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stuckylibrary · 3 years

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Group Ask 184

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Please send us an ask stating which group ask and which person you are replying to. Thank you so much in advance!

arosetintedem said:

I NEED HELP! I'm looking for a fic and you guys are the best at finding them. So it is a fic where bucky is like put in stark tower i think post -tws. at one point he is in the shower and JARVIS refuses to make the temp too high. He also comunicates that hydra is in SHIELD by using morse code! If you know it lmk!

Anon 1 said:

hi! I’m looking for a fic where Steve is Becca’s roommate and is Bucky’s sex friend, it’s ABO, and Steve is bottom and they go to a link party, Bucky calls Steve kitten and then Steve gets pregnant and beg Bucky to call their kid James ? Steve is diabetic and Bucky is really protective of him because of that. I really can’t find it anymore it’s annoying, thank you c:

Anon 2 said:

Hi, I for the life of me can not remember the name of a fic. It is super similar to Yours to Keep by nonsensicalbelle. The team is captured somewhere and separated from Steve and forced to watch as Steve reveals fears/secrets something along that line until he is then forced to admit he is in love with Bucky. Hopefully this ask is coherent enough. Thanks for any help in advance.

Anon sent in Always Afraid, Always Ashamed* by CaptainDean13 (complete | 11,052 | E) *graphic violence

Anon 3 said:

Hi I'm looking for a fic where Natasha and Tony are listening to a phone conv between Steve and Bucky flirting, then it becomes sexual and Bucky reveals he knew they were listening all along? Also Tony was surprised that steve got into it so easily and I think nat was kinda turned on? Thanks so much!

gayghostkid said:

hey!! i’m looking for a post-WS recovery fic. steve brings bucky in w/ the help of sam and nat. they end up in a safe house of sorts. details i remember: sam hoses bucky down to get him clean. steve and sam are shocked that he actually liked the feeling, describing how blissful he looks. i remember the end few chapters has the quartet living in a firehouse in texas, or another southern state. the chapter titles were similar to maslow’s hierarchy of needs : shelter, food, water, etc. merci!!

shadowobsidian said:

Hello! I'm looking for a fic that I read forever and a half ago. It's a post -winter soldier Stucky story with Bucky coming back to the tower, but still PTSD-y, and unable to really eat because he keeps throwing up and Bruce keeps trying to make him nutrition shakes and smoothies but they don't really help, and then they realize that it's all the chemicals in processed food so the whole tower goes organic and Tony buys a farm. Please help me!

Anon and drjezdzany sent in Thawed Out* by auburnnothenna (auburn), eretria (complete | 159,341 | E) *chose not to warn

Anon 4 said:

I'm looking for this fic where skinny Steve somehow ended up with the winter soldier and post serum Steve is with 1930s Bucky I think time traveling was involved? They were gonna go back to their correct timeline but feelings got involved so they stayed in the wrong time this is badly explained sorry

Anon 5 said:

You know the fic where is centered around the barnes family rebecca was a lesbian and married a gay guy to cover it up Bucky got into college but dropped out because Steve got sick

Anon sent in The History of a Family by boombangbing (complete | 225,954 | M)

slutforchrisevans said:

Hi! I’ve been trying to find this fic for the longest time and I can’t. I don’t remember much of it but it’s pre-serum Steve and before the war. Bucky comes home and he’s super horny because he took some medicine that’s supposed to give you energy i think? Steve is reluctant to do stuff though because bucky isn’t really in the right mind, but he’s not drunk it’s just the medicine. Sorry that was so vague but it’s literally all I remember :((

Anon sent in Up All Night by triedunture (oneshot | 3,598 | M)

idk-idc-idk said:

Hi! I’m looking for a modern AU I read. Steve is still captain america, and (I can’t remember if it’s hydra or shield) heavily controls his life. Bucky is secretly a modern winter soldier, and is sent to do surveillance on Steve. They meet at a boring gala, and Bucky decides to seduce Steve to get an upper hand. Bucky sees how much Steve’s life is controlled and it’s like Steve isn’t even his own person, like they want to bore him into obeying them. Steve switches sides but they come after him

deliveryisdelayed and stevenbirogers sent in Lessons in Normality by relenafanel (complete | 38,002 | E)

Anon 6 said:

Hello! I'm looking for a fic that featured Steve adjusting to the modern world's ideas about gender and sexuality, and him basically rejecting those ideas to be what people today would call genderqueer. I basically remember him wearing skirts and makeup, and it seemed to be heavily influenced by Gay New York by Chauncey.

Anon 7 said:

Hi!! There's this one fic where Bucky's this big mobster guy and Steve's in a gang and is always watching Bucky at this club. They meet up at this hotel and it has like a dom!bucky but top!steve. Thank you!

Anon 8 said:

Hi do you know of a fic where Natasha hires Steve to be an escort for Bucky at his family Christmas get together? I remember Nat was Bucky’s ex and Bucky’s cousin/relative was really homophobic. There was also a scene where Steve was shooting at beer cans and the cousin was impressed. Bucky and Steve ended up getting engaged like a year after. Thanks :)

Anon 9 said:

I read something a while back that I can’t find for the LIFE of me and I was wondering if you could help. Steve gets the serum and it shoots his libido through the roof and it he’s really out of hand and he needs shots and stuff to make his erection go away and bucky is a good friend and helps him out (I think, honestly I can’t remember a lot of details, it’s been a minute since I’ve read it) if you’d help I’d really appreciate it! Thank you!! Have a great day :)

Anon sent in you know I’d quench that thirst* by napricot (complete | 38,027 | E) */others

emilyshay said:

hi hi! i'm looking for a fic that i've read and i CANNOT put my finger on what it is. It has all these elements: - fury wants steve to pick some kind of companion, maybe a submissive of some sort, because he's been going rogue on missions and steve picks bucky out of a lineup because he looks "the worst" and would piss fury off - bucky is really down in he dumps and all he has to his name is his electric can opener - bucky goes to some sort of intake interview thing, and he steals a lot of food from a buffet until someoen pities him and gives him a bag of food to take home - bucky is in steve's quarters right when he starts "working for" him and cooking for him and stuff, and steve completely ignores him and rejects him and bucky is really upset about it event hough he didn't want to be there - the payment for "working for" steve is getting a full ride to college and also a ton of cash. thank you!!!!

deliveryisdelayed and drjezdzany sent in Heart of Fools* by Claudia_flies (complete | 55,824 | E) *chose not to warn

#group asks

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bestworstcase · 3 years

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legitimately it fucks me up that RDO is widely considered both in and out of cassunzel circles to be just. cassunzel tangled au: the episode, and that in cassunzel spaces its reputation is largely that it’s a sweet romantic episode that comes as close to canonizing cassunzel as a disney princess cartoon could reasonably get–

–like it is unfathomable to me that RDO is seen this way when RDO is a horrific coda to RATGT and puts the final nail in the coffin of rapunzel’s and cassandra’s friendship-as-it-presently-stands. what cass sees in the house of yesterdays tomorrow isn’t the point of no return: RDO is. i will die on this hill.

RATGT ends with cass, having been mutilated by rapunzel, insisting that she is fine, donning armor, and quietly but determinedly telling rapunzel “it’s your call” re: whether the gang will press on to the dark kingdom or, you know, turn back to maybe seek medical care cassandra’s barbecued hand. this comes on the heels of rapunzel telling cass that 1) rapunzel is the future queen, 2) she is going to make decisions cass disagrees with, and 3) she needs and expects cass to “be okay” with that.

meaning, cassandra at the end of RATGT is attempting to do precisely what rapunzel asked her to do: set aside her own feelings completely and subordinate herself to rapunzel’s leadership, no matter what.

and RDO is a brutal examination of how untenable this state of affairs is.

because the premise of RDO is this: rapunzel cannot stand that cass is acting cranky and curt over what happened in the great tree, and she manipulates the situation to get cassandra alone with the intention of forcing cass to talk to her so things can go back to normal again.

furthermore, rapunzel is angry at cassandra for a constellation of interrelated reasons: 1) she has recast the events of the tree as “i told cass i had it under control, she didn’t listen and burned herself, if she had listened to me none of this would have happened,” ignoring or forgetting that she did not have it under control and that cass did not interfere until rapunzel said she couldn’t control the incantation, 2) because she blames cassandra for the injury, she feels indignant that cass is mad at her for something rapunzel has decided is not her fault, and 3) she has convinced herself that they just need to talk things out to make everything better and is infuriated that cass refuses to discuss it. she literally draws cassandra as an enraged monster while processing her feelings about this. rapunzel states that she “gets” why cass is mad at her, but her behavior makes it clear that in rapunzel’s mind, cassandra is the “bad guy” in this conflict.

meanwhile cassandra is focused on retraining her injured hand—not on healing, not on recuperating, not on working through her feelings about what happened, but on recovering her fighting ability because without that she has no worth to the group. i won’t even qualify that with an “in her mind,” because at this point… yeah. these people are her friends but at no point between RATGT and DC do they lift a finger to support her, express concern for her well-being or feelings, or treat her like their equal; in mirror mirror they will walk out on her mid-sentence and eugene will scoff openly at the idea that any of them would ever listen to her, in lost and found eugene will leap to the conclusion that cass is the traitor, and in destinies collide he and rapunzel will openly doubt her loyalty, intentions, and physical ability to help them (while also continuing to blame her for the injury). cass is worthless to them.

cassandra does not want to talk about it with rapunzel, probably because the last time she tried to be vulnerable with rapunzel she got shot down on the grounds of rapunzel being in charge. she makes this very clear. rapunzel strong arms cass into going on a scouting trip with just the two of them, and even becomes dismayed when cass tries to bring owl along because she wanted cass completely alone. she continually prods at the wound, trying to get cass to talk.

this comes to a head when they camp, and rapunzel directly initiates a conversation… leading with “i’m mad at you too” and again blaming the injury on cass. cass says, “if that’s how you feel, it’s fine,” and rapunzel pushes harder because it clearly isn’t fine, and she wants cass to talk about it NOW so they can resolve it and be friendly again. she harangues cass until cass snaps and shouts that she wishes rapunzel would forget the whole thing—

—and then boom! magic amnesia cassunzel tangled au. the whole thing is predicated on an enormous violation of cassandra’s boundaries by rapunzel, a violation which involved rapunzel blaming cass for the trauma rapunzel caused, a violation that continued relentlessly over cassandra’s repeated requests to stop until cass lashed out.

rapunzel without her memories is oblivious to this context and her painful history with cass. cass is not, and feels a huge weight of responsibility to fix her mistake. she recognizes that she inadvertently hurt rapunzel and throws herself into making it right… while continuing to withhold the truth, because the trauma is fresh, because she has too much bad experience with rapunzel to feel comfortable being emotionally open with her as she once was, and because she feels guilty about wiping rapunzel’s memories. at the same time, rapunzel’s reset back to a sweet, happy, excited person rather than one who is furious and harassing cassandra for having feelings about being maimed reminds cass of all the reasons she does love rapunzel…

…which all culminates in cassandra restoring rapunzel’s memories and apologizing. she details for rapunzel the reasons she’s upset, but follows it up with saying she shouldn’t have snapped, shouldn’t have touched the wand, shouldn’t have lied, and that while she is angry she isn’t always going to be: she’ll get over it because that’s what friends do.

there is no apology from rapunzel. rapunzel doesn’t take any accountability for burning cassandra’s hand, nor does she apologize for pestering and pushing until cass snapped, nor does she apologize for blaming cass and vilifying her for being mad. the framing of this reconciliation is “cass was wrong, and rapunzel graciously accepts her apology” which is SUPER FUCKED UP in the context of “rapunzel mutilated cass then blamed her for it and got mad that cass was upset and then nagged her until cass finally lost her temper.” which is what happens. but because rapunzel was harmed when cass lost her temper that context is shoved aside and cass ends up in the position of apologizing and accepting blame for the entire conflict.

lastly: paired together, “rapunzel accidentally mutilated cass” and “cass accidentally wiped rapunzel’s memories” are a stark illustration of how unbalanced the relationship has become, not just in the sense of rapunzel being the princess and cassandra her servant but also in the emotional sense that cass gives and rapunzel takes. when rapunzel accidentally harms cass she shifts all the blame onto cass, browbeats her for being upset, and makes it all about HER feelings and what SHE wants. by comparison when cass accidentally harms rapunzel she takes full responsibility and goes to great lengths to try to fix it while shoving her own feelings aside, and then offers rapunzel a heartfelt apology while also giving rapunzel the reassurance she demanded that things can be fine between them again—despite the fact that rapunzel’s stance on the great tree incident hasn’t budged.

RATGT digs a grave, but RDO is what puts their friendship in the ground. because cass is given no quarter: she is not allowed to be mad or upset, because rapunzel doesn’t want her to be. she is pushed and pushed and pushed until she snaps—and then she’s the one at fault for the whole thing, she’s the one apologizing, and she’s the one reassuring rapunzel that she’ll just get over her bad feelings without rapunzel having to do anything to earn her forgiveness. there is no real communication happening; RDO is where their ability to communicate dies. and personally i’m convinced that the device of rapunzel temporarily losing her memories was used specifically because the episode ends with rapunzel experiencing another false “reset” of sorts: she walks away from that conversation with cass believing everything is fine, or at least on a path to becoming find again, when in reality their friendship is now in the morgue.

#rta #RDO is like. incredibly bleak.#i remember watching it for the first time and my heart just plummeting…#from beginning to end it is such a fascinating but gut-wrenching study of the end of their friendship #and i firmly believe cassandra started quietly planning her exit at this point #which is why she was so quick to trust zhan tiri:#she was ALREADY planning to leave #and all zhan tiri had to do was plant the idea of taking the moonstone on the way out.

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 3 years

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Shelbys at Somme: Chapter 7

Thomas X Reader

2873

Summary: Reader gets medical treatment. Thomas is not ok.

by @adventuresintooblivion

They didn’t speak again until the Garrison Pub came into sight. Several men were milling about trying to figure out what the hell was going on. They parted with excited chatter craning their necks to see what Thomas was holding.

“Open the door! If you’re not helping, you’re in the way. Go home. We accomplished what we came here for tonight.”

Only a handful of people remained. Most of them were the Shelbys themselves. Danny paced back and forth in the back of the bar murmuring to himself. Thomas nodded to the small room they conducted their business in. John hurriedly opened it enough for Thomas to set Y/N down on the table.

Y/N sat there swaying back and forth slightly, her eyes closed as she focused on not falling over. Moments later, Thomas draped his coat around her shoulders. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. For the first time, she looked up at the people gathered around her.

Aunt Pol’s face was pale. A shawl was clutched in her hands with her hair unmade. John blinked blearily, but she could visibly see the fatigue drain away as he took stock of her injuries. Arthur simply wouldn’t look at her.

Thomas hovered over her protectively. She could just barely see the redness on his cheek where she’d slapped him. His hand rested lightly against her lower back. She could feel his hand shaking even through all the layers.

“The doctor is on his way but there’s a few things I need to ask you before he gets here.”

Y/N shook her head, “I want to talk to Pol first.”

He stiffened. “Excuse me?”

She lifted her head, leveling her gaze at him, “You heard me, Shelby. I want to talk to Pol first.”

“Did he touch you?” He growled almost under his breath. Something about him changed. His knuckles turned a stark white as they gripped the table. His lips pulled back in an inaudible snarl, eyes wide as he used every inch of self control he had left not to turn on his heels and find whoever had done this.

“Wha…?”

Thomas roared a tremor visibly running through his body, “Did he touch you!”

Understanding dawned on Y/N. She reached out to lay her hand on his. He recoiled. She leaned forward just enough to press her hand over his. Her skin was ice against his rage, but he did stop shaking once she rubbed her thumb across his knuckles.

She spoke softly, “He didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I need to talk to Pol.”

He turned toward her, almost pressing his forehead into her shoulder. “I need answers.”

“And you’ll get them. After.”

Thomas locked eyes with her. Finally, he straightened and led his brothers out of the room.

Pol was left behind, her eyes wide as she adjusted her shawl. “That’s the first time I’ve seen Tommy listen to anyone when he’s like that.”

Y/N glanced down

“Well, you wanted me to yourself. Now what is it?”

“I think Grace is working for Inspector Campbell.” Y/N said it all in a rush, not trusting herself to actually speak if she took her time with it.

Today, the inspector had wanted to instill fear in her and make her a useless pawn in this game of his. She hated to admit that she was in fact afraid. Of what she wasn’t sure, but she’d be damned if she let that decide her actions.

Pol cleared her throat. “That’s… a serious accusation. What is your proof?”

Y/N steeled herself before telling Pol everything. How she’d seen Grace at the opera, the little hints here and there that it wasn’t a place she’d normally be caught dead in. Then the great reveal of the man’s identity.

“I watched her hand him a piece of paper. I don’t know for certain that she is working for him, but it seems like the only logical answer, and at this point it’s dangerous to keep it to myself,” she finally finished.

The whole speech had taken a lot out of her, and she was already exhausted at best. Y/N pulled Thomas’ jacket closer around her, grateful that she was finally starting to warm up. At the edge of her senses, she caught a whiff of a smell that was distinctly Thomas. Stale cigarette smoke, aftershave, and hay. She almost smiled as she remembered the horses he loved so much.

Pol rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hands. “That’s a lot of information to deal with. Why haven’t you told Tommy?”

Y/N frowned, “Right now if I did he’d storm off to kill her. I’m not sure that’s the best idea. Hell, maybe turning her in and ending this now would be preferred. I just… I wanted to ask your opinion.”

Her head jerked up. “This is your business. I’ll have nothing to do with it.”

Y/N sighed, finally letting the exhaustion cause her to sag in on herself, “Well, fuck.”

“I can’t believe you told me this. I won’t be caught complicit if he finds out,” she hissed.

“Pol, I’ve seen the way he looks at her. He likes her, even if it’s just a little, and with Thomas that means miles. This could destroy him. Or it could get one of them killed, and I don’t know if Grace worked at an opera house and just hates it from exposure and this is all some huge misunderstanding. I just don’t know.” Even to her ears Y/N sounded a bit hysterical.

Pol began to pace, thinking. Her heels clicked loudly on the floor, and even if the boys weren’t listening in they’d be able to hear that. After a few solid moments Pol rounded on the wounded girl.

She shook her finger at Y/N. “Listen here. For now, we say nothing. But if ANYTHING goes wrong and Grace is within ten miles of it, you tell him. Understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Alright, now let's get those boys in here. He’s probably about to strangle Arthur.”

As soon as the door knob clicked, Thomas stormed back in. His eyes were dark and cloudy as they traveled over Y/N’s exposed skin. Behind him, a small man with glasses shuffled in.

He spoke with a nasally voice, “Hello, I’m Doctor Tanish. Now if you could remove your coat I’d like to get to work.”

Y/N reluctantly shed the layer of warmth she’d built during her conversation Pol.

The doctor immediately swooped in, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Are there any pre-existing medical conditions I should know about?”

Y/N glanced at Thomas before turning to the doctor. “I have a bullet that’s lodged in my back that’s an inch to the left of my spine by vertebrae T11. They uh… found it and got me with a billy club. A couple times.”

He paused. “That’s very specific.”

“Yeah, well, you hear doctors say it enough eventually you can parrot it back if you need to.”

He nodded before continuing with this ministrations.

Thomas, who was leaning against the wall, had turned a light shade of green when she spoke. His world was slowly closing in on him, a dark tunnel taking over his vision. It wasn’t until Arthur elbowed him that he was able to regain some control and return to the real world.

Eventually the doctor needed to see beneath Y/N’s underclothes.

Pol shooed them out saying, “I’ll be right here with her. Let the girl keep some of her dignity.”

Thomas’ hand snaked out to grip hers firmly. “What did you two talk about?”

Pol’s lips settled into a thin line. “I will not betray her confidence. Just have faith, Tommy.”

He released her, allowing himself to be pushed back out into the pub with the others.

Arthur growled under his breath, “You’re gonna want a family meeting as soon as that doctor is done aren’t you?”

“Am I that predictable?”

He just grumbled and went to take a nap in one of the stalls. John soon followed suit, not really sure what his stakes were in all this.

But Thomas sat at the bar nursing a glass of whiskey. He couldn’t make out much in the way of sounds. That’s why they like that room so much. There were a few moments when a yelp or shout would set him on edge. But all he could do was wait.

It wasn’t until the sun had started to come up that the doctor slipped from the room, blood covering his hands. Thomas sat up straighter, not realizing just how much he’d drunk until he tried to stand.

“How is she?”

Doctor Tanish let out a tired sigh. “Exhausted. Most of the damage will heal itself just fine; however, there are a few spots that I am concerned about. Will you be taking care of her?”

Thomas was a gang leader. He didn’t have time to be coddling people while he was supposed to be out managing things.

“Yes.”

Doctor Tanish nodded, pulled out a piece of paper and began to write. “She has three fractured ribs and another one that was popped out of socket, but it’s back now. Her toe was also broken; that’s been splinted. There was some minor internal bleeding, but that’s been addressed. The thing I’m most worried about is that bullet in her back.”

Bile rose on Thomas’ tongue. “Is it that bad?”

“Well, it was already something that could cause chronic pain and difficulty walking. Now that it’s been agitated, the muscles around it have swollen which would lead to temporary paralysis. Honestly, I’m surprised she’s up and around at all.” He tore the paper of a small notepad and handed it to Thomas, “I’ll have medication waiting to be picked up by the end of the day. I’d get it here earlier, but she insisted that she wouldn’t take opium. Under no circumstances let her walk.”

Thomas nodded dumbly, not exactly sure how to process all the information, but as the doctor left he glanced down at the paper. Detailed instructions were scrawled out in handwriting that was little better than chicken scratch. Luckily, John’s scrawl was also atrocious, and if Thomas could read that, he could read anything.

The door was left open. As he looked at it’s gaping maw, something inside him wanted to run. If he didn’t go in, she would once again become a ghost that haunted his memories. He wouldn’t have to face the words he’d said that night, or back then.

He took a deep breath and walked in. Thomas was a Shelby after all.

〜

Y/N had stopped paying attention to the doctor a while ago. Between the war and her childhood, she’d gone through all this before. Pol on the other hand looked like she was having a rough time. At one point Y/N even caught herself reaching out to hold the older woman’s hand.

“It’s going to be fine, Pol.” Her voice didn’t even quiver.

Pol nearly jumped out of her skin. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

Y/N flashed her a wicked grin. “Eh, getting hurt comes with the territory.”

“With knowing Tommy.” Pol’s gaze fell. A deep sadness had made a home for itself. It was in the small things. Her posture, her subtle frown, but most of all her eyes. Eyes that Y/N suspected had seen too many people die.

She gave a small tug to get Pol’s attention. “Actually, I was a bastard long before I met Thomas.” Pol’s brows furrowed so she continued, “Da wasn’t exactly a law abiding citizen. Hell, if I’d been a man I’d probably be in the same position as Thomas.”

A silence settled between them as they both came to terms with Y/N’s past. The doctor didn’t seem to care much about what was said around him. He only spoke to instruct Y/N to move.

Finally Pol spoke, “While I don’t doubt the legitimacy behind your claim, you have,” she paused searching for the right words, “a certain level of education that isn’t typically available to people of our status.”

Y/N shrugged and immediately got scolded by the doctor. “Over-achieving bastard child. Not much else to it.”

Pol leveled her with a knowing gaze but enough had been shared that night. For the rest of the evening they either chatted idly or Pol dozed. The continuous attention was starting to wear Y/N out even beyond her limits.

She vaguely wondered if she was going soft after the war. Then she remembered that she’d been traipsing around town, got kidnapped, beat to hell and walked back on her own. Y/N allowed herself a small smile. Today was a productive day.

“It’ll take a couple months for your ribs and toe to heal but they’ll do it with little assistance. You must stay off your feet however. Especially if you ever want to walk again.” Doctor Tanish’s voice startled Y/N out of her thoughts.

She glanced at Pol’s dozing figure before replying, “I’ve beaten those odds before. But I’ll try not to push my luck.”

He gave her a curt nod and left.

Y/N glanced around the room, grimacing as she remembered that her flat was upstairs. She also had no way to pay for it now until she was healthy enough to work again.

A soft knock got her attention. There by the door was Thomas, peeking his head through as if he were walking into her bed chamber not his office.

“How are you holding up?” Deep circles had carved themselves underneath his eyes. His already drawn features took on a more extreme form in the dim candlelight.

Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off him. “I’m doing pretty well, all things considering. I might need help upstairs, though.”

Thomas cleared his throat before entering the room. He paused a moment to consider the best course of action. Then with little warning he simply picked her up. She bit back a startled yelp, clinging to Thomas as he moved easily with her in his arms.

“Tommy!” she hissed. Y/N couldn’t properly lift her arms to wrap them around him securely, so she clung to the front of his shirt with all she had. Her knuckles turned white instantly.

He simply chuckled. “I think that’s the first time you’ve called me ‘Tommy’ since you got back. Maybe I should pick you up more.”

Y/N could already feel her ears heating up. “Don’t try and distract me with flirting.”

“Why not? It usually works.”

She didn’t reply as they reached her room. With horror she realized that her key was still in the pocket of her jacket. Which was probably in the back of some copper’s car.

Thomas seemed to read her mind, “You don’t have the key anymore do you?”

She shook her head.

He gently set Y/N down, careful not to jostle her. Then produced a pair of lockpicks, making quick work of the shoddy lock. A few moments later Y/N was sinking into her mattress slowly.

Thomas kneeled beside her. She couldn’t see him; the darkness clouded his features. He reached out, fingertips the barest touch against her skin, to brush her hair out of her face.

Y/N would later blame the overall shittiness of the day for what she did next. She leaned into the touch. Her own hand reached up to cup his and press it to her lips. Thomas froze. But he didn’t pull away.

“Y/N.” His voice was gravilier than usual.

She wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but it felt like all the years that had been lost came back to life in seconds, all at once. Something between them had faded over time. Now was the first time either of them had actually reached back out for it. It was a tenderness they’d never let the world see. A secret of the trenches. A dream of what could be.

Eventually, the spell broke, and she released her hold on him. At first he didn’t pull away. Then he stood, ending the moment all too quickly.

Thomas cleared his throat, “I...I need to head out. If I catch you on your feet, I swear I’ll send Aunt Pol after you.”

Y/N chuckled, and pretended her smile was as genuine as she wanted it to be. “I’ll have to be careful and make sure you don’t catch me then.”

He rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind him.

Y/N let the darkness envelope her as she rolled onto her back. Her movements were stiff with pain. Exhaustion seeped into her joints and with Thomas gone there was nothing left to distract her.

For the first time since it’d happened she let her mind wander over the events of the day, a sob ripped itself from her throat. Then another. She pressed the palm of her hand into her mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle herself. But Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from streaming like trails of fire down her cheeks.

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #reader insert #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Stark Spangled Banner

Ch29. The Sokovia Accords Part 2: No, You Move.

Summary: Whilst discussing the proposed accords, Steve gets some bad news which makes everything pale into insignificance. And then, another ghost from his past comes back to haunt them.

Warnings: Bad language, Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Elements of this have been reworked/rewritten…for reasons which will become apparent at some point! And I’ve also added in the scene with Natasha at the church. I love the banner and edit too from @angrybirdcr.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 29 Part 1

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Steve had hoped that the more casual setting would defuse the seriousness of the situation. But that went out of the window an hour or so later when Rhodey and Sam started going at it. Steve was sat in the arm chair carefully reading through the accords packet with a deep frown, Katie perched on the arm of the chair reading over his shoulder. Tony was reclined on the chaise to their right with his hand covering his face as Sam and Rhodey argued, Natasha sitting patiently down by Tony’s legs waiting for them to be done. Vision and Wanda were on the sofa to their other side, neither having said much.

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional medal of Honour,” argued Rhodey from behind the chair. Katie turned to look at them both. “Which is one more than you have.” He mocked Sam.

“So let’s say we agree to this thing. How long is it gonna be before they Low-Jack us like a bunch of common criminals?” Sam shot back.

“A hundred an seventeen countries want to sign this. A hundred and seventeen, Sam, and you’re just like, no, that’s cool. We got it.”

“How long are you going to play both sides?” Sam snapped.

“I have an equation.” Vision spoke loudly before Rhodey could reply, causing both men to quiet down and everyone to look at him. Steve lifted his head from the packet bringing his arm up to rest on Katie’s thigh.

“Oh, now this will clear it up,” said Sam sarcastically.

“In the eight years since Mr Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. During the same period the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.” Vision steeped his fingers together as he looked around a everyone.

“Are you saying it’s our fault?” Steve asked tensely, his hand on Katie’s leg became heavier.

“I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict breeds catastrophe. Oversight isn’t an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

“Boom,” Rhodey exclaimed, believing that Vision had solidified his point.

Katie shook her head sighing,

“Sorry Vision, I disagree.” Everyone’s attention now turned to her. “Being supervised is one thing. But from what I’ve read these Accords want us to give up total control of what we do and when we do it.” She paused as Steve’s arm slid from her leg to wrap around her back. She then turned her attention to Tony and looked at him as he remained still, hand over his face. "Clearly this has been in the pipeline for some time now, so why are we only just hearing about it?”

Tony glanced at her from underneath his hand, not offering an answer, as she continued.

“And less than a week to come to a decision on something like this? They’re trying to back us into a corner without giving us any proper time to discuss or negotiate the terms and its wrong.” She finished simply, shaking her head and crossing her arms.

“Boom.” Sam repeated from behind her.

“Tony.” Natasha addressed him as he removed his hand from his face. “You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper verbal,”

“It’s because he’s already made up his mind,” Katie raised her eyebrow.

“Kiddo, you know me so well.” Tony scoffed then groaned, standing up and moving over to the kitchen area with a sigh "Actually, I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache. That’s what’s going on. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort.” Another frustrated sigh escaped him as he faffed with something in the sink. “Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

Tony moved to the other countertop slapping down the coffee mug and coffee pot before pulling his phone from his pocket and dropping it onto the fruit basket, then turning it on revealing the hologram of a young man.

“Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way,” said Tony with fake carelessness. “He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA, had a floor-level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul before he parked it behind a desk; see the world, maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun.” He spat sarcastically, “He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor guess where: Sokovia.”

He slammed his mug down as he stared round the room in anger, whilst Katie looked over at Wanda who bowed her head the moment her home was mentioned.

“He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. We won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were 'kicking ass’.” Tony ran a hand down his face before taking a drink of his coffee. “There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.” He concluded, walking around the counter to lean back against it holding his arms over his chest.

“Tony,” Steve began gently. “If someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up.”

“Who said we’re giving up?” Tony questioned.

“We are for not taking responsibility for our actions.” Continued Steve. “This document just shifts the blame.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. That is dangerously arrogant.” Rhodey interrupted “This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA.”

“No, but its run by people with agendas, and agendas change.” Steve shot back, earnestly.

“That’s good.” Tony answered, re-joining the group. “That’s why I’m here. Look, Cap, me and Kiddo, when we realized what Stark weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, we shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

“Yeah, but Tony, we chose to do that.” Katie jabbed at her chest as she blazed at her brother, her voice gathering momentum and volume. “If we sign these then the next time something like that happens we won’t have the right to choose!“

"What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go?” Steve continued his hand gently rubbing at Katie’s back. He was glad they were on the same page, but he didn’t want her getting upset and falling out with Tony. “What if there is somewhere we need to go and they don’t let us?” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

Tony looked down at the couple who both stared back at him. He rolled his eyes again. Of course they would be united on this, they were united on everything. But there were bigger things at stake here. If they didn’t agree, they’d be forced to retire, and the team would be split up. And he couldn’t let that happen.

“If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s the fact. That won’t be pretty,” Tony explained, his tone almost pleading.

“You’re saying they’ll come for me?” Asked Wanda quietly.

“We would protect you,” Vision added placing a gentle hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

“Maybe Tony’s right.” Natasha spoke, turning her eyes to both Katie and Steve, trying to get them to see her point. Katie looked at her incredulously, and Steve’s mouth fell open a little in surprise. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-”

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam frowned, interrupting her in disbelief.

“I’m just…reading the terrain.” She sighed. “We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

“Focus up – I’m sorry, did I just mishear you, or did you agree with me?” Tony looked at her.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “I want to take it back now.” She groaned but Tony was quick to cut in.

“No, you can’t retract it.” He said, waving a finger at her. “Thank you. Unprecedented. Case closed I win.”

As Katie shot some annoyed response back to Tony, something along the lines of him being ‘an egotistical, arrogant prick’, Steve felt his phone going in his pocket. He shifted slightly to pull it out and glanced down. It was a message from Peggy’s son, Michael.

‘She’s gone, in her sleep.’

As the meaning behind the words sunk in, his throat tightened, and suddenly the damned accords didn’t matter anymore. Taking a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest, he felt the familiar sting of tears in his in his eyes but he didn’t want to break down, not here, not in front of the team.

“I have to go.” He breathed out, handing the Accords to Katie before standing and leaving the room quickly without meeting anyone’s eye.

He made it to the stairwell, leaning against the railings, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself down but he couldn’t. The tears began to fall and he slumped down onto one of the steps. Which was where Katie found him a few minutes later, shocked to see his shoulders were shaking. She said nothing until she had made her way down to him, wedging herself on the step beside him between him and the wall.

“Stevie?” She asked quietly inspecting his face, seeing the tears across his cheeks. “Sweetheart, what is it.”

“It’s err..” He sniffed and wiped at his nose with a finger, not looking at her “It’s Peg. She’s gone.”

“Oh, no.” Katie muttered, dropping her head. Poor Peggy. She had been quite ill over the last few weeks and the Doctors had said it was unlikely she would recover, but the both of them had been hoping to get to see her to say their goodbyes. Katie felt the tears sting her eyes as she opened up her arms and Steve immediately fell into them. Sometimes it was much too easy to forget how young and inexperienced life wise he actually was at heart and Katie simply held him, as she felt his tears hit her neck. Gently she ran her fingers through his hair as they sat still, not saying a word.

"Will you come with me to the funeral?” His voice was hoarse and muffled but she heard him anyway

“Of course I will.” she said looking at him as he pulled away, his eyes red. She reached up to wipe his face with the back of her hand as he rest his forehead against hers. “Of course I will.”

***** London was caught in the middle of a summer storm when they arrived, four days later. The wind and rain whipped Katie’s hair about her face as they stepped from the StarkJet onto the tarmac of Gatwick Airport. They made their way towards the waiting car, Steve’s large hand taking her smaller, and somewhat colder, one in his as they walked, Sam pacing at his other side. The drive to the hotel was filled mainly with Sam and Katie chatting as she pointed out various landmarks to the man, Steve remaining silent on the whole apart from chipping in when he was spoken to.

His sombre mood continued through to the evening, and when Katie told him that Sam was meeting up with some of his old Air Force buddies and suggested that the two of them head out for something to eat, he was torn between wanting to go out and try to enjoy some time with her, and this strange urge he felt to simply curl up in the relative safety of the hotel room with her, alone. And then there was the war which was raging inside him, an internal battle in the depth of his conscious and mind. He was married to Katie, he loved her, more than he’d ever loved anyone. And yet, here he was grieving so much for a woman who, when all was said and done, he hadn’t actually known for that long. Peggy was his past, Katie was his here and now, his future, his forever. So why did he feel this way?

“Stevie.” Katie’s voice gently shook him from his thoughts and he turned away from the view of the Thames he’d been observing through the floor to ceiling window of their suite and faced her. “We don’t have to go anywhere to eat if you don’t want to.”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I just, I feel…”

“Upset? Tired of pretending you’re okay?” She supplied and he gave a little huff of laugher, shaking his head as he looked at the soft, deep blue carpet of the room.

“You know, are you sure you don’t have some kind of secret mind reading power?” He looked at her once more and she smiled softly.

“No, I just know you.” She stepped forward and held out her arms and Steve moved to fall into them, his cheek resting on her head as he let out a shaky breath. “You don’t have to hide it in front of me, you know.” She pulled back to look at him, her hands cupping his face.

“I love you.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do.” She frowned before her head tilted to the side as she considered what he had just said, suddenly understanding. “Wait, is that what’s bothering you? How I feel?”

His lack of response spoke volumes as he looked down once more, his large hands gently wrapping around her wrists, moving her hands to her side so he could lace his fingers between hers.

“Oh, Steve!” Katie shook her head and her fingers tightened around his. “You’ve every right to feel how you do, Peggy meant a lot to you.”

“She did, yeah, but so do you.” He glanced at her, his blue eyes shining with tears. “In fact, you mean more to me than anything else ever has. I just wanna be sure you know that.”

“If I didn’t know it, I wouldn’t have married you.” Katie shrugged simply. “But, Soldier, just because you love me the way you do, doesn’t mean that you never loved Peggy, or that you still can’t in some ways.” When he didn’t reply, Katie studied him for a moment, before she took a deep breath. “Steve, look at me, please.” He did as she asked and she gave him a soft smile. “It’s okay, I promise you I understand.”

He gave her another little smile as she stood on her toes to brush her lips against his. “Now, I’m gonna draw you a bath. You’re gonna get in, and you’re gonna relax.”

“Is that an order, Ma’am?” He smiled and Katie chuckled.

“Yeah, it is. And you know what else I’m gonna order? A fuck tonne of room service.”

It was Steve’s turn to chuckle as she smiled. “Then we can raid the mini-bar and bunker down for the evening. How’s that sound?”

Steve smiled, his hand reaching up to brush a piece of hair behind her ears. “It sounds okay, but would be a whole lot better if you said you were gonna join me in the bath.”

Katie smiled, her eyes flashing a little as he leaned down and captured her lips with his, the kiss slow and deep. Her arms slid up round his neck, fingers softly skating along his hairline and he let out a contented sigh as she broke away, his forehead pressing to hers, hands softly flexing on her hips. Without another word she pulled away before taking his hand, and gently leading him through the suite to the bathroom.

***** Steve didn’t sleep well that night. His mind was in overdrive, his subconscious showing him people he hadn’t seen in a very, very long time. He dreamt about Peggy, Bucky, Howard, the Howlies…and Katie. Even in dreams about his past she was there, ever present, just like she was in his life. When he woke up from a particularly vivid flashback about crashing back into the ice, he jerked bolt upright with a yell, his breathing desperate and ragged. Katie sat up beside him, her hand on his clammy back as she gently soothed him, her calm and quiet. Steve swallowed, turning to face her as she sat looking at him, concern etched on her face. She made to get out of bed to fetch him a glass of water but he stopped her, his large hand curling gently around her arm. He needed her, and he wasted no time at all in making sure she understood that. As she lay underneath him, her hands wrapped around his back, nails biting his skin, he fucked her, hard and fast, into the mattress, the relief washing over him like a tidal wave. When he evened out, he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him, his hand carding through her hair as hers traced random shapes over his chest. The pair of them lay still, gentle and loving touches and kisses being shared as they simply talking until the sun rose. And then Steve found himself back over his wife once more as he stuffed himself insider her again, only this time he made love to her, as softly and as gently as he could, needing to feel every single inch of her against him as he surrendered to that bliss that only she could ever make him feel.

They took a room service breakfast and at just before Eleven they met Sam in the Reception of the hotel and made their way to the church. Steve, who had been asked by Peggy’s family to be a pall bearer, hung back outside as Katie and Sam took their seats along the front pew of the Church. It wasn’t long before the choir began to sing and Katie turned as the procession walked down the aisle. Steve held the front right-hand corner of the coffin, carrying it with stiff steps, his cheeks wet, eyes red rimmed and full of tears. Katie felt Sam squeeze her shoulder, and she turned to face him briefly.

“My heart is breaking for him, Sam.” She whispered through her own tears as Sam dropped his hand to take hers, as they both watched the six men place the coffin at the front of the church. Sam released Katie’s hand with another gentle squeeze and they shuffled down to make room for Steve who took her left hand, seeking out her comfort and contact as he stared at the picture to the side of the coffin. It showed the Peggy he had known, back in the Forties, standing tall and proud in her uniform.

When the choir song ended they all sat, Steve staring down at his wife’s hand wrapped in his, and he began to play with her wedding and engagement rings, twirling them round her finger, his mind straying to his wedding and how he had told Katie at the toasts he was only strong because she made him that way. He was so glad she was with him now. Lost in his thoughts, he suddenly felt her hand contract around his, quite hard, and he looked up at her. When he did she nodded her head in the direction of the podium. Steve’s eyes followed then did a slight double take at who was stood there.

Agent Thirteen of Shield special service and his ex-neighbour.

“Margaret Carter was known to most as a founder of Shield.” The woman who’s name Steve recalled being told by Natasha was Sharon, began, sounding nervous. “But I just knew her as Aunt Peggy.”

Peggy’s Niece? Steve couldn’t believe his ears. All that time she had been living across the hall, spying on him…and she was Peggy’s niece?

“She had a photograph in her office, Aunt Peggy standing next to JFK. As a kid, that was pretty cool. But, it was a lot to live up to. Which is why I barely told anyone we were related.” Sharon glanced down at Steve, like she was offering him some form of explanation.

“I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage at a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either.” Sharon swallowed before she continued, her voice becoming stronger. “And she said, 'Compromise when you can. But when you can’t, don’t. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty, to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye and say, 'No, you move.”

Katie glanced at Steve then to Sam, the three of them sharing a knowing glance. Those words were powerful, especially given the situation with the Accords. And for Steve, it was almost like Peggy was speaking to him, still giving him advice even in her death.

Despite the utter sorrow he was feeling, Steve couldn’t help but smile at the sentiment.

Thanks Peg…

*****

Katie watched as Steve leaned against the end of one of the pews, lost in his thought. He’d by passed the part where they were actually putting Peggy into the ground, saying he didn’t want to see it so instead, Katie had given him a moment to pay his respects along, waiting for him to give her some direction as to what he wanted to next.

As always, he seemed to know she was there before she even made a sound and he looked up, giving her a small smile as she walked down the middle of the church aisle towards him.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He smiled as she stopped in front of him, opening her arms to give him a hug.

“How you doing?” She asked softly, her lips brushing his temple as he pressed his face into her neck.

“I’m okay.” He assured her, pulling back. “Just, suppose it’s sunk in that she’s actually gone, you know.” Katie gave him a sad smile. “When I came out of the ice, I thought everyone I had known was gone. Then I found out that she was alive. I was just lucky to have her.”

“She had you back, too.” Katie looked at him.

“Yeah, and at least I knew where she was, unlike Bucky.”

“Don’t give up on him just yet, love.” Katie rubbed his arm as he placed a kiss to her forehead. Steve glanced once more to the front of the church and Katie followed his glance to look at the flowers placed on the alter.

“It was a nice service.” She said, her arm looping round his waist.

“Yeah, it was.” A familiar voice spoke and both of them whipped round to see Natasha strolling towards them. Steve let out a little scoff and looked down, shaking his head.

“You know, I thought I saw you before but convinced myself I was seeing things.”

“Well, I was sorta in the area.” She shrugged. There was a pause before Steve voiced what was on his mind since he’d left the compound a few days ago.

“Who else signed?” Steve asked.

“Tony. Rhodey. Vision.”

“Clint?” Katie asked.

Nat smiled slightly. “Says he's retired.”

“Wanda?” Steve looked at her.

“TBD” Nat answered. Katie looked at Steve before Nat took a deep breath. “I'm off to Vienna for the signing of the Accords. There's plenty of room on the jet.”

Steve sighed and bowed his head.

“Just because it's the path of least resistance doesn't mean it's the wrong path.” Nat continued. “Staying together is more important than how we stay together.”

“Are you trying to convince us or yourself?” Katie asked and Natasha merely held her gaze.

“What are we giving up to do it?” Steve shook his head as Natasha turned to him. “I'm sorry, Nat. I can't sign it.”

“Me neither.” Katie added. “Not as they stand.”

“I know.” Nat smiled.

“Then what are you doing here?” Steve looked at her.

“Well, like I said, I was in the area.” Nat’s eyes flicked to the alter. “Plus, knowing who she is and what she did. I might never have met her but, well, it felt right to pay my respects.” She then looked back at them both. “Plus, I wanted to see you, check you were okay.” She said the last part to Steve more than Katie and he gave her a little smile as she moved to give him a hug.

****

They decided to go to the wake, and Katie took the chance to seek out Sharon where she was standing among a group of people, making polite conversation but clearly looking for a way out, which Katie was happy to provide, squeezing her elbow gently, and gesturing with her head for the blonde woman to follow her.

“I really am sorry about Peggy,” Katie began as they settled at an empty table. “She was a phenomenal woman.”

"Thank you,” Sharon said softly. “That means a lot. You know she liked you?”

Katie chuckled “She told me once or twice.” “I think she was happy that Steve found someone.” Sharon smiled. “Someone that makes him happy.”

Katie glanced at where Steve and Sam were waiting at the bar. Steve shot her a glance over his shoulder and smiled softly, before Katie returned her attention to the woman opposite her.

“So this accords thing?” Sharon changed the subject “It’s really happening?”

“Looks that way, yeah.”

“And where do you stand on it?”

“I’m not signing” Katie shook her head. “Not the way they stand, that’s for sure. And seeing as they don’t seem to want to negotiate terms, it’s a non-starter.”

“Does Steve feel the same?”

Katie nodded. “And Sam.”

Before Sharon could question her further, Katie’s eyes flicked to a point over her shoulder and she gave a side smile as the boys approached.

“Ladies,” Sam baritone smoothly, sitting in the seat next to Sharon and setting down a drink in front of her. From the look on the blonde’s face, this surprised her, but she accepted nonetheless with a thanks. Steve sat next to Katie handing over another glass of wine, whilst pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“You okay?” She whispered before he pulled away completely. He nodded and cleared his throat.

“Yeah. I saw just telling Sam about what Nat said.”

“And I was cheering to an honourable discharge.” Sam snorted sarcastically as he raised his glass. “Again.”

“Sorry, for jumping in but, if you’re not signing the Accords then what does that mean for you all?” Sharon looked round the table

“I dunno.” Steve smiled softly, shaking his head.

“Ultimate fighting?” Sam cut in, and Steve snorted as Katie laughed. “I told you, you’d be great at it.”

"More like an early retirement.” Steve stated, a small smile playing on his face.

“Not really that early though is it, Cap?” Sam continued his ribbing “I mean like you are hundred or whatever…”

As was natural with these type of functions, a few hours later people started to leave and eventually Peggy’s children headed over to the table to say their goodbyes. As they all stood to offer their condolences once more, something Michael said about Peggy being a woman of many surprises, brought back something which had been weighing heavily on Steve’s mind since he had left the church.

When Sharon stated that she was heading back to her hotel, Steve suggested that she walked with them, but for the most of the short walk, he remained silent, brooding over his thoughts. And it was only when they reached the door to Sharon’s hotel that he spoke, telling Katie that he’d meet her and Sam in their hotel bar in a couple of minutes.

She shot him a puzzled look but he had simply shook his head in a silent instruction not to argue. So, she merely shrugged, linked her arm through Sam’s and they crossed the road and headed straight inside, crossing the lobby.

“What’s all that about?” Sam asked as he held the heavy wooden door open for her. Katie shrugged and stepped into the room.

“Beats me, he obviously has something on his mind.” She said, walking into the large wooden bar which curved along the back of the circular room. “Can I have…” she trailed off as she spotted the TV on the wall behind the bar tender, which was programmed to the BBC news.

Her eyes widened and she felt Sam stiffen besides her.

“Is this…is this live?” She asked the guy who was waiting to serve them. He nodded. “Can you turn the volume up?”

He nodded again and obliged.

“…at the moment we know that over 70 people have been injured and that number is rising. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda’s King T'Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

Katie swallowed as the picture of the suspect flashed across the screen. It looked like Bucky alright.

“Shit.” Sam said, from behind her.

“Go, get Steve.” She urged, “I need to call Tony.”

*****

“My mom tried to talk me out of enlisting, but, um, not Aunt Peggy. She bought me my first thigh holster.” Sharon smiled as they walked through the lobby.

“Very practical.” Steve nodded.

“And stylish.” Sharon smiled as she stopped by the elevator, pressing the call button before she turned to look at Steve.

“CIA has you stationed over here now?”

“In Berlin, Joint Terrorism Task Force.”

“Right. Right.” Steve nodded. “Sounds fun.”

“I know, right?” Sharon chuckled.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Steve took a deep breath, finally voicing what was on his mind. “When you were spying on me from across the hall…”

“You mean when I was doing my job?” Sharon interrupted but Steve ignored her.

“Did Peggy know?”

Sharon considered him for a moment, before she let out a gentle sigh.

“She kept so many secrets. I didn’t want her to have one from you.” Sharon lay her hand on his arm, and Steve felt the weight lift off his shoulders. He had been so scared that Peggy had been lying to him for the past few years, to hear that she hadn’t was a relief.

“Thanks for walking me back.” Sharon nodded to the elevator “Tell Katie and Sam I’m grateful.”

She moved to give Steve a hug, and he obliged, but the broke apart when they both heard footsteps running towards them.

“Steve…you gotta see this.” Sam urged and Steve frowned, looking at him, before he spotted Katie running into the lobby, and looking round.

He moved instantly towards her, and she spotted him, hurrying straight towards him.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He asked, his hands gently curling round her upper arms.

“There’s been a bomb in Vienna.” She explained, taking a deep breath. “A deliberate attack on the signing ceremony.”

Steve felt himself grow cold. “Is everyone okay?”

“I got through to Tony and they’re all safe but the King of Wakanda. He’s dead, Steve” Katie took a deep breath. “And…” She trailed off licking her lips as she took a deep breath.

“Katie, what is it?” Steve’s voice wasn’t unkind but it was firm as he looked at her, and she threw her head back, looking at the ceiling for a moment before, with a monumental effort, she looked back at him, swallowing deeply.

“It’s Bucky, Steve.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “It looks like he’s responsible.”

**** Chapter 30

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fic #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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irishmacguirefucker · 3 years

Note

I need to know about the barn cats for emotional support reasons

FUCK YEAH I CAN DUDE. Be sure to read past the cut, I talk more about the kittens in the second half.

It started with one really. They were having a bit of a mice issue and figured what better to deal with it than a little hunter. The plan was to ask around, see if anyone had some to sell, but one kinda fell into their laps. Lenny, Mary-Beth, and Hosea had taken a little trip into town. There was a beautiful old bookshop they were headed to, looking to spend a bit of their new earnings on some novels. After spending far too long in the bookshop, they were heading to the general store for supplies.

When they were nearly there, there was a commotion across the street. They watched as the barkeep of the saloon chased a scrappy looking cat out of his bar with a broom. Without thinking, Mary-Beth ran to defend the poor animal. She’s always been quick, and she managed to scoop up the fleeing feline before it could get underneath the porch of the general store. The angry barkeep stormed up to her broom in hand, and Lenny and Hosea took a protective stance directly behind her. “That your cat, girl?”

The brunette responded with just as much venom. “Yes she is and I don't appreciate you beating her like that, she ain't done nothing wrong!”

She glared right back at him, and he looked offended that she would dare to speak against him. “She was sitting on my goddamned bar! Keep your animal in check, next time I ain't gonna be so nice.”

Lenny bristled, and nearly pushed the man from where he was getting so close, but Hosea held him back before he could. “Now there’s no need for all this ruckus, we’re taking the cat away now. Come now Mary-beth, we had better get her home.”

The barkeep was still red-faced with anger but didn’t say more as the small group walked away. They got to the porch of the general store, and Hosea was about to address Mary-Beth when an old woman sitting on the bench outside spoke up.

“Now you don't mind old Larry, he’s nothing but an angry bastard.” She said, putting down her knitting on her lap.” That your cat there, young lady? I could have sworn she was the stray that's been running ‘round here since the springtime…”

Mary-Beth flushed at the slight chastising tone in the elderly woman's voice, but she just laughed. “Don’t worry girl, I’m just glad someone is looking out for her. Are you going to keep her?”

Mary-Beth turned to Hosea with the biggest puppy dog eyes. “Please Hosea, she’s all alone! And we need a cat to take care of the mice, let me bring her home!”

Hosea laughed kindly at her pleading. “Now how could I say no when you ask so nicely. Come on Lenny, it seems we will be getting the supplies ourselves since miss Gaskill has her arms full.” Lenny just laughed along and followed the older man in.

Mary Beth nearly followed him when the older woman stopped her. “Now don’t go bringing her in there, they’ll have your head for bringing an animal inside. Come, sit by me while you wait on your father.”

Mary-Beth didn't bother to correct her as she sat on the small bench. The cat had begun to calm down, now focused on aggressively sniffing Mary-Beth's perfume scented curls. “We needed a barn cat, she’s quite the little blessing!”

The old woman smiled kindly. “She’ll be good at her job, she’s been killing mice ‘round here for months.”

Mary-Beth and the woman conversed for a while as the men got supplies. It was nice to make conversation with the locals, it wasn't a pleasure they really had back in her outlaw days. Never without a motive at least. The men walked out and they each said their goodbyes to the sweet old lady and headed back to the wagon. By now the cat was completely calm, just enjoying the scratching and petting from her saviour.

Mary-Beth reluctantly handed her to Lenny while she climbed into the back of the wagon, and when Lenny carefully placed the tabby in the wagon as well it immediately went and laid beside the girl. It was a calm ride home, and everyone was happy to see that they had found an answer to their mouse problem, and an adorable one at that.

In Mary-Beth’s defence, she had no way of knowing the cat was pregnant.

She hadn't been so round when they picked her up, but now a few weeks later she was looking ready to pop. She had become quite the spoiled cat in her time at the ranch, but she had no interest in actually staying in the ranch house. She spent a lot of time exploring the property, and some of the gang were a little worried she might just run off. Luckily she stuck around, taking a particular liking to the loft above the barn.

To everyone's surprise, Molly was practically the cat’s biggest fan. She had cats back in Ireland and had liked them since she was a little girl. Whenever she saw the pregnant tabby she would give her a little treat, or pet her until the feline got bored. The redhead was a little sad that the cat didn't seem to spend much time inside the ranch house, but in a way, it encouraged molly to go outside herself. She was the one to find out the cat was giving birth. They all knew she was close and each member was a little worried about finding a litter of newborn kittens in their beds, but the only one hoping to be there when it happened was Molly.

She hadn't seen the cat in nearly two days and she was worried. She asked around, and nobody had seen the feline. Eventually, she recruited Jack, Mary-Beth, and Tilly to help her look for the cat properly. After nearly two hours of searching, Jack burst into the main house and grabbed Molly by the hand to drag her outside. He was speaking a mile a minute, but the moment she heard the word ‘Kittens’ she was running to keep up with the boy. When she got to the barn, she saw Kieran climbing down from the loft. He had been working in the barn at the time and climbed up to help the girls look, and found the healthy litter with their mother.

She had 6 little kittens, each of the suckling from their mother in the straw. Kieran explained as much and one at a time each of the girls climbed up to take a look. They were all surprised when Molly climbed the ladder, but she was determined to get a look at the babies. As she sat among the straw, gazing at the squirming babies she called down to the others. “Will they be alright up here? It's so cold…”

Eventually, they decided that when the kittens opened their eyes properly they would try and move the little nest into the main house to be watched properly. After helping Jack take a look, Molly very carefully climbed back down the ladder and followed the others into the house once more.

A few weeks later, there were kittens roaming the whole ranch. It took a little getting used to for some, trying not to let them get underfoot, but it was nice. They had all taken to calling the mother ‘Mama’, and Jack had named nearly all the kittens after spices from the herb garden. One of them, however, Molly named. It was a stark white kitten that she had her eye on from the start. It acted a little different from the others and the mother always had an eye on it. Eventually, they determined that the white kitten was deaf, though that didn't stop him from rolling with his siblings just the same. Molly had been enamoured with it from the start, spoiling it and carrying it around. She named him Shamrock and called him her lucky little prince. He ended up being the most spoiled cat of the bunch and followed Molly around the house like it was his job. The moment she sat anywhere, he was in her lap. His fur grew to be long as his mother’s, and Molly brushed it often. Not to say she didn't also brush the other cats as often as they would let her, but Shamrock was the only one who seemed to enjoy it rather than just tolerate it.

Dutch is not a fan of Shamrock. He does not appreciate that he’s basically stealing his girl. The cat also does not like Dutch, he literally growls at the man when he leans over to kiss Molly. It's very funny.

The other kittens are Yarrow, Mint, Basil, Sage, and Mushroom. Yarrow is a near copy of her mother, just smaller. Mint and Basil are nearly identical orange longhair Tabby’s, both male. Sage is a grey tabby but she has short fur. Mushroom is solid grey.

Jack named them, it was right around the time Charles and Hosea were making the Herb garden and teaching the boy about different plants. The boy is mushroom's favourite. The grey cat almost acts like a dog, wrestling with Cain and climbing all over Jack. They go on adventures, the three of them, like a little team.

Yarrow is the best hunter, just like her mom. She's particularly great at catching birds, when she got bigger she actually took down a few crows in the garden.

Sage is a menace. She can get into anyone's home somehow and will climb all over their stuff. It drives Grimshaw absolutely crazy.

Mint and Basil can only be told apart by Mint’s one white sock and the white tip of Basil’s tail.

#rdr2 #ranch au #mary-beth gaskill #hosea matthews #lenny summers #cats #writing #rdr2 ranch au #ask #headcanons #Anonymous

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thedreammweaver · 4 years

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Black as Pitch and White as Snow (Burton-schumacherverse riddlebird au, mayor!Oswald, ballet dancer!Ed)

Warnings: depression, poor self care, insecurities, insecurities about weight, murder mention

Boring. That was the word for it. Oswald’s life had become boring. When he’d become mayor he didn’t intend on actually being good at it, he’d wanted to use the position to enact long brewing evil plans but it was so easy to get distracted these days. It had almost been a year and he hadn’t done anything diabolical yet, in truth he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to anymore...he’d lost his drive for mischief.

He could feel himself getting slow and slipping deeper into the cliche of placated tub of lard politician but he didn’t know how to make it stop. The red triangle gang had left him when they noticed it, fine, he didn’t need them anyways though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t lonely. His only ‘friend’ these days was Max Shreck after all and the man was hardly good company. The praises of “You’re doing great, Mayor Cobblepot.” Had gotten old fast. There was one thing that made him feel better though. He’d found himself going to the theatre a lot and he’d gotten quite taken with one dancer. At first he’d only seen the man in the background of some shows until the theatre’s main show had switched to a production of Swan Lake where the dual role of Odile and Odette had been adapted for a male dancer as there’d been a series of accidents within the company and that was the only option left. Oswald hadn’t thought anything of it at first, making Swan Lake gay wasn’t the weirdest thing going on in Gotham. That was until he realized the lead was the dancer with ginger hair that’d captured his eye so many times. He’d overheard that the man’s name was Ed while lurking around after one of the shows only to chicken out of introducing himself. Of course Oswald had been to see the production multiple times after learning that his obsession was in it.

Oswald would rather be feeling inadequate while watching Ed dance than having to sit through dinner with Max. The faux sweetness with which the waitress approaching him said “Your table is ready, mayor Cobblepot.” Made Oswald feel worse.

Oswald tried to lose himself in the decor of the restaurant while Max droned on and on. That was until Max snapped his fingers to get the shorter man’s attention. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What?”

“You look like you’re in a funk, you just got re-elected you should be in a celebratory mood!”

Oswald hummed in miserable agreement.

“What happened to that excited crude little guy I met last Christmas, huh?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you..” Oswald sighed.

Maybe it was the way Ed’s shoulder blades looked oh so much like wings or how graceful he was or how when their eyes met so briefly it felt as if he was dancing for Oswald alone. Whatever the reason Oswald was smitten, that scared him though. There was no way someone so obviously athletic and poised would put up with Oswald’s wobbling waddling form, especially with how he was now....boring and sedentary. He once wouldn’t have hesitated in trying to woo Ed but as the theatre seat slightly pinched his sides he was reminded of the stark difference between them. He guessed he’d just have to be content with watching which...wasn’t too hard. The costume Ed was in still had a poofy skirt as the dance didn’t look right without it but the top had billowy sleeves like some traditional male ballet outfits though it dipped in the back, showing off the well honed muscles that lay under Ed’s skin. Oswald was watching in awe as Ed expertly performed the thirty two fouettes that were apart of Odile’s coda. Though he’d seen it many times it was still just as beautiful and impressive.

Oswald decided to walk home feeling like he needed the exercise. He’d thought he was out of shape when living in the sewer but he had been traversing tunnels and going up and down ladders on the daily in that place, now he spent most of his time with his ass planted in a chair. His life had become a cycle of being depressed because he felt sluggish and feeling sluggish because he was depressed and he knew that his current lethargy wasn’t helped by eating his feelings everytime he felt miserable. Oswald was startled by a tap on his shoulder, the almost blind adoration for him had been watered down to simpering respect so he didn’t get approached often in public. He felt as if he could drop dead when he turned to see that the person wanting his attention was Ed. He’d never actually seen the man out of costume before. He was in a green sweater that said ‘virtual babe’ on the front in a pink glittery design, fuzzy green pants, and pink sneakers. He also had a backpack that was shaped like a frog, which was of course green as well. Ed adjusted his glasses nervously “Mayor Cobblepot? I- well, I...you’re at the shows a lot and I wanted to say hi.” he said, awkward but cheerful. “H-Hi..” Oswald said shyly. The way Ed was being lit by the streetlights so beautifully galvanized Oswald into blurting out his next words “Would you like to have a drink with me?”

Ed looked a bit surprised but not put off “Oh-uh..yea- yeah I would.”

Oswald hoped Edward hadn’t noticed his struggling to keep up or his somewhat heavy breathing as they’d walked together. He put away his umbrella as Ed was admiring the foyer of Cobblepot Manor, awestruck. He was currently ogling at a rather large parasol that had been custom made into a chandelier. “That’s the biggest parasol I’ve ever seen..” Ed whispered in wonder. “Yeah, it’s nice..”Oswald mumbled still feeling a little nervous but trying to feign enough confidence to woo the other man.

After a few drinks talking to Ed had gotten easier. They’d ended up on the couch with Ed leaning on Oswald’s shoulder watching him intently as he talked. Oswald felt a bit tense as Ed’s hand was on his chest absently fiddling with his jacket. He was still having trouble believing Ed was in his house and actually touching him. “So how come you’re at the theatre all the time, don’t you have important mayor stuff to do?” Ed giggled. “It’s relaxing!” Oswald decided to shoot his shot “I..also enjoy seeing you..”

There was a beat of silence that almost made Oswald panic “Can I tell you a secret?” Ed asked. Oswald nodded. Eddie was giddy but shy as he spoke “I...uh, well, I hurt two other dancers and killed three to get the part..”

“Ed!”

“Don’t worry I pinned it on the two left alive, no one suspects me. I had to be the leads so you would notice me...I wanted to be your bird.”

Oswald was bewildered “You did all that for me??”

Ed nodded, the mischievous glint in his eye was re-awakening something in Oswald. “I-I didn’t think you could ever like me..” Oswald admitted. Ed sat up a bit “I’ve loved you ever since I saw you for the first time.” He moved into Ozzie’s lap “I need you, Oswald. I need you now.” He leaned in to kiss the shorter man. Oswald felt torpidity melting away as he grabbed Ed by the waist and pulled him close.

#oswald cobblepot #edward nygma #the penguin #the riddler #riddlebird

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massielandnetwork · 3 years

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Important Economic Trends During Anarchy

2021 – Let the Games Begin

14. A Christian Secession – Poetic Justice equals Reality Checks

News broke this week that the General Counsel of Coca-Cola resigned abruptly last week over his aggressive championing of the Critical Race Theory. I guess the fizz went out of Coke and they decided they did not want to “Go Woke and Go Broke”. Poetic Justice?

China’s Wuhan Virus vaccine reportedly has an effective rate of 40% or less and fewer than one-third of Chinese have had even one shot of that two-shot vaccine. India is suffering an enormous increase in Wuhan Virus infections which multiple “variants” creating havoc. Some analysts are combining those facts and forecasting that China may be in for a Pandemic crisis since those two countries share a common border. Another case of Poetic Justice?

The U. S. Chamber of Commerce is dominated by large U. S. Corporations. Haters of Trump, in the November 2020 election the U. S. Chamber of Commerce backed many Congressional Democrats and Biden. Biden’s $6 Trillion proposed bills mostly wasteful spending unless you are part of the Democratic Party entourage. To pay for these monstrosities, Biden and gang want to raise taxes on …drum roll please …big businesses (and others). Poetic Justice – yessir.

Also, in the tax crosshairs are anyone that owns any asset such as a home, stock, farm, or business. Not only do the Demented Marxists (DM) want to raise capital gains taxes, but the DMs also want to reduce the estate tax exclusion down to $1M per person. That combination will significantly diminish investment activity and reduce future job growth by punishing anyone who works hard, builds a business, and invests their money. Another reality check full of pain.

If Biden and his merry band of DMs succeed in passing these proposals, it will take decades for the U. S. economy to recover AFTER this stupidity is reversed. If it is ever reversed. Marxism or Socialism has NEVER succeeded. Only an idiot would claim China is an economic success because reality is that China is a debt fueled, economic house of cards.

Do not believe the Democratic propaganda machine about Biden’s ratings. The unreported facts are:

1. Biden’s speech before Congress was viewed by so few folks it makes the NBA’s viewership look superb.

2. Senator Tm Scott’s speech was phenomenal and obviously on target because the DM’s went ballistic to the point that Biden was forced to state the next day that Americans are not racist. Meanwhile his administration continues to push the Critical Race Theory (CRT) which says all whites are bad because they are racists.

3. Idaho became the first state to ban CRT from being taught in its schools. At least four more states have followed suit. Where is Virginia’s government on CRT? – Oh, stupid me, we are controlled by DMs.

4. Five white farmers in Wisconsin have filed suit claiming discrimination over Biden’s proposal to forgive the USDA debt of black farmers.

Here are some critical economic events.

1. Due to the stimulus already in the economy, economic growth has surged to a level almost equivalent to where the USA economy was in January of 2020. That is the good news.

2. The bad news is that economic growth is being retarded by those stimulus programs that made unemployment provide folks a higher income than if they were working. So, workers are staying home and enjoying the government/taxpayer money. Pay people NOT to work and they do not work. Somehow the DM’s have a hard time grasping that equation.

3. Because of the shortage of workers, employers are raising wages and offering bonuses. Great for the employees. Also, a source of inflationary pressure.

4. Supply chains are distorted because of perceived shortages which encourages buyers to buy extra to their actual needs which in turn exacerbates the shortage because producers cannot keep up with the surging demand. Think toilet paper a year ago. Computer chips are a recent example. Auto manufacturers are having to shut down plant because why cannot get the computer chips they need.

5. I hope you belly laughed like I did when Biden talked about the government getting into the production of computer chips. The government is doing such a great job with the Postal Service and applying the same techniques to our medical care, solar power that I hope we dodge the bullet of the government fouling up the computer chip industry.

Compared to Trump who actually solved problems rather than just talking about them being problems, the contrast with the politicians in Richmond or DC is stark. DM politicians just want to get paid for talking about a problem, scoring rhetorical points, and have a fund raiser about the problem, but they never solve the problem. The focus is all about money, how much is theirs.

Keep watching the activity about the fraudulent election last November.

a. The Michigan Supreme Court ruled that the Michigan Secretary of State exceeded her authority when she approved a variety of changes to the state’s election laws. Was the “certified” election in Michigan a fraud? YES.

b. The Arizona legislature authorized recount of 2.1 Million votes in Maricopa County, Arizona is rolling despite the DMs attempt to prevent it.

c. It is fun watching the DMs oppose audits in Wisconsin and Georgia. Odd behavior if there is nothing to hide.

d. Lawsuits have been filed and counter filed by Mike Lindell, Sidney Powell, and Dominion (the voting machine company). Stay tuned, much more to come.

114 days into the DMs’ coup (it is the longest 114 days EVER), here are some quick observations of recent events that will impact our economic future:

1. Financial analysts are beginning to evaluate when The Fed starts reducing their Quantitative Easing (QE). Last week two camps began to evolve – one expecting the reduction in QE to start in June and the other estimating in October of this year. The significance is that a reduction in QE will mean higher interest rates. Higher interest rates mean a slower real estate market and ultimately lower real estate prices.

2. Watch the 10-year Treasury which fluctuated back to 1.70%. Without QE, interest rates would be higher. Various sources estimate that by the end of 2021 the 10-year Treasury will be 2.5% to 3.0% and mortgage rates will increase to 4.0% to 4.5%.

3. The down stock market on Tuesday, May 4, was the result of Janet Yellen commenting that the robust USA economy might cause The Fed to allow interest rates to rise sooner than official Fed statements. The stock market recovered when she “clarified” her statement. BUBBLE ALERT !!!

4. When bubbles burst, shortage becomes surplus overnight.

Unsustainable things continue until that unpredictable moment when they stop. In a financial crisis “Cash is King”. Get prepared.

A great piece of land remains The Best investment long term unless the DMs get us to full-fledged Marxism. Capitalism builds wealth, Marxism/Socialism consumes it in self destruction. Pray for a return to honest elections in the USA. God is in control. Men make plans, but God ALWAYS wins.

“For it is God’s will that by doing right you should silence the ignorance of the foolish.”

(1 Peter 2:15) New Revised Standard Version, Oxford University Press)

Stay healthy,

Ned

May 5, 2021

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theoneforgameofthrones · 5 years

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Daenerys Targareyan: The Path Towards Madness.

Okay let's begin.

Intro: I read book 1. And then, I binge watched seasons 1-6 after season 6 finale. By that time, I knew all the major theories like L+R=J, dark!dany, targ!tyrion etc.

So, I was paying extra attention and these are some of the obvious moments where I felt they showed Dany's mad side show. Some points, you may find valid. Some points you may find silly and over-reaching. In any case, this is what *I* felt.

Feel free to have discussions. Appreciate positive critisism. However, just yelling/abusing will not be tolerated.

1. Lack of Empathy

Her obvious lack of empathy when her brother was killed.

I did not expect her to save him. I did not expect her to mourn him. I did not even expect her to cry for him. I did, however, expect a reaction, any sort of reaction, when someone close (despite him being an abusive asshole) dies that suddenly and that violently.

2. Her facial expression during Drogo's speech.

"I will kill the men in iron suits and tear down their stone houses! I will rape their women, take their children as slaves and bring their broken gods back to Vaes Dothrak!"

3. During her Breaker of Chains phase, she conviniently seemed to forget that she used to practice not only slavery, but also pillaging while she was with her khalesar.

Master Illeryoi owned slaves. Her brother owned slaves. She was gifted slaves to teach her how to please the Khal.

Her husband was a war-lord and her khalesar constantly raided and pillaged villages. They killed men. They raped women. Remaining alive women were taken as sex slaves and later sold. That was their way of life. She saved Mirri Maz Duur and several other women from the fate of gang rape and murder but they were still dragged along side the khalasar as slaves. In books, the reason MMD was not sold was so that she can assist Dany during childbirth.

4. The burning of Mirri Maz Duur (MMD)

This is going to make sense to a lot of people. But confuse the fuck out of many. But let's see.

In colonized countries, we have a term called "Savior's Complex". It is where a colonizer raids a country, steal its riches, impose extreme taxing, destory most of its heritage and then expect praise for bringing something (could be education, technology, architecture).

Dany takes the complex another step above. She not only expects gratitude from an enslaved MMD while dragging her along with her khalesar with sole purpose of assistance with childbirth, she also expects her to save the life of her husband. The war-lord whose khalesar raided her home, pillaged her village, killed her countrymen, raped/killed her countrywomen, dragged remaining alive women along with the khalesar to be sold later. Despite all this, Dany expects gratitude from MMD for her life. This flawed logic however is thrown back in her face.

"So, tell me again exactly what it was that you saved?"

"Your life."

"Why don't you take a look at your Khal? Then you will see exactly what life is worth, when all the rest has gone."

This is an old age tale of revenge. Khal raided her village. She took revenge on them for destroying her temple. Dany burned her for it.

What completely bamboozled me in this fandom was how much people hated MMD for what she did while completely making Dany the victim in this scenario while forgetting that MMD was the orginal victim who was not only an enslaved prisoner of war, but also gang-raped victim of her khalesar's doing.

5. Ser Barriston's words.

Ser Barriston in Mereen, tells her to treat injustice with mercy. She replies that she will treat injustice with justice.

Another quote by Ser Barriston: "He gave people the people the justice he thought they deserved."

Justice and what people in power percieve as justice is often very different.

6. Daenerys' justice for the crucified slave children

She did that by choosing 163 random Great Masters and crucifying them to avenge the 163 slave children. This seems like justice. But is it, really? They never recieved trial. They were never proven guilty. Like Hizdahr Loraq said, some of the masters were not in favor of crucifying children and tried very hard to stop it. Who knows how many other good masters she crucified?

This is a direct parallel to Ser Barriston's words about Mad King Aerys: "He gave people the people the justice he thought they deserved."

7. She stopped slavery only when it benefitted her.

Some of you, while reading point 6, may have thought, "They were SLAVERS! So what?!".

Well, while choosing 163 masters, Dany decided that all Masters are her enemies. She decided that all of them deserved punishment. She decided that they were guilty just for engaging in slavery while conviniently forgetting that if that were the case, she should be the one in the first cross.

8. She burnt Great Masters without even investigating who were behind the Sons of Harpy's attack.

After Ser Barriston's death, we again get to see more of her twisted sense of justice. By her own words, "Who is innocent? Maybe all of you are, maybe none of you are. Maybe, I should let the dragons decide."

It is not supposed to be called justice if you punish (and a cruel punishment, at that) without even caring whether they are innocent or not.

9. "You are a conquerer. Not a ruler."

Time and time again Dany proves this to be true. She conquered Yunkai and left immeidetely. The slavers took back the city in no time. She closed off the fighting pits and refused to open them despite being told that participants will be free men who enter willingly. This is where ruling comes in. Any place she conquered and freed, she failed to put something else to keep up the economy. She collapsed the economy so bad that slaves were selling themselves again.

10. Wrongful imprisonment.

Dany finds that Drogon has harmed children. The correct response is to either train or punish the dragons. She, however, imprisons the two dragons who werent at fault while Drogon ran free. Does that mean she is not responsible for whatever terror or death Drogon caused to wherever he flew off to? What exactly does imprisoning Rhaegar and Viseryion get her?

What kind of justice is it where the accused is free while the innocent get prisoned for association. Again, feeds into the twisted justice train.

11. Twisted Justice. Hipocrisy. Again.

While many men were fed to dragons, Hizdahr Loraq was imporisoned. He begged for mercy in terror.She also decides that she will show her respect for Meereen by marrying a member of one of its great families. For a woman who was forced into marriage and "sold like a broodmare", she sure didn't feel any moral dilemma in making a terrifed man betroth her. His death though, proved that he was not at all involved with Sons of Harpy and he was imprisoned for nothing.

12. Burning POW's

Burning Tarly's (father and son) was a direct paralell to her father burning Ned's father and brother alive. You cannot hide behind "It was a war. She gave them a choice." No matter what defenses one can attempt to give her, killing (forget burning) POW is a war crime. So is forcing prisoners against their own side of war.

13. Defending cruelty in path of justice

She killed Tarly's and defended that decision, by saying that was necessary.

When Hizdahr asks her how many men will have died to achieve her goal, she says "They would have died for a greater cause." She is talking about destroying cities and sure, that must be for a greater purpose.

When Tyrion reminds her that about what her father planned to do when she said she wnated to burn Mereen to the ground.. her response was "This is different,". How, exactly?

"The easiest way to defend cruelty is to say that it is part of the destiny."

14. The insinct to burn down cities.

By s8e01, she has wanted to burn down cities thrice. Meereen - once. King's Landing - twice. Both times, she had to be talked out of it by her advisors. The fact that her first instinct when her plans were failing was to burn down cities. Direct parallel to Aerys wanting to destroy king's landing because he thought there were traitors everywhere. The fact is that a person can surrond themselves with good counsel. But it is not necessary that the counsel is always heeded. Which is what happened to Aerys. He was going incresingly mad for months and his counsel members hid the fact from the outside world because they thought they could control the madness. We all know what happened in the end.

Since s7, Dany has been becoming increasingly paranoid about Tyrion's loyalty and increasingly more frustrated with every loss. How long before she decides not to listen to them anymore?

15. The entire collonialist/white savior imagary presented in Essos.

It is amazing how most of the fandom either ignores it or is just unaware of it.

Though this point doesnt parallel anything to the show, i just found it extremely cringy. I am sure members of most colonized countries would. I cant even beging to describe how cringy that mysha scene was.

16. The typical white priviledge mentality.

She wants to inherit her ancestor's throne and power. But she doesnt want to repent for her ansestor's sins and betrayal.

17. Wrong sense of entitlement

She truly believes that she is entitled to the North's fealty. She asks Jon Snow not to judge her based on her ancestors and in the same breath asks him to hold up the vows of his ancestors.

But, whatever vow the Starks made to the Targareans was broken the moment Aerys decided to burn the Starks. The fealty was made on promise of protection. Technically, any member of the houses that Aerys burnt, is no longer accountable to the vow.

Still, she expects everyone to uphold their fealty but refusing to accpet that her father broke that fealty when he decided to burn the vassels (whom he promised to protect) alive.

18. Savior Complex

Some parts of Dany reminds me of how missionaries work.

"Will your God punish me for not praying to him if I did not know about him?"

"No."

"Then why did you tell me about him?"

I believe one thing about Daenerys Targareyan. That she truly wants to help people. That she truly wants to save people. But her problem is, she wants to be the one to save people. She doesnt seem to understand that some people dont require saving.

She talks about freeing the world of tyrants and in the same breath refuses to give North the independence that they demand in solidarity. How is that not the definition of tyranny?

This is Westeros. I am not expecting a democracy and free elections. If she wants to be a conquerer, then she can be one. If she wants to bring to bring together the 7k, she can. What she cannot do is talk about destiny, talk about a wheel, talk about breaking the wheel, and and then do the exact same thing her ansestors did years go by spinning the wheel so that she is on top.

19. She was smiling when she saw that her dragons terrified people of Winterfell.

20. "They eat whatever they want"

Is that really the correct way to respond to people are already scared/cowering over the arrival of dragons? To people who have never seen such beasts before? Did she forget that few seasons ago "whatever they want" that Drogon ate were children?

21. Jaime's trial

She made Jaime stand trial and was heavily leaning towards punish him despite the fact that she knew what her father had planned and what Jaime Lannister had done. She openly spoke in favor of the Mad King in front of Northern Lords. When Tyrion intervened, she publically breated him and questioned his loyalty. Further adds to the Mad King's paranoia and unwillingness to listen to counsel.

22. Jaime Lannister

Not only has he tried to kill her, he has also questioned her intentions twice. The only living person who knows about Mad King more than anyone is perhaps Jaime Lannister. When he questions Tyrion, "Is she really different? Are you sure?" in a sceptical tone. If he doesnt trust her or thinks she had the Targ madness, then I am willing to bet that she probably does.

23. Her decling human connections

the show seems adament in making her seem alone. Like a stranger in her own home land. In an episode full of emotional reconnections, tenderness, friendships and relationships, she is shown all alone. In later episodes, she is incresingly shown alientated: Theon coming to fight for the starks despite being her bannerman, death of the Jorah, Tyrion's withdrawal.

24. jorah was her mercy.

She had shown jorah mercy despite his betrayal. She cared for him and most importantly, completely trusted and listened to him. When she felt no remorse about berating Tyrion and strongarming Sansa, jorah urges her to forgive tyrion and to try and make amends with LAdy of Winterfell. And, she listened to him. He is the only advisor she fully trusts and listens to without having to worry about wavering loyalties. And jorah's death is going to be the acorn in Ice Age that started the avalanche.

<<2 episodes left. will add more after next one airs.>>

This is not to say that she was an evil character. She was a good person with good intentions and bad execution with a twisted sense of justice and destiny. But, the journey to hell is paved with good intensions. Dany was a character who had the potential to be great. But she was always headed to doom. She is a good person whose downfall will be due to pride, ambition and obsession with destiny. She will chose her fate with a sound mind but a flawed personality. Her story will not be heroic, but tragic. Not because of what she was, but because of how she could have been.

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bugheadfamily · 5 years

Photo

🎶 They're creepy and they're kooky

Mysterious and spooky

They're all together ooky

The Bughead family

Their fic is for the season

When people come to read 'em

They really are a scream

The Bughead family 🎶

Happy Halloween, Buggies! We gladly feast on these mysterious and spooky fics. Below you’ll find a mix of supernatural, horror, dark, and seasonal type fics with Halloween specific ones (marked with a 🎃). Curl up in your favorite costume, pull out the treats, and get your Halloween fic fix here below the cut!

🎃 10.31.17 by @jugandbettsdetectiveagency | T

On that night, when the veil is at its thinnest, he finds his way home.

🎃 A Kiss That Thrills by @lilibetts | E

On Halloween, college students Betty and Jughead go through a Haunted House and finally act on their respective crushes.

And the Ash Shall Rise by @likemereckless | M

Riverdale is actually Purgatory (why else would so many crazy things happen in one town!) Jughead Jones, Shadowman of purgatory level one has been tasked with finding an Awakened soul, one who the Premier Shadowman says jeopardizes the future of their world. When Jughead discovers Betty Cooper’s soul down by the River Styx he finds all is not as it seems and a final battle between Heaven and Hell is on the verge of breakout. *It’s Purgatory so ALL characters are dead. *You will find out how they died. *Get ready for a ride!

🎃 Be More Chill by @literatiruinedme | M

Betty and Jughead run into each other in the bathroom at the annual Blossom Halloween party.

body talks by @justcourbeau | NR

Instead of late morning light being his wake up call, Jughead was woken by the horrendous chirp of an alarm clock going off, and, really, that should have been the first sign that something was wrong.

Cooper’s Monsters by @cooperandjonesinc | M

In the darkened halls of an abandoned mental hospital Dr. Hal Cooper has been making monsters.Betty, oblivious to her father’s machinations, comes across a horrifying creature. Together can they stop the doctor and free the others?

Curl of Ash by @darknessaroundus | T

Jughead attempts to save a strangers life in Queens one night. Nothing is what it appears to be.

Darkside by @exmachina187, @itsmarscosta | E

Jughead has had centuries to reflect on his life, but none of it had meaning until she came along.

Dear Angel series by @tory-b | M/E

🎃 Dirty Devil by @thesecretfandom | E

Betty and Jughead are celebrating Halloween, but their costumes seem to be interfering with their fun.

Dust & Desire by @darknessaroundus | T

They have a rhythm to their days, the result of having very little company but each other for years now. When Betty wakes from the nap, they eat mac and cheese before they go hunting. A Vampire Slayer AU.

erase & rewind by @sopaloma | M

When a powerful storm hits Riverdale, five students are hit by lightning as they leave school. The result of that storm will change their lives forever, in ways they never could have imagined. A Misfits AU.

Ever Since We Met by @lilibetts | M

It's almost All Hallow's Eve and witch!Betty has a broomstick breakdown. She lands near werewolf!Jughead's bar and he helps her out...by giving her another broom to ride.

🎃 go home people (the party’s not over) by @grilledcheesusyouredelic | T

“It was your dad’s idea,” Betty chirped. “He told my mom that if people were going to stare at us she may as well make it worth her while.” Jughead bit back a sigh. “And she said ‘like what, throw a party’? And he said ‘sure, Alice, the perfect holiday is coming up’.”

🎃 Howling by @lovedinapastlife | T

Jughead’s working a shift at the Blossom haunted house when he spots a familiar blonde ponytail and decides to try and give her a scare. He ends up smashed in the face, real blood added to his costume. Horrified, Betty tries to make it up to him. She’s nervous to finish the house by herself, so Jughead offers to let her work on a few scenes and scares with him until Archie comes back from his break. There’s nothing quite like method acting with a childhood crush and best friend when hearts are pounding and limbs are entangled in a ravenous display. Something’s building inside of them, a low, penetrating howl.

🎃 I Don’t Have a Lot of Friends by @typing123 | M

Joker Jughead and Harley Betty meet at a Halloween Party. It’s definitely a treat.

Interview with the Coopers by @typing123 | E

What a perfect little family they make

🎃 It’s A Great Pumpkin, Jughead Jones by @alisoncollis | NR

Jughead and Betty go to a pumpkin patch.

i will hang on the hook of your splendour by @jughead-jones/@stark | G

“We have to go up to Woodland House tomorrow,” Betty said, hopping out of the back of the van the night before, dressed in something that she called summer sleepwear and Jughead deemed to be sweet torture. “There has to be a clue there about these abductions.”Mystery Inc AU

Jug the Ripper by @lovedinapastlife @theheavycrown | NR

Murder kink isn’t on the menu—not really. But he’ll do anything for his beloved.

🎃 Let the Right One In by @yavannie | T

When Jellybean talks Jughead into going to a Halloween-themed birthday party in Greendale, she does such a good job on his make-up that not even his best friend can tell it’s him.

🎃 love is kinda crazy (with a spooky little girl like you) by @whaticameherefor | G

Jughead always thought that falling in love would feel like a punch to the gut. It didn’t, of course. It was more like a punch to the face. Right in the nose, to be exact.

🎃 Movie Night on Elm Street by @bettsc | NR

Jughead Jones finds himself at the Cooper household on Halloween night, and it’s not just the scary movies that are giving him goosebumps.

🎃 No Guts No Glory by @thesecretfandom | E

Jughead may have taken their pumpkin carving competition a bit too far, and now it’s Betty’s job to get the both of them cleaned up.

🎃 Nobody Knows You Now by @bettsc | M

They moved like this for what seemed like hours; neither one relenting to the other; both losing themselves in the intertwining of two souls.

🎃 october 2017 by @elizabethbettscooper | G

“Jug, you’re home!” she glanced up, grinning at him. He nudged off his shoes and started towards her.

“So it seems.” he said, smirking and dropped onto the floor beside her. “What’s up, Betts?”

“Do you have plans tomorrow? I want to go to the pumpkin patch.”

“The… pumpkin patch.” Jughead raised an eyebrow and put his arm across the sofa seat, leaning in to look at Betty’s planner.

Outbreak by @moon--mama | T

The breakdown only took 36 hours.

🎃 Over the Wall by @typing123 | T

The Over the Garden Wall AU nobody asked for.

🎃 Pumpkin Spice (and all things nice) by @itsindiansummer13 | G

Jughead, Betty, and Halloween through the years.

Seek Forbidden Things by @maeve-of-winter | T

Kevin Keller has gone missing from Riverdale, and it’s up to Betty and the rest of the gang to bring him back.

🎃 Self control by @bettyscooperr | NR

Jughead just really hates Halloween

Spirits, Are You There? by @jugandbettsdetectiveagency | T

An abandoned asylum, plus a ouija board, plus Cheryl Blossom? The perfect potion.

Strange and Unusual by @lovedinapastlife | M

AU loosely based on the film Beetlejuice - where a ravenous ghoul and a shrewd teen make a strange and unusual alliance that goes far deeper than convenience.

strange days by @sopaloma | T

His sister is missing, his dad is talking to Christmas lights and Betty Cooper needs his help. November 1983 is a strange time for Jughead Jones. A Stranger Things AU.

Taboo. by anonymous | NR

Death becomes her.

The Beast Within series by @cooperjones2020 | M/E

He likes to watch her sleep.

🎃 the business of being dead (and the curse of virginity) by @thetaoofbetty | M

🎃 The Cooper House by @satelliteinasupernova | T

“Let’s go to a haunted house, Jughead,” Jellybean had said. “It’ll be fun,” she said.

Except, now he was turned around somewhere in a dark hallway; alone. With no source of light nearby, he could barely make out his surroundings. Tentatively, he reached out to use the wall to guide him, taking one step at a time. The surface of the wall was uneven and with each step he felt another notch as his hand moved across one panel of wood to the next. The floor creaked softly under his feet. Here in the dark, it was unnervingly quiet. The only other sound he could hear was of the wind passing through the trees outside the house.

“Hey, JB?” he called out. “Where the hell did you go?”

🎃 The First Halloween Since by @typing123 | G

Single Mom Betty doesn’t think she can face Halloween this year. She just wants a quiet night in with her daughter. Jughead’s not so sure.

THE HOUSE IS NOT HAUNTED by @satelliteinasupernova | T

“For the hundredth time, the house is not haunted,” said Gladys Jones as she lifted another box from the U-haul to carry into the house. “Now, go help your brother carry your things to your bedroom.”

JB huffed, and marched over to Jughead, reaching for her box of vinyl records, “How else did we get this place so cheap? You know it’s because that girl disappeared here.”

Silently, Jughead agreed with her, but he was getting tired of the argument. He knew JB wasn’t bringing this up to stop them from moving into the new house, she just wanted their mom to admit that was the reason they could even afford it. Gladys Jones wasn’t one to own up to her own methods, much less admit weakness.

The Hunger by @mistressofmalplaquet | M

Betty is being slowly starved at the Farm, while Jughead is hungry for blood. Hunger and seductive Blood Lust leads the pair into a swirl of terror, torture, and an inescapable dark fate.

🎃 The Jack-O-Gram by @noorakardemmomesaetre | T

The Jack-O-Gram has become the perfect way for Riverdale High students to express their feelings for someone special before the Halloween Banshee Bash at the end of the week.

Betty can't help but hope she receives one from the only boy who's ever captured her heart, Jughead Jones.

the key to (harm)ony by @lovedinapastlife | E

Everything else falls away, even her mother, sister, and Geraldine, when he steps towards her, untethered and confident with the grace of a circulating fountain. Up close, his eyes are blue - brilliant and deep like Sweetwater River, just on the verge of a knowing wink. His long spider-leg lashes flutter as he exhales in a hum of satisfaction, and the longer she looks at him the more it feels like she’s in the tub, water rising up over her chin until she can’t breathe.

“Hello, Betty,” he says with a soft, secret smile, and her heart rattles.

~~~

Betty resents her drunken mother's attempt to replace the recently deceased Charles with a stranger, his enigmatic half-brother Jughead. It's almost like he's waiting for the right moment to please her, to slink into her latest mystery and submerge her in something foreign: Freedom.

🎃 The Mouse by @typing123 | G

A hungry Jughead is lured into the woods on Halloween by a hungry vampire.

🎃 The One That I Want by @dreamersshouldknowbetter | T

Betty and Jughead meet at a Halloween party where they accidentally form two halves of a couples costume

the strange death of Elizabeth Cooper by @wolfofansbach | T

Betty Cooper, after a long struggle with illness, has passed away. Except–she hasn’t, because against all rhyme and reason, she awakens on the coroner’s slab, hale and healthy. The illness is gone, and she couldn’t be in better condition, to the weeping relief of her friends and family, not least of all her longtime boyfriend, Jughead Jones. No real explanation is forthcoming, but what does it really matter, when Betty is alive? And he can discount the occasional oddity in her behavior. She’s been through a lot, after all. Except, as the days go by and the strange happenings pile on, Jughead begins to suspect that whatever it is that crawled out of the grave that day isn’t really Betty Cooper.

🎃 the unexpected perks of being a pumpkin by @thetaoofbetty | M

Jughead Jones has a damn good Halloween.

🎃 Things that Go Bump in the Night by @createandconstruct | T

Are sometimes things that also squeal…

Thrill Me, Chill Me, Fulfill Me by @ms-maj | T

The gang does Rocky Horror.

Time Honoured Tradition by @jugandbettsdetectiveagency | T

When Cheryl dares Betty to spend some time in the abandoned house across the street she gets a little more than she bargained for.

What Happened on Elm Street by @tory-b | M

When Jughead Jones moves to Riverdale with his family, he uncovers a few mysteries this simple small town has been trying to cover up–specifically the murder that occurred in his house during the late 1950s that was never properly solved. Unable to keep his curiosity away, he teams up with neighbor and fellow mystery lover Betty Cooper to uncover the truth.

🎃 what we pretend to be by @sylwrites | G

It’s his little sister’s first Halloween, but his parents don’t have money for a costume or the time to take her trick-or-treating. The answer to both of these problems comes in the form of his best friend’s neighbour.

🎃 What’s Your Favourite Scary Movie? by @gellsbellshead | T

Betty Cooper doesn’t do scary movies. However maybe she could be persuaded by some cuddling from her boyfriend Jughead. This is a continuation of the fic “Movie Night”

🎃 when things go bump and grind at night by @rainystripe | M

Betty dresses up and Jughead is her slave.

Wild Creatures by @lilibetts | E

Neither Betty Cooper or Jughead Jones were particularly hopeful about their soulmarks; the inky black First Words seemed custom built for their hole-hearted selves. But with a mysterious game ensnaring students on campus, and killing some, it was a question of whether they would learn to work together before them being at cross-purposes destroyed everything.

🎃 Wish Fulfillment by @lilibetts | T

On Halloween, the core four meet up to go Trick-or-Treating, only to find themselves turning into their costumes. Revelations are had for Jughead and Betty.

🎃 won’t you tell me what you’re thinking of? by @flwrpotts | G

Betty enlists Jughead, Reggie, and Archie to help her set up for the annual Riverdale middle school Halloween dance.

Still haven’t satisfied your itch for Halloween fics? Check out our fanfic tag on @riverdale-events! Our Halloween event, Tricks and Treats of Riverdale, is going on and you can find fics posted exclusively to Tumblr there!

#bughead #betty x jughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead fanfic #bughead fic rec #riverdale #betty cooper #jughead jones #halloween #fanfic #fic rec #masterlist #*admin #tricksandtreatsofriverdale #riverdaleevents

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blancheludis · 4 years

Link

Tagging: @tokky231

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Bruce Barton, Steve Rogers Chapters: 30/?, Words: 166.584

Summary: Tony meets his soulmate under the worst possible circumstances. It is not just a kidnapping gone wrong. It turns out Steve and his gang picked him on purpose and they want some personal revenge. If only he had managed to say the words written on his soulmate’s arm before they threw him back out into the streets.

—

They have a table in the back of the restaurant where fewer people can watch them. With everything that is happening at Stark Industries, the press is hounding Tony more than ever. If he had not thought that a public setting would help Steve and him relax, he would not have ventured out of the tower at all. Being in an open space where someone could be listening in does wonders to one’s countenance, and while Tony does not think they are going to start an outright argument during dinner, it is better to be prepared.

Also, Rhodey would not have stopped hovering had they stayed in the penthouse. He might have even found an excuse to call Pepper up, and then they would not have had an opportunity to talk at all.

Tony knows the owner of the restaurant. They should be safe here. The rest is up to them. That does not make him any less nervous.

The first moment of confusion happened right in front of the restaurant when they both tried to let the other go through the door first. That just worsened the awkward tension between them.

Now they are seated, neither of them ordered any alcohol to go with dinner, and are waiting for their food while working through a conversation.

Steve is talking about some exhibition at the MoMA, which Tony finds interesting right up to the point where he realizes that, at some point during this entire mess of Tony’s life falling apart, Steve took the time to go to a museum. It might have been before they snatched Tony off the street, of course. He is not petty enough to ask, but it does leave a bitter taste in his mouth while he listens.

On unspoken agreement, they have decided to leave all discussion about their future for later, at least until after the main course. Tony is already not very hungry, but the food here deserves some consideration at least.

“Why didn’t you become an artist?” Tony asks when Steve begins to trail off, obviously fishing for something else to say. Up until now, Tony has not made it easy on him. Keeping a conversation alive when one party mostly just listens passively is always hard.

And Tony wants to make to most of this evening. He has Bruce and Thor’s story in his head, who first got to know each other before they made any kind of decision. Playing the long game might be a bit too much for him, but that does not mean he needs to brush Steve off either.

“I tried,” Steve says, a hint of red creeping up his neck that Tony sees even in the dim restaurant lights. “Turns out nobody wants to give an artist without a degree any work that’s enough to pay the bills. And I didn’t have the money for college.”

He looks as if he expects Tony to laugh at him. Money has never been a problem for Tony. People have described him as over-indulgent and wasteful. He has too many fast cars. Every house of his that he has spent longer than a week in has a state-of-the-art lab. He always looks meticulous when stepping out the door. And he used to throw the wildest parties, no expenses spared.

The thing is, Tony needs money to fund his projects, and life is so much easier when he does not have to count bills. He likes to think that he could do without all those zeroes in his bank account. But he never had to try, so he can hardly offer his perspective on Steve’s situation.

“So you enlisted to get the Army help with tuition?” Tony asks, careful to keep his tone neutral.

He does not think less of Steve because he did not grow up with money – he has real reasons for the distrust between them - but he realizes that any reaction of his could be seen as unfavourable.

Steve hums in response and picks at his pasta. “Didn’t work out too well.”

“Why?”

It looks like Steve would prefer to change the topic, but this is important. At some point, he decided to stop being an artist and found a mob instead. If they want to go anywhere from here, Tony needs to know whether Steve has just been waiting for an opportunity to abandon the boring day-life as an artist – or anything else really that does not involve crime. In his opinion, people do not just go from painting pictures to chasing criminals instead.

“I started college,” Steve says but trails off, staring at his plate until he drags his eyes up. His lips twist into something too bitter to be a smile. “Bucky did not do well after we came home from our last tour.”

The way Tony sees it, Barnes is not doing so well now either, but he wisely does not say that out loud. He does not need to start another argument right now.

“So you gave up your chance to study art for him,” Tony says, nods his understanding. If needed, he would do a lot more than that for Rhodey. If Rhodey had not been so adamant that Stark Industries is Tony’s, Tony might have never followed Obadiah’s call back.

“Yes,” Steve answers simply and waits. He must see the thoughts racing in Tony’s face.

And Tony, fork hovering in the air over his plate, looks at Steve. “Just like you betrayed your alleged morals when you let him and Barton beat me up in the hopes of him getting some peace of mind back.”

This time, Steve hesitates for a moment, his expression utterly defeated, but he does not deny it. “Yes.”

Tony exhales slowly. He is not sure he is allowed to be upset when Steve is being honest with him. “Did he at least feel better?” Tony asks with some urgency, unsure why it is important. That does not make his ribs heal faster or softens his memories. “Before he knew I wasn’t the one he wanted?”

They both know the answer. It is written all over Steve’s face, just like Tony could read it in the crooked letters of Barnes’ postcard.

“No.”

It does not feel like a relief but a knot loosens in Tony’s chest. He will not ask about Barton since he is sure the answer will not be in his favour.

“Great,” he sighs, resolutely tucking his fork back into his food. “Glad we could clear that up.”

Across from him, Steve does not move but keeps watching him with that careful expression, almost waiting for judgement.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve says, sounding dejected in a way that just spikes Tony’s irritation.

“That’s not where I was going with that,” he says, more harshly than intended.

Apologies will not get them anywhere. They are already beyond words, and Steve’s face says it all. Looking back, the sheer panic and fear that Tony felt through the bond in the warehouse told their own story too. This is not just about being sorry and making up for their mistakes anymore. Somehow, they have gotten invested in each other. The mere thought is scary.

“I still am,” Steve says and, this time, Tony just accepts it with a nod of his head.

They both have a cluster of one-sided information about each other, painting them as villains. It will not be easy to pick out the good parts in between all of that. To see the person beneath all of that.

For a few minutes, they eat in silence, while Tony is second-guessing his reason for being here. He sneaks in glances at Steve and pretends not to notice when Steve does the same. Going out with someone has not felt this awkward in years. Usually, he knows very well what he wants and what the other person wants from him. With Steve, he is at a complete loss. It is not even a battle between head and heart anymore. His feelings are all over the place and he cannot begin to make sense of them.

“Your USB drive,” Steve speaks up when the silence becomes too much. “There were a lot of great ideas on there. A lot of things that weren’t weapons either. Why didn’t you pursue them?”

“Because my board of directors said no.” Tony laughs, still bitter about the fact that Obadiah held his entire life in hands with no intention of giving him any leeway. “My name might be on the side of the building but I can’t just make all the decisions on my own.”

His problems from before appear insignificant compared to the mess of dealing with his godfather. How often has he heard the word no and countless of reasons why his ideas were not feasible? He knew he could have done it and made them all richer in the process as well as doing something good for the world. If only he had not listened to Obadiah.

“You shut down the weapon manufacturing,” Steve remarks, appearing genuinely curious about why he could do that but not market one of the many projects he has already planned out.

Tony takes a bite of his food and chews it slowly, giving himself some time to answer. “And that’s a giant clusterfuck we’re not even close yet to figuring out,” he finally says. He managed to anger just about every investor and contractor they have, which makes rising up out of their own ashes unsurprisingly difficult. “Not without firing people, which I absolutely refuse to do. They’re not at fault that Obie abused the company as his personal piggy bank.”

Right now, his board is just interested in saving their own hides. Now that Obadiah is gone, Tony will have to watch them closely anyway. Everybody who knew what was happening or even aided with the dealing will have to go. Without Pepper, Stark Industries would already be nothing more than a rotten wreck, completely unsalvageable.

“But why go into weapon design in the first place?” Steve asks, still without accusation, although Tony feels like there should be some. All of this could have been avoided if Tony was not such a pushover. “You studied robotic engineering, right?”

How careless his MIT time had been, how happy. At least until Howard died and Tony went completely off the rails.

“Amongst other things, yes,” he answers, keeping his tone even. “My Dad never approved. After he died, I wasn’t going to touch the company at all. Obie got me back into the fold.” He shrugs as if the mere mention of his godfather has him not wanting to curl up and hide from the world – and to check his hands for the blood he washed off but will never be able to unsee. “At that point, it was easier to just do what he thought best. I didn’t want to lose anybody else.”

More than that, he did not care. Stark Industries still was mostly his father’s company then. Obadiah first asked for a few designs, then for some appearances where the press could see them. He did not just come out and ask Tony to come back but pulled him slowly back in until Tony was so entangled with the company again that there was nothing else to do but make it official.

In one way or another, Tony has always allowed himself to be a pawn of other people. He is done with that. Done with letting anyone else decide where he is going and what he is doing.

Silence engulfs them as they finish their meals. Sooner than Tony would like, his plate is empty. With exaggerated care, he puts down his cutlery and takes a sip of water. Only when he is done does he look up at Steve.

Compared to the past weeks, the bond has calmed down. It is vibrating with worry, but nothing so loud that he cannot concentrate on his own thoughts. Making sense of those thoughts is a completely different problem, however. Every time their eyes meet, it gets worse.

“What’s going on, Tony?” Steve asks, his expression tighter than it has been all evening.

And Tony gulps around the sudden tightness in his throat. He wants to look away but he owes it to Steve to not hide from this. “I’m not sure this is going to work.”

He watches Steve’s eyes narrow in confusion before they are blown wide. “What?” he asks, voice raspy. “Us?” Then he shrugs, bashful more than dejected. “I didn’t think it was an option.”

That is not the complete truth. Tony knows that even without the bond flashing warnings at him. Steve wants more. As it appears, he has at least learned to recognize reality for what it is, though.

“It’s not. Not like this. But you –” Tony interrupts himself, searching for the right words. He did not ask Steve here just to put him down but to find out what is best for them. “You’re not a completely bad guy. And I thought the intensity of the soul bond would lessen, but –” He trails off, certain that Steve is as aware as he is of the constant burning of their arms and twisting of their emotions.

“It doesn’t. I thought that was just me,” Steve says, nodding as he glances down at his arm. Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “There is medication for that.”

The words wash over Tony like a bucket of ice water has been upended over his head. It appears like Steve has been one step ahead of him all this time, already looking for ways out. He is sure that should not make him feel as irritated as it does.

“I’m not going to take drugs because my tattoo is tingling.” Tony snaps. The medication has side effects, which is partly wanted because rejecting one’s soulmate is not the natural course of things. He cannot afford to take anything that slows down his thinking.

A much smaller part of Tony is also aware that, all of a sudden, Steve is so willing to give up. It would make things easier on the both of them if they did not fight each other, but all this time Steve refused to leave and now he wants to take the easy way out?

“It’s more than that, though. At least to me,” Steve says, putting his hand over where Tony’s words sit on his arm. “Perhaps it needs more time.”

Of course, it is more than tingling. It is an invasion of their thoughts and emotions. It is a pull towards another person they do not really know, who might not good for them.

“Perhaps,” Tony echoes tonelessly. Bruce told him the sensation would fade. They can deal with this for a few months, surely.

His tone must have been off enough for Steve to perk up, watching him with new interest. Almost as if he knows that Tony is not as glad for that simple solution to get rid of Steve as he pretends to be.

“But?” he asks, waiting patiently for Tony to get his footing.

Tony should just shrug it off and tell Steve there are no buts. That might be better for everybody involved. He does not like giving up, though. At some point over the past weeks, he has gone from being afraid of Steve to seeing him as an ally to clinging to him when he was emotionally vulnerable. Things are not as simple anymore as saying that Steve wronged him and now they are doomed forever.

“You helped me with Obie,” Tony says slowly, measuring each of the words. “You saved my life.”

He stops speaking abruptly when he notices that Steve’s face has closed off completely.

“So you asked me to dinner because you think you owe me?” Steve asks, sounding offended. He is leaning slightly away from Tony as if he needs to distance himself from the very idea.

Within a span of seconds, everything has gone wrong again. Tony should have kept his mouth shut and agreed that the pills would solve their problem just fine. Instead, they are facing off again, and he has somehow offended Steve by trying to say his opinion of him has changed.

“No,” Tony replies dryly, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his tone. “Ask anyone, I’m the selfish type.”

Steve winces but it is too late. “You’re not –” he tries to say, but Tony shakes his head.

He does not even know anymore what they are doing here. Are they trying to work something out how they can stay in each other’s lives? Or are they looking for the best way out?

“Stop that,” he says, colder than he intended. “You don’t know me. I don’t know you. That’s the thing. All we know is the negative things.”

The weapons and the kidnapping and the stubbornness. Neither of them will come out of this smelling like roses.

“I know –”

“Let me make my point,” Tony snaps, cutting Steve off again. “You’re not responsible for Barnes and Barton beating me up. Yes, they might not have done it if you hadn’t given your okay, but it’s equally likely that they would have. Just later. Also, then I might have never found out about Stane selling my weapons.” He takes a shuddering breath, trying to sort through his thoughts. “I’m not saying I’m okay with what happened. You’re still a mob boss, and I’m not going to let you drag me into that, but maybe we should –”

“No,” Steve says suddenly and Tony falls silent immediately, caught off guard by the vehemence in Steve’s voice. “I can’t give up the Avengers.”

Tony’s expression tightens, even while he exhales with some relief. This is it then. His solution served to him on a silver platter.

He is not afraid of the Avengers anymore, although he would not want to be left alone with Barton. They are efficient and they may have done some good in the world. He has just learned that good intentions do not weigh out bad results. For years, Tony has built weapons, and while he knew they were used to hurt and kill people, he was convinced he was doing it for the good of his country, his people. Instead, they had just taken lives on all sides. Good or bad do not matter in that equation.

He does not see much of a difference where the Avengers are concerned. They have made themselves into weapons and they have hurt innocents just like Tony did. Perhaps just as unwittingly but it happened. If they are not going to change anything, if Steve is not even willing to take a step back and think about what happened, they are done.

“That makes it really easy then,” Tony says, slipping into a formal tone. Years of practice allow him to hide his feelings, although he is certain the burning through the soul bond betray that he is upset. “Thank you for meeting me. I wish you a good life.”

He is already in the process of getting up when Steve reaches out to him. His hand falls short of actually touching Tony, but it makes him stay where he is anyway. He is not going to ignore the plea written all over Steve’s face. Not while he is yearning for another kind of resolution of this himself.

“Tony.” Steve’s lips form Tony’s name with more care than he is used to, like it is something precious. “You can’t make me choose.”

The Avengers as they are now is not something Tony can allow into his life. Not while he is still caught in this mess.

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Tony says, although he just wanted Steve to consider changing things. “I know you think you’re fighting the good fight, that it doesn’t matter that you’re hurting people as long as they’re the bad guys, whatever that means. But it’s not okay. You’re no better than them.”

He takes no satisfaction when Steve flinches, looking at him with wide eyes.

“That’s not true.”

That denial just there is why they will have a problem with each other. Tony might not be responsible for what Obadiah did, but he feels like it. He feels responsible for every misplaced bullet, every wound, every death. Steve, on the other hand, is too practised at pushing all blame away and marching forward no matter what happens.

“Tell me, Steve,” Tony says, leaning forward. He wants to get this over with. “You have a Stark gun, right? Yet, no gun is registered in your name. Where did you get it? Did you steal it? Did you buy it on the black market, meaning you aided the very shady business you hated me for?” He shakes his head, openly showing his disappointment. “Your morality doesn’t add up. You’re not even in the grey area anymore, you’re just changing what’s right and what’s wrong based on what you currently need.”

His arm is burning, and Tony is not even sure anymore whether that comes from Steve or whether his own anger is taking over. It was ridiculous to think that they could just sit down and talk things through. That they could come to some kind of solution in one evening, talking about art and ignoring the bigger issues looming over them.

Steve is staring down at the table, biting his lip so hard that Tony expects to see blood any second now. When it becomes obvious that he is not going to say anything, Tony clears his throat and waits until Steve looks up.

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy, Steve,” he says, making his voice as gentle as he dares without making it seem like he is taking back what he said before. "But I’m not going to be your friend, much less anything more while you’re running a mob.”

A noise breaks out of Steve that is half laughter and half frustrated groan. He looks more alive than he did during the entirety of dinner, although in a non-flattering way.

“So what,” Steve asks, the words as clear as they are ugly, “you want me to abandon my friends on the off chance that you’ll stick around?”

That is the crux, Tony can admit that. He knows he will not start anything with Steve while he goes around doing his shady business. At the same time, he is not sure he can guarantee more even if Steve agreed to change. Everything is messed up and tangled inside his head. More than anything, they need to get to know each other, but that is not going to happen while Steve is someone Tony does not want to know.

“You don’t have to stop being friends,” Tony argues, knowing how uncompromising he sounds. “I would obviously prefer if the Avengers got some official, legal work, but you’re my soulmate, not any of them.”

He sees they are getting nowhere, not while they are both upset and lost.

“I don’t –” Steve tries to say, but Tony cuts him off.

“Go home, Steve,” he says, softening his expression and tone. “I don’t expect you to make a decision right here, but those are my terms. If you want me in your life, in whatever capacity we’d manage with time, you can’t have the Avengers in tow.”

Looking at Steve, he does not see any admission there, anything but the chaos of grief and howling sense of injustice echoed by the bond.

“I know what my answer will be,” Steve says, voice as tight as his face, withdrawing further from Tony with every breath.

Tony smiles. He can see that this throws Steve, but he simply nods. “Well, at least you’re dedicated.”

That is not a consolation. He knows the Avengers are important to Steve. He knows what he is asking.

He gets to his feet and reaches for a jacket, letting his eyes roam over Steve again. This might be the last opportunity he has.

“Tony –” Steve tries but trails off, sounding helpless even while he is unwilling to concede his point.

“Good night, Steve,” Tony says, wondering whether the tightness in his chest comes from the bond or whether that rejection is real. “You have my number if something important comes up.”

He is not even sure what he means with that. Is he going to wait for Steve to change his mind? Does he offer his assistance if Steve is ever in danger?

His thoughts are going too fast, fighting against the panicked current of emotions filtering through the bond, to make sense of it. With a last look at Steve, taking in his dejection and the way his shoulders slump, Tony leaves. Head held high and steps measured, he walks out of the restaurant, pushing some bills into a clueless waiter’s hands. All the way to the door, he can feel Steve’s eyes in his back, like a weight settling on him.

It is impossible to say whether he has just made the right decision. Cutting Steve out of his life is certainly not a bad thing, considering their history. He left him a backdoor, though. More than that, really.

It is perhaps unfair to ask Steve to give up the team he built without making concessions that things will work out with Tony if he does. Especially after said team saved his life. That is the best he can do, however. He sees the mistakes he made and he is striving to do better. Is it not his right to ask Steve to do the same?

#stony #slow burn #fanfiction #marvel #mob boss #soulmates #au #emotional angst #hurt/comfort #steve rogers #tony stark #romance #in a way #my writing #ao3 #leave the gun on the table

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raindrop-on-a-spiderweb · 5 years

Text

On The Street Where You Live, Part 1

My laptop finally arrived! It got lost in the mail. Once I get electricity I can finally work on Ragnatela again. So this--and its next part--might be the last bonus chapters for a while.

I always thought that if Patience and Salvatore were younger--and met of their own accord--it would be quite different. Hell, extend that to Leonardo too.

***

Patience Winslow took the same route home every day, trudging down the gray street with her books in her arms, passing a cracked fire hydrant, an abandoned warehouse, a park with rusted and creaking equipment. The stream ran with green scum and sludge alongside the road in a drain.

She had no idea why her parents had decided to move from Greenhaven to stinking Garland City. She hated everything about it. She hated the school and the rude, rowdy city girls. She hated her bored, apathetic teachers. She hated the way she knew nobody. In Greenhaven, everyone had known her and her parents by name.

And most of all, she hated her slum of a neighborhood. There were union meetings next door. A drunk with dogs that never stopped barking on the other side. There were gunshots in the night and people speaking different languages and gangs of youths that loitered the street.

One particular gang she hated with a passion. They were always standing outside of a butcher shop she passed, talking and smoking cigarettes. They always were dressed sloppily, with their shirts untucked. She suspected they were dagos, but she thought one sandy-headed boy might have been Polish or Irish.

The head boy, a black-haired youth, always yelled something dirty out to her. And always her. One day when she was crossing the street behind a group of other girls he had called out to her specifically, and the other girls had giggled and looked behind them at her.

Patience was approaching them now. Sure enough, there they were, one leaning against the wall, another holding a cigarette, and the head one spotted her.

She walked faster.

"--skirt! Come over and give me a kiss," he yelled, and she bowed her head, flushing in shame. An old woman was across the street, surveying them closely with her lips pursed in disapproval. She was so focused on where she was going that she didn't notice when she tripped over the curb. Her knee erupted in pain.

The quietness of the street, and the loudness of his voice, stressed her and humiliated her. She struggled up and began walking again, and the shouts rang in her ears, and she covered her face with her hands and began running, tears bursting from her eyes.

"Oh, look at that! You made her cry!"

"You're a son-of-a-bitch, Sal."

She heard rapid pounds of footsteps, and someone grabbed her shoulder. She turned around to face the dark-haired boy, trying desperately to hide her face.

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry." His voice was regretful and a little embarrassed.

"Go to hell," she said, trying not to tear up, but he took the back of her head and cleaned her tears with his sleeve. Close-up, he was very handsome, with thick black hair in a widow's peak and sharp, angular features.

The rest of his gang were around her now. "C'mon, tell the girl you're sorry," said the heavy one.

"I..." he looked discontented. "I always looked at you walking back from school and-- hey, you all! Get lost!" He barked at his friends.

"I kinda like you," he said under his breath once they were gone. "And I guess--I didn't know that you'd. Uh, react this way--but I really do like you."

Patience studied him through her tears. His big dark eyes and stark eyebrows and thin lips and that gangly frame halfway to becoming a man. She still felt like crying but the thought of someone liking her flattered her. "Do you go to William Weston High school? I think you're a few grades ahead of me."

"Yes'm. My name's Salvatore Mallozzi." He offered her his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

His hand was warm as she shook hers.

***

After that, he began giving her little tokens every time she walked by, instead of harassing her. He had pennies and handkerchiefs and even an ice cream cone sometimes. And she knew she should hate him--she still did, a little--and stay away from him, because he was the sort of boy you should stay away from, but she was impressed and flattered and fascinated by the attention the older boy heaped on her.

Patience arrived home one day, and Mommy was yelling at Daddy. His assignment wasn't ending soon enough, and Mommy wanted to go back to Greenhaven. Patience hated it when her parents yelled like that. She didn't go home, but ran off, her schoolbag thumping against her side.

When she came to the corner, the boys were still there, and she approached shyly. Black-haired Sal was holding a cigarette, and he smiled and motioned. "Come on, join the crowd."

Patience took one inhale, coughed, and resolved to never do it again. She passed the cigarette to the sandy-haired boy. "I don't think I ever got your name," said Sal.

"Patience. Patty."

"This is Thurston and Luca and Tony and Jacko." He indicated each member in turn.

"Is this your... like, headquarters?"

"No. My dad owns this shop so he lets us hang around."

Standing by them, their casual conversation horrified and fascinated her. Robbing trucks. Making another rival member 'pay'. Her attraction couldn't compete with her disgust, and she eventually walked home.

But her home still wasn't empty.

A strange black car was parked in the driveway, and unfamiliar voices filtered from the living room.

She poked her head in. Daddy was sitting on the couch, face pale. Opposite him she saw a hulking beast of a man, shoulders broad, and beside him a slimmer figure with golden hair.

"Patience, honey. Go play outside," said Daddy, his voice having a note of urgency that made her hackles rise.

The hulking man turned to fix his eyes on her, and her body paralyzed with fear. They were dead as the eyes of an animal, like eyes painted on a wall, completely blank. They made her freeze in place like a deer in the headlights.

He said something in a deep voice to the golden-haired boy, and the boy stood up. "Go on, go," said Daddy.

Patience was happy enough to leave the room, and the cold-eyed man. The blond boy tagged along, smiling congenially.

"What is your name?" He asked her as she sat on the stoop. "Mine is Leonardo. My father knows your father well."

He spoke with a heavy Italian accent she could tell he was trying desperately to shed. "Patience," she said.

"Pazienza. What a lovely name. Patience is a virtue."

"Yeah. It's a family name. One of my great-aunts or something was named Patience."

"Are you from around here?"

"No, Massachusetts. What about you?"

"Sicily. Scafapani. It's a beautiful little village near the coast, tucked away in the mountains. But I was born in Rome, the capital of Italy."

"That's pretty cool." Patience didn't really want to talk with him, but she kept getting drawn back. He was a very handsome boy, with thick, curling golden hair and red lips. His eyes were so blue, and with such long lashes, that she desperately envied him.

She heard a crash from inside, and leaped up. He caught her shoulder and forced her down. "You have very pretty eyes," he said, staring at her intently. "Green as the sea."

Leonardo really was very handsome. And well-dressed, in a waistcoat and a tie. The family was obviously well-off. His hand was warm, and he stroked her leg through her tights. "Thank you," she said, wanting to move her leg but feeling frozen.

The door swung open, and the dark-haired man exited, his heavy boots clomping on the ground. He sharply spoke a word in a different language to his son.

Leonardo stood up. "I will meet you again, Pazienza."

He followed his father to the car, and Patience watched them leave before she entered the house again.

The sitting room was a wreck. The coffee table was overturned, and papers were everywhere. Her father was dabbing his bleeding nose with his handkerchief.

"Daddy! What happened?"

"Nothing, honey." He turned to her sharply. "Listen. If you're here alone, and someone knocks at the door, never answer it. Understood?"

She nodded blankly.

"Go tell your mom it's time to start dinner."

***

Patience studied her shopping list. Milk. Red beans. Flour. Beef. The deli had bene closed that day, so that was the one thing she couldn't find. Her mom was going to give her an earful--she wanted to make her famous meat pie for guests that were coming over, three of her dad's police coworkers.

As she walked home in the waning Saturday sun, she kept an eye out for when Salvatore and his gang loitered in front of that butcher shop, but they weren't there. They never were on weekends. An idea sparked in her mind. Hell, if she knew the guy, why didn't she just get her meat from his shop? For some reason her father and his friends never went there, preferring to go to the shop that was 2 miles away. It never made much sense to her. I mean, the paint was peeling and there were always shifty-looking people in and out of there, but that didn't mean they had bad meat.

Patience was a naturally inquisitive girl, so she stepped inside. It was warm and well-lit, with a large glass counter under which various sliced meats sat glistening. The menu was written in chalk on a blackboard nailed to the wall.

The benches and tables were all occupied by older, balding men in ratty-looking overcoats, who all looked over at her suspiciously.

A stocky man with a jowly face was shaving slices off a hamhock behind the counter. He looked up indifferently. "Hi," Patience said. "Can I, uh--"

At the sound of her voice, a familiar person stuck his head out of the door.

"Patience, is that you?" He said.

"Yeah! Hi, Sal."

He was dressed in a blood-smeared butcher's apron and his hair was in disarray. He self-consciously smoothed it back, but that did nothing but make his hair sticky with blood. "What are you doing here?"

Patience smiled inwardly. She'd surprised him at his workplace and he was all embarrassed. "Well, the deli on Fashion Square was closed, so I decided to stop here instead. Guess you don't get too many girls here, huh?"

He laughed nervously. "Well, I guess, I mean, not too much. You look, uh, great."

Patience was wearing a plaid skirt, white knee-high socks and a blouse. "Thanks. I wish I could say the same about you."

"So, what are you looking for?"

"One pound of corned beef." As he began her order, she rested her elbows on the counter amd stared at him. "Hey, Sal? Do you know anyone called Leonardo? Blond, with curly hair?"

His face turned puce, and he cut into the slab of beef with more force than neccessary. "That little fuck. His daddy pays for him to go to St. Joseph's, that private Catholic school that costs an arm and a leg to get in. Tries to pretend his whole family ain't from the ass-end of Sicily. But people love him 'cause he's a good talker and has a nice manner. I hate that smarmy little douchebag." He stopped cutting for a moment. "Why? Do you know him?"

"Yeah, I met him." Patience studied him carefully. "He's real cute, you know."

"The Borghese boy?" said one of the men at the tables. "I always thought he was a fag."

Salvatore looked mortally offended. "He probably fuckin' is. You stay away from him, Patty. He's a two-faced little snake and always has been. Don't let him take advantage of you." He finished weighing her beef and wrapped it up. "Here you go."

Patience took out the rest of the money her mother had given here, but he pressed his hand over hers, closing her fist with the money inside. "Don't bother. This one's on the house." He smiled at her, that billion-dollar smile that made her heart thump. "Save it, get yourself a treat. Maybe at that Dairy Queen on the corner of 5th and 9th. How about I meet you there after school on Monday?"

She smiled back. "Sure. Sounds good. See you then."

As she left, a man walking in held the door for her. He was tall and handsome with slicked-back hair and dark glasses. "Thank you, sir," said Patience.

"Anytime, sweetie." He let the door swing shut behind him. As soon as Sal spotted the man, he stood ramrod straight. "Boss Malone!"

"Heeey, Sal. Thought I'd drop by to see how our 'project' was doing. Got yourself a girl now, haven't you?" He ruffled Sal's hair and grabbed him in a half-hug with his arm around his neck. The younger boy guffawed bashfully.

"Son, do you know who that girl is?" Malone's voice became serious.

"Patience, right? She lives just around the corner."

"That's Patience Winslow, I've seen her around before. She's the daughter of Richard Winslow."

Realization dawned on Salvatore's face. "THAT Richard Winslow?"

"Yeah. Him. So be careful, okay? I know you're just kids fooling around. But don't let yourself get... carried away or nothin'."

"I won't, boss."

Malone nodded to the door that led to the back of the butcher shop. "So. Let's see how our 'project' is goin, yeah?"

In a back room, among slabs of frozen pork and sausage, was a man tied to a chair. His ears, nose, and eyes were cut out, crystallized trickles of blood frozen down his face and neck.

"Cocksucker still ain't tellin us anything, is he?"

"I've been working on him all day, Bats. Nothin." Salvatore crossed his arms, blood-stained cleaver in hand.

Malone took the cleaver from him, threw it up in the air and caught it by the handle. "Let this be a learning experience, Sal. Watch closely..."

***

The date had gone well, and Salvatore had been nice enough to walk her home after the fact. She had bid him goodbye on the street beyond where she lived so her mom and dad didn't have to see him. He wasn't the sort of boy her Daddy would have been enthused to see her bring home.

Her heart was in her throat as she walked up to her door. She was noticing all sorts of things about him now, the sharp widow's peak on his forehead, how big and black his eyes were, how tall he was, so tall he had to stoop down to kiss her.

Her mind was so focused on the kissing that she didn't notice they had company until she saw the figure sitting in the living room.

"Ciao, Pazienza." Leonardo put down his teacup delicately.

"Whatcha doin' here, Leonardo?"

"He wants to talk with your daddy. Richard should be getting back in half an hour." Marilyn was red in the face, and her skirt was untucked. Patience collapsed on the floral print sofa next to Leonardo and tool her shoes off. "Did you just make these, Mommy?"

"Leonardo brought them by. He's a very good cook."

She bit into one. Peanut butter. They were indeed surprisingly good. "Where'd you learn to cook like this? Do you have home ec at your school?"

Leonardo chuckled. "Not at St. Joseph's, though I'd love to take home ec. I do all the cooking for my father, always have."

"That's weird." The thought of doing all her cooking for her dad was bizarre.

"You should stay, Leo. Help us make dinner," said Mommy.

"Alas. I'm afraid I am expected home just after I talk with Mr. Winslow."

The door swung open, and she heard her father's footsteps. As soon as he entered the living room and saw Leonardo his face froze. "Both of you, get out."

Patience left, her quarrelling mother close behind. She was peeling potatoes on the table when Leonardo finally emerged, and he paused next to her on his way out the door. "You should come over to my house for dinner sometime," he said softly. "I'll show you how good my cooking is."

She smiled. "I might take you up on that sometime."

He put his hand on her shoulder and let it slide off slowly, fingers trailing over her skin, then left like a breeze through the front door.

"He's very nice, isn't he?" Sighed Marilyn, dunking the potatoes in a pot of hot water. "He doesn't look like a dago at all. In fact, he looks very white."

"Italians can look like anything, Mom. They were Romans and stuff, remember? I learned it in World History."

"I suppose so. I don't know what the Borgheses and Richard have against each other. I wish the boy would come and visit more often."

***

"Junior Prom is comin' up."

Patience stirred her sundae, watching the caramel and ice cream swirl together. "Is it? Are you going?"

"Well, I never went to prom before. Thought it was kinda gay, you know. But... uh, I was wondering if... maybe this year, you'd like to go with me."

She stopped stirring and looked up at him, stars in her eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "And maybe, if everything works out... we can go next year, as well."

Patience tossed her arms around his narrow shoulders and kissed him passionately. His lips parted under hers, and she tasted cigarettes.

"I'd love to! Oh, Salvatore! Oh my gosh! I have to get a dress..."

***

Salvatore walked her home as he usually did, arm in arm, and since it was getting dark, they took a shortcut down an alley she didn't recognize.

They emerged onto a dimly lit street with weeds growing through the cracks of the sidewalk. Some of the houses were boarded up.

The street was empty but for a kid wearing a leather jacket leaning against the wall of a building. Smoke spiralled from the cigarette he held in his hand. When he saw the two of them, he threw his cigarette to the ground and stomped on it. "What the fuck are you doing here, greaser?" He snarled. "This is Bulldogs territory."

Sal eyed him coldly. "Calm the fuck down, Sam. I'm just escorting my girlfriend home."

"Well, escort her home some other way. Your kind isn't allowed around here."

"I will go wherever the fuck I want, you mick asshole."

"What did you call me? You ain't so tough without your little gang, you guinea cocksucker. Come over here!"

Salvatore's arm was tense in hers. "I ain't gonna cause a scene in front of my girl, otherwise I woulda beaten your red head in until it looked like a fucking pile of meat. Back off."

"Maybe you should leave your girl here so I can take her home." Sam leered at her, and her hackles rose. "Leave me alone!"

Salvatore let go of her arm and threw a punch so rapid that the boy barely had time to blink before his fist crunched into his face.

Sam stumbled back, hands going up to cover his face. Blood burst through his fingers.

Salvatore caught him with a right hook, but he was ready with a left hook.

The thuds of muscle and bone were the only sound on that quiet street. Patient stood there, frozen, wanting to flee, wanting to scream, but able to do nothing but watch them. Salvatore twisted a an arm around his enemy and threw him to the ground.

His nose was bleeding and his eyes were as black as coal. And he grabbed the boy's arm and dragged him over to the curb, and threw his head on top of the concrete edge.

And Sal kicked him so hard that the crack echoed through the night. Patience was screaming by then, frightened and shrill, and when she couldn't take it anymore she ran back through the alleyway she came in.

Sal ran to catch up, grabbing her shoulder. "What the fuck are you doing? You won't get home if you take this route! Come on--"

Patience yanked her shoulder out of his grip. "What is wrong with you?" She screamed. "Is that boy going to be okay?"

"Who cares?" He looked confused. "He's just some Irish prick. He started it."

She turned and tried to walk away, but his grip on her arm was iron.

"Listen." He gripped her face between his hands. "If anyone hits on my girl, I'll make them suffer. Doesn't matter who they are. You're mine, Patience. And you better remember it."

The harsh tone of his voice made her heart thud, and she pulled out of his grip and headed into the darkness. She knew he was standing there, watching her even if he didn't follow, and his gaze haunted her the whole way back, through her mother's screams and curses and her father's admonishments.

#bonus chapter

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halcyonrogers · 6 years

Text

Salvatore - P.P

summary: you had no idea that Peter, your best friend, was the infamous spiderman. a horrific chain of events occur, and for once, it’s peter that needs saving.

warnings: described mentions of injuries, definitely a slow-burn (be careful I may be lying), and maybe fluff if you squint????

word count: 1.9k

A/N: as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, come talk to me and tell me what you think?

part 1?

masterlist

Through the haze of a bus window, the city burned before you in a cacophony of neon laser lights, blazing across the world of darkness like stars across a night sky.

Upon the great stone and metal monoliths, lights danced and flashed, swirled and sparkled in proud shades of red, green, yellow, blue; every colour that you could imagine was soaring and colliding in silent symphony. These lights played and twinkled in your wide eyes.

The city rose within you - a feeling long forgotten, of wonder, beauty and adventure. It had been subdued by the monotony of life, one that had been sorely missed. You weren’t about to give it up now.

Sharing the will of those terrific, persistent lights, you tore your eyes away from the scene to look back. To reflect on why you had ever come to live without this.

Around you, you saw the same tired people. Heads down, dead still, as if shackled by some unhappy master. You, however, perceived so much more. Their lives and dreams and meaning were unveiled through the eye of your vivid imagination. With this new found, childlike wonder that you could only vaguely remember possessing, you saw movie stars, murderers, aliens even, as if looking through a kaleidoscope. Yourself, you seen as a superhero, darting and dashing through the streets to others in need.

Once more, you took a glance out through the fogged window of the slowing bus, and noted a band of youths that had congregated outside, bouncing off each other like vibrating atoms. Each person seemed to be hostile and furious about something, and from where you sat, you couldn’t see what it was.

You watched warily as the bus stopped on the pavement next to the rambunctious crowds, a figure in red and blue now apparently the centre of attention. The figure was like a basketball, but instead of being respectfully passed between teammates, it was smacked and punched by every person surrounding it.

You got off your seat, heart hammering in your chest as the bus completely stilled, the occupants inside watching the scene in complete helplessness. One woman was even leaned against the bus window, videoing the events with her phone. You balled your fists.

Pushing past the many bus passengers, you made your way off the bus to enter the crowd. Heaps of people surrounded the masked figure and you even noticed an old woman cheering. They were taking hits as the body ricocheted back and forth. Bright red became crimson, electric blue became royal purple and there was nothing that worries you more. You were knocked sick when someone yanked the mask off, revealing your bruised and beaten best friend, Peter Parker.

His face was bruised, his nose was bleeding vigorously, and he was yelling, begging for them to cut him some slack and let him go. You began shouting at the crowd, whacking them aside to get to Peter. His burning eyes met yours, and every ounce of your being ached. Peter’s jaw went slack, watching in awe as you gripped his bloody hand, pulling him through the plethora of rowdy teens and adults. You were turned away from him as you were walking, and he would never tell you, but tears actually came from his eyes that night. Peter never thought he would have to be saved from the very people he protected every day, but apparently things were changing and you were the only one to come to his aid.

Peter’s muscles ached as you held his hand, walking at a relatively fast pace to get back to your house. His gut wrenched at the idea of telling May what had happened to him. How would he even get across that ordinary people just decided to gang up on him? How would he explain the unnecessary cuts and bruises that littered his body, so that she would continue to let him protect the neighbourhood?

How, most importantly, would he tell Tony?

When you finally arrived at your house, Peter’s full weight was now on your side, grumbling shaky profanities every time you moved. You struggled to get your key from your pocket and dropped it because of the strain Peter was now creating on your body. He let out a loud wail when you bent down and grabbed your keys, quickly shoving them into the door.

You and Peter stumbled into the doorway, and you winced when you heard your mother shout once she heard Peter’s groans.

“Y/N? Is everything alright?”

Your mother came rushing in to the hallway, and you watched her whole body become rigid and stern. She glared at Peter, her frown evident when she took in his bloodstained outfit and your bloodied clothes.

“What the fuck is the meaning of this?”

Peter raised his head, meeting your mother’s eyes confidently. Maybe someone had hit him and knocked some courage into his anxious self, because now he was grinning with blood upon his chin.

“How you doin’, Mrs Y/L/N?”

Your mother gasped in shock, waiting for your reaction. You gave her your best “please just leave this alone” look, and for once in your life, she listened to you. She raised her hands in mock surrender and turned around, walking back into the living room with her head shaking disapprovingly.

“You’re a fucking nerd, Peter, honestly.”

His breathy laugh vibrates his chest, and he recoiled at the obvious pain it caused him. You huffed as you hauled him up the stairs, smiling slightly when he took his time to glance at the pictures of you as a child, and you could have sworn you heard him mutter something under his breath.

The pictures went in chronological order - from the top of the stairs, there was a picture of you in a bath towel only a couple months old, and then there was the Polaroid you took of yourself when you were 2, the light blinding you temporarily as you pulled possibly the cutest face Peter had ever seen.

You wondered what he was thinking about as you got to the top of the stairs, and he grabbed onto the side of the wall to steady himself and take a sharp breath. Your heart ached for him, it did, but how could he let this happen to himself?

Once you had gotten him into your bathroom, you put the toilet lid down and sat him upon it, sifting through the cupboards for the first-aid kit.

“You’re so good to me, Y/N.”

You let out a huge breath and moved the sweaty hair away from your forehead, kneeling onto the ground to retrieve the kit from underneath the sink. You put it next to you and swivelled your knees to face Peter, and he grinned back at you.

“Here’s my knight in shining- in a shining... In a hoodie.”

A shy giggle made its way from your lips, and you shook your head. “You’re delirious when you’ve been hurt.”

Peter lifted his arm and instantly regretted it - an aching pain has resided just below his bicep, and his eyes flushed with tears.

“Hey hey, stop! You’ll only make it worse. You’re gonna stay here for a couple days, I’ll make some makeshift casts and stuff, okay? Don’t strain yourself.”

Peter shook his head fretfully, and he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye. “I can’t. I have the-“

“I don’t care. This has happened, May will freak and probably lock you in a basement somewhere to protect you if she found out, so I’m keeping you here until you’re somewhat better. Tony Stark can wait.”

“T-Tony Stark doesn’t wait for strangers, Y/N listen it’s not wise-“

“Wise? I’ll give you wise.”

You opened the first-aid kit, reaching for the gauze and pungent liquid you didn’t know the name of. Spritzing the gauze with the liquid you wiped it across Peter’s lip gently, causing him to jump and glare at you, nursing his bust lip.

“What the hell?”

“Stop looking at me like that. I’m doing you a fucking favour.”

Peter let out a loud scoff and readjusted his legs upon the toilet lid, wincing when his knee let out a loud crack.

“A favour? This isn’t a favour. This is- this is holding me captive to make yourself feel better!”

You laughed dryly. Putting the gauze and liquid back into the kit, you raised your head to look directly into his eyes.

“Trust me, this isn’t benefitting me whatsoever. Do you know how bad I’ll fuck up my exams, knowing that you’re in your house, in pain with no one to look after you because you refused help?”

“You’ll look after me.”

“Exactly. Which is why I’m missing my exams for you. I’m sure there’s a way I can retake them.”

Peter’s eyes welled up again, and he pressed his bruised lips together. He had no words for you. How could he argue with what you had said? You’re his closest friend, you know what’s best for him and you know what would be the worst. That’s why all he could do was stay silent and watch as you sigh, leaning your head on his thigh.

He hesitated reaching out for you, but something pushed him to stretch his hand out and run it through your hair gently, rubbing his thumb across your hairline in soft strokes.

“I’m sorry,” He muttered, watching you look up at him with tears in your eyes, a smudge of his blood now on your cheek.

The moment he knew he’d cherish for ages was now ruined - Peter’s backpack vibrated from behind him, and you stood up to unzip it gently, reaching for the phone and answering the call. It was Tony.

“Hello?”

“Who’s this? How did you get this number?”

“I’m a friend of Peter’s, it’s okay Mr Stark. Something happened to him tonight and honestly, if he went anywhere near May, she’d finish him. She’d literally end him. He’s in really big trouble - it’s a good job I found him when I did. Everyone attacked him.”

Tony was at a loss for words. What had even happened?

“Can you fully explain, Y/N?”

“H-How do you know my name? I thought you didn’t know me?”

You cast a wary look towards Peter, who now had his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he cried quietly.

“I ran my voice recognition software whilst you spoke. It’s not hard. But carry on, please tell me what happened to him.”

“I was on the bus home after staying back to revise with MJ when I seen a huge bunch of people surrounding this one person. The bus stopped and when I got a better look, I seen spiderman being absolutely beaten up by everyone there. Someone pulls his mask off, and there’s Peter, bruised and all kinds of messed up. He hasn’t told me why it happened, but all I do know was that it wasn’t just a bunch of thugs. Old people were there, cheering. This was planned.”

You heard Tony sigh deeply through the phone. “It happened for a reason.”

“A concocted attack,” You agreed, pressing the gauze gently onto an open wound on Peter’s leg.

“I’m coming to you. Are your parents home?”

You might as well make the most of this situation. “Yeah, they are, could you get them to go or something?”

“I’ll organise a cruise for them so we have some time. Your family likes Greece, right?”

A/N: hey babies! So this is a prologue, sort of, for a new series I’m doing! I’ll have the next part finished by the weekend. let me know if you wanna be in the tags!

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dukereviewsmovies · 4 years

Text

Duke Reviews: Spider-Man Homecoming

Hello, I'm Andrew Leduc And Welcome To Duke Reviews, Where Today We're Continuing Our Look At The Marvel Cinematic Universe...

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By Talking About The First Outing With The Wall Crawler Himself, Spider-Man, That's Right I'm Talking About Spider-Man Homecoming...

This Film Sees Spider-Man (Played By Tom Holland) Trying To Balance His High School Life With Being Spider-Man While Also Facing Off Against 3 New Enemies In The Form Of The Tinkerer (Played By That Guy In Men In Black 3 Who Gave Will Smith The Time Travel Device) The Shocker (Played By Nobody I Know) And The Vulture (Played By...Batman?)

Will Spider-Man Defeat Them?

Let's Find Out As We Watch Spider-Man Homecoming...

The Film Starts Following The Battle Of New York As Tony Stark (Played By Robert Downey Jr.) And The Federal Government Create The Department Of Damage Control To Deal With The Rest Of The Aftermath Of The Battle That A Salvage Company Owned By Adrian Toomes (Played By Beetlejuice) Was Dealing With...

Putting Them Abruptly Out Of Business, Toomes Decides To Not Hand Over The Chitauri Technology They Have Over To The Government But Instead Uses It For Their Own Diabolical Ends...

(Start At 0:07)

By Turning Adrian Into The Vulture And His Partners Jackson Brice Into The Shocker And Phineas Mason Into The Tinkerer...

8 Years After Civil War, Peter Resumes His Studies After Tony Tells Him That He's Not Ready To Become An Avenger. While At School, Peter Quits The School's Decathlon Team So He Can Focus On The Stark Industries Internship Which He Uses As A Cover For His Activities As Spider-Man...

Suiting Up In A Alley After School We Get Some Scenes Of Spider-Man Stopping Crimes And Being Awesome Including Our Stan Lee Cameo For The Movie...

Stan Lee Cameo!

Later That Evening, Spidey Stops Some Of Toomes Guys Who Are Wearing Avengers Masks...

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(End At 1:55)

Calling Happy Hogan Afterward, Only To Tell Peter To Stay Away From Anything Too Dangerous....

Returning Home, Peter Starts To Unsuit, Only To Discover That His Best Friend, Ned Leeds Is There With His Lego Death Star. Promising To Explain Everything To Him The Next Day At School, Ned Leaves...

The Next Day, Peter Answers All Of Ned's Questions However Overhearing Peter's Crush, Liz Say That She Has A Crush On Spider-Man, Ned Tells The Rest Of Peter's Friends That Peter Knows Spider-Man, Which Leads Flash Thompson To Challenge Peter Saying That If He Knows Spider-Man To Have Him To Liz's Party Tonight...

He Doesn't Say Spider-Man Will Be There But Peter Does Think Of The Possibilities...

Being Dropped Off At The Party By Aunt May, Peter Decides He Can't Do This But Embarrassed By Flash Thompson Peter Decides To Suit Up But Before He Goes In He Sees A Blue Explosion In The Distance, Which Forces Him To Leave The Party And Look Into It...

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(End At 2:42)

Returning To Adrian's HQ, He Is Pissed At Brice For Nearly Screwing Up Their Operation So Pissed He Kills Him When Brice Threatens To Tell Adrian's Wife How They Make Their Money...

Giving Another One Of His Associates, Herman Shultz, Shocker's Equipment He Kills Him...

Great, It Belonged To Him Anyway...

Retrieving A Chitauri Device From Where He Was Talking With Tony, Peter Works With Ned To Remove The Core Of The Device But After Planting A Tracker On Shultz When He Attempts To Get The Device From School, Peter Tracks Him To Maryland Only Problem Is It's 300 Miles Away So How's He Going To Get There?

By Rejoining The Decathlon Team, Of Course!....

Boarding A Bus For Washington (Which Isn't Too Far From Maryland) Where The Nationals Are, Working With Ned At The Hotel, Peter Disables The Tracker In His Suit And Unlocks All The Special Features In His Suit Includes An A.I. (Played By Jennifer Connolly)

Using The A.I. She Tracks Shultz And Mason To A Gas Station Where He Practices Using His New Capabilities But He Needs A Little Practice...

Eventually Finding The Vulture On Board A Truck With Devices From Damage Control, Spidey Gets Overpowered By The Vulture Who Traps Him Inside Of A Truck That's Headed For The Damage Control Deep Storage Facility...

Getting Out Of The Truck, Spidey Finds Him Trapped There Which Leaves Him One Option: To Wait Until Someone Opens The Door So He Can Get Out, Taking This Time To Figure Out How To Work The Suit's New Abilities And To Talk With The A.I. Who He Names Karen...

I Would Have Gone With Sarah, But I'm Just A Labyrinth Kind Of Guy...

Eventually Getting It Open, Peter Misses The Decathlon But Discovers That The Core Him And Ned Have Is A Bomb, Tracking Ned To The Washington Monument, Peter Arrives Just In Time To Save Ned And His Classmates From Plummeting Into The Twilght Zone...

Returning Home After Detention For Skipping The Decathlon, Spidey Finds The Person Who Tried Buying From Brice Named Aaron Davis (Played By Apparently The Best Thing In Solo: A Star Wars Story) Who Tells Spidey That He's Going To Be At The Staten Island Ferry Where He's Going To Be Doing A Deal With A Friend Of His Named Mac Gargan...

Wait A Minute...The Vulture, Shocker, The Tinkerer And The Scorpion? Boy, Sony And Marvel Are Really Pushing Toward That Sinister Six Movie...

Getting On-Board The Ferry, Peter Captures Gargantuan But Botches An FBI Attempt To Arrest Toomes And His Gang...

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Mad At Peter For Being Reckless And Nearly Killing Thousands Of People, Tony Feels That Peter Can't Be Trusted And Demands The Suit Back. Upset At This, Peter Decides To Distance Himself From Being Spider-Man And Live His Life For A While To The Point That He Asks His Crush, Liz To The Homecoming Dance...

Going To Her House The Night Of The Dance, Peter Discovers That Toomes Is Liz's Father...

Unfortunately, It's True...

Peter Maintains His Composure, However Overhearing On The Drive Over To The Dance, That Peter Went Missing When Spider-Man Was Around, Toomes Deduces Peter's Secret...

Which Is Actually Pretty Clever As The Only Members Of Spidey's Rogues That Have Ever Deduced His Identity Have Been Green Goblin, Doctor Octopus And Venom...

But Telling Peter That He's Not Going To Kill Him As He Saved Liz, He Does Give Peter A Warning Saying That Interferes Again He'll Show Him No Mercy...

During The Dance, Peter Realizes That Toomes Is Planning To Hijack The Stark Cargo Plane That's Transporting Weaponry From Avengers Tower To Their New Headquarters. Unable To Abandon His Duties, Peter Dons His Original Homemade Spider-Man Costume To Go After Toomes...

However He Is Soon Confronted By Schultz...

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(Start At 1:13)

Arriving At Toomes' Lair, He Attempts To Persuade Peter To His Side...

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(Start At 0:38, End At 2:42)

Overcoming His Self Doubt, Peter Escapes So He Can Intercept Toomes On Board The Stark Cargo Plane...

But Damaging The Plane During Their Fight, Peter Has No Choice But To Steer It Toward Coney Island...

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Leaving Toomes To The Police, We Fast Forward A Few Days Later As Peter Discovers That Liz Is Moving To Oregon And That Michelle Jones Or MJ Will Taking Over As Decathlon Team Captain...

How Dare You Have This Michelle Jones Call Herself MJ!? That Honor Belongs To The Real MJ And By That I Mean Mary Jane Watson! Spider-Man's ACTUAL Love Interest!...

Until They Do Bring Her In, PLEASE Call Her Michelle Jones Because Calling Her MJ Is Just Insulting As She's Nothing Like Mary Jane...

Invited To Visit The Avengers New Facility, Stark Congratulates Peter For Stopping Vulture

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(Start At 1:22, End At 4:12)

Returning Home, Peter Discovers That Tony Returned His Upgraded Suit Which He Tries On Only To Be Seen By Aunt May Who Now Knows His Secret...

We Have Mid Credits Scene That Takes Place In Prison Where Toomes Talks With Mac Gargan Who Is Putting Together A New Team To Get Vengeance Against Spider-Man, Pressured By Gargan To Tell Him Spider-Man's Identity, Toomes Denies Having Such Knowledge And Walks Off...

We Also Have An End Credits Scene Involving Captain America (Played By Chris Evans) But It's Not Really That Important That It's Worth Talking About...

Anyway, That's Spider-Man Homecoming And It's A Good Movie...

The Story's Great, The Characters Are Well Written And The Villain Is Fantastic And Aside From My Problem With People Calling Michelle Jones MJ When She's Not, I Say See This Movie...

Till Next Time, This Is Duke, Signing Off...

#spider man homecoming #tom holland #robert downey jr #zendaya #Michael Keaton #MCU #marvel cinematic universe #marvel

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ecotone99 · 4 years

Text

[NF] A Journey Through India

“Can we switch now?” I muttered as I rolled my head over on the cement floor. The florescent lights of the train station pierced my squinted eyes. Thale didn’t react so I reached up to nudge her. She looked comfortable on the table. I decided to let her be. I wasn’t getting any sleep so I sat up on the floor. I was disappointed to see a few men around, naively having thought that the women’s waiting room would be strictly for women. There was apparently no escape from the incessant gaze of men in India.

Men stared at me everywhere I went and they kept staring until I was out of sight. I would like to say that I got used to it eventually, but really I just got more irritated and uneasy with every passing day. I would also like to say that these men were staring at me out of curiosity, and perhaps they were, but it didn’t feel like that. It had been a few years since I had left my home country to explore other parts of the world. I was used to the puzzled look on people’s faces as I gurgled unfamiliar words in my mouth. I was comfortable in my role as the peculiar foreigner. These men never smiled at me or tried to make friendly contact with me. They just stared and occasionally made lewd gestures. This didn’t feel like curiosity, it felt like a threat.

I pulled my camera out from my oversized purse and started to thumb through pictures from our sunrise visit to the Taj Mahal that morning. I could feel the stares. Our midnight train was supposed to leave hours ago. I was desperate to get out of India. I knew I was in way over my head. Rajasthan is no place for two teenaged girls, especially not in the summer. The burning temperatures kept most Westerners away from northern India in the summer months. A lack of tourists sounded appealing at first. We had imagined having palaces all to ourselves and absorbing the local culture without the distraction of other travelers. What a lack of tourists really meant was that our pale white skin and golden locks would be in stark contrast to the local population, making us the main attraction at the palaces.

“What time is it?” Thale’s vocal chords were strained. She broke my concentration on my tiny camera screen. I looked down at my watch.

“4 AM. The luggage guys came about a half an hour ago to say that our train got delayed again.” She rolled over and went back to sleep. I kept flipping through my photos of spectacular palaces and bustling markets, as well as some memories with some friendly people that I had met along the way. There were some beautiful sights in India, that was undeniable. There were also some disturbing ones, which made the great ones seem even better. The dazzling sunsets over the Ganges river almost made me forget how miserable I was in Varanasi, a holy city where holy mangy cows fend for themselves in the city streets and junkyards. The roads were mud paths covered in a blanket of trash. And where there was trash, there were cows eating trash. Goats and humans occasionally showed up to join them in feast. There were no trees and no greenery. What photos didn’t capture were my constant migraines from the heat. I couldn’t be outside in the middle of the day without feeling agitated and nauseous. People were dying from heatstroke. We had air-conditioning.

The door of the women’s waiting room started to open. I recognized our backpacks through the clear glass door. They were perched on the shoulders of two tiny men.

“Come now. Train coming now,” one of the men said before turning around and back out the door.

“Thale, wake up!” I nudged her harder this time.

“Uhhhh,” she grunted.

“C’mon, our train is coming!” I urged her to get up as I threw my camera into my purse and shot up on my feet. I marched towards the door. Thale got up in slow motion and followed me sluggishly. I scanned the many platforms of the open-aired train station looking for the men with our backpacks. The lights were flickering and the sunlight was slowly starting to creep in, reflecting off of the tracks. There were small groups of families scattered around the station and some single men. The muffled announcements echoing in a language I didn’t understand drowned out the conversations between fatigued parents and their children. I spotted our backpacks waving to us from one of the faraway platforms.

“I see them,” Thale stated, suddenly more alert, “Let’s go.” I followed her this time. We walked past the tracks and down the stairs leading to the other side of the platform where we met our luggage carriers.

“Train not coming now,” The same man informed us. The mute man frowned at us in solidarity. Thale and I made our way towards a nearby bench, sulking. We were growing impatient. All of the benches were occupied. We were too exhausted to stand any longer so we sat down on the floor as far away from others as we could.

In various cities in Europe or the United States, I usually found comfort in being surrounded by other people when I walked home at night. I felt no such comfort in India. It is not unheard of that girls have been gang raped in India as passersby mind their business, afraid of getting involved and subsequently becoming a target. There was no safety in numbers there, and there was no relying on strangers to protect us.

Thale sat facing me so that we could keep an eye out on what was going on behind one another. She pulled out a sandwich from her bag. It was from Subway. We had stopped there on our way to the station. The area around the Taj Mahal was full of tourist friendly establishments. Like a homemade meal after a long day, a soggy sandwich from an American chain restaurant gave us comfort. That’s not to say that I ever got sick of Indian food. I was bedridden for three days because of it, and still continued to eat rice and some type of stew for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But a Subway sandwich that day, something I rarely if ever ate at home, felt right.

When the lights flickered bright I could see the despair in Thale’s eyes. She jittered nervously as a rat scurried by. I looked around to see them everywhere. I could also see the lower halves of some people. Men that were once standing with their families started to separate from them.

“Are they pointing at us?” I needed Thale to reconfirm that I wasn’t imaging this out of paranoia.

“They’re coming closer.” I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the rats or the men. The lights flickered and I could see that the men had subtly started to form a circle around us. The rats were mostly gone. There is always a silver lining.

There we were, sitting on the floor in our tethered clothing that had been sweat through many times without having received a better wash than what we could make due with a bar of soap and a bathroom sink. Nothing more than our toes, hands and faces were exposed, but they saw us. They didn’t see us how I wanted to be seen. I wanted to be seen as a person with ideas and experiences and needs and desires. They saw a button-nosed girl with bone white skin and luminescent hair that had enough money to travel far. They saw a woman with the nerve to leave the house without an escort. She must be begging for attention. Maybe she’s a whore, or maybe she is looking for a man to marry her and keep her safe from the dangers of other men. Maybe she is just stupid.

A flash of bright light struck down on us. I turned around to see men hovering over us with their cellphones.

I was taught that people live differently in different parts of the world and that when traveling, one shouldn’t judge or complain about the local culture, but rather adapt to it and embrace it. I was taught that although these cultural differences may make people seem different, deep down we all want the same things. We are all equals, deserving of the same respect and kindness. One shouldn’t judge another human based on where they come from, how they dress, look or how much money they have. There are no bad people, just misunderstood people. I was taught that as a woman, I could do anything that a man could do. These are the ideologies that led me to think that I could handle India on my own. I had underestimated what these men were capable of in the name of staying woke.

“I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. Should we run?” I looked around to try and see if there was anywhere to turn to. I looked for another group of travelers or maybe a woman with children. There was a white couple with big backpacks on another platform, but they were getting on the train. There were no women without men in sight. After all, Indian women don’t go out alone, and I shouldn’t have either. I needed a hug so I clenched my purse instinctively. I was always on the lookout for thieves in India. In it was my camera that I had gotten from my parents just a few weeks prior on my nineteenth birthday. It could probably be sold in India for enough to feed a family for a long time. However, I knew that it wasn’t my bag that they wanted. I was ready to get up and leave when I heard Thale chanting into her phone in her native language. I couldn’t understand her words, but I could understand her tone, solemn and apprehensive. They were getting closer.

“Who was that?”

“My dad. I was just telling him where we are, just in case.” That’s when I realized that I wasn’t being irrational, or paranoid or racist. I sat there, feeling small. I hugged my knees and draped my translucent blue scarf over my face and body, in an effort to block the stares. I hoped that if I could curl myself up small enough, I might just melt into the floor. Was this the end? Would there be headlines across all major American newspapers about a stupid girl that thought she could survive India? They were too close. The circle was getting smaller. I was reluctant to make any sudden movements in case that prompted them to act instinctively.

“Let’s move. Let’s go, now.” I demanded, leaving my better judgement behind. I grabbed my things and stood up. A gust of wind nearly knocked me back down. It was a train passing by. Was it our train? Incoherent voices echoed on the intercom. I looked over to the luggage carriers. They signaled us to get on. We hurried over to them and followed them onto the train and didn’t look back.

We squeezed our way through the center aisle that was designed for much smaller people with much less luggage. As the train started to move we found our seats. Thale talked into her phone again as I looked out the window. We were headed towards the Nepal boarder. After a few minutes, the view of the outer city slums had transitioned into a view of the countryside. The sun was peeking over the horizon. Plump cows grazed in the sparkling green grass. Neatly plowed farms were being looked after by early rising farmers. India was a land of many contrasts.

submitted by /u/designerbabyy [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/3fuqKnK

#Blogger #Story

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rudemann1-blog · 7 years

Quote

Gordon Parks Introduction: I was aware of Gordon Park because of his movies, The Learning Tree, Shaft, and Shaft’s Big Score, but not so much with his photographic background and his influence on so many. I find it ironic that we had so much in common. When younger, 15 or so, my interest in photography began with flashcube camera. I remember my first opportunity to photograph a young woman in her swimsuit, she was probably only 18 at the time. I knew very little about lighting and soon became aware the power of her lamp on the table was more powerful than my cube flash and just her legs were showing in the photo, took me nearly 2 weeks to confess. That was the beginning of my taking photography serious. Started reading materials and soon became interested in black and white and after obtaining my first true 35mm camera, a Pentax, I was soon on my way. Joined military in 1968 and while stationed in Turkey, took lots of pictures. Next tour in Okinawa, provided me an opportunity to learn from the base photographer and became interested in shooting slides and processing. After my return to the Illuminating company, I introduced myself to the in-house darkroom specialist, Master’s Degree from RIT, and he allowed me to observe him at his work. When he decided to retire, I was given the job. Had a large enlarger that used 10x10” negatives and also I could convert it to a copy camera which allowed me to produce images up to 8’ on 40” wide paper. My next chance was at NASA started in black and white department but later progressed to processing all film from 1985 to 1997 before digital imaging eliminated the job. I am re-energized after this research to improve on my photography. The same problems of racism have also hindered me from advancing because I had no degree they felt that I could work for less. I too loved to shoot landscapes, models, weddings, parties and whatever came my way. I thoroughly enjoyed the research as it came to show me how little progress has been made in race relations and social issues. Things seem to be getting worse instead of better. This research reflected the numerous times Gordon would approach agencies unannounced and impressed them with his work which allowed him opportunities to have his work published and appreciated. His primary goal was to expose the injustices around the world concerning the poor and less fortunate. His choice of weapons were his camera and the pen, which later became the title of one his autobiographies. One of my favorite quotes by Gordon was “The important thing is not so much what you suffered – or didn’t suffer – but how you put that learning to use”. History: Gordon Roger Alexander Buchanan Parks was born in Fort Scott, Kansas on November 20, 1912 and died of cancer on March 7, 2006 at the age of 93. His father was Andrew Jackson Parks a dirt farmer his mother Sarah Ross a maid. Gordon was considered a creative genius as he excelled in many exploits; photographer, filmmaker, author, and composer. The youngest of fifteen children, Gordon rose from a childhood of poverty in a segregated society and used his talents to better the world around him. When his mother died in 1928, he was only 15 years old.. The family was bound by Sarah’s strong conviction that dignity and hard work could overcome the bigotry they faced. His mother’s final request was to send him north to Minnesota to live with his sister, and before the flowers on her grave wilted, his father put him on a train. “Just follow your mother’s teachings and you will be alright” was his father’s departing words. Shortly after his move, his brother-in-law evicted him and he was homeless in the 30 below temperatures and with no job. For nearly a week he spent his nights riding the trolley line from St. Paul to Minneapolis and back again. He barely survived by playing piano in a brothel and washing dishes at a dingy restaurant. Parks attended a segregated elementary school and in high school he attended was integrated they maintained discriminatory policies toward black students. They could not attend any social functions nor compete in sports. He quit high school after the Great Depression set in. While working as a waiter on the North Coast Limited, a transcontinental train that ran between St. Paul and Chicago and Seattle. In a magazine left on the train he found pictures taken by photographers of the Farm Security Administration, FSA set up by President Roosevelt to aid submarginal farmers. These images depicted “stark, tragic images of human beings caught up in the confusion of poverty. He began to read more about photography and to visit museums, to study the work of others. Soon he bought his first camera: a $7.50 Voightlender Brilliant, a 35mm. The camera was to become his weapon against poverty and racism. Parks’s first photographs immediately attracted the attention of the Eastman Kodak Company which sponsored a showing of Park’s pictures in the company show windows. While still in Minnesota Park’s approached Frank Murphy, who owned a women’s store in St. Paul to photograph their fashions. When asked if he could, he lied. Even though he had no samples of his work, his wife decided to give him a chance. When she asked him how many models he wanted, he said three models and six outfits. The following evening he arrived with lights and a highly sophisticated camera that he borrowed, and nervously went to work. Not only was Madeline and her husband impressed, but so was Gordon, until after developing the film, all but one exposure was double-exposed. Owing honesty, two mornings later when the owners arrived a large print of the one good exposure stood in front of the store on an easel. She was really excited and invited him in to view the others. After confessing, she asked him would all of the others would have been as good, he stated “that’s probably the worst”. She gave him another chance and the pictures were so impressive that Joe Louis’s wife, Marva Louis urged him to move to Chicago, where he photographed fashions and did portraits for both black and white clients. In Chicago he documented the devastating effects of poverty. When Parks won a Julius Rosenwald Fellowship in 1941, the first ever awarded in photography, he arranged for an apprenticeship at the FSA in Washington, DC. Parks and his family were not prepared for the racism encountered upon their arrival. Roy Emerson Stryker, his supervisor suggested with Ella Watson, an African Ameerican cleaning woman who worked in the building. Parks took a series of photos of Watson and her family. The most famous image was of her standing in front of an American flag with a mop in one hand and a broom in the other. Later, titled “ American Gothic” which referenced Grant Wood’s 1930 painting of the same name. This was Parks’s first official FSA photo and became one of photography’s iconic images. Parks was in an angry mood when he asked the woman to pose, having earlier been refused service at a clothing store, a movie theater and a restaurant. He was the first African American photographer to work for Life and Vogue magazines and the first to work for the Office of War Information and the Farm Security Administration. Gordon’s son, Gordon Parks Jr, was also a dedicated photographer, but decided on changing his name to Gordon Rogers, because his accomplishments have been mistakenly credited to his father. When Gordon was making the Learning Tree, Gordon Jr .worked as a cameraman and in 1972 he directed Superfly 1972and other films during the blaxploitation films of the early 70’s. In 1979 tragedy struck as he had just landed an independent production company, died in a plane crash in an aborted takeoff on the runway of the Nairobi Airport. Even in death, reports on radio and newspaper accounts had mistakenly reported that it was Gordon Sr., and bibliographical accounts still often confuse the two men In 1933 when invited to join an orchestra .Parks moved back to Harlem, yet the group disbanded almost immediately and once again was without a job. After making a few deliveries for a dope dealer, he joined the Civilian Conservative Corps (CCC) planting trees and clearing camping grounds and beaches until 1934. Soon Parks married Sally Alvis and moved back to Minneapolis and had three children, Gordon Parks Jr. Toni, and David. Gordon’s book “Half Past Autumn” is a retrospective compilation of his life’s work starting with the early years and other photographs of Harlem Gangs, Fashion and crime. In 1943 southern senators were upset with the numerous files crammed with America’s poor and dispossessed amounted in the government’s indictment of itself and was soon abolished and absorbed into the Office of War Information. In the second year of World War II, unrest was building in black military quarters when distinguished leader Colonel Benjamin O. Davis was charged with the black 99th Pursuit Squadron where they were trained and sent overseas. Then later transferred to Selfridge Field near Detroit, Michigan. Soon Gordon was assigned as war correspondent. His duties was to cover the group in training and during flights. After a quick breakfast, at 6:00, was soon airborne with young black fighters getting ready for a fight with Adolph Hitler’s Lultwaffle. Fashion In 1944 while continuing to work for the Office of War information, he decided to take a cheap room at the YMCA and began to look for work. He abruptly entered office of Harper’s Bazaar, but was told that being a Hearst organization, forbid Negroes from being hired. Soon afterwards, Roy Striker advised him to go to Vogue. He was selected to photograph a collection of the season’s finest evening gowns. Five years later he continued to appear in Vogue. In 1948 after several good years at Vogue, his courage led him to Life magazine and after viewing his work, asked him what he would like to do, he replied, fashion and gang wars up in Harlem. While searching for a way to gain access to a gang, he stumbled on Red Jackson, a 16 year old Harlem gang leader. When he mentioned that he want to photograph his gang. Red asked him “why in the hell would I want a Life magazine photographer following him around”. He offered as a suggestion to drive him around in his Buick which convinced Red to allow him to photograph his gang. Three months later when preparing his essay for publication in Life Magazine. He objected to the cover that they chose. It was of a smoking gun in Red’s hand and it could have sent him to prison. He reclaimed the negative and cut it into pieces because of the trust grown between them. At times Gordon suggested that there was a better way of life for him. But Red was too caught up in the Harlem gang life. Forty years later while at Penn Station they once again met and Red went on for an hour rehashing the fearful days of his youth. Upon parting, Red suggested they could go back up there and save those kids in Harlem. Fashion led him once again to Paris during the 50’s, where his photos were admired of the poor, and the different scenery he captured. Gordon published 14 books: Flash Photography, Camera Portraits, The Learning Tree, A Choice of Weapons, A Poet and his Camera, Born Black, Whispers of Intimate things, In Love, Moments without Proper Names, Flavio, To Smile in Autumn, Shannon, Voices in the Mirror, Arias in Silence. From the Arias in Silence is a compilation of his later works which combined his artistry with poetry, water color and his addition of digital images. Each image expressed the need for him to accept life gracefully – without trembling at the inevitability of his departure. SUMMATION: Following my research, I found it interesting that he died of cancer in 2006 at the age of 93 which gives me strength and I will attempt to read whatever I can get my hands on. I watched The Learning Tree, Shaft and read the book, Half past Autumn. I hope my representation of my attempt to replicate his works is not lacking the interpretation of his volume of photographs. Thanks for your attention and hopefully I shared items that were of interest.

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