their bedroom.

Peter ducked his head back around the corner of the hall. “There’s wireless headphones in the drawer under the TV. Not as good as soundproofing but,” he added with a shrug before disappearing.

~~~~~

“I was worried,” Natasha said, answering Bucky’s call.

“It's not bad. It's good actually,” Bucky said. “Tony and Peter — the spider kid — are together.”

“Together?” Natasha asked

“Yes.”

“Together together?” she asked again, her voice rising in inflection.

“A couple. Yes.”

“He's a child.”

“He's seventeen. Which is, as he likes to remind everyone, the age of consent in New York state. He’s happy. Both of them are. Deliriously. Noisily. Often. He calls you Ms. Widow.”

“No. Really?” she tried hard not to laugh.

“Yes. It's adorable.” Bucky didn’t bother to try. “You should come back,” he said after a pause.

“I'm a criminal.”

“So was I. Tony can take care of that.”

“Tony's the one who made me a criminal,” Nat said pointedly.

“It's more complicated than that and you know it.”

“I'm not agreeing to house arrest.”

“Lang isn't an Avenger. You are. I am.”

“You are?”

“Part of the arrangement Tony made,” Bucky explained. “Instead of another session with Everett Ross, Fury’s handling my debrief. For that, I had to agree to the Avenger Initiative.”

“Did you want to?”

“There are worse things.” Over the phone, Natasha couldn’t see his shrug. “It’s a chance at a little redemption.”

“I thought SHIELD was mine.”

“From what Tony tells me, SHIELD isn’t what it used to be. HYDRA’s been purged.”

“You believe that?”

“No. But I can help them make sure it is.”

“We’ve been away almost two years.”

“I thought it fell apart because of me. It was the Accords. Tony’s right on this one. It’s been such a waste of time. Running. For what? Steve’s ego?”

“I told the same thing to Tony. It was his ego.”

“I’ve yet to see it show up, Natasha. No worse than anyone else’s. Steve’s wrong.”

“What about Wanda? There was the issue of her not being a citizen.”

“When did you become a citizen? It’s not an issue. Not if she signs.”

There was a long pause. “He’ll be on his own.”

“He’ll come to his senses then,” Bucky said with more heat than he’d intended. “He won’t as long as he has someone to follow the righteous Captain America into battle. The issue if he comes back isn’t the Accords. It’s the damage he did after. Tony says he’ll leave when he returns.”

“And you say you haven’t seen his ego?”

“I’ve seen the pain that Steve’s lies about me caused. The Accords? Steve signs and that’s over for Tony. What happened in Siberia? That’s a broken trust. Harder to set aside.”

“He set it aside for you, apparently.”

“I had no choice in what I did. Steve had a choice.” He paused. “I doubt Tony will walk away, no matter what he says. He won’t trust Steve. But there are very few people who Tony trusts. He works with the others anyway. He’ll reach a peace with Steve, if Steve will let him.”

“We’ll talk about it,” Nat said.

“Talk to the others before Steve. If he knows, he’ll start one of his ‘rally the troops’ speeches and everyone will follow him into hell. On their own, the only hold out will be Sam. He’s starstruck.” Bucky paused. “I’ve seen it before,” he said sadly.

#starker #winterironspider #WIS An Accord #Von writes stuff

[beardyallen]

From the Lift Bar at YVR

It’s been a hectic week or so. Completed some very interesting research with AB last Monday and Tuesday after we visited the Denver Zoo and Museum of Nature & Science last Sunday. On Wednesday, I counted the change in my Batman Piggy Bank and got a million dollar haircut, and then finished clearing out my apartment over the next few days and had the opportunity to enjoy a few meals with some very important people before leaving the States for the next few months.

For context, I’ve only ever left the country twice, both times expedited by a Military ID as a dependent. These trips were to Canada, either accompanied by my parents or else as a school trip. So I’m not the most worldly individual out there. Also, the largest city I’ve ever lived in is Denver, which I always viewed as monstrous; for those of you who have lived in other major cities, you can imagine the weird looks I get when I state matter-of-factly that Denver is a big city. Just flying over Vancouver an hour ago was enough to convince me of my idiocy.

As I said, I moved out of my Denver apartment over the last few days, the first place I’ve lived in alone. Naturally, it was bittersweet, but I didn’t spend too much time getting misty-eyed over it as I felt I had too much stuff to do to prepare for my trip. Words cannot convey how much I appreciate all of the help I received over the last few days. SG helped me move furniture and a few other items to my storage unit (and was complicit in getting me temporarily trapped in the back corner of the unit by my couch). MK and DK joined me for dinner on Friday night, a welcome respite from the stress of moving/cleaning, then PH and MH took me for dinner last night at my favorite Mexican restaurant.

Most of all, RS helped me all day yesterday with cleaning out my apartment and put me up on her couch the last three nights AND drove me to the airport this morning. We’ve only known each other 7 months, but I think this is a friendship that will last a lifetime. I mean, how many of you can boast a dope friend who stays up practicing Owen Wilson impressions before sweeping and mopping your entire apartment while you stack the rest of your belongings in a storage unit 15 miles away?

This, naturally, leads me to my flight this morning: everything went off without a hitch. Almost. I was permitted two checked bags, which I capitalized on. I packed both my PS4 and XBox into the larger of the suitcases along with my clothes and other paraphernalia, then filled the other with socks, shoes, underwear and tea. I was unaware of the weight limit (because the only bit of intelligence I possess is either math-related or spent being confident about the spelling of “intelligence”), and the bigger case needed to drop by 3 kg. Turns out that’s exactly how much an Xbox and PS4 weigh, so those went into my backpack: the first ever backpack I wore at the airport that wasn’t trying to split my spine in half. So now I’m lugging those around with me. Yay...

Then I was in line at security, finally now comfortable with the process. I pulled out the gaming consoles and my tablet, took off my shoes and belt, and the TSA agent asked to verify that I had all of my large electronics out, like my “tablet, or kindle,...” I didn’t hear anything after that, as my mind sent me reeling back to last night when I finished Scott Lynch’s Red Seas Under Red Skies on my Kindle, an object purchased specifically for this trip. After I finished that book, I placed my Kindle on the lower shelf of RS’s coffee table, wrapped up in its nice Marauder’s Map case purchased off Etsy. Needless to say, I’m rather fond of this device now. I looked at the Kindle, on the lower shelf, and thought: “I’m going to forget this. It’s out of sight. If I don’t put it in my backpack right now, I’m going to leave it here in the morning. Actually, I seem rather aware of the risk, so I’m sure I won’t forget it. Plus, it’s my Kindle. I bought it specifically for this trip! There’s no way I’ll forget.”

I forgot it.

Fortunately, RS’s generosity knows no bounds, and she’s already agreed to ship it out to me! So I have that to look forward to. And I also happened to pack (I’m still not entirely sure why) Stephen King’s It, and I stopped by the airport bookstore and nabbed Dan Brown’s Origin. Should be plenty until my Kindle arrives. And so ends this chapter of The Forgotten: The Michael Phillips Story, an exciting series of tales from my life where I forget things. All sorts of important things. Or unimportant things that have major consequences. If you know me, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

So now I’m sitting in a bar in Vancouver, having just had French Toast with Stanley Park Brewing’s Trail Hopper IPA (rather delicious, even if it tastes like “flower blooming in your mouth”). My plane to Beijing boards in 20 minutes, so I should probably get going. More updates to come! I’m guessing the next one will include several photos, but we’ll see.

Sláinte,

BeardyAllen

#gentleman bastards #vancouver #beijing #stanley park brewing #feeling hella anxious #am i mature enough to survive for four months in a foreign country

[imgonnabeyourbubblegumwitch]

I Love You, You Pay My Rent: Chapter 19

First Chapter (Prologue)

Previous Chapter (Chapter 18)

Nico had been living with Will for long enough to be certain that no matter how serious things got with him, he’d never want to introduce Will to this side of his family. That was brought even more apparent seeing his father face Jason's. The two had been antagonistic for as long as Nico could remember. They all had different jobs, different hobbies, different personalities. And yet there was something similar in them too: something steely and unwilling to compromise.

Nico's life was screwed from way before he was born. The universe had started sliding into place to torture him when a powerful, rich, but morally bankrupt man who went by the undoubtedly fictitious name of Horatio Lord took on three, for a want of a better word, apprentices.  The first of these apprentices was Nico's own father. The second was Percy's. And the final apprentice was known to Nico for being scary and for having a son who bothered Nico about eating right, sleeping properly, and getting a boyfriend only to undertake an almost complete personality change and freak out when Nico crossed one of those things off the list. To the rest of the world he went by the nom de guerre Zeus.

Despite their differences, the three men initially got on well. They enjoyed the various aspects of the work Horatio sent their way. Soon though, they began to resent Horatio. Nico decided to be charitable and assume this was because Horatio was a terrible person. Equally it could have been because the three were power-hungry, impulsive and didn't think of, or care about, consequences.

“Nico?” his father asked. He did not sound happy to see Nico, but that wasn’t anything new.

His father was apparently well enough to be up and walking around, however to Nico's eyes he didn't look much better than he had in the hospital. He had at least returned to wearing a suit: tailored black as was typical, but his shirt was a deep, dark red like a rare jewel or a concentrated drop of blood. Nico had never seen his father in anything other than strict monochrome with a lean towards the darker end of the scale: his father could have walked in a flowery Hawaiian shirt and it would have only been slightly more surprising.

The colour choice did differentiate him from Jason's father.  The two shared a taste for expensive clothes: Jason's father was true to form in a dark grey suit, and a dark coat around his shoulders. Nico’s father’s clothes made him look aloof, Jason’s father’s made him look

"Now we're all here," Jason's father said, taking a seat at the head of the table and managing to rebuke Nico's without actually saying anything. Nico's father managed to stab Jason's with a glance and deigned to take a seat at the other end of the table, directly opposite. It was a familiar resentment, but different all at the same time, as though old wounds had been reopened. Somehow an already bitter relationship had been made even more antagonistic.

"I don't think you three need to be here," Jason's father said to Nico's intense relief. That was the second time he'd been given an out and he would have taken it, even if his father hadn't given him a look that quite clearly meant please go. It was the first time his father had ever bothered to add a silent please to his silent instruction and in many ways that was a warning Nico wasn't planning on ignoring.

He grabbed Percy's arm, but he didn't need to drag Percy out: Percy, too had appeared to pick up on the even more than usual level of unfriendliness and seemed perfectly happy to leave. Jason joined them in the corridor, still refusing to meet either of their eyes.

"What the hell Jason?” Percy said without any preamble. “Weren't you supposed to be on the other side of the country, ignoring us?"

Jason flinched but he didn't rise to the bait, or turn to face them.

Nico hadn't been quite as offended as Percy by Jason ignoring them - considering he ignored people all the time it would have been hypocritical for a start - but now he felt a surge of anger at Jason's out of character behaviour.  

" Jason?" he demanded when Jason didn’t respond. Jason finally did meet Nico's eyes then and Nico was surprised to find that Jason looked incredibly guilty.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was almost a whisper.

“For what?” Nico asked, though he had a sinking feeling in his chest that suggested that subconsciously he knew.

Jason glanced around. A man in an unobtrusive suit was standing in the foyer examining a display of brochures unobtrusively. Another hovered around a vending machine though he clearly had no intention of drinking any of the sugary drinks inside.  A third had moved, less subtly, into position outside the other door to the board room and was watching them out the corner of his eye. As ever the show of power that followed in Jason’s father’s wake made Nico uneasy.

Jason looked uneasy too.

“Not here,” he said.

The man known as Horatio Lord had been found dead in mysterious circumstances. Nico never found out if his father was complicit in a murder. He never wanted to find out.

Jason took them up to his hotel room, several floors above. It had a nice view of the city, and Jason went to look out, hiding his face. Nico wondered if he knew he was mirroring his father.

"So?" Nico asked. Percy had thrown himself down onto the bed, but Nico had stayed standing. He felt jittery, the sense of dread that had been stalking him the day before was now more prevalent than ever.

"I was checking up on Will and my father found out. I'm sorry Nico."

This was obviously in Jason's mind an earthshattering statement, but Nico couldn't quite grasp the implications and Percy just looked impatient.

"That's why you've been ignoring us? Over Nico's boyfriend?"

"You really don't know who he is?" Jason said as though realising something. "You just didn't know. Because I got Nico not getting it, he would have been too young -"

"I'm four years younger than you that's actually not -"

Jason waved a hand at Nico to shut him up, and Jason looked so stressed that Nico did so, automatically snapping his jaw shut.

"I was looking into Will Solace because we kind of accidentally ruined his life and I was worried he was getting revenge by screwing up yours."

Nico stared at him blankly for a moment.

"Okay well he's not doing that so - wait what do you mean we accidentally ruined his life?"

"It doesn't matter whether he is or not, now my father thinks he's out to get us and the next thing I know he’s flying all the way out here and calling an emergency meeting."

"Over Will?" Percy asked somewhat sceptically.

"What do you mean we accidentally ruined his life?" Nico asked with more feeling this time, though he had a horrible feeling he already knew. A company involved with Will's mother's record label, a potential scandal that was covered up. Will being given a flat and a ticket to collage to shut him up. And Will had never been entirely comfortable around Percy.

"What will they do to him?" he asked.

Jason shook his head and shrugged helplessly.

"Nico!" Nico didn't turn back and he let the door slam behind him.

After Horatio Lords was found dead, suspicion had fallen on the three men who inherited his companies and his empire. But nothing was ever proven.

Nico took the stairs at a run, and ignored the sounds of Jason and Percy following him. Jason was annoyingly fast and he managed to catch up just as they reached the top of a staircase. He grabbed Nico; Nico struggled but he couldn't throw him.

"Let go!"

"Nico stop you can't just rush in there and start accusing -"

"What are they going to do?" Nico snarled. "Kill me too?"

"They're not going to kill Will," Percy said. He was hanging back and seemed uncertain. "Are they?"

"Of course they aren't," Jason said. "Percy come on!"

"You just told me that we're somehow complicit in ruining Will's life. What am I supposed to think?"

"Percy!" Jason appealed. Nico wasn't sure if Jason was pleading or ordering now but either way he was getting desperate. Percy was studying the carpet as though it held the secrets of the universe and he didn’t look up, or respond. Nico took advantage of Percy's indecision and Jason's distracted air to wriggle out of Jason's hold and resume running.

The three men had once been as close as brothers but the dividing of the empire split them. Jason's father was a natural businessman and was trained as a lawyer. Nico didn't know exactly what properties or companies he became the leader of, but whatever they were they gave him power, and lots of it. He was smart and savvy and he didn't compromise. He made deal after deal and the riches and the empire he'd inherited grew. Of the three of them, Jason's father had become the de facto leader.

Nico came to the bottom of the stairs with more force than he intended, and the momentum had him almost falling through the door at the bottom, rebounding into the corridor where he collided head first with his father coming out of function room.

"Nico?" he asked in some surprised as Nico barrelled into him.

"You're leaving? Already? What did you talk about?"

Jason's father had followed Nico's out of the room. He gave Nico a dark look which darkened as it swept over his father. He walked off in a manner that, had it been anyone else could probably have been called storming off, but Jason's father was naturally too dignified to do anything like that.

"He's incredibly high and mighty considering his daughter's boyfriend is the whole reason we're here," Percy's dad commented, leaning in the doorway.

"That's why you were here?" Nico demanded.

"Thalia?" Jason asked. He'd gone pale now.

Nico wasn't paying attention. His father noticed the intensity of Nico's stare and gave him a slightly confused look. He clearly had no idea what Nico was worried about. Was that reassuring or concerning? Nico didn't know.

"Almost entirely," his father said in a bored drawl. "I think the main purpose was to accuse us of stealing the paperwork to one of the more important properties. Apparently, Luke couldn't be working alone and naturally that means one of us must have been involved."

He paused, examined Nico closely.

"Is that what you wanted to know?"

Percy's dad had pulled Percy to the side and the two were talking in low voices. Despite his casual attitude, Percy's dad's eyes were fuming and Nico thought the accusations had cut deeper than either he or Nico's father were letting on. Jason was hanging back looking uncomfortable. When Nico glanced at him his eyes were unreadable.

"Did you talk about Will?" Nico asked.

His father seemed genuinely taken aback.

"Will?"

"Solace," Nico said. He met his father's eyes with a defiant glare. "My boyfriend."

His father raised an eyebrow a fraction and Nico remembered slightly too late that his father didn't actually know he was gay. His heart stuttered by his father seemed more interested in why Nico thought they'd be discussing Will Solace than the fact he was dating him.

"Why would we discuss Will Solace?"

Nico stared at him, searching for any traces of deception, but he couldn't find any. He still didn't quite trust his father, any of them, but he did believe that his father at least was not currently actively hunting his boyfriend down.

"The name is familiar,” his father mused when Nico’s glare didn’t let up and he seemed to realise that something was expected of him. “Solace? Ah Naomi Solace. Is this about what happened to his mother?" his father asked.

"Did you kill her?” Nico asked. To his father’s credit he looked taken aback.

"No," his father answered. "No, of course not.”

He paused nonetheless.

"I shouldn't really be discussing this Nico. And you shouldn't be looking into it. It was years ago, would it not be easier to let it go?"

Probably. Would Will want him to push? Would Will want him to find out what happened? Or would Will be angry that Nico was looking into his past, dragging up memories that clearly hurt?

"It's not fair what was done to him," Nico said.  

"It was not my side of the business," his father said but he raised his palms in appeasement when Nico glared. "I know it doesn't always seem like it, but Jason's father generally looks after his own people."

"Will's mother was involved with our family?"

The thought made his head spin. How connected were they? How intertwined could their lives get? How much was he going to have to confess and plead forgiveness for?

"I was thinking of Apollo," his father said. "He was involved too of course, and I imagine it was him they were trying to protect."

"And Will's mother was in the wrong place at the wrong time?" Nico asked. His father heard the bite in Nico's words and nodded once, grave and quiet and not picking fights. Nico thought that was it, conversation over and he turned.

"I regret what happened in the restaurant," his father said suddenly.

"You didn't poison me," Nico answered.

"I did not mean that. I'm proud of you Nico."

Nico may have stood there for a second, with a gaping expression, watching his father as he walked away.

"You okay?" Jason asked. He still couldn't properly meet Nico's eyes.

Nico shook his head.

"No."

Nico had never known what his father did, had never known what Jason’s father did. Nico’s father seemed to keep largely to himself, but Jason’s began to amass followers. Their family grew. And back then they were still a family, if a splintered and fractured one. It was ironic, horribly so, that Nico’s father had mentioned Apollo in connection with Will’s mother’s death, because Apollo’s sister had been involved in Bianca’s however indirectly.

Apollo was one of Zeus’ protégés and when his sister went missing there was a fuss. Bianca, Thalia and Percy had snuck off in the midst of all the drama, and only Thalia and Percy had come back. Nico had been against Bianca going, but Percy had promised nothing would happen. Percy had lied.

Bianca had been in the wrong place at the wrong time everyone said.

He’d never found out exactly what happened. Percy had tried to explain but Nico had never wanted to hear it. He’d been so angry.

Traffic in the city was worse than Nico had ever known it. He tapped against his leg impatiently in the backseat of the taxi as car horns blared around him. The storm had eased some of the pressure, but the weather still wasn't quite right: the sky was still grey and pollution sat heavy in the air. In the taxi he got a text from Jason. He got a feeling it was probably an apology, but he didn't feel in the mood to check it.

He got out five blocks from the apartment, unable to sit in the back of the taxi any longer. He walked as fast as he could, focusing only on what was directly ahead of him, trying to block out his thoughts. What else could happen Will had asked.

He had to ask.

He got another text from Jason and he ignored that one too.

One more block.

Tears blurred in Nico's eyes. Would Will hate him? Did Will already know? The two questions burnt in his mind.

Will was on the phone when Nico crashed into the apartment. He looked up and saw Nico's expression and stopped short.

"I'll call you back in a bit," he said and tossed his phone down on the table.

"Nico?"

"You didn't have to do hang up," Nico said.

"It was only Kayla," Will said with a slight shrug. "She'll get over it. She's hung up on me enough times. What's up?"

Kayla. Nico had sort of forgotten about Kayla. If Will was in danger would Kayla be too? No. There was no reason to think that Will would be in danger.

Or that he would be in danger from Will.

"Nico?" Will said again, pulling him down onto the sofa. "Talk to me. Has something happened? Is it your dad? Hazel? Jason?"

Jason’s name made him clench his fists. Though logically he knew Jason had only been trying to protect him, he felt furious anyway. Jason had done this: Jason was in head and now he had a million and one questions and none of them were good.

"Percy's having a wedding crisis?"

Will's voice caught ever so slightly on Percy's name. Was he scared of Percy, of Percy's family and what they'd done to his? Or was he angry? Was Will a threat?

"Uh you're going to have to help me out Neeks, I suck at twenty questions. I've lost many a drinking game because of it and I think I still owe Cecil twenty dollars but I think he's forgotten about that."

Will's eyes were so sincere.

"Nico?"

"I need to tell you something."

Will waited.

"My sister died because of Percy," Nico said. Will’s eyes unreadable. Did he already know this story? Was he humouring him?

"I always blamed Percy anyway and I hated him for a long time. He wasn't even really responsible I guess, but I hated him. I hated his family. I hated Jason's family and I hated the fighting. And now you're going to hate me."

Will was still unreadable.

"Will I don't know how but Jason's father at least was involved with -"

"I know."

Nico's breath cut short. His head rang empty, shock silencing thought.

"You know?"

"It was Percy's father who gave me this apartment. Of course I know."

Nico couldn't read Will. He was looking away, staring intently at one of the walls. He was biting the inside of his cheek. Was he holding back tears or rage?

"Percy didn't know anything about it when he introduced us," Nico said quietly.

"I figured that out eventually too," Will replied. "He seems pretty clueless about everything."

Nico let out a slightly hysterical giggle.

"I didn't know Will. I really didn't."

"Nico I know."

"When you invited me to live here -" Nico began but he couldn't finish. He didn't want Will to tell him the only reason he'd asked Nico to live with him was because he thought Percy was ordering him.

"I thought it would make sense for you to live here," Will said carefully. "But I like you because I like you. Not because I thought that was why Percy was shoving you at me."

He sounded sincere enough. How much of a good actor was he? Better than Nico had expected he remembered.

"Nico!" Will said, almost snapping. Nico's head jerked up automatically in response.

"Look at me," Will said, his voice slightly softer now. Nico dragged his gaze up to meet Will's eyes.

"I knew Percy's dad had given me this flat. I knew he was paying my collage fees. I still don't know why. He could have murdered my mother and I could be living on blood money for all I know but I'm choosing to believe he felt sorry for me.

I knew Percy knew you and had done for a long time. And I guess at times I wondered how closely your families were involved. But honestly Nico I was far more worried about the fact I was and still technically am working for a possibly psychotic crime lord. Falling for you wasn't what I intended because I didn't want to drag you down into my world."

"Guess that's one thing you don't have to worry about," Nico said.

Will closed his eyes and tried not to laugh. He just about managed it.

"That's true," he said. "I don't have to worry about that anymore."

Next Chapter

#I'm getting better at remembering #will solace/nico di angelo #Will solace #Nico di Angelo #fandom #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #writing

[kmp78]

I No Longer R*E*S*P*E*C*T Jared L.

I’m calling him out.

I’ve been home sick for 2 days w/ a sick kid (real sick, not fake sick) so our pastimes are limited.  Maybe it was the fever or perhaps hopes for the new single that pulled me to this site. I’ve learned a few unsettling things. 

I’m an old school fan of Fleetwood Mac & happy they were being honored to benefit charity.  But JL was the standout, stand alone attention seeker.  His ego was on full display.  A HUGE turn off. 

1- Because I had time & anon suggested KU clip I watched it & then watched ALL other Musicares performance clips.  Each artist quietly came out, dressed appropriately (even Harry S.), did their thing & honored FM well…very well.  EXCEPT JL, he dressed to be seen, talked about & unlike ALL others he made a loud grand entrance followed by a speech about his family & childhood.  Completely self serving.  I was surprised he didn’t mention “the Muddy banks."  I’m sure each of the performers had a story to share about their connection to FM, but chose to not make the moment about them.  They didn’t steal the spotlight in flashy white designer duds, man heels & a family stroll down memory lane. Remember this event was to honor FM. 

2- JL’s performance was so off putting compared to ALL others- it was embarrassing.  Amature Amer. Idol kids perform better, hell my kid performs better.  It was as if he really didn’t care & was just play acting as a singer- Not Oscar worthy.  This made his speech seem disingenuous.  If the music was SO important growing up & shaped his life then do it justice- practice, prepare, put your heart into it.  Not phone it in.  His work was not worthy of his ego or saintly attire.

3- JL is a 46 yo man.  It’s fair he paid his dues to get where he is, but shows no sign of valuing what he has.  Because KU clips were offered & I’m down w/ fever, I checked him out (his ass was mentioned- I felt compelled…nice.) I learned KU also paid his dues for 20 yrs before hitting it big.  The difference is KU never misses an opporunity to express GRATITUDE. His SM is full of it & very professional- as is many other SERIOUS artists.  JL’s is anything but & as I learned he has ill trained staff representing him.  Being humble pays off, being thankful is priceless!  Being a leader means knowing you’re only as good as those supporting you.  My husband owns a business- this Dai would be shown the door. Fans are paying Mars customers. Period.  

4-  OK, I’m no saint, but I am trying to raise our son to become a polite, respectful man who honors ALL, especially women.  The light is shining brightly on Hollywood these days.  Time for JL to grow up.  Seriously grow up!  It’s not cute.  Ignoring loyal fan base, tongues sticking out, clown clothes, 20 yo models & blatant attention seeking mixed w/ snark doesn’t make for an attractive MAN. There is no SM filter or money to erase that BS!  It lives on…

I had my son watch a video I stumbled on (literally) from KU’s SM.  "KU- Female (Live from the CMA awards)”- Stunning message for today’s culture. I hope you can post it- I’m not sure how to post links.  I told him- this is how good men see women.  Unlike JL collecting young play toys to stroke his ego & dutifully follow/ hide.  (FYI- KU's  twitter is asking for fans to post their #FavoriteFemale- Brillant marketing for his song.) By all evidence Mars marketing doesn’t even exist.

5- I was hopeful, but not impressed w/ new Mars single.  They can do MUCH better.  They can rebuild, refocus & reinvent- if they invest in some serious rehab.  Meaning they have to dig deep into their collective issues & change course starting from the inside out.  Shake up that staff, hire professionals & hunker down in the bunker- all 3 working together!  JL’s one man Joker show isn’t working…I suspect he knows it & is trying to keep the sinking boat afloat. It’s rapidly taking on water…he can’t walk on it.

6- Don’t even get me started on Stevie wearing a ski mask on TV.  Beyond pathetic.  JL didn’t respect his contribution. Period. If my son was told/ asked to do that I’d tell him to walk, not look back & keep his dignity.  Own your shit.  If SL was absent- Deal, don’t make someone else complicit in hiding the truth. Let the one who showed up shine, not hide.  The cover up is always worse…that move was particularly bad & I’ve lost all respect!

I’m a rocker & alt fan at heart, but thanks to this blog, a fever & down time I’m now also a little bit country.  If your fav’s don’t deliver, don’t inspire, don’t care- move on, other Artists will be happy to welcome you!  

Be Well, Be Warm-

***

Thanks, anon :)

The song you mentioned:

I can agree, JL/Mars is just adrift at sea at this point.

(Disclaimer and rules)

[blacklivematters-blog]

Black Muslim Futures Matter

Check out https://blacklivematters.tumblr.com/

Black Muslim Futures Matter

In preparing to write this piece, I thought about my Black Muslim experiences. I dug deep into my memory, trying to think of a time when my Blackness and my Muslim identity, on full display, intersected and meant something. I wanted the perfect story to demonstrate how the complexity and weight of my multiple social identities were perceived and understood in the public eye, and from there, I wanted to easily share a vision of what AfroMuslim futures could look like.

I got stuck before I even got started.

I got stuck because in most situations where my multiple identities are relevant (or not), my Blackness trumps all other identities. So no, I don’t have the perfect anecdote, because my whole life is emblematic of what Black Muslims face in America on a daily basis: erasure.

So if I can do anything solid and real in this moment, it has to be to confront and expose how that erasure happens and how you can help me fight it.

My whole life is emblematic of what Black Muslims face in America on a daily basis: Erasure. Anti-Blackness thrives in every seam of clothing and every particle of air, and faith is not exempt. Anti-Blackness operates by making Blackness a target and flattening human experience into a finite game of winners and losers that we never consented to play, a game in which the rules are written so that in fact losing is the only option. If we claim our Blackness, we lose our other identities, but if we claim our other identities, we lose our Blackness.

I know that the truth is that I can always win, every day, by continuing to say I am Black and I am Muslim, and the Black Muslim experience is real, we matter and the positive futures of Black Muslims will help build a brighter world for everyone. But I need people to hear me out and to commit to doing something to help change the current situation.

My particular Black African Muslim experience is grounded in a specific and unique combination of the effects of colonialism, war, displacement, lack of access and privilege and anti-Blackness in both my community and in my religion. At the same time, my experience has themes that are common for many like me. Experiences of anti-Blackness, within and outside of Muslim identity, are reflected by both public sentiment and in the political realities of the United States.

The latest and most terrifying executive order is an attempt to pass off an anti-Black, racist policy as an act in the interest of the safety of Americans. But in claiming to be an attack on “radical Islamic sentiment” against the U.S., the Administration has actually targeted some of the most war-torn and the poorest countries in Africa. Nearly half of the countries named in Trump’s executive order fact sheet are Muslim-majority African countries, from which none of the 9/11 attackers hailed. According to the United Nations, these three countries, Libya, Sudan and Somalia, face ongoing refugee crises. And refugees already constitute one of the most heavily vetted groups of people to enter this country. Hashtag anti-Blackness.

The latest and most terrifying executive order is an attempt to pass off an anti-Black, racist policy as an act in the interest of the safety of Americans. At the same time, liberal sentiments in vogue today about the U.S. being a nation of immigrants, while well-intentioned, are reckless and do not reflect history. Not all of us are immigrants. Indigenous peoples do not share this immigrant story. You may be surprised to learn that many of us who are Muslim are also not immigrants, having ancestors who were kidnapped and forced into slavery. You see, Islam did not recently find its way to America, and Muslim does not necessarily equal Arab. The truth is that Black Muslims have played an important role in the history of the Americas for hundreds of years. In the face of common stereotypes, we must tell another truth – that today one-third of American Muslims are Black. And simultaneously, Black immigrants – yes, that’s a thing, too! – are nearly three times as likely to be detained or deported. Hashtag anti-Blackness.

While anti-Blackness obfuscates, Blackness and being Muslim continue to exist in the bodies of my people. These identities cannot be peeled away from each other. We are AfroMuslims and our experience is complex.

And no, the deletion of Black Muslims is not new, nor is it rare. We saw Black Muslims targeted repeatedly by the federal government through COINTELPRO in the 1960s, in former iterations of the Black Liberation Movement. More recently, even the Obama Administration had a hand in the targeting of Black Muslims, having already labeled the seven nations named in Trump’s current executive order as “countries of concern” and setting a roadmap for the action we are seeing taken today.

It is critical, as we build movements and political power, that we create and lift up narratives that unify us, but that also reflect the true ways in which oppression and the State operate. We do not serve ourselves, our people or our futures otherwise. We must lift up the reality that what is happening in our country and around the world is the growth of fascism, xenophobia, Islamophobia, transphobia, anti-Semitism and more – AND we must lift up the reality that all of these forms of hatred are based in anti-Black racism and white supremacy. Without making these critical connections, we do not do the important work of connecting our struggles and fighting the real enemy – white supremacy.

Black Muslims have played an important role in the history of the Americas for hundreds of years. This means supporting, loving and protecting those on the frontlines, especially youth, Black femmes, Black trans folks and AfroMuslims. This also means supporting local fights. In Minneapolis, Black Muslim youth are fighting against a program the federal government claims addresses youth radicalization, but that has been used to criminalize Somali youth.

And as we explore and learn what it means to survive, what it means to live under the current presidency, we have to take very seriously who among us they will come for, and who they have already been coming for. It is critical that we hold elected officials accountable for complying with Trump’s anti-immigrant, bigoted policies, but also for their previous support for policies that have harmed immigrants, especially undocumented folks, refugees and asylees.

Survival requires making Black Muslims visible and honoring our humanity in its fullness. Survival will also require thinking about Blackness when you are out there fighting this executive order, protesting at an airport, rejecting a Muslim registry or speaking out against Islamophobia, without also succumbing to the singular vortex of anti-Blackness.

We must acknowledge fully that we are not in normal times – and never have been – and respond with innovative, complex and intersectional ideas. We must find ways to resist and to be resilient every day, so that we can bring all of ourselves along. We must be noncompliant with anything that threatens our values in our homes, in our schools, in our governments and in our streets. To cooperate with with what the current Administration is establishing is to be complicit in the deaths of our friends, neighbors, coworkers and loved ones.

Noncompliance, standing up for all Black lives, including Black Muslim lives, allows space for Muslim folks in this country to survive and thrive as well.

Mutual support and strong community bonds allows for love and accountability to guide and protect us.

And movement work for Black lives allows for the recognition and love of the humanity of all Black people, and all of our identities.

We are a movement led by queer and trans folks, by immigrants and undocumented people, by Black women and femmes and with the support of those who believe in and love us. Our movement was made possible by the actions taken by those who came before us, is steeped in the wisdom of our elders, and our movement is winning because of the unapologetic Blackness of our youth.

Today, I demand to be seen for all of who am, for I am part of a movement anchored by Black people who literally put our bodies on the line for our liberation.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/black-muslim-futures-matter_us_589894fde4b09bd304bc5291?h9phtrg09ec4ygb9

Black Muslim Futures Matter

I am Black and I am Muslim, and the Black Muslim experience is real, we matter. Source