#James you rich spoiled bastard

[multiverse-sparkles]

Cause you're just a man — B. Barnes.

summary: to the world, mrs. barnes had played her cards well and landed herself a doting, rich and handsome husband who was madly inlove with her. behind closed doors, she shoulders the weight of his constant infidelity and questions, why was she not enough?

pairings: bucky x reader

warnings: cheating, angst, language, mentions of smut, bucky being a pathetic excuse of a husband.

part 1 || part 2

“is that a pink diamond?” wanda gasps, eyes intent on the rock that decorates your ring finger, you look away from the pages to your book towards her line of sight; sitting prettily in your dainty hands was the diamond the size of two adult fingers, cut in cushion. “that's what bucky flew in from the carribean, isn't it?” she asks giddily, reaching out a hand to grasp yours in a curious grip.

“i guess it is,” you laugh lightly at her enthusiasm as she tilts, and coos at it.

“it looks so pretty, i'm so freakin' jealous of you.” she huffs.

“it's just a rock, wands. an overly opulent one,” you lightly flick at the back of her hand, “nevertheless, i'm sure vision would be more than happy to acquire a set for you, should you ask.”

“explicitly,” the redhead retreats back into her seat, book long forgotten and your miniature book club meet halted. she did have the tendency to get easily distracted which you found amusing, so you were more or less inclined to indulge her in her musings. “the man has no romantic bone in his body, and he won't surprise me with diamonds and flowers after a business trip. if i have to spell it out for him, that takes away the swooning.”

you giggle, “can't live with em, can't live without them. i'd say just grab his credit card and bolt.”

wanda snorted at that, “fuckin' men, and their inability to understand the art of appeasing their wife.” you fiddle with your tennis bracelet absentmindedly, “how in the world did you train bucky to be such a perfect husband anyway? it seems he knows how and what to do to, should the situation present itself.”

all too well, that is.

you could only muster a nonchalant shrug, “how would i know? he's always been like.. that.”

“no he isn't, y/n. you ask anyone in the upper echelon and a random socialite in the upper manhattan, you'll know he's a fucking asshole who cares only about himself.” she intones, “and by some voodoo or magic dust, he's falling over himself and chasing you around like a random puppy awaiting praise and love. seriously, you made a new man out of james buchanan fucking barnes.”

you shift in your seat uncomfortably, what you didn't have the heart to tell her was that, you really wouldn't know. because all that pretentious douchebag knows is how to cover up his indescretions with grand and meaningless gestures to make up for his lack of regard to his commitment, towards your marriage.

the trips to exotic islands and tropical getaways were merely farce to delude you into a false sense of marital bliss; he would treat you, spoil you with his attention, buy you skimpy bikinis and fuck you into oblivion, but the slimy bastard would fly in a pretty thing on the side and also fuck her silly while you're face first in a massage bed.

the presents of copious amounts were given to you in abundance because he didn't really need the whole two-weeks to close the damn deal abroad, but one of his casual mistresses needed his attention, or she threatens to jump ship after confronting his wife, aka you. and he couldn't have two facets of his life to meet, so he disposed the bitch to the fishes and, oh the poor thing.

he would show you around in parties, hand on the small of your waist as he parades you like a trophy, prideful and smug because in his arm was the most beautiful and brilliant woman in the party, showing you off to business assoiates and the like; speaking verses of his admiration and undying love to you. as if he would not meet eyes with someone new and foreign, a silent agreement of sorts ensuing, before he was excusing himself to screw her against the wall of a dark and isolated room.

“the both of you are the definition of a perfect lovestory; if your life was made a film, i would watch it!” she gushes, still lost and clueless to your reality. like everyone else, she believed the play you and bucky had acted out to perfection.

but if this were a film, this would be those film noir classics; and you would sprinkle poision into his coffee, watch with bated breath as he drinks it and falls to the ground gasping, and choking. you would weep infront of a crowd, his family and friends, who would take pity on the billionaire's widow, who could barely speak nor eat from the grief of losing her beloved husband.

but this was reality, and you were gripping the edge of your seat. you were too soft. too meek. too sweet and compliant, that you would only cry silently and pretend ignorance. must be the reason why bucky had chosen you among the sea of women willing to be his doll. his love. his sweet, sweet girl.

but you were only waiting; for what, you weren't exactly certain. perhaps, to no longer love him? but the thought alone stung more than any of your realities— because at times where he would truly, make the effort to see you, he would see you in your entirety; bucky would fondly copy the scrunch of your nose, cooing in endearment. he would be first to indulge you in your extensive collection of vintage trinkets, often going out of his way to attend auctions in several parts of the country. your ticks, for when you were upset, it would be bucky who acts as if there was a fire lit under his ass, running around to rectify whatever it is. he was first to notice your joy, and celebrate you. he would be first to praise your half done canvas. he would be first to brush your hair out of your face in the morning and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

and in those moments, you wish he was was true. and honest. and faithful. and yours.

because bucky has wormed his way into every crevice of your very heart and soul, and he owns not only your heart, but also your grief, and sadness, and your happiness. but he's just too much of a manchild, too much of a prideful, brooding, egoistic man who was always so torn on being a good man and missing out.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes

[caffiend-queen]

The Auction

A dystopian tale of the “New Americas,” where the divide between the wealthy and… everyone else is too great to cross. But with all the other viruses comes one that lies dormant in the genes, activating at birth and it is inevitably fatal. So now, perfect genetics are the most desired thing in a mate. Even if you have to buy one.

Important note: there are discussions of disabilities in this chapter viewed by the assholes in this dystopian tales as ‘adverse elements.’ Since my twin boys have autism, I know this is bullshit. Please keep in mind that any discussion of the differently-abled is only for the purpose of the story and their negative responses are pathetic and uneducated.

You’ll be seeing Rich Asshole Ransom Drysdale at the auction tonight, along with James Buchanan Barnes and Terrifying But So Good in a Suit Loki. All obscenely rich bastards. All looking for a wife.

Chapter One - This Can’t Be Happening

“This can’t be happening.”

The woman weeping softly to the right of Rowan might be a little older than she was, but it’s clear she had no frame of reference for what was about to happen to her.

“Stop, don’t mess up your makeup,” Rowan whispered, trying to wipe away the mascara streaming down the woman’s wet cheeks. “Look, it’ll be…”

It’ll be okay?

Was she really about to say something as stupid as that? The group of overly made-up captives - including Rowan, the crying woman clutching her hand, and the twelve other young women shivering in sheer dresses - were most definitely not going to be okay.

“Listen, you’re here now,” she squeezed the crying woman’s hand, trying to get her to look at her. “This is going to happen, so you have to take control of it, okay? You-”

“What is the problem here?”

The voice was sharp, no-nonsense, and sounded much like the priest at the shelter Rowan had left the instant she turned eighteen. But this man definitely took no vow of poverty. His suit was bespoke and perfectly tailored to hide the beginning of a paunch, silver hair expensively styled. “Number Eleven, you’re foolish enough to dismantle the stylist’s work for a tantrum? Who do you think wants to bid on a crying mess? Who would think you were worth millions of credits?” His sharp brown eyes went to Rowan. “And why are you encouraging this, Number Fourteen?”

“I’m not, Mr. Toussaint, I was just-” she tried to smile, to disarm the angry… What did they call him, she thought. Not a pimp, uh, a procurer?

He waved her off impatiently. “I don’t care. Amber!” he shouted over his shoulder, “Come touch up Number Eleven.” The man stepped back and looked over the group. “Listen to me carefully. I have done everything I can to improve your chances of a good match: your wardrobe, your manners, the expensive stylists... Your future is now your responsibility. You can receive a highly lucrative five-year contract with a wealthy partner who will spoil you. Or you can show yourself as weak, poor quality material, and then,” he paused ominously, “I cannot predict your future. The House of Toussaint is known as the finest auction house in the New Americas. I will not allow you to cheapen that reputation. Do you hear me?”

There was a chorus of mumbles and “yessirs,” but he wasn’t happy.

“Do you HEAR ME?”

“Yes, Sir!” Rowan said loudly, clearly, and while the others hurried to add to her answer, Toussaint stared at her, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“There’s a reason you are the last item up for auction tonight,” he said, “I intend to showcase your superb genetics. But that can change if you attempt to speak out again or involve yourself with the other girls.”

She gritted her teeth hard enough to crack a molar before taking a deep breath and offering her sweetest smile. “Absolutely, Sir. I understand completely.” She could picture Ben’s sweet smile as vividly as if he was standing in front of her. She could be sweet, too. She could be very, very sweet.

“Keep up that smile,” her pimp, procurer, whatever he wanted to be called, was standing behind her, looking at their reflection in the mirror. “The live feed to the reception room begins in ten minutes.”

The live feed. She shuddered. Her only moment of gratitude was that the humiliation of flouncing down the catwalk in that dress would be witnessed only by the men and women bidding for her and the others. At any other time, she would have liked this dress; not too much cleavage, with slim straps spread wide on her shoulders to show off her collarbones and neck, but dipping scandalously low in the back. It was beaded, silver, and a green so dark it almost looked black under the lights, with a long slit showing part of her right thigh. And so heavy. What did they make these beads out of, Rowan wondered, lead?

The stylist had pinned her hair up loosely, at some point, the auctioneer would tell her to take her hair out of its chignon and sweep it out to show off the length. Long hair, real long hair, not extensions, was rare, apparently.

As if any of that mattered.

Well, maybe it did. These women - and a couple of men she’d heard - who would be bid on like cattle tonight were all extremely attractive. Rowan sneered, carefully turning away so no one would catch her expression. Good genes weren’t enough for these rich bastards. Their bought and paid-for’s had to have good looks, too.

“Number One, you’re up!”

The girl was sweet, a classic Irish with pale skin, flaming red hair and a pretty spatter of freckles buried under a heavy layer of makeup. What was her name? Rowan tried to remember: they’d shared breakfast that morning, her oatmeal for Glenna’s fruit. Glenna! That’s right!

“Glenna, you got this!” Feeling stupid even as she did it, Rowan held up both thumbs, nodding and smiling. The redhead at least managed a watery grin and a thumbs-up before Amber hustled her out the door.

Walking back and forth, hands on her beaded hips, Rowan listened to the muffled sounds of the auctioneer, how he’d pause, waiting for laughter or some other response from the room stuffed with rich entitled assholes.

One of which is buying you and taking you home tonight, her spiteful inner voice reminded her.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

It was Mina, one of the few who had willingly signed up for the Bride Auction. Her warm brown eyes were wide, clearly trying to keep the tears from spilling. She had a wonderfully lush mouth, glowing skin the color of molten chocolate and a voluptuous figure, the kind of bombshell look that was wildly popular.

Rowan tried to smile, “I think it’s too late. Do you want the pep talk or to just cry a little?”

Mina’s full lower lip trembled. “P- p- p- pep talk.”

Oh, crap a stutter, Rowan groaned silently. It was nothing, nothing at all but with these choosy trust fund scum, the slightest sign of anything less than conventionally perfect could be dangerous. “Okay, I got you. Look. I’d tell you to picture everyone out there as naked, but I think that’s probably too gross to relax you.”

That helped, Mina giggled and hiccuped a bit.

“Who are you doing this for?” Rowan persisted.

“M- m- sister’s k- kids. She got in an accident last month, a hit and run. Just… coming home from work, carrying a bag of groceries. The car hit her hard enough that they found her soup cans a block away. They’re living with m- m- me but my roommates told me they have to leave or we all do. This is-” Mina’s hands were shaking and she clutched them into fists. “This is all I h- have,” gesturing bitterly at her face and body.

“Number Five!” Miss Lavigne said sharply, “Get in line. You’re nearly up.”

Mina turned to go and Rowan grabbed her arm. “Listen,” she said, leaning in close. “There is one unarguable truth in this entire shit show. These rich bastards, they think they have everything; the money, the power, they think they own us. But don’t you forget that there is something they don’t have: our perfect genetic profile. And they’re scared, scared enough to pay for it. They need you just as much as you need them. You strut down that catwalk like you own it. Like you own them. You make them bid so high their banker will have an aneurysm. You hear me?”

She’d been whispering to keep the malevolent Miss Lavigne from hearing her, but when Rowan let Mina go she realized there was a little circle of girls around them. “Don’t any of you forget it. They’re scared and they need you.” They scattered like they were mice when the kitchen light turned on, and Mr. Toussaint stepped in front of her, eyes narrowed with fury.

“It seems, Number Fourteen that you don’t want to see your brother ever again.”

Her hands darted behind her back so he couldn’t see them shake. “You should be thanking me.”

“What?” Now his ruddy skin flushed even darker.

“You want these girls to drain your clients out there of every last million they’re willing to spend and then several million more. Well, now they will.”

Mr. Toussaint’s sharp eyes canvassed the dressing room. The auction items were standing taller, checking their hair, or lipstick in the mirror, straightening the straps on their dress.

“Number Five! You’re on.”

Mina gave Rowan one last smile, and she nodded back.

He stared down at her for a moment longer. “Go have Amber look at your hair. It’s a mess." She was edging away when Toussaint leaned closer. “Your little speech was quite inspiring to these poor, deluded girls. But there are dozens just like you that have been sold through this house. These people fear nothing. And if they wish to carve you open and extract your DNA, no one will stop them. This auction that you so despise? It protects you. With marriage, with financial security that your new spouse cannot access. I do not expect humility from such as you, but be bright enough to pretend you do.”

Toussaint straightened his tie and left without another look at her.

Rowan was submitting to another re-pinning of her carelessly upswept chignon that took a good hour to create and practicing her smile in the mirror. Inviting, confident, a little demure, and uncertain… So many important people! She pretended to bat her eyelashes. It’s such an honor to be here!

It was fucking terrifying to be here. These were the names no one knew, the families so wealthy that they could crush notoriety. These people owned the New Americas.

Everything. Everyone.

Every law that passed, every new “Moral Mandate” was straight from their twisted brains.

“Number Fourteen! You’re on.”

And now, one of them would own her.

“Rowan Wallace is twenty-eight, stands 5”8 with black hair and pale green eyes,” the auctioneer’s voice is smooth and ingratiating and if Rowan wasn’t so busy trying to walk smoothly with a spotlight blinding her, she would have flipped him off.

“She is in superb health, with a full vaccination status, administered and verified by the Chronology Medical Group, which also performed a full genetic panel. You can see the numbers here on the monitor, and her specialized genome projection that…”

The room was dark beyond the brightly lit stage. Of course, Rowan thought, I don’t deserve to see who’s bidding on me. I’m just the shiny object.

“Her IQ has been tested, with a score of 145.”

Rowan slowed on her turn, letting the audience see the sway of her hips, a slight arch to her back as she turned her head to look over one shoulder. My IQ? When the hell did they test me for that? What else did they test me for?

“You’ll see,” the auctioneer continued, “on the 3D projection that Number Fourteen’s uterus and ovaries are in excellent health, and-”

That little revelation almost made Rowan trip on the edge of her dress, but she managed to make the stumble look like another half turn.

“Number Fourteen,” this time, the voice was Mr. Toussaint's. “Stand at the end of the catwalk, if you would.”

Yeah, so pleasant and oh, so posh when your rich assholes are in the room, she thought bitterly. Bitter, but not stupid enough to defy him, she sashayed back to the circular end, posing with her right leg turned and slightly bent at the knee, hand demurely behind her back.

“You rank at 495 out of 500 on the Genetic Reliability Outcome Consensus, Number Fourteen, quite superb.” There was actually a little round of applause at this and it took every ounce of self-control to keep from rolling her eyes.

Mr. Toussaint was looking at her, seemingly expecting some sort of response, so Rowan flashed him an insincere smile, eyes lowered. “That’s… good to hear, Sir.”

A little chuckle rippled through the bidders and she gave a sweet little shrug. Don’t think of these bastards, think of Ben. Don’t you forget why we’re all up here! Her feet were killing her, these high heels must be lined with razor wire or something because-

“However, adding in the adverse element score, you do drop fifty points, dear.” The son of a bitch bastard’s bleached white teeth glowed in the stage lighting. “Your brother was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, and of course is part of the package, isn’t he?”

Of course, Rowan’s teeth gritted, another ignorant asshole considering her brother as an ‘adverse element?’ How dare he! Oh, it’s on fucker!

“Well, Mr. Toussaint, I am sure you know, as do all of these extremely well-educated and well-informed leaders in the New Americas, that autism is an indication of the evolution of the human brain. Many people on the Autism Spectrum have unique gifts and talents, along with high scores for intelligence and potential to overcome sensory challenges that might inhibit their abilities to contribute to their community.”

His stupid bleached teeth opened like he was about to interrupt. Oh, no, bitch, I am on a roll.

“My brother Ben is a gift. He is challenging and intelligent, courageous in a way that I’m not. He makes me a better person, he makes everyone around him want to be more than they are. Truthfully?” Rowan looked out into the darkened room again. “He is the best part of this package.”

There was silence for a moment, quiet enough to hear the low buzz of the 3D projector and the rattling of the bracelet on her wrist as she tried to clench her shaking hands together. She'd screwed up. She had so screwed this up.

The auctioneer gave a light chuckle, smoothly divesting Mr. Toussaint of the mic. “Lovely, and it seems passion and loyalty are other excellent traits of Number Fourteen. And now, dear, if you will remove your dress.”

Rowan’s heart stopped. What? This was NOT in their practice runs! She looked out again, licking her lips. He was kidding. This wasn’t humiliating enough? Oh, there’s no way-

“Number Fourteen? Now, if you please.”

Ben’s sweet smile. She could remember it so vividly when he handed her the lunch he’d packed for her when she’d left their apartment that morning before they took him away. When he’d told her, “This is going to be a perfect day!” When he’d smiled, and…

Standing straight, shoulders back and looking regally over the darkened crowd, Rowan raised her hands to the glittering straps holding the heavy gown up and pulled them down. The silver and green beads flashed in the light as the dress dropped to the floor.

Alerting mutuals who I think might be interested, please let me know if you’d like on or off this list. Thank you!

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#dystopian avengers #dystopian James Barnes #dystopian Ransom Drysdale #dystopian Loki Laufeyson #bride auctions #women sold for their genetic potential #patriarchal assholes #human trafficking #unwilling brides

[marchsfreakshow]

You're my next victim Duckie (3rd person for whom I'm making a personal imagine in their askbox). Featuring one of your dream 3somes as you stated (since ur my 3rd target you get a 3some) (For the record, Dandy is like 19-20 ish in this, he gets called a boy bcs he's childish and March died at like 30)

Dandy was so tired of his mother's whining. Yes, LA is on the other end of the country, but why was she making such a big deal out of it? He could withstand a long travel, of course he could! What an annoying worm she was...

So after multiple heinous tantrums and 17 dead rats, Mother agreed. And so they went to one of the trending hotels, the Cortez. Dandy was simply just overjoyed. Unfortunately... it was boring. God, it was so dull! Nothing to do but wander and wander. He could drink at the bar, but all of the drinks tasted like burnt cow poop. And he did not. Like. Cow. Poop. It was dreadful. LA was, at its core, a bore.

But to the hotel's owner, the young man provided nothing but curious entertainment. He was rowdy and uncouth, yelling at staff and behaving weirdly, no shred of empathy in his young heart. March hated spoiled brats like him. Everything came easy to Dandy, handed on a silver platter. James had to fight tooth and nail for his wealth, never hesitated to kill and cheat, but also worked, worked hard, day and night for many years just to spite the bastard of a father and to achieve something great in life. But the Mott's wealth was a great feat - the rich went largely unpunished until there was hard proof against them, as James knew from experience.

And, as it dawned on March that his hunting grounds were limited to the hotel territory, he realized he needed a successor, someone of equal sickness of mind and inventive in terms of death. He needed a spineless, psychotic, easily steered young man such as Dandy Mott.

March's plan was simple - get a pretty little thing, one with a sweet gaze and soft lips, and convince the young bastard to murder her. He was humming to himself as he arranged a tray of weapons - two knives, a hammer, a gun, four types of deadly kitchen utensils and even a good quality blow torch. An array of torture devices ready for the cutie he had spotted at the bar earlier - and that cutie was you! Oh you were so easy to get drunk and lead into room 64, you didn't even protest as he tied you to the bed, sprawled out... well, he did spike your drink, but that is but a detail, isn't it? Surely you'd be a good little victim and awaken soon, so the new boy can see your scared little expressions and sweet pained screeches. There was nothing sweeter than a girl begging for a quick death, after all.

Dandy showed up to the room, as invited, out of pure boredom. He wore his white suit and sprayed himself with cologne, the smell soon filling James' suite. It made him almost choke, but no matter; he would test the boy soon and get him to leave. The young Mott stood there surprised at the sight of you, waking up and groggily realizing your predicament. He looked at March.

"What is this? Is she a prodtitute? Mother told me not to sleep with those, they all have tubermacossis"

James chuckled at how geniuenly dumb the boy was, he couldn't even spell tuberculosis. Oh this was going to be easy.

"Well, dear boy. This is your chance to truly feel... like a man. Take your preferred weapon and inflict on her whatever you wish. I, James March, shall be your guide in the world of murder."

You trembled. You tried to protest, but all that came out was a bunch of whines, as you were tied up, gagged and allll helpless. You cowered at the younger man approaching you, picking up a knife from the tray. His buldge was showing through his white pants, and his eyes were wide.

"Hey, old weirdo... can I take her mouth first? Mother always forbid me... but I am a man, and a man with needs. You understand, right, little whore?", he said the last part to you in the most innocent tone possible. He then undid his pants and then your gag. You were too terrified and groggy to talk.

"Freak man? Help me with her here! Every girl needs her fruits touched, it's the basic rule of pleasure, don't you know it!?", he said in a pretentious tone.

March quirked a brow. Well, he hadn't slept with a victim since '46, if he remembers correctly... ah, such a sweet treat, she'd be. All scared, yet he knew she would love his attention.

"My dearest", March said to her, ignoring Dandy's weirded out frown and nervous undressing, "We shall kill you no matter what you choose. Do you wish for us to give you a... glorious last hurrah, miss? Or shall I stop this... overexcited young man?"

You gasped, horrified but aroused. The younger man's half bare body was surely enticing, and if you were going to die anyway... huh... what she couldn't comprehend was being given a choice in the matter at all. Was it a rhetorical question? Or was it geniuine and gentlemanly? Perhaps the man knew you had secretly dreamed of such a night at this hotel, two beautiful man ravishing or ravaging your body from both ends, taking you and coming so deep their releases meet in the middle?

Do you wish for it?

- love, Nika

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!

Nika despite nothing being described I just came from that idea. Thank you for just giving me some giggles, desperately need them tbh.

#guys i actually have the best mutuals #i crushed my red bull can #like actually #mutuals #duckies mutuals

[jkrockin]

Time after time - “the same bright patient stars” !

About one year after the events of the story, please.

(I’m so wild to know what FRMC and JFJ’s life together looks like after they’ve been back together for awhile… and if / how James’ little white lie re: losing control of the fortune affects things in their relationship. 👀)

Remember when I apologised for my last Unusual Fic Asks for Authors prompt being late? Five days ago? Yeah, that. I have an outline in my notes for a sequel to the same bright patient stars, loosely working titled The Marriage of Fitzier, but I sincerely doubt I'll actually ever get around to writing the thing for real, so please enjoy this one year later timestamp that spoils one of that story's big twists!

*

“Darling,” James said, smoothing his hands down the back of Francis’s jacket to set his collar straight. “It’s really not that serious.”

“Not serious, he says,” Francis grumbled. “I expect it’s not, to the likes of you, with your big parties and your ninety-seven bloody changes of clothes—”

“Now, be reasonable, dear heart. I only packed three outfits for tonight.” James’s hands wandered down to pet over his waist. He was like that, James. He could never keep his hands to himself, always grabbing on to any part of Francis he could reach, holding his hand and so on. To his deep aggravation, Francis found it settled all but his most obstreperous moods. Unfortunately, this mood was quite as rotten a one as he’d been in since James had resurfaced, and while it helped, it did not help enough.

He’d had to wear his dress uniform again. It was hardly the only fancified thing in his wardrobe, not since James had had unfettered access to it, but it had to be the uniform, didn’t it. It had to be the updated full dress uniform with the hundred feet of gold piping, the epaulettes hanging off his shoulders like glamorous solar panels, and the Admiralty-issue dress boots, polished to an excruciating gleam. He couldn’t look like any old rich bastard tonight; he had to look like a rich Navy bastard.

James— well, James was still in his dressing gown. He'd not let Francis see any of tonight's ensembles yet. That wasn't helping with his mood either.

"It's an hour of small talk and standing about looking impressive, Francis, and you do the latter very well as a matter of habit," James said, chin hooking over Francis's shoulder to look at him in the mirror. He'd done his face already, so there went the chance of Francis at least getting a kiss. "Some tiresome speeches, a little dancing, a very nice dinner, and that's all. We'll be back in our quarters before the dark watch have time for a cup of tea."

"I wish I had time for a bloody cup of tea," Francis grumbled. "You do realise I have to make one of those tiresome speeches, because the whole blasted tiresome spectacle is in my honour."

James sighed in his ear. "There's still time to have Franklin do it. That would be rather a good joke— the Admiral-Governor welcoming his junior officer as his new head of House."

There was temptation there, it had to be said. Poor old Franklin. Bad enough to see his precious House Ulverstone made subsidiary to a previously minor House like Moira; watching grouchy Francis in all his down-at-heel glory elected as Head of what was rapidly becoming the most powerful House in the galaxy had to, at best, sting.

The whole thing was a constant bewilderment to Francis. Without James and Jopson and Little and, yes, sometimes even Dundy, he'd have stuck his head out an airlock long since. But he did have James; he did have people around him who loved him and wanted the best for him. Some days he even really felt it. "I wouldn't even sodding be here if you weren't an incorrigible liar," he said, turning in James's arms.

"I didn't lie," James said. Twining his arms around Francis's neck, he bumped their noses together in a cosmetic-preserving version of the Arctosi kunik. "All I said was that I would lose sole control over the Barrow finances if I married. Which I did."

"You might have seen fit to mention before the wedding that the person to whom you ceded that control was me," Francis groused.

It was an old argument already, and a comfortable one. The damage was done. Francis simply had to live with a half-share of the largest concentration of wealth in charted space, and the power and influence that came along with it, courtesy of his handsome husband who, unaccountably, loved him. Perhaps a speech or two wasn't the steepest price to pay.

"Come on. We can't be late," James said, pulling at the belt of his dressing gown, revealing a flash of plum velvet and silver embroidery beneath. "If we run out of time for me to switch into my gown between the speeches and the ball because you're lollygagging, I will not hesitate to make you halt proceedings while I change."

"You said you had three outfits for tonight," Francis said, giving up on his collar as a foregone conclusion, and waving the mirror back to blank wall panel. "That's only two."

"The third one isn't for the party, darling." James smiled at him, that secret corner-of-the-mouth smile he kept just for Francis. "That's for after the party, if you're very well-behaved."

The joke was on James, there, Francis thought, tugging at his wrist to hurry him out the door. In his experience, James's special after-party outfits encouraged very little good behaviour at all.

#the terror #ask me ask me ask me #every meme and every youyou #fitzier

[maddies-chronicles]

@hiya-itsamber you convinced me to start the inheritence games series- i'm on chapter 14 of book 1. here are my thoughts:

i'm making an inheritence games DR for sure. avery just got bequeathed a wholeass mansion where she now lives with four rich, hot dudes. like obviously i want that.

speaking of, i went into this book knowing i was going to pick a guy. no two ways about it. so my thoughts on each boy thus far:

grayson is annoying so far. also one of my DR brothers is called grayson, so i think i'd feel weird about liking grayson. also, he's not very bright, i feel. he acts like he is, but he's also not viewing avery in the logical sense, despite literally priding himself on being the most business-y, factual brother.

nash is okay? i haven't seen much of him yet. he kinda reminds me of a guy i don't like, so i'm not super fond, but that's not really his fault. irl boy just spoiled cowboys/texas for me forever 😐

xander is cool but i have an ex named alex so idk... but so far i like his personality. he reminds me of leo, whom i obviously adore.

jameson... good lord, i'm in danger. witty, puppy-dog, and just a touch self-destructive? save me now. plus his name is james(on) which automatically places me in danger of falling in love. besides the riddles? the games?? good lord that boy is mine.

libby is a saint, and drake should die. avery's a stronger soul than me, because i woulda knocked a bastard out.

(timeskip here from me reading up to ch 14 to like ch 48-ish)

rahhhh okay. soft spot for grayson. soft spot for xander. jameson may have lost my favour, after saying everything with avery was a game. girl i'd be PISSED if some rich white mfer said that to me. but he did also literally shield avery with his body when they were being shot at, so... idk maybe he's a little bit forgiven. also, i'm not fond of this emily chick, but i will tell you i think she has something to do with why avery inherited the estate.

avery's mom died because she didn't get a transplant. emily had some kind of congenital heart condition. those two things are related, i just don't know how yet. maybe emily got the transplant that avery's mother was supposed to get, hence the apology? but emily died due to her heart condition (supposedly) so maybe not.

super proud of myself for knowing the middle names were meant to be places and not surnames right off the bat. also, definitely knew emily was two-timing grayson and jameson (although ngl... avery's kinda doing that too, but i think maybe for her it's not as intentional). also also? the parents' blatant favouritism of emily over rebecca?? sucks balls. i love rebecca so far. she's gonna be the traitor. if amber didn't love him so much, it would be between rebecca and nash, honestly. they both seem like kind, caring people, but the focus isn't on them so they slip under the radar.

i know i'm not supposed to like thea but like. she's awesome. i do like her. which is hilarious, because i'm not supposed to like her, but especially hilarious because she dated xander and i adore xander. even though you don't see much of him, you can tell he's got just as much as the other hawthorne boys going on under the surface, and i've always tripped and fallen in love for a good enigma of a boy.

i know something's happening with max, but i'm ignoring that in favour of the plot for now, but mostly because max is in another state. if she was in texas, i would be looking at her more closely. unrelated- toby is definitely alive, right?

sorry to everyone else who follows me who definitely thinks i'm insane lol

[thronesfms]

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄  𝐓𝐎  𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓  ,  and  may  the  gods  have  mercy  on  you  as  you  play  the  game  ,  lysara  ,  nikolas  ,  trystane  and  artur  !  the  faceclaim  of  caitriona  balfe  ,  theo  james  ,  ana  de  armas  ,  and  archie  renaux  are  now  taken  .  please  make  sure  to  follow  each  step  on  our  checklist  and  submit  your  account  within  24  hours  .

╰     ┈     [  caitriona balfe , forty-five , cis female , she/her ]  in the time of dragons , lysara marbrand nee redwyne is entering the game of thrones . said to be assertive + commandeering , we can only hope that is the case as regrettably they are also well known to be selfish + cruel . when asked about them , people are always reminded of a childhood filled with riches and spoils, never being told no until she was betrothed to someone she didn't know, pencil strokes forming gowns that leave people breathless . though they are the ruling lady of ashemark , their true loyalties lie with house marbrand, redwyne, and tyrell and rumour has it that if given the choice they would support their family above all else . those of us in the shadows wish them luck and can only hope they will survive what is to come .   ──  lucy , 25 , aest , she/her .  *mistress of coin

╰     ┈     [  theo james , 38 , cismale , he/him ]  in the time of dragons , NIKOLAS FLORENT is entering the game of thrones . said to be sauve + innovative , we can only hope that is the case as regrettably they are also well known to be vindictive + salacious . when asked about them , people are always reminded of a silken noose pulled taught against the neck, serpentine smiles and vulpine gazes, the feeling of warm flesh blood dripping through fingers. though they are the HAND OF THE KING, their true loyalties lie with HOUSE FLORENT and rumour has it that if given the choice they would support THE REALM / THEMSELF above all else . those of us in the shadows wish them luck and can only hope they will survive what is to come .   ──  ines, 23 , pst , she/her .

╰     ┈     [  ana de armas , 32 , demi woman , she/they ]  in the time of dragons , trystane  sand is entering the game of thrones . said to be inquisitive + passionate , we can only hope that is the case as regrettably they are also well known to be inconspicuous + arcane . when asked about them , people are always reminded of silk sheets intertwining between clenching fists , warmth of the sunshine beaming down upon the soft waves , a bastard name held with pride , roaming gilded halls with a foreigner’s appreciation . though they are the paramour of house martell , their true loyalties lie with house martell and rumour has it that if given the choice they would support  their family above all else . those of us in the shadows wish them luck and can only hope they will survive what is to come .   ──  lizzie .

╰     ┈     [  archie renaux , twenty-seven , cis male , he/him ]  in the time of dragons , ARTUR VELARYON is entering the game of thrones . said to be intelligent + perceptive , we can only hope that is the case as regrettably they are also well known to be broody + mysterious . when asked about them , people are always reminded of salt air staining lungs, stretched out across the deck of his boat with his crew’s chatter around him, pangs of grief and the need to discover the truth . though they are the LORD OF DRIFTMARK, their true loyalties lie with house velaryon and rumour has it that if given the choice they would support the prince of dragonstone above all else . those of us in the shadows wish them luck and can only hope they will survive what is to come .   ──  lucy , 25 , aest , she/her . *alerie tyrell’s first love/first betrothal

#thrones.accepted #<3

[dovahtobi]

Working on another one shot, not sure when it will be out, but this one

hhhhhhhhhhhh

#poor Remus #poor Sirius #poor Lily #poor Peter #James you rich spoiled bastard #Shifting Lines

[thetargaryenbride]

Together [Peter x Reader, Tony x daughter!reader] C.5

Warnings: Rape & Pregnancy 

Masterlist || Chapter 4 || Chapter 6

The first three months were quite hard for you. You constantly had morning sickness and it reached a point when you stopped calling it a ‘morning’ sickness because you had it throughout the whole day. Everyone were worried but then again they were all men and had no idea what pregnancy was, except Tony, so Pepper had to constantly reassure them that everything was alright.

You kept meeting the psychologist. She advised you to start a journal as well. You felt like there was still a long way to go before you could proudly announce that you were healed. You still needed help. You still needed time. And the fact that the trial came did not help. Why so late? The lawyers of the four families had done everything in their power to delay it but it was inevitable never mind what they tried. It was proven black on white.

You had to be present for it which had bugged you a lot. The thought of seeing them sent bugs crawling under your skin and you couldn’t stop shivering both from anger and anxiety.

Everyone got their turn talking - you, your father, the four boys, the staff of the hotel. But the most horrible thing was that the three boys didn’t want to admit to their mistake. They weren’t awfully regretful of what they did to you. They were regretful that they were going to part with their freedom.

“I hope you are happy you fucking bitch! You ruined four of the greatest families in the world because why? Because you are some whinny cunt who couldn’t overcome having a dick stuck in her! It would’ve happened eventually! What does it matter how?” those were the things that Oliver had the guts to shout at you as they were cuffing him and taking him to the van after which he would be teleported to the prison where he, and the other two, would stay for eight years. Tony couldn’t hold himself back and punched him in the face, knocking him off his feet. Peter was about to start kicking him but you had grabbed his hand which stopped him. All of you had enjoyed watching as blood dripped down the bastard’s nose. Even the policemen smiled smugly before hauling him up on his feet and dragging him away.

Now, while the three boys – Rayland, Oliver and James – got eight years sentence in prison and were very rude and unregretful, Jett’s case was different. On that night, the moment he had came down from his high and sobered up, he had confessed everything to his mother and demanded they go to the police. He had wanted to turn himself in but his father had stopped him. He had requested you to visit him during those past three-to-four months and you had consented. That’s when he apologized to you. You could see that he was truly sincere and that he truly regretted what he did. He had even gotten a clinical depression. You had felt sorry for him, the kind soul that you are, which is why you had spoken to your father and to the prosecutor, wanting a lighter sentence for him. The court agreed to no less than five years and you were happy with that decision. He may have been spoiled but he was actually a good person who was always ready to help someone in need. He insulted the poor people in front of the other rich people only to keep up the image of a rich bad boy but he actually pitied them and had often donated money to charity. And everything got ruined for him because why? Because of alcohol and drugs.  

You had convinced him to give blood. You really wanted to do a DNA test. In the end, your curiosity managed to completely take control over you. You wanted to know who the father of your child was. And it seemed that fate was kind to you because out of all, it was Jett – the only one who deeply regretted his actions, sought your forgiveness and was ready to fight for it with tooth and nail. You eventually told him about it and at first he said that the child didn’t deserve a rapist for a father. You agreed but deep down it kind of hurt you to see him so wounded. A part of you was screaming that he deserved it but another felt sorry for him. It was confusing.

Over the next two months you kept visiting him, thinking that he was getting better. But in fact, he was getting worse and worse. The depression was horrible and his prison mates were complaining that they couldn’t sleep because he would wake them up with his screams. Apparently, he was having vivid nightmares and started suffering from insomnia afterwards. Then one day he tried killing himself with a butter-knife which had shaken you to the core. You couldn’t believe that someone could feel so much guilt and regret to a point when they become suicidal. You decided that enough was enough and you went to speak to him. You spoke a lot. You poured all your soul. All of your sorrow and disappointment. But you also gave him your forgiveness. You told him that you have found the strength to forgive. But you would never forget. The smile that bloomed on his face was strangely heart-melting and it hit you hard. He was so relieved.

You thought everything would be fine now and that he would start his recovery and heal from this horrible incident, just like you. But not long after, news arrived that he had taken his life. How he did it was written but you hadn’t wanted to read it. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to take it in. You even cried for him. You had such big hopes. Out of the four, he deserved that forgiveness and that happy ending the most, but he suffered and died instead while the others lived in comfort, thanks to their parents’ money, even in prison.

As if things weren’t heavy on you already, more news came. Just like your mother, you suffered from Anemia and HG. That had almost given your father a heart attack because those two things had caused lots of complications for your mother and had weakened her body extremely which is why she hadn’t been able to battle off the infections that had lead to her death. But medicine was much more advanced nowadays so you didn’t think that you would follow your mother’s fate. But your father was a different story altogether.

“Come now. Lie down,” he instructed you as he held your hand and supported your waist, helping you sit down on the couch and making you roll your eyes.

“Dad, I’m fine-“

“-Hush,” you tried protesting but he interrupted you and covered your lap with a fluffy blanket before going over to the kitchen to make you that special tea that helped you with the constant nausea.

“I don’t want to drink any more tea,” you whined but he shook his head.

“Nuh-uh. No can do. You know that you have to drink lots of fluids whether you like it not,” he reminded you and you sighed as you leaned into the soft pillows.

“Good afternoon, Lady Stark,” greeted Thor cheerily and you smiled at him.

“Hey, Thor.”

“How have you been doing? The Spider Man told me your feet were swollen. That true?” he asked and you grumbled.

“Nothing escapes him and then everyone learn of it too. Such a gossip girl. Yeah, they are,” you said but then your eyes squinted and you smirked. “Mind giving them a rub?” you asked and he nodded enthusiastically, always ready to help, and sat on the table, lifting your legs onto his lap and rubbing your feet. You let out a relieved sigh.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Look at you exploiting the poor, clueless man,” shook his head in fake disappointment Tony as he handed you the cup of tea and you chuckled.

“Well, you try carrying a few pounds. My back’s killing me,” you groaned as you sipped the warm liquid and the two men looked at one another, smiling. “And look at them sniggering silently at my expense. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Heartless men. Heart-less!” you sighed dramatically and Tony laughed while Thor paled slightly.

“T-that was sarcasm, correct?” he asked and you burst into a loud laughter.

“It was sarcasm, hon. Definitely a sarcasm!” you managed to gasp out through laughter and he let out a relieved puff of air.

“Aren’t you having fun,” commented Steve as he entered the room followed by Bucky and Peter, who didn’t hesitate to give you a kiss while the other two plopped on the couch heavily.

“Mission exhausting?” you asked with tilted head and they nodded. “But successfully completed?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” snorted Bucky.

“Still. It’s your turn to prepare dinner.”

“You have no mercy.”    

AN: I hope you enjoyed it~ Feel free to ask any questions if you are confused about something. Feel free to correct me if you see any mistakes.

Feedback is deeply appreaciated~ <3

Tag list: @eridanuswave​; @iknowrocknroll567​; @spideygirl2003​; @violetevergarden​; @lets--be-honest​; @briesangel​; @kitty-got-claws; @let-me-luve-you​

#mcu #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #avengers x reader #avengers #dad!tony x daughter!reader #dad!tony #tony x reader #tony x daughter!reader #stark!daughter #stark!reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x reader #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #reader insert #reader #reader imagine #angst #fluff

[anthonyed]

Buckytony: Addicted to you (inspired by Avicii's Addicted to you MV. Prompted by @meredithraw)

-//-

He was a washed out prissy prince, kicked out from home because of some tacky daddy issue. He was spoiled, had a penchant for silk, luxury and greasy diner food.

That was how James met him.

Served him a plate of burger and fries with unicorn milkshake and he called James, 'big daddy'. Technically, James was only five years older than him and he was legal, barely, but still -

James thought nothing of him at first, he didn't pay for his meal, his buddy did - later James learnt that was because his credit card got cancelled and he no longer had access to his daddy's (real daddy's) money. He was clad in riches but none of those belonged to him.

James had no respect for him.

Until one night, an asshole walked in and picked a fight with James and made him lose his job.

It started like this;

James couldn't find a job because he was a veteran with a lost arm. That diner thing was a one a million luck (Sam, his VA counsellor knew a guy who knew a guy who was looking for someone to take over his job. His lost arm gained him only a temporary position, they weren't even planning to keep him but they couldn't find anyone else either so -)

He went from one shop to another looking for new job, but every night he'd wind up at the diner's door trying to beg his case. The thing was, the manager wasn't the only guy who saw that.

"I have an offer." The prissy prince said one night. James regarded him a while. Then, because it's his seventh night back and Tom still said no and he had nothing else to go back to, he nodded for him to continue.

It was an awful plan. James thought about reporting the guy to some asylum; he was a lunatic. He wanted to rob a bank.

"Well, not the whole bank, just my dad's account." Because apparently his dad's money was his by default.

The thing was, James didn't technically agree. But as we've already had established, technicality and James simply didn't get along.

In his defence, he was drunk.

He was hammered. Prissy prince had a good face and a great ass and James hammered him in return. It was good. Great even. As far as his muddled memory supplied, it was the best sex James had had in his life.

But.

Now, this was where it got complicated. You see, James was drinking with prissy prince, and prissy prince was going on and on about his plan to destroy his father like he always did. James was watching the game, until he wasn't anymore and he was tumbling into bed with tangled silk and slurred, "Ooh yeah. Knew you'd be big, daddy."

Next thing he knew, his head was banging, the air was congested, he was nauseous, prissy prince was typing at his laptop with too obnoxios tap, tap, fucking tap - "Th' fuck?" - and he grinned and declared he'd successfully transferred 10k to James' account; "Let's fucking party, partner!!"

Partner? 10k? "The fuck?" James asked, louder.

Apparently, you no longer needed to wear a mask, carry guns and threaten people to rob a bank these days. "I did it. Hacked into the system and emptied his swiss account. He doesn't keep track of it, so he wouldn't notice until, well, he notices, i guess," prissy prince beamed like he'd just saved the planet.

James hurled a shoe at his head. "I did not fucking sign up for this! What the fuck!? I'm not in. I don't want the money."

"Hell, no."

And this was exactly where it got complicated -

"Keep it. I already did the transaction. You don't have to be my partner."

"Why?"

Precisely. Why?

Until the end, James never got the answer.

But, he had some suspicion although that suspicion, after each time they meet, changed.

Perhaps, James thought, perhaps Tony had always known since the beginning.

Tony.

That was his name. Tony, short for Anthony which James reserved for in bed.

It wasn't a smooth transition, their 'relationship' that was. In the beginning James tracked down the bastard because he couldn't transfer back the 10k. The account Tony had used for transaction was a dummy and he'd closed it as soon as he was done using it.

"I'm not taking it back."

"I don't want it!" James hissed.

But later, James would learn that Tony was a stubborn fucking bastard. And he'd lose to him still, drown in him, get hooked; Tony'd be the drug and James, his addict - unable to live without him .

That night though, they had sex again. It was like the only thing they could agree on - their most primal instincts synced where their logics failed.

They fucked hard, raw and rough. Tony liked it like that, James liked whatever his partner liked.

Somehow, that became a pattern; James would wake up, hunt for job, beg his ex manager to take him in again, his eyes would find Tony's at his usual corner booth and they'd go back to Tony's place together. Most nights, drunk, some, not.

On those nights when they're not, or when James wasn't drunk, it was easy to trace patterns over Tony's naked skin, it was easy to hold him because one of his arm was missing and when Tony fitted himself where it used to be, he almost felt like it was back there. It was easy to look at Tony, to call him by his name, to pay attention to what he said and more to what he didn't say. To understand him to some extend, to have feelings for him...

Problem was, those nights became more and more and James began to catch himself holding back on vodka because he wanted to remember the way Tony giggled when he touched him there, just like that.

So it wasn't surprising when one day, Tony asked him to break into Stark Unlimited with him, James said yes.

Tony didn't grin that day, like he did when he successfully robbed his father's swiss account. No, he smiled. But it was small, unsure and when James smiled back, he climbed onto his lap and kissed James until they were both breathless.

James had fucked a thousand times, had had sex, half a thousand, but made love? He was pretty sure that day was his first.

Technicality and James never matched. Apparently, neither did luck and love.

It was sad, except James liked to think it was something else.

They got busted. Real time. Police, FBI and military. Howard Stark didn't think twice about shooting his own son dead.

Blood was thick and viscous. James remembered feeling it once in Afghanistan and then, as Tony bled all over him.

He was choking. He was cold and he wasn't even looking properly. James didn't think he could right then. But he touched James and he said something.

He said something -

Something that James couldn't catch.

It's okay, he thought, zipping up the duffel bag. He laid Tony behind the counter, picked out the remote from his pocket and clutched it in one hand. The other carried the duffel and as he barelled towards the crowd of police, FBI, military and Howard Stark in front of them all, he pressed the detonator and felt himself explode into pieces.

It's okay, James thought, he'd ask Tony to say it again later.

#winteriron #buckytony #bucky x tony #bucky barnes x tony stark #prompt #inkiniris writes

[not-close-to-straight]

Shadowed Hearts/Winter Souls (Chapter Eighteen)

MASTERLIST

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

Mikhail Dyuzhenkov had been raised a spoiled, bratty child and had grown into a surly, entitled man, dissatisfied with his lot in life though his family was high ranking nobility, churlish and stubborn for no reason other than to inconvenience others, concerned only about himself and his interests and the weight of his riches. But when it was announced that the Lady Natalia Romanova had entered his ballroom, Mikhail swallowed uncomfortably and retreated a few steps from the balcony railing so he wasn’t immediately visible from below, absentmindedly scratching at the scar that dissected his right palm from base of thumb to bottom of pinky. The scar was courtesy of the same Lady Natalia Romanova, who was the one and only thing Mikhail had never managed to acquire in his life. The volatile redhead hadn't been impressed with Mikhail’s carefully practiced charm, and neither had she been swayed when Mikhail promised to use his station and influence to delay Ivan Romanov’s execution if only Natalia would join him for a more private encounter. For the effort of his charm, Mikhail had received a pointed but polite no thank you, and for the promise of his influence to secure a stay of execution, Mikhail had found himself bleeding, sliced just deep enough to leave a scar, not so deep as to tear the nerves and impede the use of his hand. Natalia had flipped the top of her ornate ring open to reveal a sharp spike and had cut it across Mikhail’s palm without even blinking, her full lips pulled into a smile that was nearly a sneer as she replied, “The way beneath my skirts is not found by promising to delay my Da’s execution, my Lord. Quite the opposite, in fact. You’d have better luck if you promised to kill the bastard faster.”

That had been the last time Mikhail had seen the Lady Romanova, and his failure to win her company stung at the edges of his ego until he was nearly furious with it. 

And yet, despite the way his heart pounded at the chance to see the beauty again, despite his determination to have her this time around, Mikhail knew better than to rush into the situation uninformed. It was highly suspect that the week he was hiding a high level rebel officer was the same week the Black Widow came out of her seclusion to attend a holiday ball.

Mikhail was a surly, selfish bastard, but he was not foolish nor reckless.

“Who is she here with?” he asked his attendant, watching from the shadows the stream of revelers come to fill his ballroom. “Her brother? Other soldiers of the revolution?” “Apologies, my Lord.” the attendant hesitated. “Of whom are we speaking?” “The Lady Romanova.” Mikhail’s dark eyes searched the crowd gathered below. “Was she on the original invitation list? How many people departed the carriage with her, or is she here alone?” “I cannot imagine a Lady would attend without an escort, sir.” “This Lady would.” Mikhail said grimly. “I want to know who she is here with and where she is staying while she is in Kiev. I also will need to talk to our guest and see if he knows anything about her appearance or if his former compatriots had any plans inside the city this week.” “My Lord.” the attendant bowed and then went to find the requested information, and Mikhail stayed on his balcony for another half hour, watching with mild disinterest the myriad of fashions parading below him as carriage after carriage pulled up to his gates. Mikhail enjoyed a certain amount of influence among the Russian nobility, an influence that meant less in public gatherings and more in the sort of meetings that took place behind closed doors, the sort of meetings that the Tsar pretended not to know about, meetings that turned the tides of war and rewrote history before the ink had even dried on pages. Mikhail’s father had been tasked with dismantling the Sokovian revolution decades ago, and Mikhail had been raised with a soul deep loathing for the rebellion. They were farmers, his father had always scoffed. Peasants with pitchforks and not a hint of an idea in their empty heads, demanding more from their betters as if they were worth anything more than dirt. Farmers. Peasants. Simpletons. Mikhail had believed the derogatory rhetoric right up until he’d met the Lady Romanova and her bastard brother James Buchanan. Natalia was brilliant and well spoken, dangerous and unpredictable, heart breakingly deceptive one moment and ruthlessly sincere the next and her brother was no different. Not just a brute of a soldier but a master tactician, nobility far enough along the line to be sat among the Tsar’s court if he wished, but American enough to not care a single whit about formality and manners. The Winter Soldier and the Black Widow were two of the revolutions most influential soldiers, and Ivan Romanov had managed to keep them apart for years simply because he hated the boy and needed the daughter for something different altogether. But now Ivan was gone and there wasn’t anything besides family strife to keep Natalia and James from working together and dismantling everything Mikhail's father had worked so hard to secure. Heaven help them all if the Widow and the Soldier had joined forces. The Lord Kirillovich was sure the rebels were nothing more than idiots stirred to the fight by a worthless leader, that Natalia Romanova was simply a pretty girl with a few secrets and that James was a brute looking for a brawl but Mikhail didn’t hold the same view. The revolution would have ended with Ivan’s death if Natalia was only pretty and if James was only out looking for a fight. No no, Mikhail didn’t believe that at all. “My Lord.” his attendant reappeared. “The Lady Romanova is here with her ward, Wanda Maximoff and both are escorted by the Lady’s husband, Signore Antonio Carbonell Stark, formerly of Brescia, Italy.” “Her husband.” Mikhail repeated. “So the stories of her returning to the country with a new husband are correct, then. And if he is from Brescia than he is either noble or a gunsmith, since Brescia is the seat of khozyaysto Beretta.” “Apparently, My Lord.” “See that our guest is given food for the evening and secured in his chambers.” Mikhail decided. “I have questions for him, but they can wait. The Lady Romanova may be here simply to celebrate the season with her new husband but I don’t want Rumlow lurking in the shadows where the Black Widow might see him. I’ve only heard stories of how she kills, but all the same, I’d rather it not happen in my ballroom.” “Konechno. Yes sir.” Another few moments of crowd watching, and Mikhail finally saw a flash of bright red hair, further accented by silver and gold feathers woven through what looked like an intricate style. The dress was eye catching and daring even from the balcony, full lips parting in a laugh Mikhail knew from experience was low and sultry, one hand perched on a tiny waist, the other waving as someone called a greeting. Understandably, every male-- and quite a few female-- heads were turned in her direction, some openly staring, others making an attempt to hide it behind a glass of champagne and she only smiled and lifted her chin because she knew why they were all staring. The Black Widow had arrived. **************** “It’s almost frightening how easily you become the Black Widow.” Tony said under his breath as he escorted Natalia up the stairs and into the main ballroom. “All it took was a scandalous dress and a new pair of shoes and the woman who knits in evenings and gathers eggs from the chickens to make Pietro breakfast in the morning is completely different." “My love, I am absolutely still that woman, but the proper motivation would turn any domokhozyayka to zhenshchina-ubiytsa.” Natalia muttered back, gathering her skirts in one hand and flashing more than a necessary amount of ankle as she climbed the steps, sure to send the footman at the top a little smile as she went. “Don’t you think?” “A domo--” Tony tried again. “Domokhoz--” “It is like a woman who stays home.” Wanda supplied from Tony’s other side. “Talia is saying that the right motivation will turn any housewife into a murderess.” “And the opportunity to stab Rumlow in the throat is excellent motivation.” Talia finished “Not to mention the chance to remind Mikhail that I will never be his. A good day when I can ruin two fragile little men, don’t you think? Perhaps I’ll even eat their souls afterwards.” “How are Samuel and Ronin not terrified of you?” Tony whispered, and Natalia whispered back, “Who’s to say they aren’t, darling?” “Talia, everyone is staring at you.” Wanda tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and stood up straighter when a few more heads turned in their direction. “Do they always look at you like this?” “I suppose it depends on the occasion, but yes, usually they stare.” Natalia blew a kiss to a gentleman who stared long enough for his wife to slap him. “Whether they are staring because I am beautiful or staring because I am a supposed traitor to the state or staring because my gown is nearly cut to my navel and it seems impossible for my bosoms to still be straining towards the heavens--” 

Tony made a horrified, strangled sound and Talia’s lips curved into a smile. “--all of that is up for interpretation. Besides, Wanda my darling. I’m sure most of them are staring at you.” “Oh.” Wanda looked down at her own dress, at the beautifully gathered material tucked to her waist and the wide neckline. “Do you think so? Antonio, are they staring at me?” “There’s no question that I am escorting the two most beautiful women in the city.” Tony answered diplomatically. “But Wanda, please, for all that is holy, don’t ever wear a dress like Natalia is wearing.” Wanda covered her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh out loud and Natalia shook her head in mock disbelief, drawing her fingers along the scalloped neckline of her gown. “Antonio, are you saying you don’t approve of my gown? You bought it!” “Yes, and if I knew I was paying quite so much coin for quite so little material, I would have refused.” Tony said flatly. “Samuel and Ronin would string me up from the trees outside if they knew I was seeing so much of you right now.” “I love you.” Natalia stood on her toes and kissed Tony on the cheek. “And I’m sure both Samuel and Ronin appreciate your embarrassment.” “That doesn’t make me feel better at all.” Tony decided. “And I’ll need a drink to start our evening off if I’m to put up with this sort of thing all night. Onward, ladies. Onward.” Tony ushered the women further into the room and snapped his fingers so a servant would come by with a tray of champagne. Then he reached up and tilted his hat a little further on his head, settling it into a rakish tilt so the feathers in his cap sat at the same angle as the feathers in Natalia’s hair. Across the room and at the entrance to the ballroom balcony, Pietro caught the motion and smiled to himself. So far so good. Pietro’s instructions for the evening had been relegated to look out, the only job Natalia had approved for him, and honestly, the only job Pietro didn’t feel nervous about taking on. As much as he wanted to join up with Ronin and Samuel and run off to fight the war, the weight of the pistol in Pietro’s pocket made his mouth dry and his eyes a little wild, and though he’d never admit it, he was relieved to only be a look out. Keeping an eye on Natalia and Wanda as they walked the party with Tony, and being sure that no soldiers or guards made their way out to the balcony or over towards the servants entrance meant Pietro could spend the evening posted up casually against a column and trying to look as if he was perfectly comfortable in his new suit. Tony had assured Pietro that the stiff pants, fitted vest, heavily ruffled shirt and coordinating jacket were perfectly in fashion, but Pietro still hated it. His polished shoes pinched and the collar felt like it was strangling him and the vest was-- “Dobryy vecher.” A woman peeked over her fan at Pietro as she passed, painted lips curving into a smile that could only be inviting. “How are you, sir?” “I--I--” Pietro gaped after her a moment. “Um-- dobryy vecher Good--good evening. Hello. Good evening.” “If you’re done with all that?” Pietro flushed a dull red when Samuel spoke from behind and slightly below him, the soldier keeping a watch out into the gardens to be sure none of the estate guards came too close.  “Tell me what Natalia and Wanda are doing.” “Both are still with Tony.” Pietro confirmed, cursing under his breath that his bungled attempt with the woman had been overheard. “There is sign of Dyuhenkov yet, but it shouldn’t be too much longer. There hasn’t been a new arrival to the ball in close to a quarter hour, and if Talia and Mikhail have the sort of history she says they do, he will be around soon.” “Nothing brings a dog sniffing around faster than the scent of something he’s been denied.” Samuel muttered in disgust. “Don’t let them out of your sight, do you understand? Especially Wanda. Tony and Natalia were born to this sort of environment, but I won’t ahve Wanda being swayed by some mudak and taken advantage of.” “You underestimate my sister.” “You underestimate what rich men think they are entitled to.” Samuel returned. “Watch them.” “He’s right.” James spoke from the shadows of the curtains to Pietro’s left, having climbed up and over the balcony and through a window to remain unseen. “My sister has killed men for doing nothing more than looking at her too long, she is perfectly safe. Wanda is not. Do not take your eyes off her.” “Da, Komandir.” Pietro nodded and kept his gaze trained on the ballroom. “I’ll keep watch.” “Good.” James grunted. “There is a another staircase on the opposite end of the ballroom. At no point are you to look away from Talia and Wanda for more than a few seconds, but get there and stand watch. Samuel and I are going to enter through the servants gate and go upstairs to search. If you see anyone moving that way, you are to signal Ronin and he will signal us.” “Where’s Ronin?” Pietro’s lips barely moved as he talked, a trick he’d practiced for hours in the mirror before much to Wanda’s laugh out loud delight and Natalia’s encouraging but amused smiles. “Where do I send the signal?” “Ronin’s in his nest.” came James’s rather vague answer. “He will see the signal, you just be sure to make it clearly.” Pietro gave another nod, and while there was nothing more than the quiet rustle of curtains to mark the disappearance of the Winter Soldier, Samuel at least whispered to let the boy know he had gone, and after a few minutes more, Pietro casually strolled across the ballroom towards the second set of stairs. Natalia saw Pietro move, but her smile never slipped nor did her expression falter as she listened to whichever inane topic a young dvoryanka was chattering on about. Tony saw Pietro as well, and nodded his head just once so the boy knew they were alright. Wanda didn’t see her brother at all, listening with starry eyes and flushed cheeks as an older gentleman murmured flirtatiously to her from behind his champagne glass. Pietro found himself a new spot and narrowed his eyes in Wanda’s direction, and high above the ballroom tucked away into alcove that seemed impossible to reach, Ronin’s fingers twitched towards his bow and arrow, just waiting for the man to make a move towards Wanda. They were after Rumlow tonight, but that wouldn’t stop Ronin from taking out anyone who looked at his daughter ward the wrong way. He’d killed more men for a lot less. ************** The living quarters of the palace Kirillovich were on the very top floor of the estate, two massive suites reserved for the Lord and Lady, a smaller but no less grand suite for Mikhail who had yet to inherit the full title from his father, and further down a long hallway, additional smaller bedrooms for guests. James’s spies within the household had assured him that if Rumlow was being held in the palace, he’d be in the last room at the very end of the hall, most likely kept under lock and key. Mikhail might be willing to house a rebel, but he wasn’t about to let one wander free through his personal home. Three flights of steps taken at a flat sprint had both Samuel and James panting for breath when they reached the top, but at the sound of voices James went from trying to catch his breath to grabbing at Samuel’s arm and muscling him into the closest linen closet, closing the door to nothing more than a crack just in time to avoid two guards doing their rounds. “Your man didn’t say anything about guards.” Samuel said barely audible and James’s pale eyes flashed in annoyance at the skip in information from his spies. They hadn’t expected guards at all, though in retrospect-- “Mikhail added guards when he saw Natalia here.” James decided, speaking out of the side of his mouth so he could keep one eye on the hallway. “Smart of him to assume if the Black Widow is out in public, it is someone’s night to die.” The guards turned down the stairs to check the level below, and Samuel pushed at James’s shoulder until they could get out in the corridor again. “If the guy is smart enough to add guards since Talia’s on the prowl, do you think he was nice enough to handcuff Rumlow in a room with no exits so we could just snatch him?” “I hope there’s at least a window.” James said grimly, and pulled his revolver from the back of his pants. “Think I might throw the bastard out of it.” A set of double doors opened into a nearly bare chamber with only hints of feminine influence, and James and Samuel gave it only a cursory look through before moving on. It was public knowledge that the Lord Kirillovich’s wife had disappeared nearly twenty years ago, and the family had just enough money and influence to be sure that any questions were stopped at exactly that-- the Lady Kirillovich had disappeared. The next set of double doors belonged to the Lord’s chambers, an expansive bedroom and bathroom with a deep bathtub and rows of mirrors. Samuel checked the dressing room and frowned at the lack of clothing, and James mirrored his expression when he saw the bed was undisturbed, the blankets almost musty. “Do we know if Kirillovich is still alive?” Sam ran his fingers over a layer of dust on the dresser. “Or has he disappeared just like his lady did all those years ago?” “Disappointing.” James grunted. “I’d like’ta shake his hand for making sure Ivan was hanged as a traitor. Saved me the trouble of having to kill Natalia’s Da myself.” “Hm.” Samuel checked to make sure the hall was clear, and waved James out so they could move towards Mikhail’s rooms. “Well, I doubt Talia would have held it against you.” James smiled a little. “I could save the fuckin’ world and she would find somethin’ to be mad at me about.” “She loves you, James.” Samuel tried the knob at Mikhail’s door and stayed outside to keep watch while James darted into the room and made quick work of rifling through Mikhail’s desk. “She gets angry with you because she’s worried, cos she just wants her whole family home and safe again.” James made a non committal noise and Samuel added, “Seems like lately you wouldn’t mind being home either. Did you see Tony tonight?” “M’not thinkin’ about him.” James’s speech always got rougher when he was flustered, but Sam didn’t comment on it. “There isn’t nothin’ in here bout Rumlow, nothing in here that looks like business at all. Let’s keep moving, then drop down a floor and check his office if we don’t find anythin’ else. Get a move on, I got something else to do tonight too.” The something else was Tony. James had sent a last minute note to the hotel detailing the mission for Samuel and Ronin, specific instructions for Pietro, and at the very bottom scrawled: mezzanotte. Midnight. Tony would have known the message was for him- why else would James have written it in Italian?- and though James had wanted to linger there in his spot behind Pietro and find Tony in the ballroom, he had torn himself away, refused to let himself stare. Midnight would come soon enough, and James could stare all he wanted then. First he had a traitor to find. ***************** “We should dance, darling.” Natalia adjusted the fall of her gown at her feet and stepped closer to Tony, her hands light at his waist. “If I linger too long at the edges of the room there will be whispers that I am not here for the revelry and instead am working as the Widow.” “I was given very strict instructions to not let you nor Wanda out of my sight.” Tony replied, watching the crowd over Talia’s head. “And I cannot watch you both if I am dancing.” “An easy fix.” Talia decided. “Wanda my love, come dance with me.” “Honestly?” Wanda’s eyes went very wide. “But I don’t know how to dance like this, Natalia. I’m afraid I’d step on your feet.” “Nonsense, I’ll talk you through each step.” Natalia promised. “I’ll lead so you can learn the follow steps and everyone will see us having fun together. This way the next time on of those handsome men ask you to dance, you won’t have to turn them down.” “Alright then.” Wanda handed her champagne glass to Tony and burst into surprised laughter when Natalia spun her right out onto the floor in a rush of skirts. “Talia! Slow down! I’ll trip!” “Please don’t.” Natalia laughed back at her. “You’re at least four inches taller than me my love, you’ll squash me flat!” Tony swiveled in the crowd until he could find Pietro again, the boy lifting his own champagne glass to show he had eyes on the women as well, and Tony relaxed for the first time all night. This wasn’t normal for him, playing spies and rebels and having a mission.

Tony had practice pretending, of course he did. That was all he’d done for ages while Tiberius danced with his wife, while Howard and Maria introduced Tony to one after another of beautiful eligible young women, wealthy widows and debutantes sure to inherit fortunes. He had pretended every time Tiberius had come to the house for a business meeting with Howard, and he had pretended every time Maria had sent him careful, curious looks, and oh god had Tony pretended every time Tiberius left him there alone in bed and went back home to his real life. But this? Keeping an eye on arguably the most dangerous woman in any given room to be sure that someone else just as dangerous didn’t get too close? Watching Wanda, because noblemen found nothing more intoxicating than the thought of a woman innocent enough to be bent to their ways? Trying to maintain constant, silent contact with Pietro so he would know if anything went wrong with the mission upstairs? No, this wasn’t normal for Tony. Not to mention he was nervous about midnight, anxious to see James but worrying about it as well. With so much time having passed between their last good-bye and tonight, James’s feelings might have cooled or he might wish to take back his words about lying that his heart wasn’t involved . The rational piece of Tony insisted James wouldn’t have set up a clandestine meeting in the gardens at midnight if he were only going to break things off between them. A man like James was more likely to simply disappear and never say another word than he was to meet somewhere romantic and beautiful simply to let Tony down gently. But the piece of Tony that had had his heart and soul crushed by Ty’s abrupt cruelty wondered if James would just be another man to-- “You are a brave man.” A deep voice at Tony’s side made him jump. “Coming into public with Natalia Romanova, I mean. The last man to attempt such a feat found himself dead by morning.” “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Tony settled himself and turned with a frosty eye towards the unwelcome stranger. “And I’d much prefer if you addressed mia moglie as the Lady Romanova- Stark, and not by her given name, grazie mille. I do not take kindly to strangers being so familiar with my wife.” “Bozhe moy, you really are Italian, aren’t you?” The man raised bushy eyebrows in surprise. “I thought the rumours were exaggerated or perhaps even entirely false.” “I can assure you, they are not.” Tony said coolly, and said nothing else, turning back to the party to watch Wanda and Natalia and making a show of thoroughly ignoring the stranger. “Menya zovut Mikhail Dyuzhenkov.” the man spoke up after another moment, obviously unsettled by being brushed off. “His Grace, the Lord Kirillovich. Dobro pozhalovat’v moy dom.” “The Lord Kirillovich is your father, non e coretto?” Tony didn’t look away from the dance floor. “And I only understand the Russian my love whispers into my ear as we share a pillow, I’d appreciate you speaking a language we both are comfortable with.” “Of course.” Mikhail narrowed his eyes at the Italian. “I was only welcoming you to my home. And yes, my father is the Lord Kirillovich but in name only these days. He’s fallen far too ill to carry the weight of responsibility afforded those of our station.” “Ah.” Tony nodded as if he understood. “Mio padre-- my father is the same. Soon I’ll have to take my love home to Italia and resume my residence there.” “I see.” Mikhail kept watching Tony closely. “And your household name? Perhaps I have heard of your family.” “I am the Lord Antonio Carbonell Stark, nobile dei marchesi di Brescia.” “Brescia!” Mikhail feigned surprise. “You know the Beretta family, then.” “I worked as one of their chief designers.” Tony said carefully, not too keen on letting the man know exactly how many guns he’d designed for the Beretta family, how many of the rifles carried by the Russian armies were stamped with Tony’s own mark. “For several years.” “I see.” Mikhail said again, and then in far too bland a tone for the implication in his words-- “And how does sem’ya Beretta feel about you bringing the Black Widow across their borders and into their city?” “I am not familiar with this term, Black Widow.” Tony had been instructed to play ignorant of anything related to the revolution or Natalia’s life before he met her, in truth he’d been instructed to play himself as he would have been before the soldiers at Kiev had forced Natalia to come clean. “What is that?” “You cannot mean to pretend ignorance of your wife’s occupation.” “And you cannot mean to insinuate a man can share a life with a woman and somehow not know her deepest secrets.” Tony returned. “I’ve done my best to ignore the reports of the Eastern states being uncultured, but I have to say I’m beginning to agree with that particular line of thought. Surely it isn’t proper to spread slander about another man’s wife in his presence, but please. Please tell me all about who you think my love might be. “It is not my place and I wouldn’t want to introduce strife into wedded bliss.” Mikhail demurred, irritated that his less than proper questioning had been called upon by the uptight Italian. “But perhaps you ask your love what happened to her first husband?” “He was older than her and passed away.” Tony stated blandly, repeating the lie Natalia had told him the first time around. “She wore her widow’s black and as soon as her time of mourning had--” “Oh hello my love!” Natalia burst into their conversation quite unexpectedly, dragging an out of breath Wanda with her. “You must dance with Wanda, she has learned the steps so quickly!” and in a less inviting tone, “Mikhail. What a pleasure. What on earth could you and my dear husband have found to talk about?” “Did you know your new husband has no idea who the Black Widow is?” Mikhail had to work to get the words out, feeling as foolish and tongue tied as he did every time those wicked green eyes met his own. “Can you imagine being a citizen of our great land and not knowing the stories of the most dangerous spy to roam our streets? Could it be you have been hiding the more sordid parts of our history from him?” “Amore mia, what is he talking about?” Tony frowned down at Natalia. “Have you been keeping secrets from me?” “Please take Wanda to dance.” Talia said firmly, her smile tremulous and pleading. “My love? Per favore?” “I do love when you speak Italian to me.” Tony relented, brushing his knuckles over Natalia’s cheek. “But I want a dance with you, Natalia. Everyone in the room should be jealous I have you on my arm.” “I love you viciously.” Natalia tugged at Tony’s jacket and stood on her toes to give him a kiss, knowing damn well Tony wasn't fooled by her act and wouldn't leave her side unless she was in full control of the moment. “Go on now. Pospeshi ko mne.” Mikahil waited until Tony had taken Wanda back out to the floor and then sneered, “Hurry back to me? I’d think you want your little toy out and distracted for as long as possible. You seem to be keeping so much from him--” “Mikhail.” Natalia whirled around and clutched at Mikhail’s hand tight. “Mikhail, I need your help.” “You need my--” Mikhail’s mouth fell open, and with a quick look around to be sure they were being mostly ignored by the other party goers, he stepped closer and lowered his voice. “My Lady Romanova, the last time I offered my help you nearly sliced my hand in half, or have you forgotten?” “I’ve never forgotten a body I’ve put a blade in.” Natalia hissed back. “But before you were offering stupid prizes in exchange for getting between my legs. Now I need real help and I am willing to do--” Natalia made a concentrated effort to calm her gaze and relax her shoulders. “Mikhail, I am willing to do anything to ensure the safety of myself and my children.” “Your children?” “The twins.” Natalia waved her hand towards the floor. “Wanda and her brother Pietro. He didn’t come along tonight, but they are all I have left in this world.” “Natalia, I have a hard time believing--” “Mikhail.” she whispered. “I had to sneak out of my own country, hop a train like a peasant and find myself some pretty, rich, stupid--” she nearly spat the word. “--stupid man to marry me to save my home. I had to bring that man into my life, have to have him in my bed every night and he knows nothing-- he knows nothing! I cannot trust him with my secrets, I cannot ask him to spend his money to help me. Until he is called home to take over his father’s seat, I am trapped here and I’ve already had soldiers come to the manor and--” “This is not like you.” Mikhail peered closer at Natalia. “All the years our paths have crossed and I’ve never seen you beg. You are truly scared, aren’t you?” “Mikhail, my love.” Natalia’s full lips trembled, and she looked down at the floor for a moment to gather herself. “My brother the Soldier is out of control. You know I have never worked with him, nor have I ever aligned myself with the rebels but with my Da passed and my first husband--” she cleared her throat delicately. “--no longer with us, I have no protection from the consequences of the Soldier’s actions.” “And you think I can offer you protection?” “I know you can.” Natalia squeezed at Mikhail’s hand again. “I don’t need much. A safe place to stay in case my manor home has been compromised. I will move some money around so you won’t have to pay our way. Perhaps you have a little house in the country where I could simply disappear? Only for a little bit.” “And your husband?” Mikhail nodded towards Tony on the floor, pursing his lips when the Italian laughed out loud at something Wanda said. “How will he feel about you taking up residence in my home?” “I keep him because he is beautiful and will be very rich one day.” Natalia sounded irritated. “And because so long as I wear the dresses he likes, he doesn't ask questions. Italian’s are frightfully easy to seduce, it took nothing more than a few drinks and a kiss to convince him to come along with me.” “You didn’t choose him because of his connection to the Beretta family?” Mikhail challenged, and Natalia was being entirely truthful when she answered, “I did not know that until after we’d wed. In another lifetime I’d take full advantage, but with my brother sending his soldiers to slaughter and bringing the Tsar’s wrath on to me, I am less concerned with if my husband can build me a beautiful gun, and more concerned with whether or not I will live long enough to request one.” “Assume I believe any of this.” Mikhail stated, and Natalie smiled to herself because she could already tell he was swayed by her story and more than likely, by her show of skin. “How will you show your appreciation?” “Well I’m sure we could come to some sort of--” There was no mistaking the sound of gunfire, not even when it was muted beneath the melody of the musicians and noise of party-goers, and both Natalia and Mikhail froze when they heard it again. Across the way, Pietro signaled wildly to Ronin, who rotated in his little spot and notched an arrow-- --and sent it into the heart of a guard running down the hall after Samuel and James. James leapt from the top stair and hit the landing below tucking into a roll, jumped out of it and went tearing down another floor with Samuel hot on his heels. Neither man was stupid enough to try and get into a gun fight with soldiers at their back and innocent people below so it was up to Ronin to take out the three pursuing guards and he did so without hesitating, one body after another falling within a matter of seconds. The ballroom erupted into screams when one of the guards stumbled into the railing of a balcony and fell to his death on the marble floor below, and in the pandemonium, James threw an ornate chair through a glass window and dove through the resulting mess. Samuel took only a second to bring his jacket up around his face as he somersaulted through as well, smashing what was left of the window frame. Ronin sent a grappling hook to adjoining balcony and the crowd screamed all over again at the sight of a man soaring through the air with a bow held on his back with no apparent destination. Mikhail fully expected a second body to land on his floor, and turned to throw his arms around Natalia to shield her from any… splatter...but when he reached for the redhead, she was already gone.

The Black Widow and the Winter Soldier had melted back into the night like the ghosts they’d worked so hard to become, leaving nothing but blood and bodies in their wake. Mikhail ground his teeth together and ordered, “Bring me Rumlow now. If he isn’t dead yet, he’s about to be.”

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

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#ncts fics #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #natalia romanova #sam wilson #ronin

[flirtingwitharson]

drunk remus plz

contrary to popular belief, I haven’t died, just am trying to find time and motivation you mega nerds

Remus Lupin wasn’t exactly one to get drunk. It was honestly difficult to get him even bordering on inebriated, considering his metabolism was extraordinarily quick, what with his lycanthropy and everything. It took some rather strong whiskey and arseloads of convincing to make it happen, really. Luckily enough, in all matters concerning whiskey and Remus Lupin, Sirius Black was very, very gifted.

“Remus John Lupin, you are not bailing on your own fucking birthday party,” Sirius scoffed, strolling dramatically into the common room and simultaneously scaring off children in younger years with the stomping of his heavy boots. “A little birdie called James let loose that you said to him that you ‘weren’t really feeling it this year’, or whatever bullshit excuse you gave. Not feeling it, my arse.”

Giving a world weary sigh–having only picked up just a hint of Sirius’ dramatic tendencies over the years–Remus uncrossed his legs and gently placed his bookmark inside his novel, preparing himself for the skirmish Sirius was surely about to stage. “You’re causing a scene,” were the words that came out of his mouth first, taking the form of a half-assed attempt to stop Sirius’ idiosyncrasies before they even got started. 

“As if,” Sirius replied, his drama increasing as his irritation increased as well. “Moony, you are turning eighteen, the big one-eight, Mr. Adult, you can’t just not  have a party. I won’t hear anything of it.” 

“It just gets boring, having all these parties all the time, you know that’s not my kind of fun, Sirius,” reasoned Remus tiredly. It was true; Remus was always the odd one out of their tight little group. He liked to go out, sure, but all of these grandiose parties with drinks, and people he’d hardly ever even talked to, it just wasn’t his scene. However, James and Sirius were quite the opposite: they loved to entertain, and host, and simply just have loads of fun, so organizing huge ragers in the Gryffindor common room and getting drunk off their arses was right up their alley.

“Moony, Moony, Moony,” Sirius crooned. “I’ll make it fun, I promise. Since when have I ever let you down?”

“Well–”

“Don’t answer that.”

The conversation seemed settled, and Remus was one hundred and one percent positive that he would resent his inability to say no to Sirius for the rest of eternity.

Sirius and James made it their goal for the evening to finally, for what might be the first time, to get Remus Lupin properly and totally pissed. Being the rich, unknowingly privileged people they were, they went out and bought the nicest, strongest alcohol they could, fully determined to make the one to remember–or get so drunk that they couldn’t. They snuck the crate they had gathered into their dormitory under the invisibility cloak, knocking it off their to-do list as they headed out to spread the word of  “Mr. Moony’s Birthday Banger” (not their most creative title, but it would have to do last minute.

“How do you figure you’ll even be able to convince him to drink?” James asked curiously as he walked besides Sirius, handing out flyers to all sixth and seventh years they came across. 

“Oh, some jealousy, a lap dance, and whispering dirty things into his ear should do the trick,” Sirius smirked devilishly, the unsurprised sigh that James emitted satisfying him.

“Why of all people he chose to fall for your sorry arse, I’ll never understand.”

“I’m irresistible, Jamesy, how could I blame him?”

The party was a roaring success, as was any event organized by the daunting duo of Padfoot and Prongs. The gift table was sneakily placed next to the drink table, encouraging everyone to not only spoil the birthday boy, but to get spoiled on the plethora of alcohol they had provided. Remus sulked nearby in an armchair, wearily smiling and conversing with all who were courteous enough to wish him a happy birthday, even if most were just there for the booze. Sirius tutted at the sight, and set off to begin step one of Mission Get Moony Hammered. He took a swig of the beer he was starting out with, and sauntered over to Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the only other students besides Remus and himself that was out as a queer man, barring Marlene and Dorcas proudly announcing themselves as lesbian (far, far too publicly). He made eye contact with Remus from across the room, grinning mischievously before laying his hand on Kingsley’s shoulder. “Hey, Shacklebolt,” he said in a low tone, shooting him a well-practiced smile, “care for a dance?”

“What will the boyfriend say, Black?” Kingsley laughed back, knowing full well what Sirius’ end goal was, because they’d been down this road before.

“This time I’m not trying to get him to shag me–well, yet,” Sirius insisted. “I just fancy seeing him drunk off his arse on his eighteenth birthday, surely you understand what amusement that long-concealed knowledge could provide.”

“Very well,” came the reply as Kingsley allowed Sirius to drag him off to the makeshift dance floor and place his hands on his lower back. Sirius was confident that this would at least get Remus started, and surely enough, when Sirius looked back over ta his lover, their was a beer in his white-knuckled fist as he conversed with Frank Longbottom. Sirius knew that it was a bit sick to make his boyfriend jealous just for a drink, but Remus always pulled the same tactics when he wanted something out of Sirius, and the whole population of Europe could deduce that Remus and Sirius were madly in love and that their teasing and shenanigans meant nothing in the slightest.

“Thank you, Shacksy my dear,” Sirius smiled as he slipped a cheeky grab of his arse in before departing. “He better be good in bed!” Kingsley called after him halfheartedly, Sirius hardly having heard him as he made a beeline for Remus. He sat right on his lap, completely ignoring the conversation that he was interrupting while he tilted Remus’ chin up to make him focus on him alone. If he was honest, Sirius was already a bit tipsy, for he and James had ‘sampled’ everything before people arrived. 

Frank got the message and went off to go join James in a heated argument about the Quidditch World Cup, leaving Sirius and Remus alone in a rather small chair. “Enjoying yourself, Moon man?” asked Sirius, smiling down at his boyfriend happily, if not a little sneakily.

“Why do you always have to tease,” pouted Remus, furrowing his brow as he stared at Sirius  right back. 

“You and I both know it’s the only way to get you to have a little fun,” replied Sirius quite simply, ducking to peck the pout off of Remus’ lips.

“Don’t think I didn’t realize you bought particularly strong beverages this time around, mangy mutt.”

“…Okay, guilty, but I resent the mangy bit,” Black insisted. “Aw, c’mon, Moons, lighten up. It’s one night, and we leave here in three months for the last time, and everyone will forget all about us and no one will give two shites about that one birthday party they were at in March of their seventh year.”

Remus looked across the room, back at Sirius, and sighed. “Fine, then. Pour me a drink, you bastard.” Sirius could have sworn his grin reached his ears.

Two beers, one whiskey, and a multitude of birthday shots later, and James and Sirius were sure they reached their goal. In fact, they knew they finally had, but were quite honestly a bit frightened about what drunk Remus might entail. After all, he wasn’t used to it–he was almost never, ever drunk. 

Currently, Remus was dancing with an equally drunken Lily…shirtless, the both of them, on top of some table on the other side of the room. “Er, Prongs?” Sirius asked hesitantly. “Is it just me, or is that-is that Lily and Moons on that table?”

James’ eyes widened as they flicked from Sirius to the table and back to Sirius again. “I fucking believe it is,” he replied in awe. “Hell, Moony’s hammered! He’s got to be, he never even takes his shirt off in front of me, much less in front of loads of randos.” After the shock settled down a bit, James and Sirius raced over to go convince their significant others to put their clothes back on and drink some water, as Sirius and James had been doing for the last half hour in order to be good hosts.

“Pads! Oh, you’ve got to dance with me up here, I’m a much better dancer than Kingsley,” Remus whined gleefully–and rather bluntly at that–his voice surprisingly slurred. 

Unlike Remus might have done if the situation were switched, Sirius gave in. He let Remus pull him up to the table, and was happily shocked when Remus hands immediately slipped down the back of his pants. It was quite the spectacle, but Sirius was always one for causing scenes. James had already persuaded Lily off the table and to the staircase to sit her down and give her water–for fear of another embarrassing situation (she was a wild drunk). 

“Moony!” Sirius yelped, jaw falling open when Remus slipped his hand down further and squeezed his arse. “There are prying eyes!” Remus shrugged and simply pressed his body closer to Sirius’. Sirius made eye contact with James and grinned, mouthing ‘holy fuck’ as Remus continued to borderline grind on him, acting much unlike himself. 

“Mm, I’ve the hottest boyfriend in the school,” Remus mumbled lowly in his ear, ignoring Sirius’ half hearted attempts at prying him off. All of their friends were catcalling them and cheering them on by now, but Remus was completely and utterly oblivious. 

“Moony, as much as I love what you’re doing, you can’t do…whatever it is you’re trying to do in front of half the school,” Sirius reprimanded, taking a deep breath and internally believing that he should earn some type of award for the amount of strength it took to not give in to Remus right then and there.

“You…are an awfully boring boyfriend, s’not fair,” Remus pouted, trying to tug Sirius’ shirt off now too. When Sirius didn’t give in, Remus huffed and stepped back, subsequently falling off the table. “Fuck,” he groaned, trying to stand up, yet falling right back down. Sirius covered his mouth with his hand and laughed in surprise at Remus’ expense, but stepped off the table when he realized he should probably be a gentleman and help him up. 

“C’mon, pup, let’s get some water in you,” he suggested, crouching as he sat Remus up and stroked his hair. Remus looked like he was about to protest, but was interrupted as he leaned over and vomited all over Sirius, then passed out.

Maybe this would be a night to remember after all.

#this kinda sucks #but hey its long #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #harry potter #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew #lily evans #kingsley shacklebolt #moony #wormtail #padfoot #prongs #marauders #marauders era #mwpp

[absolutelyxosmittenxo]

Imagine: Miscellaneous RWBY characters spending Valentine's Day with you.

RUBY ROSE: “Happy Valentine’s Day!” cheerfully, the huntress flaunts a freshly baked batch of chocolate chip cookies, dough molded to resemble hearts for the occasion. Ruby licks the cookie crumbs away from the corners of her mouth, smiling sheepishly. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind sharing, {Name}.”

WEISS SCHNEE: Spoiling you rotten was inevitable for Weiss, the temptation too irresistible. “I'm certain I didn't miss anything,” hands firmly on her hips, the heiress pridefully stands before a mountain of chocolate and bouquets of flowers placed outside your dormitory. All meant for you, of course.

BLAKE BELLADONNA: Pale complexion resembling a blooming strawberry patch, the Belladonna would be mesmerized as you present the stacks of romantic novels you purchased for the lovey dovey event. Messages emphasizing your love for her slipped inside, just above the signatures of acclaimed authors. Blake's excitement would be through the roof. Lucky for you, your benevolence would earn you a demonstration of some scenes in “Ninjas of Love”.

YANG XIAO LONG: Your girlfriend always has something up her sleeve, you swear. “Junior, get us another round of strawberry sunrise. And give us your Valentine's Day special.” “For the last time, we don't-” Yang would raise her fist, making Hei Xiong straighten up. “Fine, play something romantic, boys.” Leaning back contently, arm draping over your shoulder, the huntress would wink at you. “You deserve only the best on Valentine's Day, you know.”

ZWEI: The corgi performs an excavation of the backyard, digging up buried bones of the past. His canines cling to them before dropping the present before you, yipping happily in expectation. Although you aren’t sure how you can benefit from the dog’s bones, you return the gesture with an assortment of belly rubs and dog treats.

PENNY POLENDINA: Valentine’s Day wouldn’t be programmed into the robot’s hard drive, as it wasn’t imperative to her design. However, she ‘researches’ the topic upon catching wind of its existence - or, in other words, interrogating Ruby as much as possible. And you’ll be astounded at Penny’s dedication to bringing you the best Valentine’s Day of your life, as she glomps you with such vigor, thumbs prodding your palm as you venture into a Vale park (Atlesian soldiers monitoring you from the bushes and behind trees) and answering all her questions about the world.

JAUNE ARC: The youngest Arc has a lengthy list of ideas for how today will go. Guitar strings strumming as he tenderly yanked them, Jaune would sing you a little song he rehearsed many times in advance. His mind wandered to how awestruck you would be at his later arrangements, as you enjoyed a picnic in the school courtyard, danced on the roof- why were you giggling? Oh, yeah, Jaune nearly forgot he was wearing a dress to make you laugh.

NORA VALKYRIE: The thunderstruck damsel would be shouting to the Heavens “HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!” as she swings you around merrily. Once Nora gets (only a tiny fragment) of her energy wiped from her system, you would hand her a plush sloth, fabric pink and softer than anything you could have ever imagined. “You wanna know what sound a sloth makes?” you would inquire. “Press its stomach.” Accordingly, Nora would press the sloth's tummy, as it emits an adorable automated “I love you!” Let's just say you weren't allowed to be freed from the Valkyrie's embrace for what felt like hours.

PYRRHA NIKOS: “Remember when we danced the night away, gazing at the stars and dreaming of a new future?” you would ask aloud, feet embedded in the snowfall as you relax on the bench. Argus was occupied by streams of couples, woes laid to rest as they coalesced. But you chose to bask in your thoughts of the past, eyes locked on the statue of Pyrrha with much admiration and adoration. “I still love you, oh so much, Pyrrha.” Even if it might just be your imagination, you are certain the wind whispers “I still love you” in return.

LIE REN: An early riser from the mornings spent with Nora, the composed huntsman would prepare an impressive stack of heart shaped pancakes before you wake, drizzling them in syrup and layering them in butter galore. Ren’s ears perk as he registers you yawn, ignorant to the “Please do nothing to the cook” written on his apron as you slink your arms around his waist and rest your head into his shoulder. But of course, he doesn’t mind one bit.

SUN WUKONG: The Vacuo born goofball has his tail curled around a tree branch, dangling haphazardly above the ground. As to catch you off guard, Sun would drop down, holding a sign reading “Be my Valentine?”. Before the faunus knows it, he's fallen out of the tree and gets a hearty laugh and nod in agreement from you. How he smiles so stupidly and happily proves to be contagious.

NEPTUNE VASILIAS: Hydrophobia or not, Neptune was determined; mustering enough courage to reach his goal required patience, though. But seeing your eyes light up as you watch the fishes pierce through the water in their respective tanks proved satisfying. You two would lay in the middle of the aquarium on the provided comforters, marveling at the aquatic creatures swimming about and bathing in the awareness of your heartbeats. “Hey, maybe we should go to the beach after this,” you joked. Neptune gulped, “Uh..how about not?”

OZPIN: Clock chimes echo throughout the tower of Beacon Academy, on the brink of tranquility as it soothes your nerves. Reincarnation has worn the headmaster out, as his constant trial and error leave him in ruin. But as you are glowing warmly at his presence, never scrutinizing and gladly accepting a freshly brewed cup of hot chocolate, Ozpin knows he truly has found love. With a kiss, he bids you well. “Happy Valentine's Day, dear.”

GLYNDA GOODWITCH: Heartbeats of hormone influenced teenagers were rampant as they exchanged romantic quips and messages. Of course, Glynda was not excluded from the festivity as you handed her a custom made Valentine, with “You're simply magical” written on the front. She would smile with an eye roll, kissing your forehead. “And you are simply silly, but lovely.” A chorus of students either awe or gasp at the exchange. “Students, you best be heading back to your classes.”

JAMES IRONWOOD: The Tin Man has a heart embezzled in gold, contrary to the militaristic exterior James portrays. He would reserve a day off, showing a blind eye to the stress of handling an entire Atlesian military. All that matters is the tugging at your lips as you smile and wrap your arms around him. A dinner made for two perfect people would be followed with an indulgence in sweet loving, as the general would ignore the calls from Jacques. He doesn't need that heartless bastard ruining his special time with you.

WINTER SCHNEE: Similar to the composed yet occasionally arrogant general, the winter soldier hadn't spared much time to set aside for Valentine's Day prior. But as you have entered Winter's life, this year brings an exception. Draping her military uniform on the bedside, she cups your face in her hands, head nudging your temple as soft kisses are gifted to you. Weiss’ sister is an absolute sweetheart in private settings, as you have melted away the elite attitude she conveys. For once, the older Schnee senses Valentine's Day is worth her time, if you are there beside her.

CINDER FALL: “It appears the day of love is upon us, {Name}.” You would be wrapped around her finger, lured in by the enchanting flames she cast. Cinder carved the hellish embers into hearts as yours feverishly thumped in your chest. The Fall Maiden would weave her ghastly Grimm tendrils in your hair, bringing you closer. “We mustn't waste the opportunity to express how much we love one another, dear.”

ROMAN TORCHWICK: A dashing soul has to pamper his darling. Roman would shower you in miscellaneous riches; avarice glinting in his forest greens as his right hand mute, Neo, assists him in nabbing them. Concluding Valentine's Day with an extravagant dinner, you can't help but wonder how he managed to afford it all. “Isn't my love for you more important?” He realizes you're narrowing your eyes at him. “..yeah, majority of these were stolen. Happy Valentine's Day.”

MERCURY BLACK: He isn't too thrilled for Valentine's Day, preferring to disregard antagonistic responsibilities and laze about rather than doing something fancy. Mercury would tangle an arm around you, holding you on top of him as his legs were exposed and propped outward. You would pop a few chocolate hearts into his mouth, waiting for his feedback. “I'm more of a dark chocolate kinda guy, to be honest.”

EMERALD SUSTRAI: “Psh, what's the point of Valentine's Day anyway,” rolling her eyes, the Sustrai would groan. The holiday was merely a sappy and over hyped waste of time in the thief's perspective. But you've got her stumped, as you bought her something so sweet she couldn't simply idly sit by. She would be obligated to steal as she gandered at teddy bears and Valentine themed gifts. Yet Emerald knew you were worth than that. “Never thought I'd owe you, {Name}.”

NEOPOLITAN: Undoubtedly, Valentine's Day would be spent in an ice cream parlor. Your tongue swirled the refreshing taste of your most favored flavor, enjoying every moment of its existence. Prone to deviation, the mute would eye you as you consumed your icy treat. Neo would raise up your chin, halting your consumption, and gingerly peck your lips. You're a little shocked to notice the tiny girl licking her lips as she savors the taste of your favorite icecream flavor - and let's be honest: Neopolitan was much better in comparison to {favorite icecream}.

SUMMER ROSE: Summer's soul could be compared to the moon, eyes sparkling as the cosmic decorations in the evening sky hovering aloft. It was hard not falling for the silver eyed warrior. You've missed her since the fatal day she left. But she would never want you to succumb to your grief. As you set cherry blossom pink roses upon her grave, you flutter your eyelashes at the Heavens, sighing softly. “I love you.”

TAIYANG XIAO LONG: Exuberance coursing through their veins, young Ruby and Yang would shroud you in makeshift cards with cutesy, childlike illustrations of you and Taiyang. Hearts floating above your heads as your stick arms touch. Tai is touched his daughters have welcomed their new parent with open arms, “These look great, girls.” And just for their reaction, the T of STRQ would smooch you, which you happily reciprocate despite the gagging noises of the sisters.

RAVEN BRANWEN: The Branwen tribe didn't exactly commemorate the holiday of romance. Raven especially found it particularly frivolous. But as the Spring Maiden draws the tent you shared open, irises reminiscent of bloodshed would notice something amiss. A cuddly teddy bear contrasting with the gloomy atmosphere left with a note attached, wishing her a happy Valentine's from you to her. The gesture would elicit a scoff, but she can't resist the urge to internally soften with a slight smirk.

QROW BRANWEN: Valentine's Day was sure to be abundant with disaster. But he would cling to a small thread of hope. His flask is spared from his lips, as they are not parched for the alcoholic contents; he straightens himself up, slicking those ebony streaks back. Qrow would rub the back of his head, offering a gift box intended for you to open. “I'm not really the type for Valentine's Day, with how my semblance is and all, but you're worth the risk.”

OSCAR PINE: “I understand a lot has been going on lately, and we haven't really gotten a break.” Nervously, he would scratch his cheek, gesturing to a small candlelight dinner in the works. “But I thought maybe you and I could spend Valentine's Day together, and not worry about anyth- OH NO MY CASSEROLE!” What could be sweeter than burnt casserole?

SALEM: The forgotten fairytale has resided on Earth past her intended expiration date. Romance hasn't exactly been all too kind from previous pursuits. However, your significance is enough to change her mind. Dismissing her underlings, none would disturb you. Salem would lovingly caress your features with chilling fingers, emanating a genuine sense of compassion for your well-being. “I thank you, as I haven't spent a day devoted to love with true joy in so long, my dear {Name}.”

TYRIAN CALLOWS: Callous digits would fondle the petals of a faltering flower, reciting quotation similar to William Shakespeare. The scorpion would offer it to you, grinning creepily but remaining charming. “Oh, My Love, how you've tangled me in your web. I cannot escape - but how could I ever desire to do so, when the one who has trapped me is oh so lovely?~”

ILIA AMITOLA: “Would you be my Valentine?” It felt ridiculous, as an ex affiliate of the White Fang, to beseech such a thing. The chameleon's heart tingles and a sprinkle of fairy dust coats her countenance. She hasn't experienced much romantic sentiment for an individual aside from Blake, explaining her inexperience. However, accepting her proposal and kissing her cheek elicits her body to appear to completely vanish, only given away by the burning red speckles along her skin.

#rwby #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #ruby rose #team rwby #rwby imagines #ilia amitola #oscar pine #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #nora valkyrie #tyrian callows #emerald sustrai #mercury black #cinder fall #lie ren #valentines #qrow branwen #raven branwen #taiyang xiao long #summer rose #james ironwood #glynda goodwitch #ozpin

[somethingjustsouthofbrilliance]

I Got You (Tony/Rhodey secret service AU) Chapter 10

Warning for mentions of abuse of a minor. Again, nothing graphic, just an fyi.

Links to chapter 1, chapter 9

Tagging @jamesrhodey  @supernaturalyloki @chanderefk @aimeeroot21 @markedplaces @mostly-marvel-stuffs @matre-dee @le-ephemere @lo-anlurui @savedbyholmes @kimmycup @typicalcampbell @natty-ts70 @damnhiatus @pubzie @giulisetta @goose-danvers  @donttellanyoneitsmebabe @bookwermthings @tonystark5ever  @polygamoussquamous @swanheart69 @schalabi422

Chapter 10

She’s in the middle of changing the dressing on Tony’s wound when the door to her bedroom is pushed open and James walks in.  He watches her in silence for a few moments, hovering awkwardly by the far wall, before stepping further into the room.

 “How is he?”

 She shrugs, one-shouldered, picks up a roll of gauze to place over the dressing.  “The bleeding has slowed down quite a bit,” she allows, carefully smoothing out the gauze.  Lingers, her fingers resting lightly on the strip of the tanned skin turned pale with blood loss.  It feels warm under her touch.  A little too warm.  She tells James as much.  

 “Infection?”

 There’s an unmistakable note of worry in his voice, a reflection of her own, and she bites her lip against it.  Sighs, pulling the blanket back up to cover Tony’s shoulders.  

 “I’ll be keeping an eye on it,” she says.  “There’s a pharmacist I know next town over.  I can get antibiotics from him, if need be.”

And, hopefully, there won’t be, she thinks.  Because, Tony’s strong.  He’s gonna beat this.  She has to believe it, she has to.  

She scans the slack features before her, her chest tight with concern.  “You made me a promise, Mr. Stark,” she reminds him silently, smoothing her fingers over a furrow of pain that creases Tony’s forehead even in the unconsciousness of sleep.  “Don’t you dare break it now.”

 She hears James hum distractedly in response, hears the floorboards creak as the man approaches the bed, hesitating to a stop a couple steps away.

 “Something on your mind?” She raises an eyebrow at him, waits him out as he stands there, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as if unsure how to begin.

 He sighs, long and heavy. Runs his palm over his short buzz of hair.  “Is it true? About Howard?” he blurts out finally, his eyes a bit desperate, a bit wild.

 “What about Howard?” She sees James flinch at her tone. Knows she sounds cold, hostile even, but she can’t help it – the mere mention of that man sets her teeth on edge. Especially now, when Tony lies here, unconscious; when it’s only been hours since she cleaned his blood off her hands; when she can’t help but remember the last time she’d seen him like this….  

 To James’s credit, he doesn’t back down.  Holds his ground even under her scorching glare.  “I didn’t know Howard personally,” he begins, cautious but determined, “but his reputation–”

 “I know all about his reputation,” she spits, her lips pursing in disgust.

 “He was a well-respected figure in Washington,” he objects weakly, like it’s an obligation he feels somehow to defend Howard’s name, and she grits her teeth sharply to keep herself from snapping at him once again.  

He’s got more to say, she can see it.  So she’ll let him talk and then she’ll decide if what he says justifies her committing murder.

 James chews his lip again, blows out another breath.  “Look, I misjudged him.  Tony. Badly.  I… everything I’ve learned today, it’s…” He shakes his head, looking weary all of a sudden, drained.  “Tony said something in the car on the way here.  I don’t think he meant to say it and I, well, frankly, I wasn’t even sure I understood him right, but…”  He flicks an oddly distressed, uneasy glance at Tony before meeting her eyes once more. “Did Howard really…” He makes an aborted gesture in Tony’s direction.  “Was Tony…”

 “Abused?”

 He winces at her bluntness. Nods, crossing his arms on his chest as if to protect himself somehow from the ugly truth of it.  

The absurdity of the gesture almost makes her laugh.

 “I met Tony when I was in fourth grade.  Our principal, Mr. Wolfe, came in to our classroom one day almost halfway through the first semester with this scrawny 7-year-old.  Said the kid was gonna be joining our class.”  He reminded her of a cornered wolf cub then the way he stood there, staring defiantly at the classroom full of much bigger, older kids – frightened and beaten but ready to fight.  

 “Fourth grade at 7 years old?” James whistles in surprise.

 “Yeah,” she chuckles grimly, remembering the angry looks, the jealous rumors, the taunts that were thrown Tony’s way.  “It didn’t go over well with the rest of us, as you can imagine.  Everyone saw him as a spoiled rich brat whose daddy probably paid off the principal to get him placed in a higher grade (never mind that he was smarter than everyone there).  Who was too good to talk to any of us or to sit with us at lunch.  Too good to ride the bus, so he had his butler take him to and from school.”

 She runs her hand absently down the blanket, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles.  Stops when she reaches Tony’s hand, her fingers twitching slightly in indecision before she carefully picks it up to cradle in her own.

 “Took me months to realize that that butler, Jarvis, was the only person in Tony’s house who actually gave a damn about him,” she admits, her voice thick with self-loathing.  Runs her fingers with soothing apology over the bruised, scraped knuckles.  “Tony would disappear every so often.  Wouldn’t show up to school for days at a time.  Everyone thought he was probably tanning on some exotic beach in the Caribbean or something.  Only…. only he would come back and he’d be paler than before and he’d walk funny and flinch as if he were in pain whenever people bumped into him in the hallway.”  She looks up at James, her lips twisting bitterly. “You don’t get concussions and broken bones while lounging on the beach.”

 James runs a shaking hand over his mouth, eyes wide with horrified disbelief.  “And nobody… nobody knew?”

 “Some people did,” she acknowledges, the old familiar pang of guilt thrumming deep in her heart, making her chest twinge with it.  “But nobody could do anything.  Howard had the whole town bought and paid for.  His staff, the school administrators, the teachers, the doctors – if any of them so much as thought about going to the authorities, Howard’s lawyers would have… these people would have been out of the job.  He’s done it, too.  It wasn’t an empty threat.”  She drops her gaze down to where her thumb continues to trace gentle, absentminded circles along the skin of Tony’s hand.  “And Tony knew.  That’s why he never complained to anyone.  Lied whenever someone would ask him how he got hurt.  He’d say he fell off a bike, or tripped walking down the stairs, or ran into a door, or some other ridiculous excuse like that.”  

 A harsh angry bark of laughter scrapes its way out of her throat, and she clamps her mouth shut against it, clenches her free hand into a fist.  Because those lies? She fell for them, too, at first.  She fell for them, too.  And she never did forgive herself for it.

 “He didn’t want people losing their jobs because of him.  Didn’t think he was worth it,” she whispers, feeling the shocked horror of that realization gnaw at her heart even now, decades later.  “Can you imagine that?  The kind of life he had as a kid that would make him believe something like this?”

 James swallows thickly, looking vaguely sick.  Works his mouth for a moment, the words seeming to flounder in their attempt to break past his lips.  “And his mother?” he manages finally in a breathy whisper.

 “His mother…” She huffs out a tired, rueful breath.  Maria loved Tony, Pepper’s sure of it.  Tried her best to protect him from Howard’s drunken rages when she could muster enough courage to do so. Which wasn’t often enough.  Not nearly often enough.  But she did try.    

 In the end, it was what got her killed.

 “Tony got sick one time over the winter.  The flu.”  Her lips twitch with mild amusement when she sees the way James frowns at her, confused at the apparent non sequitur.  But her smile dims all too quickly as her mind flashes back to that night she visited Tony at the hospital, to the way he sat there, slumped in Jarvis’s cautious embrace, still so frighteningly pale and with that heartachingly lost, broken look in his eyes.

 “Howard didn’t believe in being sick,” she spits out, her voice dripping with venom.  “His favorite mantra was ‘Stark men are made of iron’. Been drilling it into Tony’s head from the day he was born.  Imagine how disappointed he was when he found out that Maria kept Tony home from school because of some flu.  So the bastard made Tony stand outside for 3 hours in his pj’s in 20 degree weather.  To toughen him up.” She raises one hand in the air, her fingers snapping out air quotes. Drags in a breath, struggling to maintain her rapidly slipping composure.   “Tony ended up in the hospital with pneumonia.  Jarvis told me his fever got so high, they were afraid they were going to lose him.  And Maria, she didn’t take it well.  It…uh… it was the first time that Tony actually came close to dying at Howard’s hand and, I guess, it rattled her.  Enough so that she confronted Howard.”

 “What…uh… what happened?” There’s a hesitancy in James’s question, almost as if he’s asking it against his will, as if he would really rather not know.  Not that she can blame him, really.

 She doesn’t know all that happened, though.  Jarvis wouldn’t even tell Tony all of it, trying to spare the boy (not that it helped any).  

She tells James what she does know.  That there was an argument, a bad one.  That, for a long time after, there was a faded bloodstain on the floor of the Stark mansion next to a broken piece of railing at the bottom of the staircase that led from the upstairs floor down to the foyer.  That Tony got so upset when Jarvis broke the news to him that a nurse had to sedate him to keep him from hurting himself.  And that Tony believes his mother’s death was his fault because, in his mind, he was the reason for that argument and because he was stuck in the hospital and wasn’t there to keep Howard’s fury away from her.

 Tony had vowed then that he wouldn’t let anyone else he loved get hurt because of him.  He hasn’t broken that vow since.

 Beside her James sinks down heavily into a nearby chair, moves his head from side to side with a wide-eyed, shell-shocked look.  “Was that when… You said before that Jarvis was Tony’s guardian.  Did he take custody of him then?”

 She shakes her head, presses her lips together hard enough to feel the ache shoot all the way up to the joints of her jaw.  “About a year later,” she replies, reaching for the blanket again to pull it down from where it’s covering Tony’s chest.  “After this.” She points to a small round patch of scarred skin slightly to the left of Tony’s breastbone, faded over time.   Hears a sharp intake of breath beside her that lets her know James recognizes it for what it is.

 “H-how?” is all he manages, his voice sounding dangerously strained, as though it physically pained him to say it.

 She raises Tony’s hand to her lips, turns it gently to press a light kiss into his palm.  Lays it against her cheek, letting herself burrow into its familiar calloused warmth, drawing strength from the contact.  She’s gonna need it if she has any hope of getting through that particular story without breaking down completely.

 “It was the anniversary of Maria’s death.  Tony was…,” she closes her eyes briefly, wincing at the memory, “he wasn’t handling it well.  Couldn’t really concentrate in school.  The teachers were understanding, of course.  They knew.” She huffs, resentful.  “It was hard not to, what with the news coverage slobbering all over the tearjerker story of the poor grieving widower Howard Stark and his son.”  She finds it hard not to gag as she says it out loud now.  Back then she felt like scratching out the eyes of every news anchor that waxed poetic about the elder Stark on that ‘difficult anniversary of his wife’s untimely death’.

 “They let him go home. I volunteered to drive him – the perks of being 3 years older.” A smile tugs at her lips unbidden as she remembers Tony pouting like a disgruntled toddler the day she got her learner’s permit. She, of course, made sure to milk the advantage fully for the next three years, rubbing it in her friend’s face any chance she had.  

 Except that day.

 “We heard a gunshot just as we pulled up, and Tony… he just ran inside – didn’t even wait for me to stop the car.”  

 She takes a breath, short and unsteady.  Feels it hitch uncomfortably in her chest.  She remembers running into the house, following the sounds of raised voices. Remembers finding them all in the kitchen: Howard, his eyes bloodshot with alcohol and anger, a half-sloshed-out drink in one hand and a gun in the other; Jarvis, pale but determined, his hands gripping the countertop as if he were trying to stop himself from lunging at his employer; and Tony, slowly inching closer to his father, his hands raised imploringly as he pleaded with him to put the gun down.

 “Howard was drunk,” she says, gripping Tony’s hand harder.  She can feel herself start to tremble, can feel her heart stammer wildly in her chest.  She doesn’t think she’s ever been as scared as she was that day.  

“He was drunk and he was angry, and he decided to take it out on Jarvis.  And Tony, he…  he couldn’t bear the thought of losing someone else.  Especially not on that day.  There was already a smoking hole in the wall next to where Jarvis was standing, and Howard wasn’t calming down, he wasn’t even… I don’t think he even knew where he was or what he was doing.”

 There’s a watery veil in her eyes, and she raises her gaze to the ceiling to keep the tears at bay. Beside her James sits still as a statue, she’s not even sure the man’s breathing, but she can feel his eyes on her, the shocked, troubled heaviness of his scrutiny.  

 She forces herself to keep talking.

 She tells him how Howard raised his gun again, and how Tony lunged at him, pushing him hard into the wall to get him away from Jarvis.  How Howard roared in a drunken rage and swung the weapon at his son, pistol-whipping the boy and sending him stumbling down onto the floor.  How his trigger finger jerked at the tail-end of that wild swing; how deafening the sound of the gunshot felt when she was standing so close.

 She blinks, letting the tears spill over, running unchecked down her cheeks.  Drops her gaze back down to the small pink scar on Tony’s chest, her free hand reaching for it without conscious thought, fingers ghosting over the puckered skin.  

 A memory washes over her, a nightmarish flood of images she knows she’ll never forget.  

 Jarvis rushing past Howard to get to Tony, who’s struggling weakly to pull himself up, looking dazed and scared.  There’s a small trickle of blood on Tony’s face from where the impact of the barrel broke the skin, and it runs in a thin steady line down his cheek, curving at his jawline to slip innocuously down his neck and stain the collar of his shirt.  Another, larger stain mars the front of it, spreading outwards from a small ragged hole in it center, growing and growing and growing.  Jarvis presses his hands over it – they tremble, Pepper notices.  And isn’t that odd? Jarvis’s hands never tremble, but here they are, shaking like an aspen leaf in the wind.  And Tony winces, trying to flinch away from Jarvis’s touch, his face scrunching up as if in pain, but Jarvis doesn’t relent.  Jarvis shouts at her, at Pepper, to call the ambulance, and he presses down on Tony’s chest harder and harder and harder.  And Tony cries out, Jarvis’s name falling from his lips – a gasped out plea chased with blood that stains them red and drips down his chin when he attempts to speak again.  And Jarvis’s face grows ashen with fear, something Pepper’s never seen before.  And then he’s lifting Tony up in his arms, and then they’re running, out the kitchen, down the hallway, outside, to Pepper’s car.  No ambulance, it’s gonna take too long….

 She takes a long, shuddering breath, pulling herself forcibly out of the haunting vision.  Glances at her suspiciously silent audience, sitting hunched over in his chair, his head buried in his hands.  

 “I’ve never seen Jarvis so angry.  He was… I honestly think that the only reason he didn’t shoot Howard right then and there was because Tony needed him more,” she muses quietly.  “And I think Howard realized that, too.  Jarvis told him after - once we knew that Tony was going to be okay – he told him he was taking Tony away.  He went back to the house, packed up all of his and Tony’s stuff right in front of Howard and told Howard that he was leaving and taking Tony with him, and that if Howard so much as thought about stopping him that he would rip him apart with his bare hands.  And Howard just… let him go.  Let them both go.  He didn’t fight it.  I think he was afraid to.”

 Gently, she lays Tony’s hand back down onto the sheets, tucks it under the blanket that she pulls back up to cover his chest.  “Very few people know about this.  Even here at the Foundation,” she warns, and James raises his head at that, gives her a slightly confused look.  “Tony doesn’t like to talk about being abused.  Thinks it makes him weak.”  She closes her eyes, pained, lifts one hand to wipe at the tears drying on her cheeks.  “Another one of Howard’s life lessons,” she adds, her lips twisting in disdain.  She’s glad Howard’s dead, but she still thinks he got off too easy.  One day, she thinks, she’s gonna drive out to New York to the ruins of the old Stark mansion and dance on the bastard’s grave.   Maybe drag Tony and Jarvis along, make it a party.

 “The only reason I told you,” she continues, stern, “is because Tony let some of that slip out in your company, and I could see you’ve already started making assumptions.  I didn’t want you to make the wrong ones.”

 “I understand,” James rasps out, subdued.  “I won’t say anything.”

 She nods, satisfied, rises stiffly to her feet.  “I’m gonna go check on the animals,” she says. “Gotta secure everything for the night.”  She still feels shaky and cold, her head swimming with the haunting memories of the past.  Some fresh air would do her good.

 James doesn’t move from where he’s sitting.  Looks at Tony with an expression of pensive worry and a watchful sort of protectiveness that loosens something in Pepper’s chest, fills it with warmth.  “I…uh… I think I’m gonna stay with him a bit, if that’s okay,” he murmurs, breaking his vigil for a moment to send a questioning look Pepper’s way.

 She dips her head in approval, leans in to plant a quick gentle kiss on Tony’s brow.  “Don’t stay up too late, though,” she warns, trying to pull off an easy smile but still falling far too short.  “This is a working farm, Mr. President, and we are all in the habit of rising early.  As a temporary resident here, you’ll be expected to pitch in.” She gestures vaguely in the direction of the window that looks out onto the field and the barn behind the house.  “Them cows ain’t gonna milk themselves.”

#ironhusbands #ironhusbands au #tony stark #james rhodey rhodes #president au #secret service au #angst #hurt/comfort #somethingjustsouthofbrilliance writes

[sherzasboss]

I can’t not. I saw a Snape!hate post earlier today and just ... yeah.

Ok, first of all. I am not a Snape Apologist. He does some severely fucked up shit in the books and there is no getting around that.

That said ... it doesn’t surprise me that he does those fucked up things. It does not surprise me at all that he became so bitter and angry etc. Also, he is not quite the demon some people like to paint him as.

Snape was born into a piss-poor family where, at the VERY least, verbal abuse was plentiful. Given what we’re told, physical abuse is not off the table, and neglect is strongly implied. His only ray of hope? Lily Evans, who only comes into his life when they’re 8 years old or so.

From this environment, Snape goes to Hogwarts. He barely gets on the gods-be-damned train before rich, entitled, spoiled James Potter and rich, entitled (but himself abused) Sirius Black lock onto him and start giving him shit. Because Snape wants Slytherin, the, to their eyes, evil House.

They claim Snape, as a first year, knew more Dark hexes than most older students. To which I say ‘BULLSHIT’. Snape was raised in a Muggle home, people. He might - MIGHT - have known the names of some Dark Hexes, but that’d be it, and it’d be debatable as hell. Because the fact that Eileen Prince walked away from her family to marry a Muggle strongly implies she was the equivalent of Andromeda Tonks nee Black. Meaning she very probably turned her back on pureblood propaganda bullshit. Which makes Snape knowing the Dark Arts unlikely as hell.

So basically, James and Sirius’ reasons for making Snape’s life hell boiled down to ‘he’s poor as fuck, a loner, an easy target, and “evil” because he WANTS the Devil House’. Also, I (James) have called dibs on Lily and he’s her friend. Since boys can’t just be friends with girls, I have to chase his skank ass away from MY girl.’

Cue Snape getting hounded, by as much as four-to-one odds, on the regular. And probably more than that, because let’s face it, kids have a herd mentality. Especially when it comes to the ‘cool’ kids. Half or more of Gryffindor House probably went out of their way to give Snape shit because he was the Marauders’ favorite victim.

And just to make matters worse, Snape GOT Slytherin House. At a time when the likes of Bellatrix, the Carrows, Lucius Malfoy, Mulciber, et al were in that House, pureblood propaganda fanatics all.

Snape would have had to start parroting the pureblood propaganda just to SURVIVE in that mess. He didn’t have the money, social connections or political clout to survive making any kind of stand otherwise. And I sincerely doubt that the Society of Future Death Eaters would have permitted mere silence on the issues of the day.

And Slughorn was way more interested in currying favor than, you know, doing his goddamned job as Head of House, so Snape had no support from that quarter. And Dumbledore proved once and for all in Snape’s fifth year that he didn’t give a shit if Snape lived or died, so there went THAT faint hope.

And then, in a moment of fury and panic and fear, he alienated Lily by blurting out a word he’d learned to say in order to survive in Slytherin House and ... there went that.

Small wonder he went ‘fuck it’ and went ‘bad’. Then one day he overhears part of a prophecy. And things get SO MUCH WORSE.

Because let’s be real here. First of all, Snape had NO reason to believe that Voldemort would take that shit seriously. Further, there is not a shred of evidence anywhere in the books that he knew Lily was pregnant (and ergo, her and her child now a target) when he reported to Voldemort.

But Voldie does take it seriously. And Lily is pregnant. And now Snape’s aimed this asshole at the one person in all of creation he gives any kind of flying shit about. He immediately drops fucking everything to try to save her.

And let’s, again, be real here. Snape had NO chance whatever of saving Harry, no matter what he did. Voldemort was locked on. End of story. If ‘maybe you shouldn’t kill the kid’ had, in any form, come out of Snape’s mouth, he’dve died for it. And fucking NO ONE in the Death Eaters was gonna buy him trying to save James’ sorry ass. Not when fully three quarters of them were in school with the two and KNOW exactly how badly the two hate each other.

But him begging for Lily’s life? That, they’d buy. And Snape? He *knows* Lily. He fucking goddamned knows she wouldn’t step aside and let Voldie kill her son. Yeah, no fucking way in hell. But if Voldemort’s capricious, batshit crazy ass stops to talk, rather than storm in throwing AK’s, it might just give Lily a chance to do something.

And then Snape doubles down on that by selling his soul to Dumbledore, who he KNOWS doesn’t give a shit about him. Whom Snape knows is a manipulative asshole.

So yes, Snape is an asshole. He’s vindictive and angry and bitter as fuck, and he does shit that is way out of line. But he also, possibly literally, got down on his fucking knees to beg for the life of a woman who’d once been his friend, and spent more than a decade under the thumb of a manipulative bastard. Three of those years he also spent under the thumb of a batshit insane psychopath. Seven of them, despite being an asshole at the same time, he spent trying his best to keep Harry Potter alive, despite Harry’s constant attempts to get himself killed in increasingly inventive ways.

In short, Snape is one of those characters that simply can’t be tucked into a single neat, tidy box labelled ‘evil’.

#Hogwarts #Harry Potter #Dumbledore #Voldemort #Snape #Severus Snape

[a-painintheneck]

Malachi Thorn Task 02

Basics:

Full Name:  Malachi Avery Thorn

Nickname/s: Mal, Thorn, bastard, asshole, leech, motherfucker, cocksucker, among others he doesn’t know about.

Age: 104

Date of Birth: April 30th, 1913

Gender: Male

Preferred Pronouns: He/Him

Species:  Vampire

Birth place: London, England

Current living situation:  Sharing a house with Henryk Barczak in Ashbourne, Nova Scotia

Occupation:  resident villain, town drunk

Appearance:

Height: 5′11

Build: Slim but with good muscle definition

Skin Tone: fair

Hair Color: Dirty blond/brown with redish highlights

Eye Color: Blue

Glasses or Contacts:  none

Birthmarks/Scars: A few scars running down his back from his time spent in concentration camps.

Tattoos/Piercings: I like Jomo’s tats so I’m using them as hc’s. He used to have a serial number on his forearm but it's gone now.

Left handed/Right handed: Right handed

Most Prominent Feature: Intense glare and malicious smile

Clothing Style: Casual style. He enjoys wearing  modern slim fit sweaters or basic t-shirts, paired with jeans and boots. He often accessorizes with leather bracelet or necklaces. He also favors leather jackets.

Face Claim: Joseph Morgan

Relationships:

Parent’s Names: Claire and Derry Thorn

Relationship with Parents: Both are dead so non existent

Sibling’s Names: Adrian, Gabriel, James, Christopher, Leopold

Relationship with Siblings: None. The first three died of influenza when they were very young.

Pets: Does Chrissy count?

Best friends: Henryk Barczak, Mila Romanoff (npc)

Foes: Everyone else

Relationship Status: Being gross with Henryk Barczak

Sire: Elias ‘who gives a fuck about your last name’ (deceased)

Fledglings: Anne Levenski, Nicolette Gardner, Justin Anderson, Beatrice Marshall, Remington Wright, among others.

Personality:

What would be their Character Archetype: The Manipulator, The Corrupter

Strongest Character Trait/s: Cleverness, has a photographic memory, artistic, passionate, can read people easily, loyal to those he actually loves.

Weakest Character Trait/s: Jealousy, fear of abandonment, has deep trust issues and insecurities, prone to violence, reckless and impulsive, loud mouth, possessive and cruel

Phobias/Fear/s: abandonment, tight spaces (claustrophobic), isolation

Biggest Secret/s:  He doesn’t tell people about his past and what he went through. There are a few people who know because they were either there, because he trusted them enough to tell them or they put two and two together somehow. Only two people know he has night terrors and what they are about.

Bad Habits: jumping to conclusions, acts before he thinks, tightening his jaw when angry, drinking far too much, smoking, pushing people away even when he wants them to be around, sabotaging his own happiness

Obsessions: Jasper Wells (formerly), Remy Wright (formerly), Henryk Barczak, painting, making fledglings, destroying people

Religion: Agnostic

Sexuality: Henryk Barczak, Pansexual

Zodiac Sign:  Taurus

Hogwarts House: None. He would get kicked out on day one

Moral Alignment:  Chaotic Neutral. Yes, neutral, I was shocked too

Opinion on Drug use: Good for spicing things up

Opinion on Alcohol use: He’s basically an alcoholic, what do you think?

Opinion on Swearing: A necessary evil

Quirks:

Hobbies: painting, reading, pushing people’s buttons

Language/s spoken: English, German and French.

Outdoors or Indoor Person: Depends on his mood

Instruments they play: Violin

Favorite Type of Music: Classical, 70′s rock and some alternative music. He went through a punk phase in the 80′s but it was short lived.

Favorite Color: Red, duh

Favorite Food: Blood, double duh. Although if we are talking human food, he does like his onion rings.

Favorite Animal: Butterflies, don’t judge. Well, moths to be more precise.

Favorite Book: Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

Favorite Scent: Leather, cigarettes, whiskey, aftershave, the way Henryk smells after sex, faeries smell pretty good too

Instagram: malthorn

What does their voicemail message sound like: "Please deposit 25 cents for the next three minutes”

Past /Future:

What were they like as a Child: Very inquisitive, always trying to figure things out. Was reckless from the start and a bit of a handful because he could never stay put. He was the youngest of five boys who liked to bully him a little, so he learned how to put walls up at a avery young age.  

Did they grow up Rich or Poor: Poor

Did they grow up Nurtured or Neglected: Nurtured. His father wasn’t around much because he worked all the time but he was a mommas boy.

What did they want to be when they grew up: Before the war started, Malachi had plans on moving to Italy to learn more about art. He wanted to paint for a living.

Smell that Reminds them of their Childhood: The smell of rain on grass, freshly baked bread because his mother used to bake all the time.

Best Childhood Memory: His mother and him used to play in the rain, jumping on puddles. One time he got really sick and spent a whole day in bed. His mom brought him home made soup and spoiled him rotten by telling him all kinds of stories.

Worst Childhood Memory: When his father died.

Are they/do they want to get Married: Nope, but he’d like to spend his life with someone.

Will they ever settle down somewhere: If its worth it.

#cursedbloodtask #task 02

[kcaruth]

Movie Mania: Top 15 of 2016

The first month of 2017 is nearly over, so what better time to release my best of 2016 list? What started out as a pretty sparse year for film quickly turned into one that churned out hit after hit. We can only hope that 2017 matches or exceeds the level of quality films that the last few months of 2016 produced.

This is the first time I have ever published a best of list, so I am excited to jump into it. My hope is that this list will shine a spotlight on some of the lesser-known films of the year and pique your interest in some of the bigger films that you may have missed. Read ahead confident that there will be no spoilers.

Honorable Mentions

Hidden Figures

What’s not to like about this endearing, educational biographical drama? Based on the nonfiction book of the same name by Margot Lee Shetterly, this film follows the story of three African-American mathematicians who work at NASA in the 1960s, when racial segregation was sadly still prevalent. Taraji P. Henson as Katherine G. Johnson and Octavia Spencer as Dorothy Vaughan are outstanding and bring so much energy and personality to the screen. Whereas this film could have been bogged down by complex mathematics and literal rocket science, Theodore Melfi expertly directs the film so that it is fast-paced and accessible, and while he acknowledges the racial prejudice of the time, he does not let it dilute his main story. Melfi and Allison Schroeder’s screenplay delivers witty and memorable dialogue throughout the film that feels natural to the characters.

Hans Zimmer returns to another space-related film to compose the score, but Pharrell Williams’ music really takes center stage. “Runnin’,” “I See a Victory,” and “Crave” are all great bets for your music playlist. Best of all, this film teaches audiences about historical figures that they would be hard-fought to discover in standard history textbooks, making it a film that should be shown in school classrooms throughout the country. While not really a negative, the film does slow down when the three women leave NASA after a long workday and return home to their families. As a biographical drama, the film is responsible for showing us different parts of these extraordinary women’s lives, but you are left waiting for them to go back to breaking barriers at NASA.

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story

Ah, my beloved Star Wars. How I wish this film could have actually made it onto my list! I will be the first to admit that I am biased as a Star Wars fan, so that may be why this film even gets an honorable mention nod. When Star Wars: Episode VII - The Force Awakens came out in December 2015, I saw it on opening night and three or four times after that before it left theaters. By contrast, I saw Rogue One on opening night and have not seen it since. No one can accuse me of not being excited for Rogue One, and I tempered my expectations by avoiding any and all reviews before seeing the film. I even read the canon Catalyst: A Rogue One Novel by James Luceno to learn about the backstories of Orson Krennic and the Erso Family before seeing the film.

Without spoiling anything, the weakest facet of Rogue One is its lack of character depth and development. I did not really care about most of the rebels in the film; in fact, there were a couple of parts where I was actually cheering for the Empire! I will say that Alan Tudyk was great as K-2SO with his dark comedic humor and Donnie Yen was a badass as the blind Chirrut Imwe, but when the droid has the most personality out of the bunch, you have done something wrong.

On the other hand, the cinematography proves to be Rogue One’s strength. Never before, not even in the original trilogy, have we truly experienced what it feels like to be a world occupied and controlled by the Empire; Rogue One does an amazing job showing the reach and power of the dreadful Empire. New planets like the tropical world of Scarif look beautiful. Additionally, Rogue One includes the first true space battle we have seen in a Star Wars film since the beginning of Episode III – Revenge of the Sith. It is a sight to behold, and the new ships and tactics used by the Rebellion are quite the thrill. Director Gareth Edwards does a great job with the space battle; it never feels too cluttered or hard to follow with choppy editing. Finally, who can forget THAT scene in the last ten minutes of the film?

I appreciate the novel approaches and risks the creators of Rogue One took. I enjoyed the references to other canon material like the animated television show Star Wars Rebels for fans like me who have cared to invest in them. However, this film has proved to me that Star Wars needs strong, fully-developed characters to succeed. It makes me wonder what Rogue One looked like before those infamous re-shoots.

Game of Thrones: “The Winds of Winter”

I know, I know. This pick is not a film; it is a television episode. That is why it is only listed among the honorable mentions. Let’s face it, though. Game of Thrones is practically a ten-hour film each season. The quality, scope, and budget of many of the episodes easily surpass those of several films. While “Battle of the Bastards” was outstanding in its own right, “The Winds of Winter” is my pick for the best episode of season six. The season six finale delivers on so many fronts for long-time viewers of the show after what can be argued was a very up-and-down season, and it is rich with emotion, suspense, and superb acting. What fan of the show did not get goosebumps and/or tear up when that music swelled up in the final scene of the season, and wasn’t that “Light of the Seven” piano piece at the beginning of the episode so chilling? I cannot really say more without treading into spoiler territory, so do yourself a favor and go watch (or re-watch) this masterful episode of television.

#15: Deadpool

Can we all extend a big thank you to Ryan Reynolds? His enthusiasm and dedication to the character of Deadpool may have been the sole reason this film was made. Thank goodness that test footage was “leaked” to the public! This Deadpool is a far cry from that unspeakable depiction in X-Men Origins: Wolverine. (Who thought it was a good idea to sew the Merc with a Mouth’s mouth shut?) From the opening credits, this film promises that it is self-aware and ready to break the fourth wall, true to its titular character. Deadpool embraces its R rating and runs with it. The crass humor and the no holds barred action scenes are great fun, and Deadpool’s interactions with Negasonic Teenage Warhead and Colossus supply some rib-busting laughs. (Deadpool at Xavier’s Mansion: “It’s funny how there’s only ever two of you. It’s almost like the studio couldn’t afford another X-Man.”) At a time in cinema where comic book films are a constant, Deadpool brings a refreshing breath of fresh air to the genre.

#14: Manchester by the Sea

Warning: This film is very sad and heavy. However, writer and director Kenneth Longergan manages to infuse some genuinely comedic moments in the film’s bleak landscape that somewhat lighten the mood when necessary. Lucas Hedges delivers as teenager Patrick Chandler, and this may be Casey Affleck’s best work yet as Patrick’s uncle, Lee Chandler. I went into this film with a very faint idea of what it was about, and I think that is the best way to approach it if you are going to see it. My two biggest complaints with this film are the Oscar-bait score and the ending. The score, in my opinion, detracts and distracts from the film, and the ending is one of those where it just abruptly cuts off. The film was on the longer side in terms of run time, though, so I guess I was sort of grateful for the ending too.

#13: Jackie

You can tell Natalie Portman poured her heart and soul into this film, and I am hopeful that she will be awarded for it with an Oscar. It is overwhelmingly evident that she spent countless hours studying and perfecting Jackie Kennedy’s accent and mannerisms, and her hard work pays off. When you are watching this film, you see Jackie Kennedy, not Natalie Portman. Whereas this biographical drama could have leaned on other historical figures and really tapped into the utter tragedy of President John F. Kennedy’s assassination, director Pablo Larrain lets Jackie stand on her own and carry the film. Mica Levi’s score really surprised me and deserves some award nods. “Intro” is entrancingly eerie and haunting, sticking with you even after the film is over. As the award-winning musical Hamilton teaches us, history is all about who lives, who dies, and who tells our story. Jackie focuses on Jackie Kennedy’s intense dedication and foresight in the midst of tragedy to shape the way JFK’s story is told and how he will be remembered in history.

#12: The Founder

Set aside a few bucks for a milkshake and a burger after this film. Just trust me on that. The Founder tells the story of Ray Kroc and the establishment of the McDonald’s fast food empire. I did not know the history of McDonald’s, so this film was not only entertaining, but educational for me. Michael Keaton fully embraces the role of Kroc, taking on his (to borrow another line from Hamilton) “never satisfied” attitude on life. As he bullies his way to the top, we also see the tragic downfall of the endearing Richard and Maurice McDonald, played by Nick Offerman and John Carroll Lynch, whose portrayal of the brothers turns out to be the film’s strongest feature. As Matt Zoller Seitz from RogerEbert.com puts it, “[The Founder] is an ad that becomes a warning before circling around and becoming another, darker kind of advertisement, and one of the most intriguing and surprising things about The Founder is that, in the end, it seems vaguely ashamed of itself for letting this happen.”

#11: Moana

2016 was the year of the animated film, and we have hit the first one on my list. With Moana, Disney continues to showcase its amazing progress in animation; the islands and the water in Moana look so life-like. Moana brings viewers a welcome surprise in that there is absolutely no romance in this film, taking it a step further than even Frozen. Moana is all about ancestry, culture, family, and finding your calling in life. It is also extremely touching; do not be surprised if you find yourself unconsciously crying throughout the film. Lin-Manuel Miranda, the genius creator of Hamilton, and Opetaia Foa’i come together to create an incredible soundtrack full of soaring, vibrant songs like “We Know the Way” or Moana’s (Auli’i Cravalho) anthem “How Far I’ll Go.” Jermaine Clement’s “Shiny” is one of the best villain songs Disney has produced in a long time, and “You’re Welcome” perfectly embodies the character of Maui as well as his voice actor, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. For all that it does well, Moana can afford to have a very, very basic plot, but if it would have improved on that front, it may have found itself higher on my list.

#10: Arrival

Director Denis Villeneuve delivers another critically-acclaimed film with Arrival. Based on Ted Chiang’s short story “Story of Your Life,” this science fiction film explores the untouched aspects of the genre, choosing to investigate communication instead of destruction. In the film, the spacecraft of extraterrestrials known as heptapods appear scattered across different parts of Earth. Renowned linguist Louise Banks, played by Amy Adams, is called upon to attempt to communicate with the heptapods by learning how to read and write their language alongside physicist Ian Donnelly, played by Jeremy Renner. The cinematography by Bradford Young is truly breathtaking throughout the film. Combined with Johann Johannsson’s beautiful, otherworldly score (see “First Encounter” and “Heptapod B”) and subtle “show don’t tell” acting, this cinematography creates heart-pounding, white knuckle suspense that keeps you on the edge of your seat.

I was totally onboard with this film until the last ten or fifteen minutes. A certain plot twist is revealed that I can see as one that splits the audience in half on the matter, and the quality of the dialogue goes way downhill all of a sudden. By no means did it ruin the film for me, but it just made me love it a little less. As long as you do not go into this film expecting Independence Day-style science fiction action and are ready to put your thinking cap on, you should enjoy the experience.

#9: Patriots Day

Peter Berg and Mark Wahlberg were busy in 2016! After producing Deepwater Horizon, they return to produce a film about another disaster in recent American history, the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing. Some may question if this film is too soon, but rest assured that it treats its source material with respect. While Mark Wahlberg is usually the standout actor in Peter Berg’s recent films, everyone shines in Patriots Day. J.K. Simmons, John Goodman, and Kevin Bacon are all great, and I was left wishing they had taken even a little more screen time from Wahlberg. On a dramatic level, this thriller leaves you at the edge of your seat. I could feel the suspense and anticipation throughout my sold-out theater, and I could hear the sobs and sniffling of many.

I did not feel that this film delved into exploitative thriller territory, but I cannot speak for the people of Boston and those who experienced the tragedy firsthand. The Boston Globe’s Ty Burr, however, can. He says in his review, “It’s professionally made, slickly heartfelt, and is offered up as an act of civic healing. At best, it’s unnecessary. At worst, it’s vaguely insulting.” Again, having only experienced the bombing thousands of miles away from television news media reports, I have to disagree with Burr’s assertion that this film is unnecessary. It is genuinely moving on an emotional level, and it reinforces the ideas that good always wins and that Americans will stand united in the face of terrorism.

#8: Captain America: Civil War

Captain America: Civil War is essentially Avengers 2.5. Following the success of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the Russo brothers return to direct Civil War. Everything since the first Iron Man has been building up to this film. Although it does indeed have its flaws, the good far outweighs the bad here. While it is labeled as a Captain America film, the Russo brothers smartly give Robert Downey, Jr. plenty to work with in his role as Tony Stark/Iron Man. This may be, in fact, the best Downey, Jr. has been in the Marvel franchise since the first Iron Man. Surprisingly filled with emotional depth, the character development in Civil War is outstanding considering the cornucopia of characters in the film. Not only does the film continue to develop its veteran playmakers, but it also does a great job introducing brand new characters to the universe. Another positive of this film is that it imposes real, lasting consequences on the actions of our heroes. Bygones are not bygones by the end of this film. In the end, Civil War delivers on its promise of pitting Avenger against Avenger. Although punches are obviously being pulled in the airport battle, it is still an entertaining sequence that showcases each individual character. Now can we please stop focusing on Bucky moving forward with Captain America?

#7: Kubo and the Two Strings

Darn you, McConaissance! If it were not for Matthew McConaughey, this film may have ended up higher on my list. McConaughey is by no means bad in his role, but he just seems out of place in this film. Aside from that, it is hard to find any serious faults with this film without getting overly nitpicky. Kubo and the Two Strings is an aesthetically beautiful work of art with its 3D stop-motion. The voice acting is some of the best of the year: Art Parkinson as the adventurous and imaginative Kubo, Charlize Theron as the sickly but loving mother of Kubo and the grumpy but protective Monkey, Rooney Mara as the creepy Sisters, and Ralph Fiennes as Raiden the sinister Moon King all fully embrace their roles and add layers upon layers to the characters with the simplest of voice inflections. The score is also top notch, transporting you directly into the story. Kubo and the Two Strings is an adventure filled with humor, darkness, love, melancholy, and inspiration that completely absorbs its viewers.

#6: Zootopia

It was practically a toss-up between Kubo and the Two Strings and Zootopia, but Zootopia won out in the end because of its thoughtful, timely themes of discrimination and social stereotypes and how well the film handles them. The voice acting is on point, with such talent as Ginnifer Goodwin, Jason Bateman, J.K. Simmons, Idris Elba, and Alan Tudyk. The animation is gorgeous, and the sprawling urban Zootopia is fleshed out and full of character. Whereas Moana has a very simple plot, Zootopia offers a couple of unexpected twists. The stereotypes that the animals fit into work perfectly, and the film really makes you care about its main characters. Full of humor and Easter eggs, this film celebrating diversity will make you want to go back for repeat viewings, all the while perpetually humming Shakira’s “Try Everything.”

#5: Sing Street

Sing Street was a huge surprise for me. It was nowhere on my radar of films to see. I just happened to come across it while scrolling through Netflix, and boy am I glad I decided to watch it! At its core, Sing Street is about a teenage boy who starts a band to impress a girl and get her to like him. “Eh, seen it before,” you say? Maybe, but not as well done as this. Set in Dublin in the 1980s, this film is a feel-good musical comedy-drama where every single song is outstanding with a charismatic Irish cast and huge heart that is not only about getting the girl, but also friendship, brotherhood, and pursuing dreams. Sing Street knows what it wants to be and embraces it without turning into a musical fantasy, leaving viewers full of irresistible optimism and humming its catchy tunes while looking up Duran Duran songs at the end of the film.

#4: Hell or High Water

I could not say it any more eloquently than Mason Walker did, so I will just start by leaving what he said about this film, all thanks to the exemplary cinematography of Giles Nuttgens: “Plenty of films pretend to take place in small-town Texas, but many of those versions resemble my home state about as much as the ‘barbecue’ joint I visited in New York resembled barbecue. But this wild Neo-Western gets it right. Here is a rural Texas I recognize, where the Aggie Game’s always on, the Shiner is within arm’s reach, and the customers and wait staff play out their familiar interactions like a social-norms square-dance.” In reality, the filming took place in New Mexico, but that is close enough so we will give it a pass, right?

Hell or High Water follows two brothers, played by Chris Pine and Ben Foster, who carry out a series of bank robberies to save their family ranch, all the while being hunted by two Texas Rangers, played by Jeff Bridges and Gil Birmingham. Foregoing mindless gunfights, Hell or High Water stuns with its complex characters and well-paced narrative. Director David Mackenzie deftly mixes scenes dripping with suspense with scenes full of lighthearted Texan humor. Taylor Sheridan’s screenplay includes some brilliantly written dialogue that especially comes through during the final scene of the film on the porch. The stupendous acting, particularly by Jeff Bridges as the Texas Ranger on the brink of retirement, brings it all together in this heartfelt heist film.

#3: Hacksaw Ridge

This was another toss-up between Hell or High Water and Hacksaw Ridge, but Andrew Garfield’s Oscar-worthy acting helped Hacksaw Ridge edge it out. Hacksaw Ridge is based on the true story of Garfield’s Desmond Doss, the first conscientious objector to be awarded the Medal of Honor. With Hacksaw Ridge, Mel Gibson makes a triumphant return to the director’s chair for the first time since 2006 when he released Apocalypto. Gibson boldly and fearlessly tackles this film on the level of both a large scale war drama as well as a concentrated character study. Like few other directors can do, Gibson seamlessly transitions from some of the most graphically violent scenes you will ever see on screen to endearingly tender, touching emotional scenes.

Before we get to Garfield, Vince Vaughn deserves his own round of applause. When people think of Vaughn, they probably think of films like Wedding Crashers or Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story. In Hacksaw Ridge, Vaughn proves he can handle a serious dramatic role when he is dialed in. Hugo Weaving also delivers a great performance as Doss’ father, a troubled World War I veteran. In the end, though, this is far and away Garfield’s film. From playing a comic book hero to a real life hero, Garfield’s career sure has blossomed. With Doss’ story, Garfield has such wealth of inspiration to draw from. From his simple life growing up in Virginia to the cacophony of war while serving as a combat medic at Hacksaw Ridge, Garfield plays every scene perfectly. At the beginning of the film, you might wonder if Garfield’s southern accent is going to detract from the film, but he is so committed to it that it ends up working.

Doss’ steadfast Seventh-day Adventist faith is certainly present in the film, but it never gets preachy or hits you over the head with it. It is actually very important that it was included because it was such a central part of who Doss was. Gibson does go a tad overboard with the religious imagery, especially with the themes of baptism and ascension, but that is a central part of Gibson’s trademarked directorial style. Hacksaw Ridge is an inspiring war film whose main character never even picks up a rifle, much less fires one, offering a different way to envision courage.

#2: The Edge of Seventeen

Never have I ever seen a more accurate portrayal of life as a high schooler. I will flat out say it: this film blew me away. I remember walking out of the theater so happy and extremely proud of everyone involved with the film. For her directorial debut, Kelly Fremon Craig hits it out of the park. Do not pass this film up as just another coming-of-age dramedy because it is so much more than that. This film will have you laughing, this film will have you crying, this film will have you cringing at the all-too-relatable awkwardness, and sometimes this film will have you doing all three at the same time. In short, it touches on every single emotion, but never in a sappy or undeserved way. Craig not only directed the film, but she also produced and wrote it. The sharp dialogue sounds exactly like something that would come from the mouth of a high schooler in 2016.

The acting is terrific all around. Hayden Szeto masterfully emulates myself in high school as Erwin Kim. Woody Harrelson nails it in his role as a high school teacher and confidant. Kyra Sedgwick expertly assumes the challenges of being a mother to teenage children. Blake Jenner surprises with his subtle acting as Darian. Last but certainly not least, Hailee Steinfeld proves she is the real deal as 17-year-old Nadine, the film’s main character. Perhaps even more impressive than her line delivery is Steinfeld’s ability to act with her body language doing most of the heavy lifting. The Edge of Seventeen forgoes the teen tropes from John Hughes movies in favor of fully developed, three-dimensional characters who emotionally grow right before our very eyes. It has its hilarious moments, but it is not afraid to heavily tap into reality and maturely handle the really serious situations that teens may face today. Male or female, young people and parents alike will be able to relate to this film on a deeply personal level.

#1: La La Land

I never considered musicals to be one of my favorite genres, which makes it all the more noteworthy that La La Land lands at the top of my list for 2016. I was beyond impressed with director Damien Chazelle’s work with 2014’s Whiplash, a film about the destructive cost of single-mindedly pursuing one’s dream. La La Land adopts a much more positive spin on this message as it follows Mia, an aspiring actress played by Emma Stone trying to make it in Hollywood, and Sebastian, a jazz pianist played by Ryan Gosling with the dream of reviving jazz and opening up his own jazz club. The impressively stunning opening scene of the film, which I won’t spoil here, had me smiling from ear to ear, and I could feel the entire theater straining from holding back their rapturous applause.

From that opening scene on, Linus Sandgren’s cinematography prowess is on full display, allowing the camera to become just as much a part of the choreography as the actors on screen. Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone’s chemistry is unrivaled by anything else you will see on screen from 2016, making the relationship between their characters feel real and honest, and their dedication to their roles is palatable. The set design and costumes, two aspects of films that do not get paid nearly enough attention, are remarkable in La La Land. The vibrant colors and the smog-less skyline of Los Angeles create fantastical imagery that fit in with the grand dreams of the film’s two main characters. Chazelle’s writing is composed of snappy dialogue that is full of heart and honesty.

I sometimes find that the song and dance part of musicals distract from the plot of the film, but, credit to Chazelle’s writing and Justin Hurwitz’s music, La La Land’s musical numbers work as a cohesive unit with the plot and even elevate it. Hurwitz’s music is impressive instrumentally and dazzling with its creative, insightful, and thought-provoking lyrics. Hurwitz’s ability to shift gears throughout the film is praiseworthy. One moment, he is powering through the upbeat “Another Day of Sun.” The next he is revving it up again for the equally catchy “Someone in the Crowd,” but even within that song he slows things down to a point where the audience can soak it all in before picking the pace right back up. “Mia & Sebastian’s Theme” and “Planetarium” take the audience on a whimsical adventure. “Herman’s Habit” is jazz at its finest. In “A Lovely Night,” Hurwitz channels classic Hollywood duet material. With “Audition (The Fools Who Dream),” Hurwitz and Stone make you wish you had a box of Kleenex handy. As the film approaches its bittersweet ending, Hurwitz flawlessly sums the entire film up musically in “Epilogue.” La La Land is a technical masterpiece, and its record seven Golden Globe wins prove it. Thank goodness Whiplash succeeded so that Chazelle could bring us this powerfully intimate masterwork.

  I think it is important that I list all of the films I can remember seeing with a 2016 release date (37 in total) so that you have an idea of what the competition was like.

 ·         Jane Got a Gun

·         Deadpool

·         Zootopia

·         Midnight Special

·         Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice

·         Captain America: Civil War

·         The Jungle Book

·         X-Men: Apocalypse

·         The Lobster

·         Alice Through the Looking Glass

·         Neighbors 2: Sorority Rising

·         Finding Dory

·         Star Trek Beyond

·         Suicide Squad

·         Kubo and the Two Strings

·         Hell or High Water

·         Sully

·         The Magnificent Seven

·         Deepwater Horizon

·         Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children

·         The Accountant

·         Doctor Strange

·         Hacksaw Ridge

·         Arrival

·         Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

·         Sing Street

·         The Edge of Seventeen

·         Manchester by the Sea

·         Moana

·         Jackie

·         La La Land

·         Rogue One: A Star Wars Story

·         Hidden Figures

·         The Founder

·         Patriots Day

·         A Monster Calls

·         Silence