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ltbarnes · 1 year

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Webs of Opacity

Summary: On the eve of the annual Stark Halloween party, you’ve managed to gulp down too much alcohol and tangled yourself into intricate webs of trouble. Even glittering fairies can’t escape the drama, and handsome 80’s film characters can’t always save them from sleazy boyfriends and hangovers.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Rogers!reader (adopted, of course), Steve Rogers x sister!reader, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff

Word count: 6k

Warnings: underage drinking, reader being very drunk, unconsented kissing, mild violence

A/N: This is a mess, I’m sorry. Started this last fall and rushed to get it done in time for this year. Also happy Halloween and over a week of Midnights being out. Couldn’t help myself from referencing it every other paragraph lol

Also if anyone has any scenarios or requests for my college series please please send them to me! Love your enthusiasm for my Stark U babies and want to keep writing for them

Masterlist

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Your shiny, entirely fake wings keep bumping into the ridiculous amount of people crammed into this room, and you're sure you have never apologized more times in your life than tonight. Wanda has assured you many times that, no, you should not take off your wings because you look—in her words—adorable. It was her idea, after all, to dress you up like a little flowery fairy for the Halloween party Tony has thrown tonight. She made your wings all fluttery and glittery, and the flowers in your hair sparkle every now and then. It feels like a childhood dream coming true.

"Spider-boy!" you call out over the loud music, jumping as you stretch your hand up in the air to alert the young man twenty feet away.

For a "quiet gathering" there sure are a lot of loud, drunk people here. Then again, it was your mistake to trust the promise of Stark when it came to a party.

Your jumping up and down is entirely unnecessary when you're trying to gain the attention of someone with a creepy sixth sense that allows them to just know everything happening around them. Peter already knew exactly where you were the moment you opened your mouth. It doesn't help that you're just a tiny, little bit of tipsy either.

He smiles a toothy grin as he pushes past the crowd towards you, showing glimpses of his Indiana Jones costume that's honestly a slightly surprising choice. He looks handsome though.

"Hi, Y/n!" he nearly shouts over the music, embracing you in a side hug as he takes a look at your outfit. "You're a fairy! It fits you so great, it's like you were meant to be one,” Peter exclaims happily while you chuckle lightheartedly.

"Thank you, it was Wanda's idea. Indiana Jones, huh?" you ask, raising an eyebrow in question. It's quite uncharacteristic. Last year he went as Nikola Tesla and nobody knew who he was supposed to be.

"Yeah, Tony said I had to go as something cooler this year. He'd disown me otherwise." Peter cringes while your head is thrown back in laughter.

"He told me I looked like a moth earlier," you answer with a grin on your lips, the remnants of your chuckles fading out.

"You look great, Y/n. Very sweet. Think Bucky's gonna get here any second and tell me to keep any 'punks' away from you," Peter tells you. You roll your eyes, though fondly.

"Hm, I bet he will," you hum. "Gotta send him back soon if he keeps that up. Both of them, for that sake."

You nod your head towards the blonde head sticking up in the bar crowd. Your brother is an overbearing mess that you would much rather let you be, instead of hovering protectively around your presence constantly. He seems to have eased up on his duties tonight, though, in honor of the holiday.

"I think it's good that—you know—they look out for you. There are a lot of bad guys out there," Peter says, scratching his head nervously like it would somehow offend you.

"Yeah, that's understandable. Though Steve and Bucky seem to think I'm still a kid." You scrunch your nose fondly.

"Well, you are. Kind of," Peter says. Your mouth hangs agape jokingly, with a silent scoff in answer.

"Oh, that's where we're going! You're only two years older, asshole," you say with a glare, taking a sip from the drink in your hand.

"Those two years make a world of difference." He smiles with a glint in his eyes. "Head off to college and then they'll see you as an adult, maybe."

"I'm going in January—stop looking at me like that!" you yell when he smirks, holding back a laugh. "I'm serious! Alright, okay, we're not playing nice tonight, are we?" You raise an eyebrow in question.

"Sure," he smiles. It falters just as quickly when you snatch the red solo cup out of his hand, gulping down the sweet and bitter liquid before crumpling the cup in your hands. "Hey!" Peter shouts. "You're not 21!"

"Neither are you." A victorious smile adorns your lips. You try not to show the distaste from the bitter liquid burning in your throat.

"In a few months!" Peter blushes and you fight the urge to coo at him because he gets shy over the most peculiar things.

"You're so cute, Parker," you tell him with a bop to his nose.

"Oh, piss off," he says and shakes his head.

"Learnt a new swear word? Impressive. College has really changed you."

"You're really annoying right know, you know that?"

You shake your head frantically, scrunching your nose simultaneously, and there's something different about you that Peter just noticed now.

"You're already drunk, aren't you?" he asks with realization dawning upon him. You gaze up at him with a mischievous glint and a gasp escapes him. "Y/n, Steve's gonna freak out on you!"

"He's never gonna find out. And I'm not drunk. I had three drinks earlier, 's fine," you say with a dismissive wave.

"Three drinks?" he breathes out in disbelief. "That's not little—hey! Hands off, asshole!" Peter interrupts the beginning of his speech to scare away the twenty-something with his hands on your hips.

"Dickhead," the guy mutters under his breath as he backs away. You turn around to meet Peter's eyes with a pout as the guy saunters off, a disappointed frown in between your brows.

"That guy was hot. You scared him away. You ruined my only chance," you pout.

You turn around again before Peter has the chance to answer, roaming your eyes around for the guy. With only a few seconds he's managed to land himself over by the bar, drink raised to his lips as he eyes you hungrily despite Peter's warnings. You smile, biting your lip with a newfound confidence you've never experienced. Yeah, definitely tipsy. Sober you would be hiding away in the cleaning closet by now.

"Well, yeah, he was—Y/n, hello?" Peter lays his hand on your shoulder, turning you around to meet his eyes again. "You know what? We're gonna go for a walk." He lays an arm around your shoulders, gently steering you away from the guy and into the crowd.

"Oh, where?" you ask, already forgotten the source of your previous pout. "Careful of my wings, Parker."

"It's a surprise," Peter says as he loosens his hold around your wings, glancing to see if they're alright. You stop talking almost instantly and for once he's happy to know some silence from you, because right now you can't seem to shut up and he's not used to spending time with your chipper-talkative version.

Peter pushes the two of you through the thick, sweaty crowd filled with lazy costumes and masterpieces alike, ranging from several layers thick to barely covering anything at all. He recognizes some of the people from the compound, some from his college that he doesn't even know how they got here, but most of them are complete strangers.

You send flirty glances and hellos over your shoulder to every guy you gain eye contact with. It's scary how fast the alcohol went to your brain, from being completely unnoticeable to half-drunk in a minute. Peter does not like the drunk you. Or he does, maybe, but not in a room filled with guys who just can't wait to get under your ridiculously cute dress. It's offensive really, how you can manage to look so excruciatingly innocent and hot at the same time. He'll curse out Wanda tomorrow.

The party is so packed with people that it takes ten minutes before he finds the ones he's looking for. Wanda and Natasha sip on their martinis in a ridiculously large couch, gossiping like a bunch of school girls as they shout encouragements at Sam and Tony on the dance floor. Peter sighs, nearly pushing you down on the couch next to Natasha before he slouches down himself.

"What do we have here, huh?" Natasha smirks and takes a small sip of her drink.

"She's drunk. I'm exhausted. Please take her off my hands," Peter says as he throws his head back on the couch. You let out a giggle, leaning against Natasha's shoulder.

"He's exaggerating," you say with your voice muffled by her shoulder.

"Okay, young lady. Drunk, huh?" Wanda asks, raising an eyebrow in question. Her perfectly red lips curl into a smile that shows she's not really upset about it.

"No," you mumble, scratching your nose with your manicured finger for the occasion. "Hiya, Auntie," you coo while curling up besides Natasha.

"Stop calling me Auntie," she mutters and gently pushes you off her shoulder.

"How's your boyfriend? Jake? No, John. Wait! Jack!" you fumble over your words. It might as well be any of the three names, because Natasha has been showing up with a new person on her arm every other month this year. You don't know what it is, really, but you guess you should be glad she's exploring her options.

"Jason," Natasha says through a roll of her eyes. The slightest hint of amusement can be found on her lips, but it's nothing that she shows to someone else. "And he's very much good, now stop asking. He's just getting drinks," she says and nods towards the bar.

"I like that guy," you exclaim excitedly. There's no doubt about your drunken state in this moment, because in no shape or form have you been as wounded up about any of Natasha's past partners.

"Hey, honey," Wanda catches your attention with a gentle hand on your arm, reaching across the sofa. "Where's your brother hiding? I can't imagine he would be very happy with you being drunk, no?" she asks.

"He can't know!" you exclaim with a whispered shout. "He's gonna kill me, please, Wanda."

Your eyes are blown wide open in fear. It's not that Steve would be mad—the disappointment is what you desperately want to evade. He gets that frown in between his eyebrows, puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head while looking down to the ground. Being on the receiving side of that is humiliating, on the verge of heartbreaking. You can't handle that tonight.

"I don't know, sweetheart..."

"Please, Wanda." There's tears gathering in your eyes, more so for dramatic effect than actual upset. You've slid down onto your knees in front of her, begging with your hands on her thighs.

"Oh god," Natasha mutters under her breath, setting down her drink on the table while indifferently glancing over to the bar where her boyfriend of the month resides.

She can't really handle this theatric version of you. There's a reason you're usually one of her favorites, despite your young age—your ability to be fucking quiet. Whoever gave you all that alcohol is on her damn hit list.

While she tunes out the conversation behind her, some kind of settlement is agreed upon where you, of course, get your way. No more alcohol, and Wanda won't tell your brother or Bucky what you have been up to.

When she stands up to leave, you're on your feet again. Now your attention has wandered over to Peter's costume, talking of how 'incredibly accurate to detail' it is despite being thrown together last minute by the college student. The only thing telling what he's dressed as is the hat paired with the old leather jacket.

A wet kiss is pressed to Natasha's cheek as soon as she joins Jason by the bar. His hand instantly finds her waist, pressing her into him tightly. His touch almost repulses her. He's too straightforward with his affection, so obvious in his quest to show her off.

"You look so goddamn sexy," he whispers into her ear. "Been thinking about what we talked about the other day."

Nat hums absentmindedly in answer, raising a finger swiftly to wave over the bartender.

"You know, having another p—"

"Yeah, I know what you're talking about," she interrupts him.

He brought it up about a week ago, and she only entertained the idea because she was bored. Jason is only a temporary occupation for her constant need to destress—there's no way in hell she's gonna adhere to his fantasy of having two girls sucking him off at the same time.

"She's not your real niece, no?" Jason asks suddenly, setting his gaze on your soft curves in that angelic dress framing your figure on the other side of the room.

Natasha's attention snaps from her drink to where his eyes are set. "You know she's not," she mutters as she takes a sip on her martini, suspiciously eyeing her boyfriend.

"I'm up for it," he says, nodding your way.

"Excuse me?" Natasha raises an eyebrow, gracefully setting down her glass on the counter.

"She's our girl, I have a feeling she is. You can ask her, can't you?" Jason smirks as he shamelessly keeps his stare on you. "Pretty little thing like that would be up for anything, wouldn't she?"

It takes exactly two seconds for Natasha to have a sharp fork pressed against Jason's side, just above one of his major arteries and restricting his breathing. A choked gurgle escapes his lips as Natasha's mouth lingers next to his ear.

"I know 72 different ways to break every bone in your body, and I can make 65 of them seem like an accident." Her smooth voice fills his ear. "Keep her name out of your mouth."

She keeps the fork pressed into his skin for a few seconds, just for extra measure, before she lets it go and Jason coughs violently as his hand flies up to his throat. Natasha takes another sip of her drink, glancing over the unsuspecting crowd with a roll of her eyes.

"I suggest you leave. Go clean up in the bathroom, you have a stain on your shirt," Natasha says before taking her drink and walking away.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

You squeeze yourself through the thick bathroom line, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear while trying to avoid bumping into as many people as possible. You gave up on preserving your wings two drinks ago, because quite frankly you have forgotten them by now.

You might also have ignored your fellow elders' warnings of laying off the alcohol, choosing to indulge in whatever drink you could get your hands on for one evening only. It's a risky move, but it's something you can afford. You rarely stir up any trouble, if any at all. What fun is it if you remain predictable all the time?

The music blares through the floor, thumping along with the people jumping up and down against it. You're out of it in the most wonderful way, rid of your constant presence in your own mind, if even for just a short while. The consequences do not exist and neither does your conscience.

When a guy in his late twenties, or thirties, maybe even your age, grasps a hold of your hand and asks if you want to dance, you answer yes without any hesitation. Sweaty bodies spread their heat around, pushing up against you and the mysterious guy as you move against each other.

You barely know what you're doing. You're only following along, letting him control your movements close to his body. If you were more sober you would have seen how it could be more likened to grinding than dancing, but the weight of his hands on your hips feels grounding instead of unnerving.

"You look so fucking pretty," he says into your ear, muffled by the alcohol buzzing in your head and the music blaring over the speakers.

You throw your arms around his neck, looking up at him with what you think is a smile. You're trying, at least. "Thank—" Hiccup. "Thank you. You're pretty too," you say, even though you can barely make out his features in the darkness.

But you think he looks pretty. A hypothesis based on the way his hands feel on your skin. Hot may be a better word for it, but in your state of mind adjectives do not differ especially much from each other. That's why you let him drag you away from the crowd, pushing through drunk people until you find a relatively secluded corner of the floor.

The wall is cold against your heated skin, your back against it while the man's arms cage you in. The feeling of his lips trailing across your neck barely registers. It just feels nice, you think. Your eyes are fluttered close, back arching while you mumble indetectable words you can't even decipher yourself. You're so fucking drunk you won't even remember this moment in the morning.

That's the problem with you drinking tonight—your alcohol consumption has been so limited that you have no conception of whatever is much or not. You have no idea if it takes three or six drinks to get you affected. You have no idea what you are like on tequila or vodka, on Prosecco or red wine. So now, eight drinks later of so many different types you can't even remember which was which, you're out of it enough to barely remember your own name.

His wet lips against yours are a suffocating presence you would much rather be without. It's sloppy and rushed, not at all what you imagined kissing would be. You wince to yourself, pushing him away just an inch to run the back of your hand against your mouth.

And then he's suddenly gone. You could have sworn he stood right in front of you. It takes a good ten seconds before you find him on the floor, clutching his nose with an angry frown in between his eyebrows.

"What the fuck, man?!" he shouts, looking up at the guy who has a funny hat on his head and a heaving chest.

"Stay away from her," the guy seethes, suddenly taking a gentle hold of your arm.

You don't have it in you to protest. Maybe it's dangerous to follow whoever when they tell you to, but your moral compass is non-existent in this state.

"Are you okay, Y/n?" the guy asks you. You blink, staring at his face while trying to piece together his features. No words come out of your mouth. "Damnit," he sighs, shaking his head.

A woman comes up to him with rushed steps, agitated look on her face. "Is she alright, Peter?" She runs her eyes over your disheveled figure.

"She's completely out of it. Must have snuck in quite a lot of more drinks," he answers. "Your dickhead of a boyfriend is taken care of, by the way. Probably won't stir up anymore trouble now."

"I should have checked so he actually left. It was reckless to think he would leave her alone," she says with a stern face, cold gaze watching the exit.

"Wasn't your fault, Nat," Peter assures her. You sway in your stance, stumbling into his hold while he steadies his grip around you.

"She needs to lay down before she passes out. Get her a glass of water for me, will you?" Natasha commands.

Peter nods, giving you a concerned glance before reluctantly heading towards the bar. Your head comes to lean on Natasha's shoulder with a whine, letting her lead you wherever she's going. You're starting to feel dizzy and slightly nauseous, and you do not like it. If you had the energy to speak you would launch a heavy string of complaints.

"Come on now, darling. A few more steps," she says, taking on more of your weight.

Your face is buried into her shoulder. The only thing detectable from your blubbering is the whines, wordlessly pleading to take you away from wherever you are and rid you of the nausea.

Heavy glances are exchanged between Peter and Natasha as he pushes through the crowd, fingers clinging tightly onto the large glass in his hand.

"Here," he breathes out, reaching the glass towards her.

She takes it from his hands, tilting your chin up with her manicured fingers. "There you go, Y/n," she mumbles as you gulp down small sips of the liquid.

The music blares loudly throughout the large room, sweaty bodies packed tightly together. What you found exhilarating and exciting twenty minutes ago is now suffocating. It's the only thing you know as you barely stand on two feet amongst the crowd. If it weren't for Nat, you would be in a heap on the floor.

"Let's go." Natasha nods towards the exit, glancing over her shoulder as Peter trails shortly after.

You're barely awake, burrowing your face into the crook of her neck. Peter can smell the stale alcohol on your breath from where he walks just beside the two of you—fruity drinks and vodka and tequila and wine. It unnerves him to think that you might have ingested enough of the poison to make it dangerous.

The bitter night air is refreshing for anyone who's senses are at least partly alert. It's a blessing really, that tonight you only have the short walk from the party to your homes located just on the other side of the compound grounds.

The dewy grass is partially lit up by strobe lights placed along the lines of the premises, soaking Natasha's heels and Peter's loafers. Your bare arms prickle with the low temperature.

It feels like an awfully long journey for Peter as he walks along Natasha, halfway waking up enough from the haze to take on some of your weight as well. There's a thought or two of swinging you back home in just a few seconds, but there's not much for his web to hold onto out here. The anxiety creates shudders in his limbs and forces him to glance over to your figure every other second.

"She'll be fine, Peter," Natasha says without so much as sparing him a glance. "She's just drunk. It'll be over tomorrow."

But his anxiety doesn't ease, rightfully so, when your palm suddenly pushes against her chest with all the force you can muster in your state. You whine, sprawling your legs until they have no option but to release you.

"Wha—"

On your knees, bent over the small bushes meticulously trimmed by the nice gardeners, you throw your guts out with shudders wracking the whole of your body. Awful.

Natasha could have said 'I told you so', but people make dumb decisions while drunk and she already feels bad for you over what Jason did. "Oh, honey," she whispers to herself instead, taking a step forward to reach you.

But Peter's faster. Of course he is. The young man is kneeling down beside you, hand gently wrapping around your hair to pull it aside while the other rubs against your back.

Any other time, when alcohol isn't poisoning your blood, and you would have felt ashamed. You probably will be tomorrow. You would have reacted to Peter being the one to take care of you, especially after showing such irritation about your state earlier.

The grass is cold and wet against your knees, but it is a welcome relief from the heat plaguing your skin. You are almost certain there are tears making their way out of your eyes and you would positively murder someone for another glass of water.

Instead of gulping down another glass, like you want to, you close your eyes while breathing out deeply. The nausea slowly fades away with each second, the heat being replaced by dewy goosebumps on your skin, all the while clarity pushes itself past the alcohol-induced blur.

A raspy cough. A thick gulp, swallowing too much air at the same time but you force yourself to hold it in. "Did I just kiss someone?" you speak for the first time in an hour.

And Natasha nearly laughs, until she remembers the state you were in. You didn't kiss someone.

"No, Y/n," she says softly, glancing up at Peter with a hardened gaze that tells him to keep his mouth shut. "No, you didn't."

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

It's dark, empty of anyone who usually resides in the living room. The lights flickered on one by one, lighting up the space too much for your liking when you stepped inside. A whine was all it took for Peter to turn them off again.

You've been discarded on the couch, legs stretched out over Nat’s thighs with a cold, wet towel laying on your face. Peter sits fiddling with his fingers just beside your head. It's quiet—thankfully—even though you feel much better than before.

"What time is it?" you ask after what must have been ten minutes of complete silence.

"It's, uh, ten past one," Peter stutters out, like he's surprised by the sound of your voice. In reality he just reacts this way each time you speak, but the circumstances have chipped on his resolve. He can't hide his shivers behind a cool facade anymore.

"Happy Halloween," you croak out, earning a quiet chuckle from him. He checks his phone to see the date on top of the screen. 31st October, indeed.

Honestly, Peter has been some kind of obsessed with you since he was sixteen and visited the compound for the first time. You and Steve were walking on the trail slinging around the grounds, deep into solemn conversation.

Peter should have been listening to the endless list of security policy Happy was lining up for him, but he just couldn't tear his eyes off of you. Not because you were beautiful—you are, but he couldn't really see your face in detail from that far away—but because there was someone else his age in the same situation as him. Then he found out you were just Steve's adopted little sister and was a bit disappointed over your lack of involvement with the Avengers.

For weeks he tried to understand why you were in this century too and if Captain America had kept you secret for a reason. Peter was too nervous to actually talk to you until Tony shut him out of some team meeting and you were the only other one in the living room. He saw you everyday after that.

But now he's living hours away at university and he hates that it feels like you're drifting apart and everything is happening without him knowing. You drinking and being interested in men and men being interested in you. He tries to keep the contact up—texts you everyday and calls you and sends messages to Steve or Bucky if you don't answer. For the things you won't tell him, the things he can't see.

He was so excited for tonight. Chose the Indiana Jones costume because Harrison Ford is cool and sexy in those movies and surely you must think that too? And damn it, when he saw you sparkle and shimmer as you walked into the room with your wings fluttering he almost fell to the ground. It was fun as long as you were sober enough to actually talk to him.

Peter's spent the last hour and a half so goddamn mad at Natasha's boyfriend. And of course he is jealous, it should have been him you were dancing with like that, but that man took advantage of your vulnerable state. You could barely stand up, let alone actually protest or give your consent. Peter doesn't know if that was your first kiss or not, but regardless he's mighty glad he knocked the guy out.

You've gone quiet again, and he almost thinks you have fallen asleep, but you peek out from under the towel when the door you all came in through is thrown open. Heavy boots clank against the floor and a frown adorns Steve Rogers', or Fred from Scooby Doo for the night, face when he and his best friend barges inside. It doesn't take long for them to catch sight of the couch occupied by a wide-eyed Peter, stoic Natasha and still kind of drunk Y/n.

"You're going to be the death of me, young lady," Steve speaks up, letting out a deep sigh once he's close enough to tower over your figure.

He got a run-through of the events by a slightly dramatic Asgardian god and an infinitely more concerned Wanda a few minutes ago. You had gotten black-out drunk and found yourself grinding against some punk in the crowd. That was forgivable, even though Steve would much rather you didn’t at this age. Then that fucking jerk shoved his tongue down your throat despite you barely being able to form words. Yeah, Jackson or Jacob or whatever his name was had a talk with Bucky before the two of them rushed over here.

With his hands on his hips and a shake of his head, Steve stands there for a second before kneeling down. Bucky has his arms crossed a few feet away like he still hasn't really decided wether he's pissed or just feels sorry for you.

"You okay, Y/n?" Steve asks you, a little softer. His palm has come to feel your forehead, even though you doubt fever is a common symptom of being hungover.

Peter is paralyzed beside him. He’s quite sure Steve knows how completely infatuated he is with you. Mostly because Peter accidentally, somehow, sent a voice message meant for Ned to Bucky. He must have shared that by now. What should I wear? Y/n is going to be there. Han Solo? Does she even like brunettes? Is she into blondes? Oh god, I’m helpless.

"No," you mutter in answer to your brother’s question. "This sucks. Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Bucky snorts. "What did you even drink? Vodka?"

"No. I don't know. In the beginning it was just some screw-top rosé Peter's roommate brought," you tell him, scrunching your nose with the memory of the taste of it. "It tasted cheap."

"Oh, because you know things like that now, do you?" Bucky says, raising his eyebrows at you. "Can tell expensive wine from cheap-ass rosé?"

"Buck," Steve says before you even have the chance to answer. Chastises, maybe. "You're not 21 yet. Who gave all that alcohol to you?"

You turn your head away, pressing it into the pillow. Steve turns you back to him with a hand to your shoulder, giving you a pointed look that holds some level of amusement. He acts like God's righteous man, but he was a troublemaker in his youth. Tony would have a field day if he knew all the times Steve came home drunk at sixteen after drinking some musty home-made brandy.

"Peter?" Steve looks up at him when you choose not to answer, using alternative, dirty methods to get answers. Cheater. Your mouth falls open, looking over at both your brother and Peter with an offended glare.

The young man stutters, eyes glancing frantically between the two of you while trying to figure out who scares him the most. "I—uh, don't know. My roommate. Apparently. Natasha's boyf—ex?"

The playful tone dims into stern faces and clenched jaws as the villain of the evening is mentioned out loud. You're caught up deciphering the sudden switch in attitude for longer than you should have before solving the riddle. Natasha told you nothing happened, but unfortunately you have vague pictures of a man, her man, shoving his tongue into your mouth. Oh god.

You sink even further into the couch, if that's possible, shielding yourself from the undoubtably judgemental gazes shared in the room. Natasha's boyfriend cheated with you and you didn't even say anything.

"Don't hide from us, sweetheart," Steve says, brushing hair away from your face. "Hey, it's not your fault. That punk took advantage of you. You weren't in your right mind."

Your dickhead of a brother knows you too well. Can tell with just a glance when you're overthinking and analyzing and blaming yourself for problems that have nothing to do with you from the beginning.

"Calm down, birdie,” Nat says softly, earning your attention even though you want to crawl out of your skin. “That's not a conscious decision, when you're drunk like that. It wasn't your fault in the least. Fourty minutes ago you couldn't even stand straight.”

"I'm really sorry, Nat," you say, eyes flickering down to your legs draped over her lap.

"Stop it. That fucking dickhead thought it would be a good idea to tell me he wanted to have a threesome with you. I told him to stay away from you and leave, but he obviously didn't. Probably just to spite me."

"Threesome?" Steve chokes on his breath and the word comes out as more of a cough. He tightens his hold on your hand until you let out a wince, drawing a whispered ‘sorry’ from his lips.

“Me?” you breathe out, sitting up a little higher.

Peter pushes you down onto the pillow again not even a second later. He doesn’t want you to strain yourself. He’s also fucking pissed now because that man not only assaulted you, he also asked Natasha to have a threesome with you. A 19-year old.

“I’m sorry that he took advantage of you, Y/n. Not going to bring anymore of these assholes I keep dating.” Natasha sighs tiredly, letting her head fall back against the couch.

“That’s not your fault either, you know,” Bucky mutters, earning a pointed look from her that says more than her words can. A ‘thank you’ and ‘I know, dickhead’ simultaneously.

A comfortable silence spanning a dozen of seconds is shared between the five of you. It’s late and everyone is tired and what needed to be said has already been said. You’re fine after all and Natasha will be okay, if she isn’t already.

Peter shifts uncomfortably beside you, brushing against your hair and alerting you even more of his presence. He’s been so sweet to you tonight. He always has been. It guilts you now that you have taken his kindness for granted with time, but Peter cared for you the entire evening despite his teasing words.

You don’t know if it means something. Peter is good to everyone. And he has—MJ and him seem so close. They most likely spend all their time together now when they go the same college. Both geniuses. You don’t really have much to contribute except being the younger sister of America’s favorite hero and embarrassing yourself in a fairy costume on Halloween.

So you push the thought aside. Bury it deep and take in the rest of your surroundings. A quiet snort rests on your lips as you assess the brooding man who has finally seated himself down on an uncomfortable chair from the kitchen.

"Your costume is horrible, Bucky. You're not even dressed up,” you speak up, breaking the silence with a playful smile.

"Yes. I am," he mutters. "I have a mask."

"That does not count. You're wearing your normal clothes." You giggle while he rolls his eyes, earning a chuckle from you brother too. He’s glad to see you cheering up.

“What is considered a real costume then, sweets?” Bucky asks you, raising his eyebrows while pinpointing you with his ingenuine glare.

“I don’t know.” You look around, glancing over your brother’s attempt at a classic Fred, Natasha’s Dorothy, before landing on Indiana Jones. “Peter’s is good,” you mumble, heat spreading to your cheeks from nowhere. Why are you reacting this way?

“Yeah, sure lucky ‘bout that since he planned it all for you,” he mumbles under his breath. “Punk is head over heels.”

The breath escapes the two of you—you and Peter. Because Peter knows Bucky is right and you can’t believe what you just heard.

“What?” both you and Steve say simultaneously. Your brother has turned his entire body towards Peter.

You raise yourself up to a seat, glancing between Bucky and Peter. The latter’s eyes are wide open, lips parted. Guilty.

“Peter?” you ask him, so quietly he almost has to rely on the shape of your lips to hear what you said.

A clearing of his throat. Scratch on the back of his neck.

“Yeah, about that…”

#marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #peter parker x reader #steve rogers fluff #Steve Rogers sister #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #avengers Halloween

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popculturebuffet · 2 months

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Superhero Wedding Special III: The Wedding of Wally West and Linda Park

Happy belated valentine's day all you happy people! And it's time once again for my favorite tradition on this blog: the superhero wedding special.

For those just joining us I love a good wedding "episode", wether it be a good tv wedding like Adventure Time or Community, a good wedding movie like Father of the Bride or a good old fashiond superhero wedding. And since there are both so many comic book weddings and so many I haven't covered, for the past three years i've let my patreons each pick one, picked one myself, then put all four in a poll for you fine folks to choose from. First year was a tie between Rogue and Gambit's stolen wedding and Aunt Man and Doc Ock's near marriage that ended in a nuclear explosion off the coast of Canada, and last year Hulking and Wiccan had a quick wedding via mid crossover flashback among friends, then had another celebration for the whole superhero community post crossover.

Both races were tight: one was a tie and last years eeked out a win against the Batman/Catwoman wedding fiasco. So this year was a bit diffrent. Not only did I use Tumblr's minty fresh new poll system.. but the results.. weren't even remotely close.

Yeah Wally and Linda won HALF of the 18 votes for this poll, beating out Emma's choice of Lex Luthor's Space wedding, Kev's roulette wheel choice of the recent Emma Frost Tony Stark Wedding, and Brotoman.exe's runner up Luke Cage and Jessica Jones. All good choices.. but it's clear what the people wanted. Ya'll REALLY love Wally West on here, love him even more with Linda and I wholeheartedly agree. While I didn't see this landslide coming, I'm pleased as punch it happened.

So before we introduce our couple, as is tradition let's track how we got to these nuptials.

Wally was in a weird place when he met Linda, both in and out of universe. In universe.. he'd been turned into a porcupine man somehow and was being hunted by Captain Cold during his stint as a bounty hunter.

Point is he met Linda as a newswoman. Out of universe Wally had a bit of a creative rough patch in the 80's. Wally started the 80's in one of the most influental and important books of the decade and one of it's best, The New Teen Titans. And he was easily.. the weakest member of the team.

See while his teamates were either fresh new characters Wolfman and Perez refined as they went (Starfire, Raven, Cyborg) or ones who had long since needed a new coat of paint and got a second act out of the deal (Dick Grayson, Donna Troy and Beast Boy), Wally.. was the odd man out. The team tried to make him the token conservative and a reluctant hero: one who knows he has a duty but is just.. tired of it and wants to retire. NOthing wrong with that, it can be a good angle. The problem is Wally spends the book either whining about not wanting to be a hero instead of just being honest with his friends, who have plenty of power without him, or declaring raven evil out of hand. And he does have a leg to stand on in not liking her, she made him love her. But instead of focusing on that he just assumes any time she looses control slightly she's evil now and stops carring about her because of something that, unlike the brainwashing thing, was entirely out oc her control. You can read more about all this here in this mammoth I did on the series.

The takeaway is that Wally sucked. Then Crisis on Infinite Earths Happened and Barry died heroically sacrifcing himself. Wally swore at the end of that series he wouldn't become the flash... but one year later with the next crossover Legends he did.

So Wally got his own brand new solo written by Mike Baron who reworked Wally's character.. and somehow made him MORE insufferable, making him into an egotisticla impulsive ladies man who cheated on his girlfriend, let his mother walk all over his new girlfriend, a married woman he was having an affair with. He also was a giant dick to Chunk, a neurotypical genius with black hole powers and planned to exploit him. He also won the lottery, a thing that sure did happen and sure was necessary and not a cheap gimmick no one asked for yes sir.

THe baron run.. was a mess. With Wolfman and perez I can at least see what they were going for and tha tit simply failed. Here I don't know what the fuck Baron was thinking.

Thankfully soon after William Messner Loebs took over, and while i've only read a smidgen of his run and wish more was collected, it's an instant improvment: Wally looses his fortune and becomes more of a relatable every man, the "you could have a beer with him" sort whose just at home at a hockey game as he is fighting snake themed terrorists.

So with Wally's new personality came a stable love intrest in Linda. Linda was just what Wally needed: someone who saw through all his bullshit, that all the swaggering and screwing around was compensating for the mountain of issues he refused ot work through.

Linda ended up seeing enough of Wally's good nature to start dating him casually, which lasted into the Mark Waid run, where the two were truly fleshed out as a couple.. and which i've read a solid chunk of. Mark Waid is seen as the man who truly made wally the flash and it's hard to argue that as Wally grew as a person bit by bit over the run. He was still impulsive, down to earth and quippy as fuck, but the overcompensation, horn doggery and assholishness were gone. He also gave wally his full backstory, and helped him finally get over comparisons to barry, making his speed limit that internalized imposter syndrome I mentiond: he was scared of replacing Barry.. but more scared of letting THIS BASTARD DO IT.... god I gotta cover the Return of Bary Allen sometime.

So through all this growth for Wally, he and linda grew as a couple: When Linda asked just how serious they were Wally balked, then got caught up on a flash thing... before speeding his way on a train to ask her to stay. The two have great chemistry: Linda likes Wally's fun nature, down to earth stylez and the fact he dosen't treat her like she's made of glass.. most of the time (Some incidents shook him up a bit), while Wally loves her no nonsense atittude, the only thing that often cuts thorugh his bullshit when he hyperfixates on his latest problem. She's his rock, he's her roll, and they need that ballance. She keeps him grounded.. and not just in the speed force, as discovering it nearly caused wally to loose himself.. but her love anchored him back.

So their marriage was inevitible and while I coudln't find the proposal issue, it's no suprise it happened: the two loved each other deeply and there's a reason they got so much love in this poll, and it's nice the two are back solidly as a couple with no signs of more ediotial fuckery making one of them not exist or forget the other or whatever.

So with that we're at the wedding. It came towards the end of Mark waid's run, right before Geoff Johns also super special awesome run, with Johns getting to define their married life more. It also begins a bit of a weird arc i'll talk about when we get to the end of the issue btu for now it's a blessed day for a blessed couple under the cut.

Since the wedding itself is supervillain free, we open with a big action set piece. Said set piece is excellent: Waid really knows how to write a flash story and sneakily choose villians who were key to Wally and Linda's history: Kobra

I had to and Mark waid had to know what he was doing introdcuing a snake themed terroist group. Kobra is a cult/terriorst group ran by Kobra with a K. They nearly destroyed Keystone City during the Terminal Velocity arc, with Wally forced to go as fast as he possibly could to save Linda, nearly loosing himself in the process. This is where the anchor thing happened. What I really like is the story.. dosen't bring this up. He just mentions he's "tussled with them" before, so newer readers don't have to get an info dump, but people who've been reading a while get the continuity nod.

It's a fun opener too as Wally zooms around, interogates a guy by shaking him real hard, and finds out Kobra's hiding at Broome Plaza, a nice nod to Wally co-creator John Broome. Kobra can teleport so he nopes out, but wally uses a neat trick: since he's faster than sound, he can catch up to what their saying.. and thus evacuate city hall before their bomb goes off. Said attack annoys wally a little but he's able to catch his marriage certificate. It's a good cold open that gives us some flash action.. and allows the rest of the issue to just be a simple plain clothes wedding.

Granted no wedding is simple and Wally reacts to hearing the cake may be off.. is to kidnap a chef from paris.

I.. I want to know how Wally knows this guy, and why he can just kidnap Pierre at a moment's notice. Did he kindap a random chef or do they have a history? Who was he fighting in paris? he WAS part of Justice League Europe for quite some time so it's plausable but dammit I want this story told Mark.

Linda rather than overreacting.. is greatful she has a soon to be husband whose so kind and considerate he'd run al lthe way to paris to kidnap her a baker. The two get down on the floor but before they can get doooowwnwnnn on the floor Linda's parents walk in. Thankfully their quickly distracted though Wally notices something's off: while Linda's had nothing resembling cold feet she freezes up a bit when Wally brushes off his parents, not even having checked if their coming. As you'll soon se he has every reason not to give a shit.

What he does give a shit about is Linda making Bart, aka impulse the ring bearer. Impulse was Wally's equilvent to kid flash and eventually his kid flash, before Wally became Wally's kid flash more recently. That wasn't a typo, there are two of them, it's not important to any of this.

For those less familiar with my boy, Bart is a hyperactive mess, having been raised in virtual reality simulation in the future and thus having trouble slowing down, not helped by being a speedster whose all but said to have ADHD. Wally's relationship with bart's a contrast to Barry's with him: While Barry was a fair mentor and the father Wally needed, Wally.. simply dosen't have the patience to actually train his young ward. Wally and Bart are too much alike, both impulsive, both running a mile a minute, and thus Bart was trained instead by Wally's own secondary mentor Max Mecury, a golden age speedster who has nothing BUT patience and when Max went into comic limbo, the almost as patent first flash Jay Garrick took the reigns. It's a detail I like as it not only set up Bart's own series well but makes sense: Wally can help Bart in small doses and dosen't abandon him, but simply can't handle the kid. It's telling that noawadays while he's taken a roll in mentoring his cousin, Wallace is both way calmer and Wally's matured enough from being a parent to actually handle being a mentor.

Thankfully Linda has patience for both of them and takes care of bart in a really clever way

Sadly the good times can't last and Wally's parents arrive and we see WHY he was so aphrensive about them showing up.

Yeah besides the .. questionable gifts, Waid does a godo job showing WHY he dosen't like them without getting into their histories: Wally's dad gives him a cheap gift and brings a date younger than his own son, and Wally's Mom's every action towards him is some veiled crticisim. Their awful and waid has never sugacoated that, and their constant baggering may explain New Teen Titans era wally in canon: Wally was less himself at the time because he was BADLY trying to be what they wanted and once he got the freedom of being the flash, he snapped back into being who he truly was.

Wally gets them to go away by playing "LOOK A RELATIVE WANTS TO TALK ABOUT THEIR INHERTIANCE" and linda tenses up again, not getting at WHY she keeps doing that. Wally is quickly distracted by this hair crime

Oh all the ways i'm going to have fun with this. Okay for starters Dick, your the son of the world's greatest detective. Bruce has taught you better wig game than that and you damn well know it. 80's metal hair is not Nightwing level disguise work Richard.

Second... how is the "Theodore Logan" look less conspcious than the adopted son of a millionare being friends with a public figure?

Third: All this is going to do is have papparzi asking "Whose Wally West's Best Man?". Does Dick have a cover identity all set up for this or did he only think of this plan the 5 minutes it took to buy a "babies first winger costume" wig.

Fourth: right after the rest of the titans show up, and Donna herself is a public figure, having taken pictures of starfire and being a high profile fashion photographer, Roy himself is ward of a billionare and Garth has no secret identity. how is "bruce wayne's son" any less conspcious.

And fifth WHY of all the wigs did he choose a perm that resembles their teammate jericho they watched get stabbed in front of them not a year ago probably in universe. Maybe two.

To my shock by the end Joey was apparently fronting whitesnake so what the hell dick. Why remind all your many friends present "oh yeah remember our friend who got stabbed in the chest in front of us".

So the rest of the titans arrive and somehow don't razz Dick for this hair crime, though even through that perm dick can sense somethin'gs off with linda. We get mor ehints why as Wally dosen't intorduce the titans to his family: Linda was the one to invite them and while he's glad they came he's not really.. close to any of them. The people he is make a bit more of an intrance, as the JLA arrive, with Superman worried about paparazzi. I mean dick will never live down that perm if they see it.

Wally kept the location on the DL.. which won't really stop paparazzi , even 90's paparazzi, and just makes Dick's hair somehow more rediculous. Any more and it'll become a force unto itself.

Thankfully more of Wally's REAL family shows up: Iris. for those wondering why this is a big deal at the time Iris was living in the future: she's from the 30th century, it's a long story, point is she stayed there after Barry's death both to raise her kids and to avoid spoiling the future. Ironically she'd come back full time during the next run as the future changed enough she had no idea what to expect, but for now Wally's worried she'll give her dad a heart attack.. only for her to explain she already went and saw her dad and explained stuff. Family is important.

This finally snaps Linda's bugging into focus for Wally: family. Wally's been icing his out and THAT'S what linda keeps being nervous about. So , not supposed to see the bride be dammned, he goes to iron this out in a beautiful scene that both explains WHY he's like this to his family, something we've clearly seen, and why Linda's in no danger

IT's really well done, and I like that Wally acknowledges his extended family.. did nothing wrong. He was just so determined to keep his parents away he accidently kept them away too and geninely wants to work on it. I don't think he DOES, but the comic both changes gears then changes writers after this, and I can't blame Geoff for not following up on this. He was never scared of her.. he just has bad parents.

I also like that the comic has the aseop that it's ENTIRELY okay Wally wants to push his parents away and wants nothing to do with them. There are far too many bits of media that ar elike "Oh your birth family is important, you shouldn't pusht hem away. Your parents mean something".. but forget that sometimes parents are abusive shit stains. I was lucky to get a wonderful mom and a dad I can at least talk to, but not everyone has a good relationship with their parents or wants to be around them. WE've seen how little they actually care about wally or his big day, and how much having them there throws him off. Yet we've also subtly seen.. wally HAS family. He's found family with the titans, with the League. You don't need blood to be a family. You just need love, to respect one another and to be there.. and Wally and LInda have that.

So it's time for the ceremony with the wedding party apparently only consisting of Beavis, Jesse Quick (Close ally of Wally's and fellow speedster) and Bart. It's then Wally realizes something and handles it like the responsible about to be married man he is.

Yeah the fastest man alive, who was hovering over his wife as she planned this ceremony... forgot his vows. it's so wally it hurts and i'm here for it. Thankfully he's the fastest man alive and after thinking back on their history, the good, the bad, and how she's always made him feel... he simply says his vows from the gut, which really is again the most wally west thing imaginable and i'm still here for it.

It's a beautiful speech that sums up their relationship, what they mean..and is also something Wally REALLY shoudl've thought through. You'd think after a decade as a superhero, at least he'd know not to tempt fate as suddenly.. Linda dosen't exisit. Wally finds something with her name, asks dick about it, Dick assumes wally horny Richard, and Dick dosen't even question the haunted wig in his apartment. Linda is trapped and yeah that's how the issue ends.

Yeah, the big milestone wedding.. ends with a fucking kidnapping and leads into an arc I haven't gotten to. And look i'll do a LOT for reasearch, I just covered 20 some issues of Transformers Robots in Disguise so I could cover the crossover with More than Meets the Eye next month, entirely so i'd do it right.. but even i'm not so through that i'd read 18 issues of the flash in an arc i'm eh about reading some day but will probably get to complete the mark waid run for a one and a half issue review.

So the short version of what you missed: Wally disappeared into time and space without LInda to anchor him. Replacing him was Wallace West, an angsty wally from another timeline who replaced him for a while, a storyline I mostly know about because it leaked into JLA for a bit, with Wally revealing his identity to a few people to get their trust. Wallace was the darker and edgier flash no one asked for, fought crime, fell in love... and then Wally came back and rescued LInda, who it turned out had been kidnapped by his old nemisis Abra Kadabra, a magician from the 60th century who as you can tell by how elaborate and dickish this plot is, has a flair for both trying to ruin wally's life and the dramatic. Hilaroiusly, as I read, Wally gets him to undo it.. by pointing out no one knew what he did. So Wallace was supposed to go back and go back miserable because fuck him for wanting to be happy I guess. Can you kinda.. see why I have no real intrest in this storyline outside of Wally and LInda? Maybe pick that up?

So for expediency's sake and to give us a better ending we WILL be covering the flash #159.. but just the wally and linda parts as we don't really need Wallace's dramatic exit.

We do start on it though as the League demands he go home and can't take his girlfriend with him. He picked up a girlfriend it's a thing. Superman is being an uncharactristic super ass while Wally is being less than helpful.. albeit given Wallace DIN'T have his memories of Linda erased and could've been helping them, I can't say I blam ehim.

So once Wallace leaves to have one last good day, Bart, having the tact of a tornado on roller skates, asks when the wedding resumes. Wally decides right the fuck now and speeds into actoin to get everything: catering, her parents farmhouse ready again, the lisence.

Wally spends the day even more hyperactive than usual... which is somehow indeed possible. The superheroes around Linda assure her it's fine, with Donna being the only one to make sure things haven't changed. Linda still LOVES wally.. but she can see something's wrong. And unlike with her on the previous wedding day, Wally's FAR less subtle about it so I don't know why no one else is like "okay maybe we shoudl check on him.

We get to the wedding itself.. and Linda holds it, not wanting to Marry wally while he's having what's clearly a barely supressed emotoinal breakdown.

I love this because it really.. boils down their dynamic: Linda loves wally, who he is and dosen't doubt that for a second.. but she's also 9/10 the one who pulls his head out of his ass. Wally's a good guy, we've seen it here.. but he acts first asks later, and LInda's one the remind him that you have to slow down every once in a while and have a conversation. Also yeah, between Dick's wig and Clark's super pope hat he's bummed he didn't get to wear to this because you bastards didn't ask him to officiate, they've seen weirder.

Wally agrees, yeah that's it. He saw a version of himself who went down a dark path.. and really wasn't THAT diffrent. All it took was loosing linda, which is WHY Walter is an edgelord for the record. Linda.. isn't amused, especially since Wally implies part of this is to widen the gap between them. Wally's friends are.. less than sympathetic. Well okay Roy is. It's just roy actually, Max is worried and Jay knows they just need to work it out and will. But roy well..

That is both a perfect exchange for those two.. and entirely why Roy isn't invited to weddings that much. I only think he got into this one as Donna's +1.

Wally however.. assures her that's not the case and once again gets a fantastic speech in

It's a heartfelt speech and get's linda to just.. skip to the i dos, the two kiss and one of the most solid marriages in all of comcis begins. It's a beautiful speech.

As for the issues themselves.. their okay. Yeah for such a great couple and with so many great moments, the first issue feels a bit short, like we needed more time for the wedding and the whole stupid kidnapping plot means we get cheated out of a reception, which as we've seen from both Rogue and Gambit and Teddy and Billy's nuptial's, is often some of the best stuff, allowing a bunch of characters to bounce off each other. Instead since the circumstances are dire after the intital wedding and dire right before the makeup, with our heroes recovering for it, we don't really get to have FUN with this. There's good moments, but these weddings are a bit of a disapointment and I don't know what Mark Waid or Ediotiral was thinking with this. It's still JUST good enough to not be a complete waste of your time, I recommend at least 142, but it still coudl've been SO much better and it's a shame this is the first wedding for this feature I just. .haven't been that jazzed about. I wanted to like it. the art for the first issue does not help, being all kinds of rediuclous and giving us the enternal shame that is Dick Grayson's perm.

So where did Wally and LInda go from here? Well honestly.. marital bliss at first. As I said Geoff Johns run, a brilliant followup to what Mark Waid did that brought back the Rogues after Waid wrote them out and redefined Captain Cold, follows them as newlyweds: they deal with space, moving, and LInda going back to college for a subplot that ultimately goes nowhere outside of one kidnapping by a prince from another dimension. Story for another time.

The two were solid for the most part and even had an unexpected suprise: TWINS. The two were happy to start their family... but unfortuantely Wally's freshly minted new arch enemy Zoom undid the babies out of his warped thinking tragedy makes better heroes. Which it often does, but feels like a critqiue on piling on tragedy because "that's what sueprheroes are". Granted Geoff Johns isn't innocent of this, but it's still a good lesson.

Afterwards Hal Jordan wiped everyone's memories of wally's identity and after re learning it Linda disappeared before coming back, the babies were restored, and the two had a happy marriage again with kids till infinite crisis. Then wally was put through the SHIT for nigh on a decade until a recent return, a wonderful run you should check out by Jeremey Whitley and a sci fi run I haven't that sounds neat by by my Boy Simon Spurrier. The two aren't without conflict. .but they have a love and understanding that makes them get past it. Wally and Linda have a beautiful relationship and I can't wait to see them again on this blog some day.

For now thanks for reading.

#the flash #wally west #linda park #dick grayson #jay garrick #max mercury #wedding #valentine's day #superhero wedding #superhero #dc comics

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the1975attheirverybest · 3 months

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he’s kind of giving tony stark/80’s pornstar a little bit

RIGHT??? it's....working

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spacecowboysfrommars · 2 years

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Peter Parker headcanons I think about all the time:

He’s SUPER claustrophobic

Hangs up every single drawing Morgan Stark makes for him and keeps it forever

Wears noise-canceling headphones when he’s having a rough time with his senses

Religiously watches 80’s movies and is adamant about it being the best decade for cinema

Has an Iron Man fan account on Twitter where he regularly posts candids of Tony in the lab

Does all of his chores without asking because he’s a good nephew and will do anything for May Parker

Tries keeping an elastic on his wrist for MJ until she explains to him how thick her hair is so he starts keeping a natural hair tie instead

Has a collection of Polaroid pictures of people he loves stashed in a shoebox under his bed

Was Iron Man for Halloween three years in a row as a child

Loves animals but is allergic to a lot of them (also has zero self preservation so he pets them anyways)

Has like five emergency sticks of deodorant in his backpack because of how sweaty/dirty he gets as Spider-Man

Still makes homemade cards for May on Mother’s Day (Bonus: also makes homemade cards for Tony on Father’s Day)

Refuses to learn how to drive because “I can just swing, aunt may”

His bisexual awakening was Thor

Will not read any of Einstein’s theories

Loves peppermint but can’t have any because of his allergy so he gets substitute raspberry candy canes during the holidays

Literally so in love with Michelle Jones-Watson it’s sickening

Babysits Morgan at least once a week

#peter parker #headcanon #tony stark #may parker #morgan stark #michelle jones #spiderman

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darsynia · 1 year

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Free Mom/Adult Advice

This will likely go unnoticed but, like... I turned 44 yesterday. I'm a mom of 3. My husband is a software engineer. We're homeowners and have had our fair share of crazy 'you're an adult now! GL!' situations we've had to figure out.

If you have a question that you're not comfortable asking someone who knows you personally, if you're not sure you can trust google results, feel free to send me an ask. I'm a natural peacemaker and have a lot of experience hearing about a situation and coming up with kind, self-protecting ways to solve conflicts, too. If I'm not in a place where I can help at the moment, I'll be honest and encouraging.

Oh! And writing advice/specifics, whether it's actual writing stuff or about things I might know about due to decripit age experience.

Important: IF YOU REFERENCE THIS POST I PROMISE I WILL KEEP MY ASK RESPONSE/DM RESPONSES PRIVATE UNLESS YOU SPECIFICALLY REQUEST OTHERWISE

Some suggestions on what you can ask:

how to handle spiraling negative thoughts (look, I can GIVE the advice, I can't always TAKE MY OWN ADVICE)

roommate struggles

you've set a story in the 80's, 90's, or 00's and want to ask something

You/your friend/a family member is pregnant/just had a baby, any advice for pregnancy/new baby issues? (sleep advice, behavior advice, gift advice, how to handle emotional stuff.)

ways to phrase a hard conversation you know is coming up

you want to leave a review/write a summary/title your story and want a second opinion

you're writing children and want to know if something you want them to do sounds realistic

you have a 'mom' question but don't have a 'mom' kind of person around

you're writing Tony Stark and are having trouble coming up with nicknames (I fucking LOVE that stuff)

I dunno, I just thought I'd offer. It's fine if this ends up languishing or whatever, it's a weird thing to suggest, and I get that :) OH and if you want to reblog that's fine, I'm happy to speak to people I'm not following/who don't follow me.

#this is probably dumb #but it's just a me kind of thing #support and encourage #ask anyone who's known me for any length of time i'm just the 'resident mom' lol #but i dunno maybe don't ask me questions if you think you won't be able to read the smut i write LOL #that would make us both sad :P

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mthofferings · 7 months

Photo

oper_1895

See oper_1895’s existing works here.

Preferred contact methods: Email: [email protected] Tumblr: oper1895 Dreamwidth: oper-1895

Preferred organizations: - Anything from the list of approved organizations

Will create works that contain: team as family, slice of life, hurt/comfort, polyamourous relationships, queer platonic/ace-spec relationships, sexual and/or non-sexual kink (from playful kink to heavy scenes), smut, bdsm, pwp

Will not create works that contain: non-consent (consensual non-consent and certain types of dub-con are fine), scat, age play, angst, breakups, reader insert fics

-- Fic or Other Writing --

Auction ID: 1066

Will create works for the following relationships: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - MCU Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - MCU Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers - MCU Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark - MCU Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton - MCU Clint Barton/Phil Coulson - MCU Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov - MCU Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson - MCU James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark - MCU Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson - MCU

Work Description: I’m offering classic 100 word drabbles. They can be combined into a longer fic, or completely separate (see Synthesis for an example of a fic made of drabbles: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41980641) Every $5 gets you a drabble and every $20 you have the option of getting a drabble by mail! You can choose if you want a fannish card/postcard or something related to the drabble (I’m not an artist, these will be purchased cards). You can choose to get your drabbles all at once, or scattered throughout 1 year as little treats. This may be handwritten or printed, depending on how much space I have (I want to make sure it’s legible and my handwriting is not necessarily pretty). I’ll pay for postage/postcards for up to 5 mailed items. If this goes over $100 we can discuss options and on the off chance it gets farther than that, I’m capping the official number of drabbles at 30. There’s a good chance you’ll get more, but I want to keep my promises manageable. You can be as involved as you’d like in the process, I will write most kinks and am better with kink than vanilla sex. Consider the pairing list a non-exclusive list of mix and match options. Feel free to shoot me a message if you have any questions.

Ratings: Gen, Teen, Mature, Explicit

Can pods bid on this auction? Yes - Podbids welcome!

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

-- Fic or Other Writing --

Auction ID: 2037

Work Description: This auction is for at least 2K of fic. Depending on the prompt it might be longer, but I do tend towards shorter works. You can be as involved as you’d like in the process. I will write most kinks and am better with kink than vanilla sex. Consider the pairing list a non-exclusive list of mix and match options. Feel free to shoot me a message if you have any questions or if you want to confirm something specific before bidding.

Ratings: Gen, Teen, Mature, Explicit

Can pods bid on this auction? Yes - Podbids welcome!

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-- Craft or Merchandise --

Auction ID: 3014

Will create works for the following relationships: Avengers fandom any gen and ship - Any Universe Captain America fandom any gen and ship - Any Universe

Work Description: This is an auction for custom table linens. The photos are examples of basic patterns and I know Avengers fandom best, but I'm open to other characters if you have the ideas. You can mix and match as much as you like or we can talk about other ideas. The values below are per item and you are welcome to pick what you want within the value of your winning bid. For example, if you win at $80 you can choose to have 4 placemats or 2 placemats and 8 napkins. Available colours are whatever I can find at the well-stocked local fabric stores. I’ll typically be working with cotton for ease of care, but if there’s something specific you have in mind that needs another fabric we can discuss. I can also make things with any Marvel themed fabric that is available to me (Examples attached, dependent on accessible inventory). Item costs: - $5 gets a single layer, single colour cotton napkin. - $20 gets a placemat with basic patterns (primarily rectangles). - If the auction goes over $100, a $50 table runner option is unlocked (approx 24 inches wide. Length and design are flexible but in general but the longer it is the less detailed it will be. Please contact me in advance if you have specific ideas/dimensions). - If the auction goes over $200, there’s the option for more complex patterns (eg, shapes that aren’t rectangles or large triangles), double sided napkins and fabric coasters ($5). I’m setting the cap at 8 place settings plus 1 table runner, but if you’re desperate for more we can chat about balancing complexity vs volume. These will be made in a non-smoking, pet-free home. Winner pays shipping from Canada. Feel free to contact me if you have any questions.

Ratings: Gen, Teen

Can pods bid on this auction? Yes - Podbids welcome!

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The auction runs from October 22 (12 AM ET) to October 28 (11:59:59 PM ET). Visit marveltrumpshate.com during Auction Week to view all of our auctions and to place your bids!

#oper_1895 #auction: fic #auction: craft #mth 2023

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stormxpadme · 7 months

Text

Whumptober 2023 No. 9 - Mistaken Identity

Scogan Bingo challenge Pillows

"Logan …" These two syllables contained at least three exclamation marks which was an achievement all by itself, considering Scott should actually still be in that certain blissful post-surgery condition of being drugged to the brim and that his voice currently had about as much strength as an 80's stereo with dying batteries. Somehow, the guy still managed to file a complaint approximately 10 minutes after waking up, and right now, Logan was even far too happy about this so unexpectedly quickly returning energy to give him shit for it.

He just didn’t have time to deal with that familiar, strangely beloved nagging right now. "Give me a second, Slim. Almost done." At least that was what Logan hoped, taking a good long look around the luxurious guest apartment on the top floor of Stark Tower that should be their shared accommodations for an undetermined period to come. A half-smoked cigar almost forgotten dangling from between two fingertips, Logan walked the spacious floor of the living chambers, the bedroom, and the bathroom once more, trying to make out any possible too-tight hallways and obstacles, anything he might have missed regarding Scott's current sensitive needs. At least the kitchen, he didn’t need to include in that last patrol, he thought with a wry grin, firmly closing that door.

Scott was a walking disaster in any kitchen even at his best of health, and right now, Logan wanted him even less anywhere near a stove. That was what takeout and Stark's servants were for. While Logan wasn’t thrilled to make either of them dependent on an Avenger of all people? After the clusterfuck that had been the last Hellfire Gala, their means and options were limited, and Tony and Emma had both insisted. Not to mention, right now Scott was simply in a shitty position to refuse such kind offers from friends, family, and business partners. They might both not be horribly hot on it, but until Scott would be better, enjoying and making use of all merits that came with residing at one of Tony's homes was the best choice.

Logan just needed to make sure, his lover wouldn’t get his cute ass in trouble right again, after Logan had only just pulled it from another deadly torture trap. Stark's scientists and medics, together with Synch, should not have had spent almost two days for nothing, making sure, Scott would be back to fighting shape in a couple of months, with any luck, instead of spending the rest of his days in a wheelchair and basically blind. Somewhat convinced that there were at least no tripping hazards and impassable spots in the apartment, Logan strode back towards the bedroom, reluctant to leave Scott alone for too long, no matter how believably Emma had convinced him, the procedures had gone as well as could be expected and that Scott was now on the mend. There were far too many things for Logan's taste regarding that recovery that could still go wrong. Not to mention that short moment yesterday in the operating theater when he'd seen his lover as hopeless and resigned as never before since he knew that stubborn asshole. That was definitely something Logan didn’t want to encounter again anytime soon. If what was left of mutant world for the moment was to keep one of its most important leaders and Logan was to keep the man he finally was no longer afraid to admit he loved just as much as the woman whom they'd both just lost to that very same last tragedy … Then he needed to be around and attentive a little more than was usually in his nature, little as he might like it. Following that trail of thought, Logan grimaced at what was left of his smoke in his hand when he realized, some ash was about to give the expensive red and gold carpet an interesting new pattern. Impatiently, he hurried to the next best sink to get rid of the offending object.

"Logan …" This time, there was a hint of amusement in that meek sound.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be right with you." The unplanned detour back to the kitchen had a very positive side-effect, Logan realized, remembering that those instructions for watching over his lover, especially in the first few nights had named proper hydration as one of the top priorities. While Logan had already stored a whole six-pack of that disgusting mild sparkling brew that Scott preferred, next to the bed, he'd forgotten to bring either glasses or straws, and he couldn’t find the latter in that damn kitchen for the life of him. Which sucked because Logan wouldn’t be around 24/7 for glasses refills, as much as he would have loved to …

This time, the voice came from the kitchen speaker connected to the apartment's internal communication line that Logan had had a very entertained-looking Synch install for him in here earlier, just in case even his enhanced senses couldn’t pick up at a possible call for assistance from the bedroom for once. "Logan, if you don't get your ass in here right now, I'll try out that miracle construction of Stark's just to come and get you." Well, that didn’t sound a lot like an emergency. More like Scott was indeed about to do exactly what he was so strictly forbidden from right now, just to kick Logan's ass.

That would have been so fucking in-character for the guy that Logan decided to rather not fight Scott for once, returning to the bed at least with those glasses, a package of crushed ice under his arm, and an impatient eye-roll on his face. "Like hell you will. Not before they tell you to. We can talk about sitting up tomorrow morning though, if you're not too much of a pain until then." Logan draped the glasses next to where the first bottle was waiting, on that movable tray that was just one of the many high-tech attachments that Stark had equipped that bed with that inevitably would have to serve as the center of Scott's life for a while. Not paying attention to a scowl on his lover's face that not even the thick white bandages temporarily blocking his sight could hide, Logan sat down on the mattress right next to where Scott was perched in a slightly upright position under three blankets and went for the final check. Which included, trying out for himself if he could reach all remotes for TV, trays, and communicators from the mattress without twisting and turning any more than necessary. It was a bit of a stretch, but between them, Scott notoriously had longer arms, so …

"Logan." There was an unexpected tenderness in Scott's voice when he spoke up next, along with a tired vulnerability that Logan cared a lot less for. But in a way, that, too, was positive. It assured Logan that for once, his lover knew exactly that after his latest ordeal, he was in for more than his body could deal with for now, since all people capable of healing such severe damage within minutes were not available for the moment. "You're …"

"… basically done, so shut it. I think you could use another one of those." Logan frowned at a couple of pillows in Scott's back that were already denting in under the weight that was this partly external metal construction serving as a replacement for Scott's shattered spine until either everything Synch and those doctors had put back together earlier would be ready to function on its own … Or until what was left of their race would manage to undo that whole latest catastrophe and bring back everyone and everything they had lost. Including a physical shape for one of their heroes that didn’t need nanobots, titanium, computer programs, and electricity to function.

"… fussing," Scott continued his own sentence, unfazed, that smile broadening on his healing lips which almost had their beautiful, full curve back, those at least.

"I'm most definitely not." Logan crossed his arms with an irritated grumble until he remembered that Scott couldn’t see that right now and lowered them again with a sigh. Deciding that the pillow could probably wait, he sunk back a little deeper into the mattress and cautiously sneaked his arm under Scott's unmoving shape instead, shuddering at the touch of that exo-spine against his elbow.

The smooth coldness, broken by wires and artificial joints, was quickly made forgotten by the sensation of Scott's skin under Logan's agitated caress on his neck, fortunately. The pulse under Logan's fingertips was still a little slow but it was strong and steady. Scott's tall, usually so resilient shape was also no longer drenched in the sickening scent of poison, infection, and the rusty, perverted contraption that would almost have blown him to pieces either. There was a little too much stubble for Logan's taste on those high cheekbones, and they were a little too hollowed still and far too pale …

But Logan was pretty sure, if he went searching for a razor now or brought up trying to get on the balcony for an hour or so of sun tomorrow, Scott would cut his throat with a glass shard. "Fine. Maybe. A little. Can you blame me?"

"Never did. So stop obsessing. You know that's my job." Scott leaned into that suddenly trembling touch against his neck with a sigh, his battered body relaxing against the almost rock-hard mattress a good deal more immediately.

Huh. Maybe Logan didn’t need to worry so much about getting his lover comfortable whenever he wasn’t in here as long as he made sure not to fuck up when he was. Starting, apparently, with being less obvious about feelings he hadn’t even really let into his own soul yet that Scott could pick up far too easily. The guy knew him damn well for someone who hadn’t been around for the better part of the last few years. And why? Because the two – the three – of them had been stupid enough to let political troubles and diverging missions come between what they'd shared for a just as short as intense, wonderful time on that damn moon. Scott wouldn’t want to hear that, but the truth was – that he was lying here in this lousy state right now, partly was due to Logan not being there in the right moment. Well, he'd always been a huge fan of not making the same mistake twice. "Your only job is getting back on your feet right now, Slim. You let me worry about the rest." Logan leaned in to kiss any possible protest off those pouting lips before it could come, frowning again when those damn pillows dipped even lower under his additional, not inconsiderate weight. He needed to instruct JARVIS to get something better in here as soon as Scott was no longer awake to punch him in the dick for it.

"You can't babysit me for the next five months," Scott reminded him with as much firm determination as he could manage right now, one weak arm loosely slung around Logan's shoulders so he couldn’t back away. "I need you out there more than ever right now. I need you to look out for the others until I can go back to doing that myself. And even until then, don’t think for even a second that I'll be spending my days only crying into chocolate ice cream over Say Yes To The Dress and pining for you to return. I'll have Stark set up a proper communication central in here the moment I'm no longer on even too much Vicodin to not want to fuck you stupid right now. I need to be in touch with everyone still around if we want to make this whole thing right."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Slim." Logan was reluctant to bring up that subject on top of everything already wrecking Scott's soul. But if he didn’t want to risk another possible hit, not only mentally but maybe in the shape of a dangerous attack on this building, too, if someone with the wrong intentions and allegiance did the math? Then he had to get that new insanity out of his lover's still quite trauma-addled brain as quickly as possible. "You're basically a dead man walking right now. Most might not believe it's you if they see you just on a screen, especially with your fancy Freddy Krueger imitation of a face right now. And some others will demand an explanation for the Capitol. Captain Krakoa is not exactly popular with the kids right now."

"I'm not going to apologize for things I didn’t do," Scott gritted out, the increasingly shaking hand not busy clenching down on Logan's hair for purchase turning into a harsh fist. "I'm done with that."

"I'm not asking you to." Logan bent down for brief, soothing kiss to Scott's still slightly heated forehead. "Just to stay under until we found out who took your mantle, and word has gotten around that this was not on you. We don't want any unwelcome visitors here as long as you can't leave on your own two legs if necessary."

"Anyone who needs actual proof that I didn’t attack humanity is no longer welcome in my life, period." Scott's expression only darkened further, and Logan knew, if he hadn’t been ordered to keep his eyes shut until the last of these dangerous infections of his lids had healed, there would be a warning flash of red behind his usual ruby shields right now. "People had decades to memorize the lower half of my face, Logan. Few only ever even saw me only with a pair of glasses on. If they still can't tell my fucking jawline from someone else's? Apparently, I did even more wrong than I thought whenever I went out there. I'm not waiting until they want to book me for Men's Health again to make that right. We've lost too many and too much for that."

"Pretty sure there was never one of our kind on Men's Health, Slim." Logan let out an exhausted sigh but decided that was a discussion for tomorrow. Or at least for the time when Scott would be allowed to open his eyes again and the question of starting to work would become an actual, real issue. Until then, Logan had at least a couple of weeks to get some sense back into that guy. And as usual in mutant world, things might already look a whole lot different a couple of days from now. "How about you start on that beauty sleep right now though? I'll check with Stark and Emma if there's anything you should know." Logan already made a move to get out of bed again when he paused at the feeble but unmistakable touch of a large, bony hand around his wrist, the unspoken, still slightly shy word on Scott's slightly opened lips.

On second thoughts, things like communicators existed. And he had a more important duty here to do, obviously. "Slim, I don't think that's …" This time, Logan interrupted himself with a grimace. Maybe there was a thing as being too worried.

It at least didn’t look unbearably painful when Scott straightened up on his elbows a little once Logan was back beside him, and reached for his still mostly paralyzed left thigh with his teeth clenched, his upper body twisted to the side as much as the corset temporarily restricting him allowed. Still an impossible endeavor for now, though.

Good thing, Logan was usually far better without a lot of words anyway. Scooting close enough, he carefully pushed his arms under his lover's compromised shape and helped him turn to his side before snuggling up against him, cautiously bracketing those long, haggard legs with his own, his face buried against Scott's neck. The obstacle of the exo-spine between them was nothing more than a neglectable resistance against Logan's own metal-enhanced chest while he deeply breathed in that grounded, clean smell that was his lover's beloved scent, his own eyes quickly falling close as he listened to Scott's heartbeat and breathing becoming even more slower and more regular. Well, that probably meant, there was indeed no need for any more pillows.

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

@scoganbingo

#no.9 #Mistaken Identity #x men #fic #referenced medical torture #fanfiction #stormys fanfics #scott summers #cyclops #wolverine #scogan #scott x logan #scoganbingo #whumptober2023

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sounds-of-some-day · 2 years

Text

Someone of Quora asked what courses Tony would have taken at MIT, and then someone at Quora gave an extremely in depth answer. So here is that answer for those of you looking to write MIT-Tony based fic, specifically taking place during the 80s (as classes on these topics have obviously changed somewhat over the decades). Short answer followed by longer more in depth answer under the cut:

Summary of his coursework:

Definites:

8.01 Physics I: Classical Physics

8.02 Physics II: E&M

18.01 Calculus I: Single Variable

18.02 Calculus II: Multi-variable

18.03 Differential Equations

18.06 Linear Algebra

3.091 (more likely) Introduction to Solid State Chemistry or 5.11 Principles of Chemical Science or 5.40 General Chemistry or 5.41 Introduction to Structure, Bonding and Mechanism [the modern equivalent is 5.111]

Economics? concentration or minor (or STS or TCD)

6.001 Structure and Interpretation of Computer Programs

6.002 Circuits and Electronics

6.003 Signals and Systems

6.004 Computational Structures

EE lab (probably 6.115)

6.012 Microelectronic Devices

6.013 EM and Applications

6.014 Electrodynamics

Some Intro to Quantum

6.041 or 18.313 or 18.440 Probability

18.04 Complex Variables with Applications

8.321, 8.322 (graduate-level) Quantum Theory I, II (A)

8.511 (graduate-level) Solid State Physics/Theory of Solids I

8.613J (graduate-level) Intro to Plasma Physics I (A)

8.333 (graduate-level) Statistical Mechanics I (A)

2.70 Introduction to Design [nowadays known as 2.007]

Probables:

2.01 Mechanics of Solids

2.02 Introduction to Systems Dynamics

2.03J Dynamics

2.06J Mechanical Vibration

2.20 Fluid Mechanics

2.31/2.32 Mechanical Behavior of Materials I+II

2.40 Thermodynamics

2.51 Heat and Mass Transfer

~.~.~

From Marvel’s link (Iron Man (Anthony Stark)) — Tony Stark would have been a Course 6–1 (Electrical Engineering). Given that he was a graduate in the late 1980’s [Class of 1987?] according to the movie (or in the 1940’s or 50’s according to the comic books). Let’s stick with the movie version, as I wouldn’t know the EE program in the 1940’s/50’s (I can see the course catalog or catalogue, I just don’t know what topics would be taught).

Key reference: Browsing MIT Course Catalogues by Issue Date (the 1983–1987 course catalogs) — this is the MIT Institute Archives by MIT Libraries

In the 1980’s, Tony Stark would have done his 17 GIR’s or more likely gotten Advanced Standing Exams on a number of them (back then, 18.01, 18.02, 8.01, 8.02, 3.091/5.40/5.41/5.11 i.e., the old 5.111 or 5.60 or 7.01). He probably did his humanities concentration or minor in Economics as there was no Management option (I can’t think of any other concentration that would fit his personality and interests better, although he may have done Science, Technology, and Society or Technology, Culture, and Development as his humanities concentration). Tony Stark would have also done 18.03 (Differential Equations) and 18.06 (Linear Algebra) (requirements for the 6–1 program) as well as 6.041 Probabilistic Systems Analysis and Applied Probability. I have no idea what Tony Stark would have taken as other humanities courses (back then, one would have had to take 3 humanities distribution subjects).

Stark would have taken the 6.001–6.004 series (6.001 Structure and Interpretation of Computer Programs is no longer offered in the current curriculum and has been replaced by 6.01). 6.002 = Circuits and Electronics; 6.003 = Signals, and Systems; 6.004 = Computational Structures.

Stark would have had to take at least one EECS lab (6.111 Intro to Digital Systems Laboratory or 6.101 Intro Electronics Laboratory or 6.115 — Microcomputer Project Laboratory or 6.114 or 6.141 or 6.142 or 6.151 etc.). I think Stark would have also done the rest of the EE program requirements at the time (6.012 Microelectronic Devices and Circuits, 6.013 Electromagnetics and Applications, 6.014: Electrodynamics, 6.017 or 8.211 Introduction to Quantum Physics)

Given that Tony Stark was highly mechanically oriented and very competitive, I’d imagine that he probably took a lot of the Mechanical Engineering core that didn’t have a Course 6 equivalent (2.01 Mechanics of Solids, 2.02 Introduction to Systems Dynamics, 2.03J Dynamics, 2.06J Mechanical Vibration, 2.20 Fluid Mechanics, 2.31/2.32 Mechanical Behavior of Materials I+II, 2.40 Thermodynamics, 2.51 Heat and Mass Transfer, 2.70 Introduction to Design [nowadays known as 2.007]). Actually, As Tony Stark (film) (on the Iron Man Wikia) indicates that Tony Stark won a robotics competition at MIT — the main one would have been 2.70 (which is now 2.007).

The two Master’s or SM degrees (graduate work) according to Sanderson, Peter (w), Candelario, Harry (p), Cheung, Jim (i). Iron Man: The Legend 1 (September 1996) were in Physics and Electrical Engineering.

For his graduate work in EE, there are way too many classes that would have interested him (i.e., EECS AAGS | MIT EECS [AAGS = Approved Advanced Graduate Subjects]). Like at least half of those classes …

On the Physics side, Tony Stark would have been most interested in the Solid State, Laser, Plasma, and Atomic Physics research area. He would have likely taken graduate Quantum Mechanics (8.321, 8.322), Solid State Physics (8.511), Plasma Physics (8.613J), Statistical Mechanics (8.333) — I believe these would have been the first-year SM requirements for Physics.

He would have written three theses: one undergraduate for EE, then one for each of his Master’s degrees (Physics, Electrical Engineering). Anne Hunter (the undergraduate course administrator for Course 6) has mentioned to me that the first person to graduate with the M.Eng. was in 1994, so this would have been after the time that Tony Stark would have graduated from MIT.

Additionally, Stark would have also passed his swim test and boat test, and probably taken martial arts Physical Education classes for the PE requirement (e.g., aikido, shotokan karate). He probably took sailing as well (didn’t he have a yacht in one of the comic books?)

As for grades, MIT does not award “valedictorian” or Latin honors of summa/magna cum laude, but inferring that Marvel says that Tony Stark was “summa cum laude,” I would assume he was a 5.0 GPA (straight A’s).

Source

#character: tony stark

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sjsmith56 · 9 months

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It’s Been a Long, Long Time

Summary: A recurring nightmare of a woman who died in Bucky’s arms during the war keeps waking him up. Sam does some research to help his friend figure out what the dream means.

Length: 3.5K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, two named female original characters, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark

Warnings: traumatic death of a character, angst (Bucky’s)

Author’s notes: This one-shot is inspired by a cheesy 80’s movie, called Made in Heaven, basically true love will find a way even if death occurs. Although it starts with a sudden death it ends in the fluffiest way. The song title, used as the one shot title, is associated with Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter at the end of Avengers Endgame. Because this is set in an AU where Steve stayed in the future I have used it for Bucky. The song was written in 1945 by Jule Steyne and Sammy Kahn.

🎶

It was Christmas, 1944 and the Howling Commandos were in London, England on a well-deserved break. He was at a dance, drinking and watching the couples dancing. The few single women there were in high demand, and he just didn’t feel up to cutting in on the lucky guys who had a dancing partner. Then she walked in, wearing a blue dress and a smile. Her presence was like feeling a warm spring breeze caress your face.

“May I have this dance?”

That’s all he had to say for her to turn that smile towards him, place her hand in his and let him lead her around the dance floor. When another soldier came to cut in she looked at the guy with surprise.

“I’m dancing with my fiancé,” came the words straight from her mouth in this lovely British accent. When the man murmured his apologies and left she looked up at Bucky. “You don’t mind being my fiancé tonight, do you?”

“Not one bit,” he said, totally taken by her vivaciousness.

They danced until the band called it quits then headed out into the night to catch a bus to her flat. Just a few months previous the blackout conditions had been relaxed allowing for the use of lighting levels at the equivalent of a moonlit night. It was still dark, however, and pedestrians were warned to be on their guard while crossing the roads. As they walked, the last bus suddenly drove past them and they realized they would have to walk the full distance. Bucky kept an eye and ear out while he and Miss Sabrina Cooper strolled, holding hands as they shared their lives. When they arrived at the door of her building she looked up at the handsome American soldier.

“I share a bedroom with my sister so I can’t ask you in,” she said apologetically. “Would you meet me here tomorrow morning? She’s going to Bath with her fellow for the weekend. We can spend the day together and you can stay the night.”

“Only if you’re sure,” replied Bucky. “I wouldn’t want you to get a bad reputation.”

She laughed and he felt the effect of it down to his core. He was hers and would be there in the morning with bells on, as the saying went. When they kissed goodnight it was like tasting the best dessert that Bucky’s ma ever made, it was so sweet and tasty that he couldn’t get enough of it. As Sabrina watched from the step Bucky crossed the road to find his way back to his billet. He had only gone a few yards when he heard her call his name then run into the street towards him for one last kiss. To his horror a lorry appeared out of nowhere and struck her down right in front of him. Just like that, she was gone, dying in his arms. Then a man’s voice from the dark told him he had so many days to stop it from happening again.

Lately Bucky had been experiencing the same dream. For the past ten nights he had relived this memory from his past, and it was driving him crazy as it seemed to be a countdown. The first night the voice told him he had 30 days. Now on this most recent experience it was down to 20 days, and he still didn’t know why this was happening or what he was supposed to do. Seeing it was well after 2am, he got up and came out to the kitchen in Stark Tower then pulled open the fridge, looking for something to eat.

“Again?” said Sam’s voice as he entered the space. “How many nights is that?”

“Ten,” stated Bucky. “What are you doing up?”

“Had a date,” explained the other man. “Told me she wanted to stay friends.”

“Ouch,” said the super soldier, pulling out some leftover Chinese food. “Want some?”

Sam nodded his consent and Bucky divided it up between the two plates, heating up Sam’s first before heating his own. He pulled out a beer for each of them. The two men sat next to each other as they ate the leftovers. After several minutes Sam took a drink of beer and looked over at Bucky.

“What do you think it means?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Bucky. “I mean, it really happened, right? She was hit by the truck and I know she died because she died in my arms. I couldn’t get to her in time. As for the significance of it, it’s beyond me. It’s not even happening at the same time of year or the same city. Why now?”

“Maybe something like it is going to happen again and it’s a precognition thing,” said Sam. “Maybe you’ll save someone’s life for real this time.”

Bucky smirked. “Sure, that’s got to be it.”

He shook his head, still irritated at experiencing that real life nightmare over and over again. When he finished eating Sam was only half done so Bucky put his dishes in the dishwasher and said goodnight to his fellow Avenger. Sam finished a few minutes later and put his dishes away then leaned back.

“Friday, can you start a search for me, my eyes only?” he asked.

“Certainly, Mr. Wilson,” said the female voice. “What would you like to know?”

“Check newspaper databases for London, England during the month of December 1944,” said Sam. “You’re looking for the pedestrian death of a young woman, age unknown, name Sabrina Cooper. She was hit by a truck. There may be an American soldier who witnessed the accident.”

“Is it possible the pedestrian survived the accident?” asked Friday. “That would increase the possibilities of an accurate result.”

“Sure, add that to the mix,” said Sam. “Any results can wait until I wake up tomorrow. Goodnight, Friday.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Wilson. Sweet dreams.”

He slept in the next morning, not waking up until after 10 am. After a quick shower he came out to the kitchen, finding no one there. Making himself a coffee he was just about to sip it when Friday interrupted his actions.

“Mr. Wilson, I have results of the search you assigned me this morning,” said the friendly female voice.

“Already?” exclaimed Sam. “Let me hear them.”

“Sabrina Cooper was struck down by a lorry in the Chelsea area of London, early in the morning of Saturday, December 23, 1944. An unidentified American soldier, a Sergeant in the army, witnessed the accident. She died in his arms.”

“Hmmm,” said Sam, thoughtfully. “There’s nothing else?”

“That is correct,” replied the AI.

Back to square one.

An hour later, the two men, along with Steve Rogers headed out for a run through Central Park. When they stopped for a break, more for Sam’s sake, they all sprawled on their backs in the grass. Bucky sat up first and looked around at the people walking nearby. Something caught his eye and he stood up.

“Buck?” asked Steve, looking in the direction that his friend was looking. “What is it? Trouble?”

“No,” replied Bucky, sitting down again. “Just saw something familiar for a moment. A woman in a blue dress but I don’t see her now.” He looked at Sam. “Don’t say it. She didn’t look anything like her.”

“Ah, the woman from your memories who you’ve been dreaming about,” said Steve. “That’s ten nights now. You never talked about her when you got back from your leave. None of us knew what had happened.”

“I only knew her for a few hours,” said Bucky. “Then she was gone. Wasn’t much to tell.”

“It must have bothered you,” replied Steve.

“It did,” said Bucky. “She lived with her sister who was going to Bath for the weekend with her fellow. Sabrina asked me to come back in the morning and stay the weekend.” He smiled. “I would have spent a lifetime with her.”

“You did,” said Sam. “It was her lifetime.”

Bucky couldn’t disagree with his friend’s apt observation. When they returned to the compound Sam retreated to his room.

“Friday, could you do another search related to the search I requested earlier?” It answered in the affirmative. “Sabrina Cooper had a sister, first name unknown, living at the same address. She planned to go to Bath with a male friend that day. Is she still alive?”

“I will perform the search with the new parameters,” said Friday. “Shall I extend the search to any descendants?”

“Yes, please,” responded Sam.

He showered, changed and headed out to the kitchen area where several people were cooperating on preparing a meal. Sam offered to help but was told everything was in hand. When the meal was ready he took his share, sitting at the large table where others were reading a newspaper, or browsing on their tablets while they ate.

“Mr. Wilson,” said Friday. “I have a result on your search. Would you like me to share them here or in your room?”

“Here is fine,” said Sam.

“The name of the sister was Deidre Cooper. She was engaged to Flight Lieutenant Wallis Overton, a pilot with the Royal Canadian Air Force. The couple married in 1945 and she immigrated to Canada with her husband at that time. They had three children. Their youngest son, John Overton, born in 1952, married Teresa Fielder. Their oldest daughter, Marianne London was born in 1973, and is currently a resident of New York City.”

“That’s it?” asked Sam, as Bucky looked strangely at him.

“No, Marianne is a widow, and lives in the Chelsea neighbourhood of New York with her daughter, Sabrina London, born December 23, 1994.”

Sam looked at Bucky. “I played a hunch,” he said. “Maybe you’re meant to save someone who was connected to Sabrina Cooper in some way. She was born on the same day 50 years after your Sabrina died. You’re welcome.”

Steve grinned as the others asked who Sabrina Cooper was. Bucky left the explanations for Sam and Steve while he acquired Sabrina London’s address and workplace. He planned to go the next day to begin his surveillance of her but that night they got the call for another mission that took most of them out of town for 2 ½ weeks. While he was away the dream continued with the countdown marching it’s way to the end. With 2 nights left the team returned to the compound and no one was surprised to see Bucky run to his room, shower, change and leave.

“Should we provide backup?” asked Sam. “To be honest, I kind of want to see this through.”

“I agree,” said Steve. He looked around at the others. “Anyone else want in on this mission?”

〰️

Bucky was already in the Chelsea neighbourhood of New York when the rest of the team decided to get in on the action. He found the address soon enough and set himself up to watch until someone came out of the main door of the apartment building. It was the doorman and Bucky realized that he might not have much luck with the residence so he sought out Sabrina London’s workplace, a record store that carried 78s, LPs, and CDs. When he stepped inside he smiled at the sound of Duke Ellington playing.

“Hiya!” said a cheerful voice and he looked to where it came from.

Suddenly, he was back on the dance floor in London as he saw Sabrina’s Cooper’s double behind the cash register, wearing a blue dress and a smile.

“Hi,” he replied. “Nice store.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I grew up listening to a lot of different genres and after I got my degree in musicology I decided to open my own place and bring music to the masses. There’s nothing wrong with digital music but there’s nothing like listening to the older stuff on vinyl, you know?”

“I agree,” smiled Bucky. “You carry any Benny Goodman or Harry James?”

“1940s fan, huh?” she said, then she looked at him again. “Have we met before?”

“Maybe in another life,” joked Bucky. “I’m Bucky, Bucky Barnes.”

“No shit, sorry,” she blushed. “I have a potty mouth sometimes. You really are him so the 1940s thing is for real. You must have seen some of those artists live.”

“I did,” said Bucky, stepping closer to the counter. “Billie Holliday, Benny Goodman, Cab Calloway, Count Basie, Lena Horne … I saw them in the clubs. The best way, in my opinion.”

She leaned forward, cradling her chin on her hand as he spoke. “Wow! I’m so jealous,” she replied. “I would have loved to have seen those people perform live.” She stuck her hand out. “Sabrina London. Owner, manager, soon to be ex-owner, ex-manager.”

“Why?” asked Bucky, watching her intently.

“Even though I’m in the middle of New York City I don’t really get enough business to make a profit. I’m barely keeping my head above water. Add in a jerk of a building owner who doesn’t seem to understand that you have to maintain these older buildings so that plumbing leaks don’t damage one’s inventory … sorry, I’m venting.”

“You need someone to invest in you,” said Bucky. “Your business, I mean. Maybe buy the building and restore it to something iconic. I’m pretty sure this was a high end retail store back in the 1940s. There has to be marble columns behind the drywall and hardwood floors beneath this sheet linoleum.”

“I wish,” she smiled. “You don’t think Tony Stark would be interested, do you?”

“If he doesn’t I might know a guy or two,” said Bucky. The sound of the door opening made them both look and he grinned as Sam and Steve walked in. “Hey, may I present Sabrina London, owner of this establishment. Sabrina, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson.”

Steve looked all around, hearing the music. “We should be coming here to look for our music, Miss London. This place has character.”

“Just not enough business,” she said, “but go ahead and have a look. I can talk music all day.”

“Motown?” asked Sam.

She gestured towards the wall and he went over, beginning to flip through the selection. The door opened again and Tony Stark walked in, looking all around then seeing the young woman.

“Is this her?” he asked.

Sabrina looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean by Is this her?” she asked, looking between Bucky and Tony. “Have you been watching me?”

“No, nothing creepy,” said Tony, to Bucky’s glare. “You might as well tell her. You got any AC/DC or Metallica in here?”

She gestured to another wall then looked at Bucky for an explanation. His face turned pink then he took a deep breath.

“Are you named after Sabrina Cooper?” he asked. “She was the sister of your great-grandmother Deidre Cooper.”

“How do you know that?” she asked, a crease appearing between her eyes as she frowned slightly. “It’s a family thing.”

“Because I’m a genius and I invented a very sophisticated AI that can search almost anything,” said Tony loudly from the heavy metal section, three LPs already in his arms.

Steve looked sympathetically at Bucky. “You might as well tell her the truth,” he said. “I’m going to look for some albums.”

Bucky ran his hand through his hair. “It’s just that I met Sabrina Cooper on December 22, 1944 at a dance in London. We connected and I walked her home to her flat in Chelsea. She told me her sister was going to Bath for the weekend with her guy and wanted me to spend the next couple of days with her. I was charmed by her and agreed. She ran across the road to kiss me one more time.”

“You were the soldier,” interrupted Sabrina. “She died in your arms.”

Bucky nodded. “For the past 27 days I’ve relived that night over and over, and the only thing that changes is at the end a voice says that I have so many days to prevent it from happening again. It’s been counting down from 30 days. Sam got the idea that maybe I was meant to save someone with a connection to Sabrina, and Tony’s AI came up with your name. You were born exactly 50 years after the date that Sabrina Cooper died, and your great grandmother was her sister. You live in Chelsea here in New York and your last name is London. It seemed to make sense at the time. We can leave if this bothers you.”

“You think something bad is going to happen to me?” she asked. “You came here hoping to prevent that?”

Bucky stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and shrugged. “Sounds crazy, I know.”

“It does sound crazy,” said Sabrina. “But what if I told you that for the past 27 days I’ve had a dream of a young WWII soldier, dancing with me to Bing Crosby’s version of It’s Been a Long, Long Time which is weird because it came out in October, 1945 at the same time as the Harry James version, but this dance that we’re at was just before Christmas, 1944. In this dream I distinctly remember saying to a guy who wanted to cut in that I was dancing with my fiancé. At the end of my dream a woman’s voice says I have so many days to find this soldier. It’s been counting down from 30 and reached the number 3 last night.”

The others had come over as Sabrina related her dream, looking back and forth from her to Bucky. He just looked at her, then leaned across the counter and kissed her for several moments before stepping back.

“Then I would say we found each other again, Sabrina,” he said. “We get to start over again, if you want.”

“It took us long enough, didn’t it?” she smiled. She looked at Tony. “Could you buy this building and fix it to its original glory? I’m a great tenant and you’d be helping a small business owner in the heart of New York City.”

“Sabrina Fair, it would be my delight to help a small business owner with the treasures that you have here,” he said, grinning like a schoolboy.

Six months later

Sabrina London looked up at the door as it opened to the arrival of her fiancé, the Avenger Bucky Barnes. A skiff of snow flew in as he entered. The place was full of people shopping for the perfect Christmas present and he stepped around the lineup of people at the register.

“You’re back!” she said, coming out from behind the marble topped counter as her assistant beamed.

“Wasn’t going to miss this weekend,” said Bucky, looking at his watch before kissing Sabrina. “It’s not everyday that I get married. Everything’s ready according to the wedding planner. All we have to do is say the words and we’ll be husband and wife.” He looked up and nodded to the assistant, Jenny. “You ready to let your boss go for the next two weeks?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “Go, get out of here.”

Sabrina went into the back, got her coat and purse, then pulled her boots on. Bucky helped her into her coat, making sure her scarf was covering her neck, then with a wave he opened the door again and followed his fiancée out the door. A limousine, courtesy of Tony Stark, was waiting for them and Bucky opened the door for her, before sitting inside. Nodding at the driver the couple sat back and Bucky put his arm around her shoulders.

“We have to make one more stop,” he said. “I need to practice something.”

“What?” asked Sabrina. “You said yourself everything is ready.”

“I know, but this is for me,” said Bucky. “Indulge me.”

It didn’t take long before the limousine stopped at the Rink at Rockefeller Center. The giant Christmas tree was lit up and the rink was full of skaters.

“We’re not going skating,” said Sabrina. “I don’t know how.”

“No, we’re not,” said Bucky, “but we do need to get on the ice.”

Making their way through the crowd they stepped onto the ice near the tree, where a large rubber mat had been placed. When they reached the mat the music playing for the crowd stopped and a song came on, sung by Bing Crosby.

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It’s been a long, long time

A photographer took several pictures of them as the snowflakes fell and Bucky smiled at Sabrina.

“They wanted a picture and I wanted to practice our first dance,” he said. “How much more romantic is it than being under the falling snow in front of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center? I’m so glad I found you Sabrina Fair.”

She laughed, as much at the situation as at the nickname that Tony gave her.

“I’m so glad you found me, my handsome soldier,” she replied.

The couple danced closely together on the rink in the heart of New York City, continuing the romance that began 80 years before in London during blackout conditions of a world war. It had been a long, long time but they were together now and they thanked whatever forces brought them back together, as they should have been from the start.

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fictionbish · 5 months

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introduction to mildred :)

hi! welcome to my page :) <3 i'm mildred (she/they) :D

❤️ i hope to become a movie director and/or screenplay writer. i love to write stories and songs/poems.

❤️ i'm taken by my favorite person in the world, and i have many close and supportive friends.

❤️ personality: annoying, depressed, ambiverted, anxious, childish, bright.

❤️ peter parker and yelena belova (no context, just hot marvel characters)

❤️ fandoms:

-marvel cinematic universe -glee -wizarding world -once upon a time -star vs. the forces of evil -heathers -the little mermaid (2023) -f•r•i•e•n•d•s -animal crossing -beetlejuice -osemanverse -mean girls -gravity falls -hamilton -high school musical: the musical: the series -frozen -tim burton -luca

❤️ current pfp: anna of arendelle <3 i played her in a production of frozen, so i feel like she's a part of me.

❤️ likes:

-musical theater -reading -music -friends -family -mutuals <;3 -daydreaming about things that will never happen -pinterest -spotify -tumblr (duh) -shopping -celebrating -road trips -disney world -the moon -late nights -facetiming my bf -journalling -scrapbooking -80s/90s/2000s movies -spiderverse <3 -books -sleep -converse -vans -roses -chandler bing -crafts -ducks -doodling -video editing -photography -tom holland -florence pugh -my 7th grade english teacher -butterflies -olivia rodrigo -conan gray -taylor swift -coldplay -radiohead -lana del rey -melanie martinez -joshua bassett -harry styles -loki -peter parker -marshmallows -strawberries -pretty dresses from fantasy movies -frogs -axolotls -tattoos -gift boxes -wolf cuts -pixie cuts -hair dye -unhinged photos -pretty nails -mini brand earrings -tony stark's father-son bond with peter parker -songwriting -cringy fandom povs -luberto -elmo -cute phone cases -bluey -pin collecting -vinyl stickers -making endless playlists -aesthetically pleasing quotes -renée rapp 🥵 -funny wallpapers -gay clothes -cool makeup -guitar music -vibrato <3 -my vocal coach -my chorus/theater teacher -the time i played pinocchio in shrek the musical -anna of arendelle (favorite role i've played)

❤️ saggitarius♐️

❤️ asexual and biromantic 🖤🩶🤍💜🩷💙💜

❤️ pda autistic and probably adhd :) #neurodivergentgoals

❤️ anxiety and depression as well :( mental health matters!!

❤️ i really just post a lot of random stuff lol whatever comes to my mind. if you follow, thank you so much! i hope we can become mutuals :D if not, that's fine, too :)

everyone have a great day 😘

#intro post #blog intro #introduction #pinned post #pinned intro #introductory post #introduction post #mildred #fictionbish #<3 #rawr #mwah #meow

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zensations35 · 1 year

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Viral Paradox (TVA Loki Part 6)

Here it is. Complete. The final chapter. I'm wrapping things up here, there is a LOT of time travel and Loki being sick and injured. See part 1, part 2 , part 3, part 4, part 5, to catch up. Things you'll find in this chapter: -sick/injured Loki doin his best -Oh sh*t moments -Loki being an angsty brother -ofc more Tony/Loki banter

Part 6:

Monday

At the Earth hospital, Loki enchants the room to prevent anyone in contact with Thor from catching the virus. He assumes the forms of various medical staff, checking in on him for the next 24 hours until he’s certain Thor will survive. He scavenges for medical supplies to stitch up his larger wounds--the ones that will take longer to heal. He shouldn’t go timehopping while bleeding out, should he?

When it’s safe for him to go, Loki takes the portal to the past, vowing that if Thor dies at the hands of the humans, Loki will break every bone they have, as well as all of the rules in the damned time travel book to save him.

First, he must take care of several things. When the Avengers showed up to slay the Variant, Loki realized what has been happening over the past few days. And now it’s time to make them happen.

First, the antidote. If he had the pouch with him during the Variant battle, he would have surely lost or broken it. Luckily, he didn’t have it anymore. Because he’s about to go back and steal it from himself.

Sunday 12pm

Loki makes sure to “Hh-hxst!” stifle his sneeze has he wanders through the halls. He covered himself with a hooded sweatshirt--where are all the cloaks?? It says “I am Iron Man,” on the front and “Get me a cheeseburger” on the back. Loki has no idea why this outfit even exists. Well, now he’s less conspicuous. He saw Natasha roaming around stuffed in a similar outfit, hiding her red nose and snuffling into a sleeve. Perhaps they will mistake him for her.

No glamour, though. If he sneezes it off, that would be more noticeable. Which “hh-kkk…EXSHT!” he seems to be doing quite a lot.

He rubs his nose with the back of his clothed arm and whisks by his past self. He makes sure not to bump into him, only clamping a hand on his former self’s shoulder after a distracted sneeze.

“Bless you,” Loki says, quickly dipping his fingers into his past coat pocket and scooping out the vials.

He hurries away, winging past a flustered Pepper who is too focused on getting to Loki, she doesn’t notice him melding into the shadows.

A bit of weaving through the halls, Loki finally comes upon a swiftly-improving Tony, strolling through the tower, munching on a snack.

Loki slinks up next to him. “Stark.”

Tony bites a tiny slice of string cheese and pulls it with his teeth. “What’s up, dust bunny?”

“You seem to be recovering quickly.”

“Yep. Told ya. Same as Pep. It gets real bad and then,” he snaps his fingers, “Poof. Gone.”

Loki rubs his lips, “Indeed. Well, I must request a favor,” he halts them and pins his gaze on Tony’s cheese. “If you are not busy, that is.”

“Mmm…if it involves continuing this conversation, then I am very very busy.”

An eye roll. “It’s important, Stark.”

“Fine,” Tony shoves the rest of the cheese stick in his mouth, “Ooo hab my fool attnshn.”

Loki grumbles. Working with this man is such a chore.

“In a few hours, I will have to leave. I need you to send Thor after me.” Loki presets the correct tempad and gives it to Tony.

Tony takes it from him, turning it around to inspect it with a frown. “This looks like a garage remote from the 80s.”

“It is very advanced technology.”

“Whatever you say,” he tucks it away.

“The first setting is for Thor. Send him immediately after I depart.” Loki takes a breath, “HixSGGghh!…eh…*snf*” he brushes a tendril of hair out of his face. “The second setting is for the villain’s castle. Wait until you are all well before you use it. There will be a battle, you need to be on your game to win.”

“And, you know all of this how?”

“I don’t know why I continually must explain time travel to you.”

“So, you’re saying you’re from the future right now.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re telling us to come save you, because I’ve already done it.”

A nod.

“You realize how this sounds, right? Like are you actually listening to yourself?”

“I do realize, yes.”

Tony frowns. His gaze flickers up and down Loki’s body. “You look like shit.”

“I’m quite sure. Hek-ISZZHHhh!”

“What if I decide to just not do it.”

“It’s already done, Tony.”

Tony’s arrogance flickers, casting a shadow of concern over his eyes. He uses the tip of his finger to tug at the sleeves of his sweatshirt, taking in the poorly stitched wounds, the purpling skin of his face and neck.

“Dude, what happened?”

“A battle with far worse injuries than mine.”

“Thor?”

Loki nods.

“Is he…”

“Thor lives, thanks to you--” he points at the tempad, “coming to our rescue.”

Tony looks from the remote to Loki. “You care about him then? You admit it?”

Loki grunts, shunting his gaze dismissively. “Of course I do.”

“Great!” Tony pockets the tempad. “I’ll give him your love. Now, go to..I dunno, a time hospital or something. Yeah?”

Loki laughs as he walks away. Yes. A time hospital.

He pads around the kitchen, knowing it’s empty, and snags a few granola bars and a small box of milk. He would wonder at this, if he weren’t 10000% exhausted. Best to just not complain. Food is food.

Loki tugs his hood and sinks into the shadows, watching his past self and the Avengers peter about.

He’s picked a good location to wait for the group to kick him out. Here he can rest for a while, hidden within a nook, glazed with a perception filter. Simple magic, so simple some races have been able to mimic it with technology. But, it will work for the few hours Loki needs to wait.

He settles in against the wall, scrubbing his nose and muffling sneezes and coughs into the sleeves of his hoodie. He may be visually hidden but, hhhe needs to khh--ih! Keep quiet--MSH-ksz!”

Dammit, he’s doing himself no favors.

He stuffs one of the granola bars into his mouth and watches Banner drag himself to and fro. Dear Stars, why don’t they all just rest?? It’s not like they have to stop a Variant Hel-bent on stealing the mind stone to resurrect his dead brother, or stop a deadly virus from killing the most powerful superheroes on the planet.

Sigh.

Finally, the big argument happens and his past self is kicked out. Stars, watching himself is so detestable. Once the tempad portal closes, Tony grabs Thor’s arm and they hurry into another room. Hm. Good on Stark. Didn’t hesitate in keeping his word.

Loki stands and brushes crumbs off his pants. He feathers his fingers over his mouth as his breath snags, “Hhhih-iszzzhh-hhh…” Stars, even his sneezes sound exhausted. Fatigue is spreading like fog throughout his body. His eyelids just want to close, his muscles want to loosen, his bones want to crumple to dust so that someone can find his ashes and make all the decisions for him.

Snap out of it, you mewling quim!

He pushes the threads of his remaining energy into his legs and heads to Banner’s lab.

Loki steps into the laboratory, or more like sways through it. He thumps against a table and nearly loses the fight against gravity, stumbling on his feet.

He presses his fingers to his temple in a web, taking sips of air.

Get through it. You’ll be able to rest soon.

Indeed.

His eyes swing around the lab, seeking Banner. Around a corner, he finds the Doctor tinkering with the equipment. Well, between fits of the smallest, breeziest sneezes Loki’s ever heard.

“Ksch! I’Ktsh! TshH! ExsCH!”

This is how the mighty Hulk sneezes? Like a wet kitten?

“Banner,” Loki’s voice cracks on a small wheeze.

Bruce turns, face flushed pink, mouth curling into a glower. “Loki, what--” his neck cranes, shock pooling in his eyes. “What the hell happened to you? You just left.”

Loki waves a hand, forcing himself to walk without hissing. His ribs revolt and he swallows a pained moan. “Time travel. Bit finicky.”

Bruce glares, “Did we kick your ass?”

“Heh, you’d think, wouldn’t you? But no.” Loki lifts the thumb-sized vial, red liquid swirling within. “I have your cure.”

“There’s nothing I’ve found that will cure this.”

“On your world, correct. But I come from Asgard.”

“Right,” Bruce rubs the back of his neck with his palm. “Well, you’ll forgive me if I don’t snatch it right from you and guzzle it.”

“This will save your life, Banner.”

Bruce’s face pops to life. His eyes are steel, fingers squeezing tight. “This…this virus will…kill me?”

“Ahm, yes? You’ve seen what it’s done to Rogers--”

“I’m not the same as Steve. The…other guy…he’s never let me…Izsch! IXch! Hnn-SxCH!” he paws at his nose and gives his head a tiny shake.

“Have you even tried to transform?”

“Not something I make a habit of. Especially in the middle of a city.”

“Hm. Well, you might find the attempt futile very soon.” He holds out the vial to Bruce, who immediately recoils. Something circles in his eyes. Wonder.

Loki feels his spine turn to iron when he realizes what Banner is thinking. “You…you can’t be serious.”

Bruce rolls his lips, eyes locked onto the vial.

“You can’t honestly be considering--”

“Don’t.” Bruce growls, heat in his tone. “You have no idea…”

“I know that if you refuse this antidote, you will continue to spread the virus. It will not be contained without intervention. And it will kill others."

Bruce snaps his gaze to Loki’s. He looks like a promise has been ripped from him in the night.

Stars, do all of these Avengers have such a collective death wish? Rushing off to fight every battle, silently wishing for an ending that won’t come. It’s not glory that fills them, but duty.

Loki won’t have it, though. He pushes the vial into Bruce’s hands. “You will drink this, if I have to force it down your throat, as I did to Rogers.”

“I doubt that would go over well with the other guy.”

“I’d love a rematch.” Loki points to the vial, “Take it. I won’t leave until I see it pass your lips.”

Bruce chuffs, shaking his head as he uncorks the vial. “For the timeline, right?”

“Yes. Of course…” For the timeline.

Loki leaves the lab, staying hidden still, thumbing the tempad. He still hasn’t figured out where the virus originated from, but perhaps it matters not. All he has to do now is to go back to last week and tell Potts to convince…

Loki stiffens, staring straight ahead.

Fuck.

Oh fuck!

Loki snarls, stomping the ground with a boot, splashing the marble floor green with a starburst. He curses himself as the memories flood him.

Stars. He can’t believe he didn’t see it. Didn’t even think…

“I got this from Pepper…”

“Pep gets sick all the time.”

“She almost died....”

This is it. The virus came from the future--through Loki.

And he can’t change it. It would cause a paradox. He has to go back in time and speak to Pepper. And in doing so, he will give her the virus that eventually gets Loki sick as well.

It is absolutely absurd.

How did she survive without…

Another snap of realization. Loki’s hand dips into his pocket, palming the vials he made for himself and Thor.

“And then, poof! All better!”

Of course.

Last Tuesday

Loki hopes he doesn’t run into Stark. He’s not bad at glamouring as a mindless Starkbot, but he’d much prefer his true form. Once he catches Potts alone--sitting at her desk, working, of course--he drops his glamour. The weak tech is easy to disable, cameras, alarms, communications. Loki also can’t resist adding a dramatic flare by dimming the lights.

Pepper sits up, alert.

Loki shifts in the shadows, timing his reveal just right.

When she sees him, her eyes flame to life. She heaves herself from her seat. “What--” she marches toward him, “are you,” she winds her hand back, “doing here?!” and slaps him clean across his injured cheek.

“Stars, madam, do I look in any state to be assailed?”

Pepper folds her arms. “I think I would slap you even if you were dead.”

He touches the cheek she struck and comes away with a brush of blood. His eyes widen and he looks at her hand, flecks of it on the tip of her finger, under her nails. Barely noticeable. But, enough to transmit the virus when she touches anything.

That’s it then. There was truly no avoiding it.

“Hm. yes, well,” Loki opens his pouch and shows her the vial.

“What’s that?”

“An antidote for the illness you are about to catch.”

“What? How do you--”

“I come from the future.” Loki flicks his gaze to the steps. “The Avengers will return from their mission within two days. It will be successful. Stark will request to study the scepter.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“To prove that I am indeed from the future.”

A snort. “Yeah, okay.”

“One day from now, you will fall very ill. You will be dying.” Loki turns the vial in his hand, the liquid bubbling inside. “This will save your life.”

Pepper frowns. “Yeah, I’m not gonna drink that.”

Loki holds up a finger, “One day. Twenty-four hours. You will be ready to do anything to improve. Even drink this.” He grasps her hand and folds her fingers over it.

“Once you are well, you will know I speak the truth. And when I come again, you must convince Stark to believe me.”

She blinks and shakes her head. “You really expect me to trust you?”

Loki chuckles, “Not today. Only when you are desperate.” Loki checks his watch. “Thirteen hours from now.” He watches Pepper’s face pale. He points to the vial, “Also, do not tell Stark about this. He will surely destroy the antidote, and you will die.”

Her face blanches, white as a sheet, freckles popping out like seeds. She stares after Loki as he opens the tempad portal. She will believe him. She already has.

“Two days, Potts. I’ll see you then.”

The End of the Journey

The portal opens into the same hospital room, days after the battle. Thor brightens when he sees Loki.

“Oh, thank the Stars,” Thor sits up, dangling his feet over the edge of the bed. “Get me out of here, Loki.”

A laugh. “As you wish.”

Thor struggles to stand, prompting Loki to assist, draping an arm across his shoulders. With joint effort, Loki lifts his brother and they hobble into the tempad portal.

“Ngh…” Thor winces, leaning hard on Loki. Loki can’t help but chuckle.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” Thor smirks.

“It is quite the turn of events.”

They step through out to a cloudless sky, red clovers dusting the ground.

“You brought me back.”

“It’s as good a place as any. We are out of sight.”

They stagger toward a craggy ledge, Thor’s weight pressing down on Loki’s shoulders.

“Hnn--” Thor sweeps an inhale through his lips.

Loki stiffens, “Oh, no, don’t you dare. Not when I’m--”

“HHRReh-SHHHuuu!”

Lightning envelops them both, grinding Loki’s teeth, setting his synapses on fire. His eyes squeeze shut and he shudders.

Once it fades, Thor paws at his nose, “Apologies, brother.”

“Not like I haven’t been struck by your lightning before.”

“*sndf* You don’t deserve it this time.”

“I always deserve it.”

Loki eases Thor down on the edge of the cliff, then takes a seat next to him, head sagging into his cupped hands.

Thor’s meaty hand warms Loki’s back. “Loki, what you have done…what you are doing, I never thought you capable of such kindness.”

“Be careful of getting wet, brother. Sugar melts.”

Thor chuckles. “You still do not believe yourself worthy.”

Loki pulls his arms back, bracing himself at an angle to stare into the dappled sky. “I will never be worthy. You know this.” Loki’s lips crack apart, a rustle of air whisking into his chest, “Hh-EIZZSHhhh-eh!”

“Do you have any more of the antidote?”

Loki holds up a finger, “One more.”

“Then take it.”

Loki manifests two goblets of wine and dumps the last antidote into one of them, making sure Thor doesn’t see which. He hands one cup to Thor and takes the other.

“You’re the one who almost died. And you've been ill for longer than me. You need it.”

Thor growls. “No. I am healing fine. Give me yours.” He reaches for Loki’s goblet, then pauses. His brow furrows and he retracts himself. “I know you. The cups are already swapped. You know I would exchange them.”

Loki gives him an indignant frown.

Thor smirks. “Your tricks grow tiresome.” He drains his goblet, smacking his lips and then wincing at the sour aftertaste. He blinks and then glowers at Loki, “Damn you. You knew I would assume deceit.”

Loki smiles into his cup, “The trick about being predictable is to know people will assume you are lying.”

Thor glowers. “That was your last one?”

“Truly. I had to give mine to Pepper Potts.” He wings his arm to his face, pressing his nose against his skin, “XxxssshhhG! ISZH-ghheh…” he sags against Thor, breath stuttering, waves of fatigue lapping at the cave of his consciousness.

“You had better get well,” Thor growls.

Loki’s voice is cadenced with exhaustion. “You will see me again, alive and well--though I won’t remember any of this.”

“Why?”

“Time travel. I am technically also a variant of this timeline.”

“Then why fight for it?”

“B…” Loki looks up at his brother. The brother who taught him how to block punches, how to always be vigilant, who bandaged his injuries when they had done something stupid and didn’t want Father to know. The brother Loki sang to when they were out on missions and Thor missed their mother.

Loki looks into his lap. “Would that I could stay. Help you with the grief that is to come. But, we’ll meet again.”

Thor covers Loki’s hand and squeezes it. “You are a good man, Loki. I see the change in you.”

“Change?” Loki chuffs. “If this has taught me anything, it is that I will never change. I am the same as the variant we just fought. Trying my best to revive what I’ve destroyed.”

Loki stands and offers his hand. “Come, let me take you back to the tower.”

Thor lets Loki help him stand, both heartsick, lashes dewy with tears.

There’s a finality to his voice that breaks him. It feels like he and Thor were crossing a bridge, lingering--tiptoeing--toward each other. And then the middle collapsed, stranding them both on opposite sides of the world.

Loki opens the portal, and they separate once again.

#lo/ki #mcu loki #snz #snzfic #sickfic #illness #whump #injury #tw suicidal thoughts #tw blood #snz fic #angst #magical illness #thank you all for reading #this ended up being 20k words #i have no self control #rip my vanilla wip #zenfic

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memeapple2 · 10 months

Text

Huggbees reacts to spiderman one more day starters part 1 (TW: Coma mention, shooting mention, familial death)

"So let's re-read it together so we can all be stupid!!"

"Apparently him fucking old fat women wasn't in the market."

"Bold to assume the dearest person in my life is a her...God bless you Danny Devito!"

"Let me see if I can make up some lines, I'll do it on the spot! What would you do if your cable went out and Batman called you fat? I'm not very good at this."

"He has one more day in his delectable bondage web outfit! I mean look it. It's constricting all the places you want, but still leaving room for the erogenous zones! "

"Tune your ear to the frequency of despair. By cross reference the longitude and latitude of a heart in agony. Listen, this is kmlfm giving you the biggest boner in the back seat of your Ford Bronco!"

"Who the fuck would think just shooting spiderman with a bullet would work?"

"___ probally had good insurance, beacuse they got ____hooked up the the pudding suction device immediately!"

*LOUD GROSS SUCKING SOUNDS*

"Careful ____ save some tapioca for the rest of the residents!"

"They're gonna die, beacuse you didn't check them in with any insurance you stupid new identity assuming fuck!"

"What the fuck!? Everyone knows Peter Parker is spiderman, how in the shit did a fake name work!? He's a God danm international celebrity! Yet not a single human being in this hospital recognized him, Expect this one doctor who has all the kindness in his heart even though he's is still a dickhead! Huh????"

"Not a single person in New York God danm city, wants to help aunt may and spiderman get a pot of flowers for her icu room! We're off to a great start!"

"'Everyone knows my face' says the man who used a fake name to check into a hospital in a major metropolitan area!"

"So they break into ____'s surveillance room where they're apparently nakedly bathing in red jello???"

"Thank fucking god it was a superhero that they hit! If it was a regular burglar or some kind of human, they would have torn their spine in half. Good going committing murder ____!"

"So the best way to take down a man in super high tech armor is to punch him! Punches him real hard!"

"But he punches the guy...Oh fuck!"

"Punch the iorn man! Punch him! Punch him real good!! Punch him good!! Punch him! Fuck you!!"

"So after Peter introduces Tony to the exciting thrills of hard-core bondage, they have a discussion!"

"Keep in mind there's no guarantee this will save her! Keep in mind she's already a brain dead vegetable! Keep in mind aunt may is 80 something years old and lived a full happy life!!!! NOPE! PAY MY FUCKING BILLS TONY!!"

"NOPE! TONY STARK THE MAN WITH MILLIONS AND BILLIONS OF DOLLARS, THE MAN WHO SNEEZES PROTOTYPE WEAPONS, CAN'T GIVE PETER THE MONEY FOR AUNT MAY'S MEDICAL BILLS!! BUT HE CAN LET AUNT MAY DIE A HORRIBLE OLD PERSON DEATH IN A HOSPITAL!"

"It's a fucking miracle! They're still brain dead! Crazy, I know!!"

"We need to be reminded of this 50 times so maybe you'll the the subtle message of this comic!"

"By the way here's all the money you need for all this horrible shit that happened!"

"You know your aunt who's over 80 years old, who was shot in the chest and is brain dead...WHAT YOU MEAN YOU DON'T KNOW HOW SHE'S DYING!?"

"Spiderman gets spiderpissed and decides nothing is gonna stop him from saving his aunt!!"

"If you want to read another comic this decade read this! Beacuse it's so bad you'll never want to read another comic again!"

"The good news is aunt may isn't in the charity ward anymore and has her own private room! The bad news is she's still fucking dying!"

"The art is so good, and I feel so bad, beacuse so far this is written by a fucking idiot! But god this art is so amazing!"

"So I get to look at something nice, while I question who the fuck thought this was a good idea?!"

"Dr. Strange's stupid magic is the only thing that's gonna help aunt may!"

"I was given magic abilities and a purpose, and this shit's important, and you don't fuck around with it!"

"I know if I had a bitter enemy who life I wanted to end, who constantly thwarted my plans, and he was my sworn nemesis, and he was like 'yo yo yo, time out, time out! Yeah, hey stop, woah! Time out, time out! My aunt's dying.' I would just put a halt to everything, I'd put an arm around his shoulder and I'd say, look man it's okay to express your feelings. Where's my check book!?"

"Let me get you something to drink! You want some Sunny D? Some apple juice? Maybe a diet coke? I drank all the regular. After all, traveling with your mind is stressful and the only way to sooth it, is the cool refreshing taste of mountain dew code red!"

"He tried to punch the guy who shot her in the brain, but he's a ghost! So that doesn't work!"

"Spiderman you're too hard on yourself! You need to respect yourself man! You need to give yourselfa break! Come on, positive thinking!"

"That's fucking stupid! Imagine you're watching a marvel movie, and you're watching Iornman 2.5 the legend of Tony's toenails! Tony stark is in iornman, and he's about to punch the hulk and he goes, 'And now for the for the reason I'm punching you and we're enemies'; and the movie cuts to black, and they're hanging out, and there's a little subtitle that goes 'watch The Incredible Hulk's amazing Sunday to find out what happened!' BULLSHIT!"

"People die when they're killed!"

"What you should do is stop being a fucking idiot, stop being a whiney desperate teenage baby!"

"Go to your aunt, tell her you love her, and give her a big old kiss! Beacuse she can probably still hear you in her comatose state. In her comatose stupid body, she probably embarrassed as fuck you're having a temper tantrum! That her brittle old skeleton is gonna be dust in the wind soon! So get some ice cream, and have a nice treat, while she fades into the ether realm. Go hang out with her! Okay?"

"Then we get to a cover art with spiderman's deadliest foes! A little girl, Cyclops with depression, and Jay Joanna Jamieson if he wanted to go to a fancy tea party!"

"It's not safe to go down that alley way! Beacuse it has a nerd in it!!"

"That's why I play video games! Beacuse I look at the world and go, UGH! What wasted potential, earth! Fuck you people! Now, Mario, he's got it all figured out! Mario's on a different dimension!"

"He's like a mini devil, he rules pocket hell, he fucks with people and it's funny!"

"Beacuse I'm the fucking devil and I can do what I want!"

"If you had a demonic fetish we could have just played Doom eternal together!"

"I like to dwell in misery and pain! I like to make exchanges that hurt people, beacuse it's great! It's yummy!"

"Hey mafisto! You can take my fisto into your anus!!"

"That yummy yummy suffering of your soul, is what I'm gonna snack on for the next trillion years!"

"Spiderman man wakes up in his spider suit. I guess they're his spiderman pajamas?? God danm, they make him look ripped! I need a pair!"

#crack rp meme #rp meme #sentence starters #roleplay meme #roleplay prompts #rp sentences #Ro starters

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sunnydaleherald · 7 months

Text

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Wednesday, October 4

BUFFY: Nothing's ever simple anymore. I'm constantly trying to work it out. Who to love or hate. Who to trust. It's just, like, the more I know, the more confused I get. GILES: I believe that's called growing up. BUFFY: I'd like to stop then, okay? GILES: I know the feeling.

~~BtVS 2x07 “Lie To Me”~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Someone New (Lily, Buffy, PG) by badly_knitted

some sort of norman rockwell fantasy (Buffy/Faith, G) by secretlyasummers

Hate Sex (Angel/Spike, E) by Greensword101

Homemaking (Cordelia/Wesley, Angel/Cordelia, G) by Kassia (TurnSpitDog)

Men Like Them (Wesley, G) by NAOA

98 + Fuffy (Buffy/Faith, not rated) by coraniaid

A Free Man (Ethan Rayne, not rated) by naoa-ao3

The Burden of Fathers and Sons (Angel, Wesley, not rated) by naoa-ao3

Dancing With Dimensions (Willow/Tara, T) by Laragh-WT-Wayhaught

Behind Blue Eyes (Buffy/Spike, R) by VeroNyxK84

[Chaptered Fiction]

The Sky's Gonna Open, Chapter 4 (Lindsey/OC, T) by lindseymcdonaldseyelashes

Power In Your Eyes, Chapter 4 Complete! (Buffy, Giles, Constantine xover, G) by TheSovereigntyofReality

Millennial: Kelvin, Chapter 3 (Buffy, Dawn, Star Trek xover, T) by BrennaLynn

Moments that Make You: The Hero and The Princess, Chapter 60 (Cordelia/Doyle, T) by myheadsgonenumb

Anything to Save You, Chapter 2 (Fred/Spike, Willow/Tara, not rated) by Kittenwritings

If We Could Freeze Time, Chapters 4-5/50 (Buffy/Spike, E) by cosplayermadness

Texts From the Hellmouth, Chapter 4 (Buffy, Dawn, Dawn/Sam, Supernatural xover, T) by dwinchester

Days of Future Past, Chapter 23 (Buffy/OC, Angel/OC, Buffy/Angel, M) by a2zmom

[French language] En l'an 2023, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Faith, T) by FridayQueen

Slayer Begins 3: Iron Heart, Chapter 10 (Faith/Tony Stark, Iron Man xover, T) by BrennaLynn

Supporting Natasha Romanoff (and Iron Man too), Chapter 80 (Willow/Natasha Romanoff, Marvel xover, T) by SomeMeaninglessName

Post-Grave, Chapter 3/9 (Buffy/Giles, unrated) by Skylark62

Spidey Does Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Chapter 10 (multiship, Spiderman xover, E) by megamatt09

Kinktober 2023, Chapter 4/31 (Buffy/Giles, E) by Skyson

Spike visits his Children/grandchildren, Chapter 9 (Spike, multiple xovers, T) by Hopetess

We Don't Know What's Around the Corner, Chapter 4 (Angel/Spike, M) by the_widow_twankey

Twelve Steps, Chapter 1 (Castiel/Dean, Faith/Buffy, Supernatural xover, T) by dwinchester

Return of the Soulless Vampire: BTVS S9 Rewrite, Chapter 38 (Ensemble, M) by Hoomanbeans

Next Time Won't You Sing With Me, Chapter 16 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Willow-98

Her Old Fashioned Boy, Chapter 4 (Giles/Jenny, K+) by Bobbie23

A Marriage of Inconvenience, Chapter 7 (Buffy/Spike, R) by all_choseny

New Normal, Chapter 14 (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only) by holetoledo

Destiny or Choices Made?, Chapter 7 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by charmed4lifekaren

Fate Plans and We Laugh, Chapter 17 (Batman xover, FR15) by Hermionetobe

The Eyes, Chapter 9 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Dusty

Blood and Black Lace, Chapter 15 (Buffy/Spike, R) by SlayrGrl

A Place in the Sun, Chapter 25 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by honeygirl51885

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: Buffy Summers from Once More, With Feeling in a 1940’s AU (worksafe) by sunshineraccoon

Artwork: Spike x Fred moodboard for aufredpratt (worksafe) by fretsboards

Artwork: FAITH! For all us Buffy fans. (worksafe) by nightheartcomics

Artwork: The Basket - Inspired by S4’s episode “Fear Itself” (Buffy, worksafe) by dirtyaimfanstuff-blog

Artwork: “can’t we just skip it?” (Willow/Tara, worksafe) by thirstghosting

Artwork: sweet boyyyyy (Spike, worksafe) by tubesock86

Gifset: lgbtqcreators battleships bingo: typography - Buffy Summers (worksafe) by lopeirce

Vid: Buffy the Vampire Slayer | Theme Cover ft. Pertox & Gonz (worksafe) by Stu Ureta

[Reviews & Recaps]

Band Candy is a fun episode, and I don’t really have much to say about it beyond that. by coraniaid

**I CAN'T WATCH!!** Buffy the Vampire Slayer S5 Ep 8 "Shadow" Reaction: FIRST TIME WATCHING by Nick Reacts

Buffy the Vampire Slayer S02E04 First Time Watching || "Inca Mummy Girl" by JabberwockyReacts

WHYYYYYYYY Buffy The Vampire Slayer | 2x17 'Passion' | Blind Reaction by Vic

PODCAST: Episode 39: Lovers Walk (W/ Rayne) by Gym Was Cancelled

[In Search Of]

Halloween Costume ideas requested by Fawlty_Fleece

[Community Announcements]

[Revamped IWRY Fic Marathon] On November 4, we will be hosting an ‘I Will Remember You’ watch party on our discord!! by iwillrememberyoumarathon [on tumblr]

Sunnydale After Dark has new categories for Meta-analysis! Find and post them under Essay (Spuffy) or Essay (BtVS) by SAD Admins

[Fandom Discussions]

I very much suspect that the people who have a problem with Angel reversing Time In IWRI hated him long before that by angelustheimmortal

Age Talk: if you use a WIDE range, Faith could be 15 - 20 years old when she gets to Sunnydale by juanabaloo

There’s a string of episodes, 5x04-5x07, where Spike realizes he has feelings for Buffy, but there’s a moment in 5x06 that I find particularly interesting by marilyn-not-monroe

In Band Candy, all the adults of Sunnydale regress to their younger selves, suddenly having the same childish attitudes and immature tastes they did when they were teenagers by coraniaid

What pisses me off about season 5 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. They want us to feel sorry for Riley by thavron

Buffy will be like “is anybody going to shackle this sexy vampire to the wall?” and then by aphony-cree

i truly don’t get when people say kennedy is not willow’s type because she’s loud, by missjessefantastico

Mini buffy rant by lifeis-strangemercy

Are you a Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan? If so, take a trip down memory lane as we rank the seven seasons of the show! by thegameofnerds

[ask] Do you think the group were justified in their reaction to Wes after Holtz stole Connor? answered by buffy-targaryen

the more i think about it the more i want tara and kendra to be a thing, everybody hear me out by missjessefantastico

It’s completely wild to me that, even by Hollywood standards, Buffy the character ages 15 years over the course of the show by doublydeadgirl

The scene where Buffy realizes that Spike got his soul back is one of the absolute best scenes in the show by hermyohkneegranger

I think Oz’s throwaway comment in Band Candy that his parents “ate a ton” of the titular cursed candy might be the only indication we ever get that Oz even has parents at all by coraniaid

Reacting to Reactions! - BtVS Season 6 [alley box reaction to Gone] continued by multiple posters

Who was the most loyal to Angel? by The Whirlwind, multiple posters

Who was the most loyal to Buffy? by The Whirlwind, multiple posters

How old is Dawn supposed to be in season 5? by Tuxedo_Mark

does Buffy have a weakness? by not_firewood_yet

Appreciation post for our Irish king Doyle. by Sweet-Siren

Joyce's steps of denial resonate with my experience by Archonate_of_Archona

What are your top 3 fav Spuffy episodes? by GraxelDeBaudre

Plot hole with BTVS and ATS by WhatName230

How exactly do Vampires age in the Buffyverse? by Lysander1999

What is your favorite music in Buffy by BluFaerie

Most attractive character in both Buffy and Angel by JellyfishDry9464

Spike was physically and verbally abusive to Harmony. What's your opinion? by aeryn1227

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

PUBLICATION: Buffy's New Sequel Is Finally Doing Justice To A Powerful Vampire The Show Overlooked by ScreenRant

PUBLICATION: Buffy The Vampire Slayer: Dawn's Origins, Explained by GameRant

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #ats #angel the series

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darsynia · 1 year

Text

Trust Fall | Ch 22

ARC by Eury Escodero on Unsplash | gif by @elwintersoldado

Story Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Tony/OC, ‘terrorists made us fall in love;’ IM1 timeline. In this chapter, Emory and Tony both learn how to trust new people in their lives even as they discover awful things about the people they used to trust.

Length: 4,862

Note: An ‘albedo’ is basically the measurement of the sun’s light as reflected from another object. I’m using it here as an allusion to finding out the true nature of people Emory and Tony used to trust. They see evidence of Rory and Obie’s duplicity as reflected by their harmful actions. FINALLY, am I right?

Taglist: @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @themaradaniels @starksbf @chickensarentcheap @tiny-anne

Excerpt:

Emory says, “Honestly, after three solid months of bean soup for every meal, coffee is coffee,” and follows Clint into the kitchen. There’s a towel with one of those crochet button clasps hanging from the stove handle.

“Well, in that case, you’re just going from one bean soup to another.”

She takes his proffered cup and watches him walk over to clean the machine he’d made it with, real barista-level equipment. He shoots a look over his shoulder to catch her first sip. It’s delicious.

“Agent Barton, this is some high class bean soup. Thank you.”

Chapter Twenty-Two: Albedo

It’s one thing to dress in the same clothes as a SHIELD agent pretending to be Tony Stark’s Morning Assignation. It’s something else to picture herself leaving the helicopter on SHIELD grounds and walking into the building dressed like that! Emory chooses anxiety (asking the pilot if she can change clothes in the back of the helicopter) over mortification (having to do a walk of shame across the Triskelion helipad). She ends up having to use the fishnets as a belt to keep Tony’s pants on, but she feels less exposed when she sits back down. Now, she thinks to herself, if only the hollow ache in the pit of my stomach would go away! Emory’s sure it’ll go away once they land and she’s settled, but it almost feels like it feeds off of her anxiety.

“Clint has an extra room,” Nat says, giving her phone back. “We’ll have to finagle some sightings of you, and we’ll have to do the rest of your training there, but Fury said yes.”

“It’s all settled, just like that?” Emory asks, incredulous.

Natasha sees her expression and shrugs. “Sometimes it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission.”

Voicemail Box, Stark, Anthony E.

2.20 PM

Mr. Stark, the FBI agents are here and I can’t find you or Harry. You aren’t in the bunker, are you? JARVIS won’t answer me, and I’ll feel very foolish if I have to explain that as your PA I don’t actually know whether you’re in your father’s bomb shelter or not! Please answer your phone.

3:10 PM

Tony, if they threaten me with obstruction I’m going to be very upset. The agents are saying they might come back with a warrant, and I know it’s a federal crime to lie to the FBI so I had to tell them I’d met Ms. Autumn. Please, PLEASE come out? I know you can get phone calls from inside there!

10:55 PM

Tony, where are you, it’s after ten! You only have enough fresh food in there for a few days! I’m… Wait, is that you on Channel-- [dial tone]

11:03 PM

You’re at a NIGHTCLUB! It made the NEWS, Tony! What if the FBI doesn't believe me? What if they think I was covering for you!? Do you know how many messages I left on Harry’s phone asking where the two of you were? I thought he was in the bunker with you trying to stop you from drinking yourself half to death! BOTH OF YOU COME HOME RIGHT NOW!!

When Tony returns from partying, he buries himself not in blankets and dreams, but files and memories. Stark Industries needs a new niche that isn’t weaponry, but draws on that expertise. Emory is at SHIELD’s mercy, and he doesn’t have any influence there. Is there something he could do that would solve both problems at once?

Some intrepid assistant in the late 80’s had digitized Howard Stark’s paper files, but they’re all mixed together, probably on purpose. He decides to track down the schematics he’d been so dazzled by when he was six and about to be sent away to boarding school; Tony had spent three glorious days digging through a couple of metal briefcases that had been accidentally left in his bedroom instead of the storage study one room over. At the time, Tony had been convinced they were for a secret government thing his dad was doing, and that was why they were sending him away to school. For his protection.

School had stripped away that sense of wonder, and eventually his father’s cold demeanor taught Tony to keep his questions to himself. Uncovering those memories is an uncomfortable process best done with the veneer of inebriation, but the physical effects mean he’s not very efficient. By dawn, the files are still elusive, and the issues that made him want to go drinking in the first place won’t go away.

He decides to sleep on it.

Tony’s phone rings as he’s carrying the bunker pillows and Emory’s left-behind shirt up to his bedroom. His first instinct when he sees the name on the display is to be glad it’s not the FBI. His second instinct is to wonder if Coulson has learned how to manipulate people from the same place Agent Romanoff did. The man has to know that Tony was out till 3 AM. The agent probably expects to leave a message with a set of instructions he’ll expect to be followed without push-back, or Coulson’s hoping to manipulate him while he’s sleep-deprived and hung over.

As a result, Tony’s barely civil when he answers.

“You better be about to improve my mood, Doctor No.”

“Good morning. I have been asked to take over from Director Fury as your primary contact.”

“Wow,” Tony says. “Tell Boris he was almost the father figure I already had, will you?” Tony needs to yawn, but he holds it back.

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly the sort of message I was assigned to prevent,” Coulson says. The man’s deadpan delivery doesn’t change a whit. “Something’s come past my desk that I think you can help me clear up: is it true that you snuck out from under your PA’s nose yesterday afternoon to avoid a scheduled FBI interview?”

The rush of relief Tony feels is probably premature, but Coulson is handing him a resolution on a silver platter right now. “Pepper told on me? Look, I deal with a lot of acronyms. I’m pretty sure I’d have remembered if I was supposed to be at a meeting with the CIA.” He pauses for dramatic effect, then adds, “Not that I wouldn’t have still snuck out. Everybody hates those guys.”

“Are you asking me to smooth this over for you, Mr. Stark?”

“Is it illegal for me to say yes?” Tony shoots back. “Because if we’re in the plot of Entrapment, I want my money back unless there will be red lasers and hot women in skin-tight black leotards.”

He can’t help but picture Emory in the iconic outfit, and Tony tightens his hand around the spy shirt she’d left behind. The message he’d gotten from Natasha Romanoff at midnight had been promising, but sharing an apartment with another agent could be worse in the long run. The freedom Emory will gain will be tempered by the possibility of off-hours propaganda and persuasion.

“Sir?”

Oops. Coulson had been talking. Tony gives in to the yawn, making it as loud and obnoxious as possible.

“I was busy picturing that. Go on?”

“I was just saying, if we wanted to trap you, sir? We’d be more subtle. Speaking of which, any word on how long you’ll be staying in New York? I’d love to know if I’ll need to rent something long-term,” Coulson says, still as studiously polite as always, but now with a tiny edge to his tone, sharp as a razorblade.

“I’ll be sticking around for as long as your archer plays house with my girlfriend, Phil.”

Tony doesn’t want to like this guy, mostly because it feels like there are two kinds of people in Phil Coulson’s world: the people he’s manipulating into liking him, and the people he’s screwing over very courteously. Tony’s been trying to manipulate the man right back, but it’s a delicate balance. Right before he’d left for New York, Tony had found a rare part for the guy’s beloved classic car and had it delivered by courier. That had been the carrot, and now, he supposes, comes the stick.

Coulson’s extolling the virtues of a particular apartment building he’s got an eye on when Tony interrupts. “Say, since you’re so good at passing notes, can you ask your boss if he can give me a call? I’ve got a business opportunity for him.”

There’s a moment of silence before Coulson wryly asks, “Should I address this message to ‘Boris?’ Or Director Fury?”

It's a shrewd question, and Tony's too fucking tired to play his usual hard to get. "Go with his official name this time, will you, Junior? Blame the lapse on sleep deprivation. And don't ever call me this early again, or I'll clone your voice with my AI and start releasing shit about Area 51 framing you as the source."

“Point taken, sir. Sleep well.”

Tony turns the phone off completely. “Yeah, I wish,” he says to no one. Thankfully, his head barely hits the pillow that smells faintly of Emory’s hair before he feels oblivion reaching out for him.

Emory wakes up in an actual bedroom.

Not a secure office dressed as one. Not a fancy hotel that reeks of opulent impermanence. Not a barely habitable cave with a truly embarrassing method of relieving oneself. A bedroom. The room Clint had given her even has a lock.

She’d spent so little time at her apartment while working as Rory’s PA that her last ‘home bedroom’ was pre-Rory, the room in her dad’s house. That memory is tainted by the conflict between herself and her parents about Rory’s influence, though. The time she got to spend at Tony’s mansion hadn’t felt like home either. It had passed almost like a daydream, a stolen few hours that, true to form, had ended with her being sent back to reality. When she was with him, Emory had felt like maybe she could belong there, but now, back in the real world, it’s hard not to feel foolish.

Rolling over, she buries her face in Tony’s shirt as she had so often the night before, picturing him across the room about to climb back into bed with her. It’s hard not to wonder how many women have done the same. Most of them were probably tall, glamorous, and rich, better suited to his world than she ever could be. Her rational mind is trying to tell her that Tony Stark is new to the hero business, and she was just a convenient damsel in distress. Her heart’s response is to remember the desperate catch in his voice as he screamed in the desert, angry at her for maybe dying and forcing the words ‘I love you’ from his throat.

Her instinct is to do what she’s always done: endure. This time, though, Emory wants to fight for what she wants, as terrifying as it is, as new as that is. She wants to live. She wants to love. How did everything suddenly become so hard?

Groaning, Emory gets up and makes the bed, tucking Tony's clothes under the pillow like she's burying a secret. As she has for the last few weeks, she also buries her instinct to go with the flow, to not make waves, to hide, safe and invisible. It's too late for that. Tony- or Natasha Romanoff -would find her. And if they didn't, well, thanks to the serum, she basically has an expiration date. The effects of her dependency are going to start manifesting themselves soon.

She dresses and slips on the fuzzy slippers Clint had lent her, unlocks her door, and starts up the hallway toward the kitchen. On the way, she sees that his bedroom door is open, revealing a loft bed with a desk underneath, just like a college dorm. Most of the room is taken up by what looks like a built-in climbing wall that curves up onto the ceiling, anchored with some seriously thick cables.

“I’d offer to let you try it out, but I don’t actually have a rig, just pads for underneath. Not great for newbies,” Clint says from the other side of the hallway. He’s sipping from a mug, which he holds up. “I remember you usually avoided the SHIELD coffee. I approve. Want some of the good stuff, or did your cave detox put you in a good place?”

“Give?” Emory says, walking toward him like a mummy. She’d warmed to Barton during her training sessions, and he’s even more likeable here in his own home, relaxed and welcoming. The contrast between the way he’s treating her after knowing her for a month and the way Rory's treated her for the past nine years is stark, no pun intended.

“Right, what am I talking about? This is probably crap compared to your-- To Stark’s,” Clint says, stumbling over the right way to refer to Tony. Emory can’t blame him. Technically, she’s not supposed to be Stark’s anything.

A stubborn kernel of hope blazes in her chest, as she says, “Honestly, after three solid months of bean soup for every meal, coffee is coffee,” and follows him into the kitchen. There’s a towel with one of those crochet button clasps hanging from the stove handle.

“Well, in that case, you’re just going from one bean soup to another.”

Emory takes his proffered cup and watches him walk over to clean the machine he’d made it with, real barista-level equipment. He shoots a look over his shoulder to catch her first sip. It’s delicious.

“Agent Barton, this is some high class bean soup. Thank you.”

“I made a promise that I would indulge myself every day. This is what I picked,” Clint says.

“You mean your overhanging death wall wasn’t it?” she asks, walking over to rest her hip on the kitchen island and watch him.

He chuckles. “No.”

“Thank you, truly,” she tells him after a few more (indulgent is definitely the word) sips. “I didn’t know how on Earth I was going to balance my association with Tony and my obligations to the mission. Staying here is the perfect compromise.”

“Glad to help,” Clint says gruffly, focused on wiping off the counter. “That can be a delicate thing. Worth it, though, if he is.”

Emory blows out a long sigh, staring at her feet. “Looking at it from the other way around, I sure hope it is.” Across the room, she hears him let out a similar noise and looks over, curious. Clint looks sheepish.

“I wasn’t supposed to mention him in case it got you charged up. Sorry about that.”

“Hah, so my self-doubt saved your apartment? Does that cancel out the whole dive-bomb rescue thing on the day we met?”

"Let's not get too hasty," he teases, jumping his eyebrows at her. A second later, he shifts into 'agent' mode. "We need to make a 'game plan.' The goal is for you to take a walk and get sighted. The building itself is secure; unofficially mostly government workers and domestic violence survivors live here, but there's an unspoken agreement with the local media about that." His smile is full of promise; whether it's for her protection or for a journalist's destruction if they choose to overstep is unclear.

“Guardians and survivors, convenient,” Emory murmurs.

“Exactly.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and starts tapping at it as he speaks. “Nat wants you to get groceries today, a courier will drop off a bank card. Says here yours was--” Clint frowns, squinting at the phone in his hand. As he reads, his jaw firms up into a hard frown. “Your account was closed ten days after the initial attack in Afghanistan. By Rory Fall. She showed them Power of Attorney papers.”

Shock and dismay lock up her muscles and she sways a little. Clint reaches out and grabs her upper arm to steady her. His grip isn’t meant to hurt, she can tell, but right now, everything is heightened, so the skin under his hands burns.

“Look at me,” he says. She does, still reeling, both surprised and (horribly) not surprised. “You okay?”

“I’ve watched her turn on people for years, I just never thought--” Emory shakes her head. Her tear ducts grind to a halt with the dry pain of understanding just how much she’s lost, how different her life is. Tears are premium content now, and she’s just a regular person.

“Did you make her your POA?”

She shakes her head again. “My parents sent me the paperwork for one. It was their last-ditch effort to-- To, crap, to prevent this, to stop Rory from trying to screw me over if we had a falling out. I didn’t sign them, but I didn’t get rid of them either.” Rory must have gone through her things and falsified the documents with her own name instead of Emory’s parents’. After all, everything in Rory Fall’s life was about Rory Fall. In Rory’s mind, Emory’s salary was ‘her money in the first place,’ after she’d been deserted during the most traumatic moment of her life.

Fuck, Emory thinks to herself. Her own ‘most traumatic’ train is heading downhill, adding events as it goes, but she’s still rationalizing, still working to understand Rory’s actions. If only her former friend’s loyalty had run that deep!

Clint guides her toward his small couch, snagging her coffee cup on the way. “So they’re forged?” He sits her down and hands over the mug.

“I would never have given her Power of Attorney over me. In Rory’s twisted mind, she probably thinks it’s her money if I’m not there to spend it, but--”

He walks away from her abruptly. “No excuses.”

She’d been trying to explain Rory’s thought process, but the marksman’s curt comment hits home.

Emory changes tack. “At least this works out perfectly for SHIELD! It proves I have no money,” she says, taking gulping sips of her cooled coffee. He doesn't answer, his head stuck in the fridge, shuffling things around. “What are you doing? Do you have some kind of crazy ‘dormant when refrigerated’ weapon in there?”

“I’m making a grocery list. One thing at a time.”

“That works,” she says, sitting back on the couch. As she lifts the mug to drain the last sip, Emory notices the design. It says, ‘Fix It Yourself.’ The O in ‘yourself’ is a bullseye, and the sideways word ‘it’ is made up of several arrows.

The only way to do that involves crossing half the globe and lying to the person who holds her life in the palm of their hand. Emory turns the cup so the words face away, but she knows she’ll have to follow its advice anyway.

The first thing Tony does when he finally wakes up is check on the status of the palladium shipment he appropriated from SI’s factory. The weapons ordered prior to Tony’s cut-off date of mid-July have been constructed and much of the raw material deliveries have been paused. During their discussions in the limo on the way to New York, Emory had suggested that the company offer a two or three week paid vacation for the factory employees whose jobs are in question. He’d set the thought aside in favor of spending time with her, but now Tony dials up Stane’s number to put that in motion.

“Hey, Tony. I see you were finally back to your old self last night!” Obie says, in greeting.

“Yeah, well, keeping up appearances,” Tony says. A knot forms in his gut, similar to what Emory had described when dealing with Rory. He’s not a fan. “Hey, you still planning to come out this direction next week?”

“Yeah, I have some loose ends to tie up. Why? Did you need something? If you’ve got some new projects I’d be happy to tell the boar--”

“Still percolating in there,” Tony interrupts. “I was looking to get ahold of the palladium we won't be needing. Instead of cancelling it I figured I'd just take the regular shipment. It’s just less hassle if you bring it.”

There’s a sigh on the line. “Tony, I don’t think we have any extra right now. Did you order more on top of the standard delivery for the factory?”

“We’re not using it at the factory.”

“Tony, production doesn’t just halt overnight, we--”

“I was very clear about the deadlines,” Tony says, standing up to pace. The knot has turned into a lead weight. “We’ve satisfied our obligations up to the middle of July, which is why I was about to ask you to give the whole factory staff a two week paid vacation while we shift the production lines over to something more benign.” He can hear frantic typing on Stane’s end. “You didn’t halt the lines, did you?”

“Tony--”

“Did you?”

“I thought you were going to change your mind! It’s not sound business practice to interrupt production at this kind of scale on a whim!”

He’s having trouble swallowing, but it’s not because of the anxiety, it’s because of anger. “Shut it down. All of it. By the end of this week, or I’ll fly out there and give the maintenance guys something to do after I fire a couple of repulsors at every piece of equipment!” Tony slams his hand down on a worktable, knowing Obie will hear the sound through the phone line. “Come on! You knew I wasn’t going to budge on this!”

“I needed to know you were serious, and now I know you’re serious,” Stane says, a hint of the ‘make it right’ businessman tone returning to his voice. “Tell you what: let me boost the palladium order for this next week so there's enough for both. We’ll extend production ‘till the end of July, make it a nice round number, give these workers some warning, okay? August is a better vacation month anyway. First of August they’ll get two weeks paid vacation, everyone but security.”

Tony’s jaw is so tightly clenched he can’t respond right away.

“Tony? Hey, I know you’re passionate about this stuff but we’re still a business. A month is a much better time frame to develop a new plan. You know I’m right.”

“Do it, then,” Tony grits out.

“Good man,” Obie says in the fatherly tone Tony’s come to despise. “I’ll bring the palladium in a week. When I get there, you’ll give me some kind of an idea of what we’re transitioning to, and the two of us will get the company back on solid ground. See you then.”

Stane hangs up without a response.

“JARVIS, was there ever a slow-down in production?” Tony asks, the second he sets his phone down.

“All I can find is an internal memo informing workers that there may be a temporary halt sometime in July.”

“Right.”

Tony throws himself in his chair, the momentum carrying it away from his desk, which is just as well. He needs to calm down before he makes any of this worse. He briefly considers going upstairs and getting Emory’s shirt, since it smells like her, but that reminds him too much of what he’d done at seventeen. He’d had the housekeeping staff pack up his dad’s clothes and general belongings to put them in storage right away, but kept his mothers things where they were for months. He’d yo-yo between extremes, partying it up and pretending he didn’t care, then curling up on his mother’s side of the bed hugging one of her dresses, sobbing.

With a sigh, Tony recognizes that this comparison is toxic; Emory is alive and his, a partner who needs Tony’s actions, not his sentimentality. He resolves to work on his secret project for her this evening, as soon as he gets a few things out of the way.

“All right,” he says aloud, walking the chair back to his desk without getting up, Flintstones-style. “Do we have the capability to store palladium at our New York office? There are still research labs there, right JARVIS?”

“Indeed there are.”

“Order some under the name of the most senior employee with a note that they’re to contact me and only me upon receipt, but be diplomatic. I don’t want to signal a rift.”

“Are you certain they’ll believe it was from you, sir?”

“Funny,” Tony says. “Next item: I’d like to use Stane’s Opposition Strategy on SHIELD, with some modifications. Copy over all related files and analyze them for anything that might get Nick Fury’s panties in a bunch if I implement it.”

“Estimate ten minutes for full copy, twenty more for analysis. Do you wish me to erase evidence of the copy?”

“Good catch, make it so.”

He gets up to make a smoothie, patting Dum-E on the way over. It had been JARVIS who’d suggested bringing his ‘pets,’ another point in the AI’s column of knowing Tony better than he knew himself, sometimes. As the blender spun, Tony thought over what he knew about Stane’s Oppo strategy. JARVIS will be more thorough, but there’s only so much intuition one can program in. Tony knows he probably relies too much on intuition, but something about SHIELD feels off, and before he throws in his lot with the agency, he wants to know why. It’s no different than when they run the program on a company they hope to buy out.

The key part of the Strategy is analysis. That’s what Tony wants to use on SHIELD, despite the fact that the data set will be incomplete, given how secret most of their operations are. What he’s hoping for is a glimpse into the vulnerabilities of the agency, as evidenced by what the deep dive comparisons that the Opposition Strategy might reveal. That thought prompts another one.

“Hey, J? Do a quick scan through the Not Nows and Not Yets, in projects. I want to know whether anyone’s done some poking around in the past two weeks.” The blender stops, and Tony adds, “Hell, add the current ones too, note any unusual access.”

After a minute, JARVIS says, “Two files show anomalous access, both by Mr. Stane after hours, approximately eight days ago.”

The knot is back. “Hit me.”

“Multiple copies of the Repulsor technology details and schematics in various places, some encrypted. Single copy of the Sonic Taser, encrypted. Access was from his private residence.”

“Obie, Obie, what are you doing?” Tony says, brows furrowed. “Didn’t the government threaten us with new legislation if we didn’t completely scrap and bury that Taser?”

“Colonel Rhodes likened pursuing the project further to ‘peeing on the third rail in public, within a mile of an elementary school,’ yes, sir.”

“He’s just jealous he didn’t get a working ‘Get Out of Indecent Exposure Charges Free’ card from MIT security,” Tony laughs. “God bless gender quota hiring.” A second later, he freezes in the act of taking a sip of his smoothie. “Son of a bitch. Obie didn’t destroy the prototype, did he?”

“Ascertaining that will be difficult, and likely will require physical interviews, which may create more trouble than you may wish to-- wait, what am I saying?”

“You’re saying trouble is my middle name, JARVIS. Usually you’d be right, but this time I’d like to avoid the consequences if at all--” Tony gulps down the rest of the smoothie over the word ‘possible’ and sets the cup down for his robot to clean. He points at Dum-E. “If that breaks, I’ll let a group of toddlers glue the pieces all over you, wherever they want.” He gestures broadly as he back-walks to the desk.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but parents generally avoid letting their small children anywhere near broken glass,” JARVIS points out.

“Well, that’s boring,” Tony observes. “What was I saying?”

“Ironically, you were discussing your desire to avoid consequences.”

“Personally, yes. I’ll reserve judgement on Stane, though. I want to know what he’s up to, first.”

He sits down at the desk and thinks about the Sonic Taser. Its function is really limited outside of law enforcement and military use, though he had joked about using it to make the board sit still and listen to him. The thing is inherently antagonistic; the only way to avoid total, temporary incapacitation is to already be wearing earplugs before the device is activated.

“Do they make undetectable earplugs?” he muses aloud. He takes threats to his autonomy very seriously, unless they’re hot, wearing spandex, and digging a knee into his lower back.

“You have asked that question a total of three times since my creation, and the answer has been ‘no’ for two of those times,” JARVIS states dryly.

“That’s a yes now, then? Order me a pair.” Murphy’s Law states that if he’s prepared for a threat, it’ll never materialize, but something about Obie’s demeanor lately feels vaguely threatening. He wouldn’t put it past the guy to use the Taser to force Tony to listen to him. After Afghanistan, Tony’s through being forced to do anything. At that thought, a collage of images cross his mind’s eye, all of Emory, and he has to amend his previous assertion to ‘almost’ anything.

“Analysis complete,” JARVIS says, filling Tony’s screen with various windows of information. “Advise not exercising official channels to request mission data from the military, but speaking to Colonel Rhodes, instead. Strongly suggest not revealing any knowledge of statistical data when speaking to Agent Coulson or Director Fury. Further conclusions will require an examination of the program results.” JARVIS pauses, then adds, “In summary, I predict a high chance of panty bunching. Proceed with caution.”

Tony cracks a smile despite himself. “Will do. Run the program, I’ll call Rhodes.”

Next chapter, the effects of serum withdrawal start to hit Emory, meaning that the mission must come soon; Tony seeks to reassure her and himself with a spicy phone call.

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