#This show is pulling all of my favorite parts of comics Clint

[emmym1]

My thoughts on... Black Widow 2020 (#1-5) "The Ties That Bind"

So after finishing the incredible 50 issue run of Captain Marvel by Kelly Thompson I decided to start reading Black Widow (2020) which also happens to be written by her! I was super excited to read it because Black Widow is one of my favorite characters in the MCU, and while I had casually read some of her comics a few years ago I never really was able to delve into everything the character had to offer in the comics. So it was super excited I now have that chance! And I have to say it absolutely blew my mind how amazing these first 5 issues were, all of my expectations were exceeded.

This run started off amazing and immediatly grabs your attention within the first three pages with its amazing art and visualisation of action sequences. It was actually incredibly how fluid and smooth the action in this. It was drawn in such a way that you could easily understand the flow of the action while also seeing every single detail of it. The art in general in this is absolutely fantastic in everyway. I was really intrigued by the setup of this first arc. Black Widow getting taken out only to reappear as a super happy mother in a perfect family. I was really curious to see as to what actually happened. And as the story progresses you get more and more Truman Show vibes. I think it was a really great pick to have Arcade be the mastermind behind it as this type of thing was completely up his alley. I loved Clint's and Bucky's involvement in this as well. Them trying to figure out what is going on with Nat and not being sure whether they should pull her out of this or not. It's really bittersweet in a way, as they realize it is too good to be true for Nat but still hesitating to pull her out as she seems genuinely happy and at peace. It's kind of tragic too as I imagine she hasn't had much peace or chances to just live life and be happy, and now that she has that chance she gets forced to leave it all behind. Her slowly remembering her old self and then remembering who she was was so well done. The way she slowly took upon her old spy habbits was great. In general they did an amazing job at showing how much her being a spy affects her mind, how she percieves things and how she stands in her daily life. Little things like putting tape on the door so she would know when someone was waiting on her, stuff like that really did a lot for her characterization and showing how much being a spy influences her daily life. The moment she realizes everything and is back to her old self was kind of heartbreaking in a way. As she knew from that point on that she wouldn't have the chance anymore at a peaceful and blissful live with her husband and kid. Even worse, that she would have to break all ties with them so they would be safe and wouldn't get caught up in her troubles. It must've been such a painful moment for Nat, because you see that she genuinely cares for them and genuinely wants a normal life with them. But she just can't. And it's super heartbreaking because you know it really hurts her that she can't have that. The final few issues of this arc were defintely the most emotional and admittedly made me tear up a bit. Them trying their best to bring Nat's husband and kid to safety. And just as she checks up on them and turns her back they get blown up by the people behind this entire mess. That moment was incredibly emotional and heartbreaking, especially due to how good the art was during it. Nat crying as you see her face through the fire, realizing what just happened, and why it was right of her to force them to break all connections with her. It's very painful. I'd imagine that in the back of her mind there was a small part that was convinced that they could make it work somehow and they she could have her happy life with them. And now she gets the ultimate proof that she can't, no matter how much she wants it.

The reveal afterwards that it was a fakeout and that in reality her husband and kid were safe somewhere else on the planet was really shocking. Because it completely recontectualizes the scene where they get "blown up" and Nat cries. One could say she was just acting so everyone would be deceived and convinced of what happened. But I feel like those were genuine tears because like I said she gets the ultimate proof that she can't have a normal and happy life with them. But furthermore, from that point on they're basically "dead" in Nat's eyes. She can't ever see them again, no matter how much she wants it. She'll never know whether they'll be happy and never will get to see her kid grow up and that must be absolutely heartbreaking to realize. And that's what I think she started to realize as the plan was set in motion and the explosion happened. Her happy, perfect family is gone forever and even though they're still out there, she can't ever see or reach them. It's incredible tragic. But the moment that really hit me was this piece of dialogue she has with Bucky afterwards, who was the only one in on the plan: "There's an ache in me I've never felt before. In all the things I have been through... the highs and lows... the peaks of joy and the depths of sorrow...all pain and regret...nothing has felt as empty as this ache. It feels like and endless hole. And I cannot imagine how something so dark and endlees and empty could ever be filled." Seeing her say this and breakdown into bucky's arms on the floor was incredibly emotional and heartbreaking. It really made me tear up because you realize how tragic all of this is. And it only gets proven further in the last few pages of issue 5 as you see both Nat and then her husband and kid sit at the front of their houses each in a different part of the world as Nat talks about finding peace and happiness thinking about how she might be watching the same sunset as them. It's such an emotional page. This first arc just completely sold me on this run. I was left feeling absolutely speechless and emotional after finishing this arc. It really shows how tragic Nat as a character is and how bittersweet her life is. The trajectory of her life is such a tragic one but yet she manages to always push through and be better, even now when she basically lost her entire newfound family that she was genuinely at happy and at peace with. But still she pushes through and wants to be better because of them. And that's what really makes this character so interesting to me. She's been through so much, suffered so much and yet she still stands strong even though it's not always easy and even though she'll never have the normal life she might dream of. She does the best she can given her circumstances and knows who she is and what she can do, but also the things she isn't and can never have. I'm so happy I decided to start reading this run. I'm completely hooked and this first arc just left me feeling speechless and emotional. The art and writing of this run is just absolutly incredibly, every action moment is perfectly visualized and the writing just really sells her as this incredibly spy that can't get topped by anyone while also being a really vunreable person deep down. The last few issues were just incredible and I can't wait to see how Nat will evolve from this. Will she be able to become better for them as she promised or will she give in and take revenge for what she lost? It's going to be really interesting to see where they'll take the story from here. And I for one can't wait to read it!

#marvel #earth 616 #comics #black widow #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov

[mayawolf]

Three episodes in, Marvel did not let me down. Hawkeye is absolutely everything I hoped it would be and more. A++

#Hawkeye #clint barton #kate bishop #Marvel #MCU #Disney+ #This show is pulling all of my favorite parts of comics Clint #I’m so stinkin’ pleased #I can’t stop smiling

[melina-mellow]

Hawkeye episodes 1 & 2.

So I loved it.

I love the street-level feel to it all. Aside from the cosmic stuff, the street-level side of Marvel is some of the most fun parts of Marvel Comics ever, and I'm glad they've chosen to focus on it.

The first episode was for us to get to know Kate, it was a little slow,Jack Ducane is menacing af, he's just this shady dude that you can tell he's scheming some. He definitely has some connection with Clint, seeing how much he wanted Ronin's sword. I wonder if they'll keep that dynamic from the comics tho 🤔

Kate is a treat 💜 I always knew that would be the case, she's always been my favorite memeber of the Young Avengers (sorry Billy) and to see her LA is amazing.

Clint is canonically deaf now (finally) and they actually handled it pretty well. He's also show to have some form of PTSD and he clearly misses Nat, the man just wants to retire and live with his family.

Their Dynamic! I knew that if they wanted to pull off the Kate and Clint dynamic the actors playing them had to have chemistry. And I'm glad to say that they both delivered.

Over all a solid 10/10 for the first two episodes.

Can't wait to see more of Echo and Kazi in the next episode.

#hawkeye series #hawkeye spoilers #kate bishop #clint barton #kazi #echo #maya lopez #hawkeye

[avengerscompound]

Neighbors

Neighbors - A Hawkeye Fanfic

Character pairing:  Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count:  3568

Warnings:  Smut (MF, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, phone sex, oral sex, vaginal sex)

Synopsis:  You move into a new apartment and discover you have a fantastic view of your very good looking neighbor.  A neighbor who not only is an Avenger but who also seems to have a very playful side.

A/N: This is a rewrite of one of my old RPF fics, so if it’s familiar that’s why.  I just liked it a lot and it worked well with Clint.  Also, normally I kinda write Clint and when I’m thinking about him I flick between comic and MCU Clint.  In this one, I was absolutely thinking about 6′4 blond dumbass Clint.

Neighbors

It had taken far too long for you to move into your new place.  It had been exhausting and awkward.  There was no elevator in this building and you were on the fifth floor, so all day you had been carrying boxes upstairs again and again.  You were finally done now, thank god.  All your stuff was still in boxes and you were eating pizza straight out of the box as you sat on the floor of your new apartment.

Things hadn’t been going great for you lately.  You’d been downsized and ended up taking a job that paid half as much.  Which meant you had to move to a smaller apartment in a worse part of town.  You’d broken up with your boyfriend.  You were trying to stay positive.  At least you had a roof over your head, even if it was water stained and only had views of the big ugly apartment block across the alley.

You finished your dinner and took a shower, washing away the sweat and muscle pain from the day.  When you got out you wrapped your towel around you and went into the bedroom.  You were about to drop your towel when you glanced out of the window and noticed there was a guy in the apartment across from you.

He was stunning and also just wearing a towel.  He was tall and muscular but in that way gymnasts were.  Lithe and slim but with defined abdominals and pecs.  His arms were amazing with the kinds of muscles men had who actually needed strong arms rather than the kind built up through lifting weights.  He looked both strong and flexible though he also wore a collection of scars and bruises that started on his cheek and went right down to his calves.

You both just stood staring at each other for a moment.  It was like you were looking in some kind of weird alternate reality mirror where your other you was a fucking sex god because you both bit your bottom lips at the same time, startled suddenly, and then rushed to pull the blinds closed.

As you got them closed a sudden realization hit you.

That was Hawkeye.

You kept seeing him from time to time in the apartment across from you.  You would try not to stare - or at least you’d be subtle about it if you did.  The next time you both really noticed each other, you were mostly moved in.  The few remaining boxes were stacked in the corner and you had started to think of the place as your own.  You were in your bedroom putting away one more box when your favorite party song came on your playlist.  You tried not to dance.  You really did.  You failed and started shaking your ass as you spun around the room.  You were having a lot of fun until you spun around and saw Clint Barton holding a cup of coffee and laughing.

He put the cup down and gestured for you to continue and you shook your head.  He made a pleading gesture and you decided to have a little fun.  If Hawkeye wanted to see you dance then you’d give him a show.  You started to gyrate your hips slowly, popping them with every few beats.  You slid your hand down from your throat, over your breasts, and took the hem of your t-shirt in your hand as you looked over at him.  He nodded enthusiastically and you lifted it over your head and tossed it to the side.  You continued to move around the room and started to play with the buttons on your pants as you kept eye contact with him.

His eyes darkened and he ran his tongue over his bottom lip.  He leaned one hand against the window frame and he shoved his other hand in his pocket.  He nodded at you to continue and you unbuttoned your shorts.  You then grabbed the cord to your blinds and pulled them closed.  Just as they flipped closed you saw him throw his arm in the air and yell, ‘Oh, come on!’  You couldn’t help but laugh.

The next time you saw him you’d been out drinking and you’d come home very late.  You didn’t even bother turning any lights on, you’d just stumbled into your bedroom and flopped on the bed.  The light from the apartment across from yours was on.  You looked over with your eyes narrowed.  The light coming through was annoying but not annoying enough to get out of bed and close your blinds.

Clint was lying on his own bed.  He was completely naked and stroking his cock.  It was weird.  He was so far away but it was like you were seeing everything in high definition.  You could see the scar on his bicep shift as his muscles flexed and released.  You could see the head of his cock appear and disappear as his hand pumped it.  You could see the veins and tendons of his forearm twist and flex as he moved his hand up and down.  You could see his chest rise and fall as his breathing got shallower and shallower.  You could see his face distort with pleasure as he brought himself closer and closer to orgasm.

Your cunt flooded and you found yourself toying with your clit without even realizing it.  Just when you realized how fucking creepy you were being and that you needed to stop what you were doing and go and close the blinds - he came.  White ropes spilled onto his hand and stomach.

You had never felt as simultaneously terrible and turned on in your life.

A few days later a heatwave hit the city.  There was no air conditioning in your apartment and you opened your windows to the sounds of the city, coaxing a breeze in.  You spent the day in your underwear in front of your only fan, wishing you were anywhere else on the planet right now.

You weren’t the only one.  You had been dozing in front of your fan and when you opened your eyes you saw Clint looking over at you.  He was dressed in a pair of boxers with Deadpool on them and that was it.  He was glistening with sweat and holding a glass of ice water.  He smiled and waved at you and you raised your hand in return.

He mouthed the words ‘it’s futzing hot’ to you and fanned his face with his hand.

You mouthed ‘you are’ back and pointed at him.

He laughed and shook his head, pointing back at you.

Your face somehow got hotter than it already was.

Clint took an ice cube from his glass and ran it over his collarbone and down between his pecs.  You didn’t think he was doing it for your benefit, it’s just that it was really fucking hot.  But even still, it made you bite your bottom lip and your cunt tingled.

You saw him laugh and you let your lip go.  He pointed at you.  You knew exactly what he wanted.  You held up your finger and padded off to the kitchen, getting yourself your own glass of ice.  When you returned to the window, you took out a cube and sucked on it before sliding it down your neck and over your collarbone.  The water from the ice ran down your skin and into your bra making your nipples harden.

Clint nodded and you took another cube and ran it under your breasts and over your stomach, swirling over your belly button.  His eyes stayed glued to you and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

You took the last remnants of the cube and ran it over the top of your bra.  You reached behind your back and looked at him.  He nodded just once and you unhooked your bra and slid it off.  You both just stood there staring at each other.  His underwear was beginning to tent due to an obvious erection but it was like neither of you knew what to do now.  He suddenly jumped and grabbed a t-shirt from the floor.  He looked at you and mouthed the word ‘sorry’ as he pointed to the door.

A couple of days later you got home from a work dinner, kicked off your shoes, and headed to your bedroom.  You took off your jacket and hung it in your wardrobe and you saw Clint lying on his bed, eating some pizza.

You went to your light switch and flicked it on and off.  He looked over to you and grinned, getting up off the bed.  He leaned against the window frame and crossed one leg over the other.  He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt with a purple target on it.  He waved and raised an eyebrow at you.

You started unbuttoning your blouse, keeping eye contact with him.  He smiled and pulled his shirt off over his head.  You tossed your blouse to the side and shimmied out of your skirt.  You didn’t know why, maybe you’d been hoping for this, but you’d dressed in matching black lace underwear with a garter and sheer black stockings.  When he saw you his eyes went wide and you could clearly see him say the word ‘fuck’.

Clint pushed his sweatpants down and kicked them aside and you both just stood staring at each other.  You began to tease your fingers over your breasts, flicking your nipples through the lace of your bra.

Clint mouthed ‘take it off’ to you.  You gave him a half-smile and unhooked your bra, tossing it to the side.  You started squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples.  Clint just watched you, his tongue poking out between his lips.

You pointed at him and mouthed ‘your turn’.

He teased his hand over his cock through his boxers and gave you a look like he was asking for permission.  You ran your tongue over your bottom lip and nodded.  He pushed his hand under the waistband of his underwear and began to stroke his cock.

You slid your hands down your stomach and slipped one into your panties, rolling the tip of your fingers over your clit.  He smiled.  Once again it was like you were looking at a weird mirror to a parallel universe.  You were both leaning your head on your arm, pressed against the window staring at each other.  You were both stroking yourselves.  Your hands moved quicker and quicker.  You both came simultaneously, tensing up and relaxing as one.  You stood staring at each other for a minute.

Clint took his hands from his pants and wiped it on his boxers.  ‘Good night’ he mouthed at you.  You laughed and mouthed ‘good night’ back and went and got ready for bed.

You don’t see Clint for a few months after that.  You tried googling him but nothing really popped up.  You were a little worried but you figured because he was an Avenger, shit probably came up from time to time.  You went about your own life as normal.  Work, home, hanging out with friends, the occasional bad date.

It was a Saturday when you saw him next.  You got home from brunch and went to change into something more comfortable and he was in his bedroom packing away his bow.  You went to the window and waved.  He looked up beaming at you and waved back.  He was a little beat up.  His eye was black and he had a plaster on his nose.  He made a gesture at you like he was holding a phone to his ear.

You went to your desk and wrote your number on a sheet of lined paper with a sharpie and held it up to the window.  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed in the number.

Your phone rang and you answered it.

“I missed you,” he said.

“Where have you been?”  You asked.

He smiled.  “Had a mission.  You been behaving without me, dirty girl?”

His words made you squirm and you rubbed your legs together.

“Oh, you like when I call you that, huh?” Clint asked.  “That’s what I’ve been calling you in my head since you danced for me.  That dirty girl from across the street.”

“Why don’t you come over?” You asked.

He shook his head.  “I’d love to, but not today.  How about you give me a show instead?”

“You gonna tell your dirty girl what to do?” You asked.

He chuckled and you watched as he rubbed his hand over his thigh.  “You’re my dirty girl, are you?”  He asked.  “I do like that.  How about you take that pretty dress off for me?”

You switched your phone on to speaker mode and put it on your bedside table.  You returned to the window and pulled the straps of your dress down and shimmied out of it.

“Good girl,” he purred.  “You’re pretty hot, you know?”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” you replied.

He laughed.  “Thank you.  Let’s see the rest of you then.”

“You’re not going to undress for me?”  You asked, fiddling with the cups of your bra.

“Not today,” he said, looking at you with a half-smile that said he’d devour you if you let him.  “Today you’re my dirty girl.  Today you’re gonna behave for me.”

“Come over,” you breathed.

“Ask me again and the game’s over for today,” he growled.  “Now take off your underwear.”

You shivered.  How could you possibly be playing this game with a complete stranger?  You don’t even know the guy.  Just because he was an Avenger and you’d been flirting at him through a window didn’t make this okay.

Your hesitation must have been obvious.  He walked over to the window and put his palm on the glass.  “Sorry,” he said, gently.  “I thought that was what you wanted.  We don’t have to do that.  I just… I can’t actually come over right now.  Fuck.”

“No, it’s fine,” you quickly assured him.  “I just had a minor freak out.  Let’s play.”

“Well then, what are you waiting for?”  He said, slipping back into his role.

You unhooked your bra and tossed it aside and then slowly unhooked your stockings from the garter belt.  You turned and dragged your underwear down.  His hum came through the phone faintly as he watched on.

“Leave the stockings on,” he said.

You turned to face him again, stepping out of your panties.

“Touch yourself,” he growled.

You slid your hand down your stomach and between your legs.  You slipped your fingers between your folds and stroked them up and down.  You rolled your clit between the tip of your index finger and thumb.  As pressure built inside you and spread out, you pushed a finger into your cunt and stroked it inside yourself.

“Talk to me,” Clint said.  “Tell me what it’s like.  Are you thinking of me?”

You stared across the street at him.  “I always think about you.  It feels good.  Warm. I wish it was you.”

“Next time, dirty girl,” Clint hummed.  “I promise.  How about you taste yourself?  Tell me what you taste like.”

You pulled your fingers from your pussy and stuck them in your mouth, slowly sucking them clean.  You hummed as you did and heard Clint take a harsh breath in on the other end of the phone.  You gazed over at him and he adjusted his pants.

“Salty, a little sweet.  Acidic.  Like eating lychees on the beach,” you said.

“Do you have a toy you can use?”  He asked.

You nodded.

“Go get it and hop up on the bed.  I want your pussy facing me,” he ordered.

You went and got your vibrator from your closet.  It’s a simple silicone rabbit in pale pink.  You sat down on your bed facing the window and leaned back on your elbows with your legs spread.

“Fuck, you look amazing,” Clint purred.  “You know what I’d do if I was there?”

“Tell me,” you hummed.

“I’d fucking eat that pussy out until you couldn’t walk straight,” he growled.  “Get yourself off for me.”

You lubed up your vibrator and turned it on.  You slowly ran it up and down your labia before pushing it inside you and letting the ears rest on your clit.

“That’s it, my dirty girl,” Clint groaned. “Fuck yourself for me to watch.  Are you imagining that it’s me?”

“Yes,” you moaned.  “Oh, fuck.”

As you brought yourself closer and closer to orgasm, Clint kept talking to you.  Telling you how much he liked watching you.  How it would be him fucking you next time.  How dirty you were and how much he liked it.

“Come for me, dirty girl.  I want to watch,” Clint growled.

You were sitting pretty close already but his words acted as a trigger.  You came, crying out and twisting on the mattress.  Your legs snapped shut around our vibrator and you pulled it away panting, and curled up on the mattress.

“That was beautiful,” Clint praised.  “I promise next time it will be me.  Are you alright?”

You sat up and switched off the toy, looking across at him.  “More than alright.”

“I gotta go, I’ll call you later, okay?” He said.

You waved at him and he gave you a guilty-looking wave in return before heading out.

The following day you hadn’t really seen Clint around at all.  It was just after nine at night and you were stacking your dishwasher when your phone buzzed.  It was a text from Clint.  It just said; ‘Don’t say anything’.

The next thing you knew there was a knock on your door.  You opened it and Clint pushed you against the wall, his mouth immediately on yours.  You kicked the door closed and wrapped your arms around his neck.  His hands slid down your back to your ass as you became light-headed from lack of oxygen.

He lifted you suddenly and for a split second he broke the kiss and you gasped for air before he was on you again as he carried you to your bedroom.  He tossed you unceremoniously on the bed and wrestled with your fly.  When he got it open he roughly yanked down your jeans and threw them to the side.

For one split second, you thought this might be the craziest fucking thing you’ve ever done and then his face was between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your pussy.  Two fingers entered you and you gasped and bucked up underneath him.

He expertly used his tongue and fingers on you, sucking and licking at your clit as he stroked your g-spot again and again.  You came apart, twisting and arching off the mattress, crying out incoherently as your orgasm crashed down on you.

He stood and fished a condom on his pocket before dropping his pants and sheathing himself.  You just managed to scramble back up onto the bed and he’d caught you again.  Before you even had a chance to think, he was deep inside you, kissing you hungrily.

He fucked you hard and fast.  You clung to him, your nails running down his back.  His mouth moved to your neck and he bit you - marking you.  You couldn’t even think straight, all that you were was what was happening to you.  A second orgasm hit and you spasmed under him.  He pulled out and flipped you over.  You pulled your knees up under you and he was inside you again, pounding into you from behind.  You scrambled for leverage at the headboards and his hands slid down your arms.  When he reached your hands he linked his fingers with yours.

The room echoed with the sound of your joint moans and grunts.  He tensed against you, his hands squeezing yours and he came.  For a moment he just stayed inside you, his cock twitching and his head pressed into the middle of your back.

He got up and just left the room.  You rolled over blinking, unsure of whether or not that was it.  Had he just come in, fucked you without saying a word, and left?  Before the panic really set in he was back, and he flopped down on the bed beside you.

“Hey,” he said, grinning.  “Nice to meet you.  I’m Clint.”

You burst out laughing and gave him your name.

“I feel all jittery now.  That was pretty full-on,” he said snuggling down into your shoulder.  “What do you want to do?  I can stay.  Or if you hate that, I’ll go. I mean, I dunno.”

You put your finger on his lips.  “So you don’t do that often then?”

He shook his head.  “Nope.  Fuck...” he dragged the fuck out several beats and ran his hand down his face.  “Just seemed like something you and I should do.”

“I liked it.  You can stay,” you said.

“Good,” he said, laughing.  “‘Cause I wanted to.  Can I take you out for breakfast in the morning?  I think maybe we should not only be crazy deviants.”

You giggled and nuzzled into him.  “Yeah, I’d like that.  But maybe a little bit of crazy deviates still.”

He laughed and pulled you into his arm.  “Of course.”

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #neighbors

[winterhawk-olympic-bang]

Emotive Writing

Guest Poster: @thepartyresponsible​

Emotive writing is about making people Feel Things. People use this all the time to sell you stuff, but we’re out here giving emotions away for free. Here are a few tips and tricks I’ve found to make people feel the most emotions.

Word choice:

This is the most straightforward part of emotive writing. Your word choices add an extra layer of complexity to your message. You aren’t just telling readers what happened; you’re signaling to them how they should feel. Most writers do this unconsciously, but being deliberate can make it especially effective.

Here’s a non-emotive, just-the-facts sentence: The soldier lifted his weapon and turned toward the enemy.

Here’s the same sentence reworked to make you care a bit more: The exhausted soldier raised his broken shield and faced the invading army.

The actions here are fundamentally the same, but exhausted and broken invoke sympathy while invading skews negative.

The words you choose are sign posts for the reader. They indicate how to interpret the story and help your readers orient themselves and form expectations. Subtly building expectation is important because, while surprise can be effective, shock is generally numbing and confusion tends to be irritating, so word choice helps you frame things and guide your reader along.

One of the keys here is to attempt some subtlety. If every sentence about your protagonist reads like an ad campaign (effervescent, brilliant, impervious) and every sentence about your antagonist reads like a political diatribe (cruel, spineless, malicious), you’re probably overusing your sign posts. People want to know who to root for, but too much emotive language can make them feel manipulated.

Think of word choice like adding spices to food. If you put oats in boiling water, you’re making oatmeal, and the spices you use won’t change that. But if you throw in some honey and cinnamon, I know we’re headed somewhere wholesome. If you sprinkle in little discordant notes of garlic powder and cayenne, what we’re cooking is a tragedy. And if you upend an entire bottle of cinnamon, a quarter cup of nutmeg, and toss in seventeen whole cloves, I am not staying for breakfast.

Narrative distance:

Narrative or psychic distance is the space between the reader and the character, usually navigated by the intermediary figure of the narrator. Your narrator can be an omniscient figure that knows the thoughts, feelings, and intentions of every character in the world. Or your narrator could be sitting on the shoulder of your main character, close enough to hear their thoughts and know their story but not so close that they speak with the character’s voice. Or your narrator could be your character.

If you want to ramp up emotion, you usually want a narrator who is very close to one character (or, alternatively, to separate characters in turn). But you don’t have to stay at one distance for the whole story, and, just like word choice, shifts in narrative distance can be helpful indicators to your reader about the story and the characters.

A sudden, dramatic shift in narrative distance is quite jarring, like a sudden zoom-in during a movie. It can be effective, but it’ll lose its punch if it’s overused. Generally, if you want to shift narrative distance, you should build to it slowly. Here’s an example of shifting from a distant third person to a closer third person:

They wake the Soldier because the archer is missing. He has a habit of slipping his lead, disappearing post-mission. The chase grew tedious years ago, but the Soldier runs it just the same. He’ll do as he’s told. But it bothers him, when he lets it. The why.

Why does he do this? the Soldier wonders, when he shouldn’t, when it isn’t his place. Where is he going? he thinks, when he can’t stop himself. Who is he running to? But he tries to think nothing at all.

Another trick of narrative distance is to suddenly pull back to show a character who’s been compromised, shocked, or deeply hurt by something. Imagine spending a long time in a close Bucky perspective, hearing his thoughts, and then being abruptly walloped across the face with: The machine went quiet, and the Soldier opened his eyes. Zooming out can emphasize what’s been lost. Because you aren’t just taking the soul of Bucky Barnes right out of him, you’re also taking that closeness away from the reader. You’re silencing the voice they’ve been listening to.

Whether you zoom in or out during highly emotional moments depends on what you’re trying to accomplish and also on who’s involved.  Some characters have loud, messy emotions that will get louder when they’re hurt. Some characters will freeze over and push a narrator further away. You can use narrative distance to show a character slowly opening up or suddenly slamming a door. But you need the reader to have a solid understanding of the character in order to follow what the shift means, which leads to the next component.

Know your characters:

So, here’s the thing. You gotta Velveteen Rabbit this. Every character is Tinker Bell. If you stop believing, they die.

If you want people to care about these characters, you have to treat them like living, breathing, fully feeling people. They have favorite colors. They have phobias. They have Friday night plans and blisters from new shoes and sesame seeds stuck in their teeth. They have superstitions and secrets. You don’t need to know all of these facts, but you should try to give the impression that someone could know them. The more real your characters are, the more we’re going to care about them.

Since this is fanfiction, you start with a receptive audience. Your readers are fond of these characters. Figure out why. Figure out which parts of the character you can relate to and dig in until you feel like you can understand the parts of them you can’t relate to.

Try to collect things that make you feel close to that character. I always have music playing when I’m writing, so I make playlists for characters and playlists for stories. If I feel like I’m losing a character, I’ll go back to their playlist. But you could also use Pinterest boards, reread favorite fics or comics, rewatch movies or fanvids, or spend an unreasonable amount of time researching bows and tactical knives. Whatever works!

Also, remember, your characters don’t know what story they’re in. They don’t know it’s going to end well (or terribly). Maintain that tension, because that’s where the emotions are. When you watch a good horror movie, you’re not really scared of the monster. You’re scared for the characters, because they don’t know if they’re going to survive.

Emotions come from the characters. That’s why it’s still sad that Tony Stark dies, no matter how many times you watch it happen. Tony Stark was brave and flawed and usually right and often sarcastic, and it hurts to watch him die because that’s a full, unique human we’re losing. We know him well enough to know he’s choosing to sacrifice himself and why he made that choice and who will mourn him.

Know your characters, and let them be messy and weird and wrong and hopeful and cantankerous and unique. Fear is relatable, flaws are relatable, and awkward, ungainly, stubborn progress is relatable. Just remember what it is that makes their progress their progress because, if you can swap Dominic Toretto in for Ted Lasso and have the exact same story, you’ve probably lost your characters.

Plan your emotional trajectory:

Okay, time to get a bit technical. This is for people who like to plan. For those terrifying, godlike writers who just sit down and write, this might not be helpful. For my fellow planners:

There’s a theory (which you can get a general overview about here or, if you’re very into data, right here) that there are six core emotional trajectories in narratives:

1)      Rags to riches (rise)

2)      Riches to rags (fall)

3)      Man in a hole (fall then rise)

4)      Icarus (rise then fall)

5)      Cinderella (rise then fall then rise)

6)      Oedipus (fall then rise then fall)

Since rise and fall can mean different things, I find it helpful to combine these building blocks with emotional axes, which you can find some examples of here.

So, basically, for my winterhawk baseball au Got a Heart in Me, I Swear, I planned to follow the “man in a hole” trajectory (fall then rise) along the anxiety-confidence emotional axis with some bleedover from the humiliation-pride axis. Which basically means Clint started comfortable enough, nosedived deep into anxiety and humiliation, and then slowly built his way to confidence over the rest of the fic.

If the listed axes don’t appeal to you, you can very easily create your own. Just think of an emotion, identify what links it to its inverse, and then list the related emotions between the two opposites. Disgust and adoration are opposites, but they’re linked by attention, right? You can’t ignore something you find disgusting or adorable. So, here’s an example emotional axis you could follow: Disgust – Resentment – Obsession – Fascination – Reverence – Adoration. Enemies to lovers, anyone?

Emotional axes help provide a natural framework for your character’s emotional trajectory. They can be subtle; you don’t have to start on one end of the spectrum and go all the way to the other. A story that moves just a step or two on an emotional axis can be incredibly compelling. That small progress from discomfort to hope can hit really hard if the progress feels fought-for and earned and real.

Tips for writing emotions:

·         Get physical: If you want to show an emotion instead of telling it, describe its impacts on the body. Most characters won’t think I’m embarrassed. They’ll feel a drop in their stomach like someone cut the elevator cables and a hot stinging in their face like they’ve been slapped by some disappointed version of themselves. The more visceral your descriptions, the more the reader will feel them. If you want your reader to feast on feelings, you have to set the table.

·         Dramatic zoom: When something very intense happens, shift the narrative distance. In or out is fine, but a sudden, dramatic event should result in a sudden, dramatic change in focus. Characters might hyperfocus on their physical bodies (the mechanics of breathing, the ringing in their ears, the mad animal urge toward flight) or they might be kicked so far out of their own heads that they feel like they’re dreaming or watching the scene play out from overhead. This distance is useful for two reasons: it feels real, and it allows readers to absorb the situation in pieces, without being overwhelmed by it.

·         Unreliable narrator: Some emotions can be so charged that people don’t want to own them, like grief, shame, jealousy, rage, lust, and guilt. Characters might unconsciously misrepresent these to themselves as something else. A grieving mother might insist she’s tired. A rehabilitated assassin who’s fallen in love with an absolute dork might tell himself he’s just tracking a target. Everyone knows what it’s like to lie to themselves, so this makes characters relatable. And, also, everyone likes being in on a secret, so, sometimes, this is just fun.

·         Face the monsters: We’re often conditioned not to dwell on unpleasant things, which is part of why it can be powerful to examine them in stories. From small things like inglorious emotional states (envy, cowardice, resentment) to character flaws (recklessness, withdrawal, arrogance) to personal tragedies (loss, betrayal, abandonment), the negative parts of human emotional life pack quite a punch. Acknowledge them. Not only are they relatable experiences, but redemption and recovery arcs are some of the most compelling stories we have.

#whob #winterhawk #winterhawk olympic bang #writer workshops #writer workshop: emotions #guest post #thepartyresponsible

[arctimon]

Speaking of comics (which is what I was talking about earlier today), one of the more recent arcs that just finished involving a certain red-haired spy got me thinking about certain cities in Marvel lore.

So we’re all very familiar with San Fransokyo, the city that Big Hero 6 calls home.  But how much does the actual city that it’s based off of (San Francisco) come into play? Turns out...quite a bit, actually.

The 1906 earthquake in San Francisco is still a thing, but there’s a couple different alternate explanations for the cause, on of which I found very interesting. 1.) A bunch of Mole Men were planning on invading the surface, but they wrecked the whole city and then retreated back down to their own world.

That’s not the one.

2.) In a one-off story in Uncanny X-Men back in 2009, a few of the X-Men traveled back in time to understand their origins.  It turns out that the Hellfire Club was blackmailing two scientists (Nicola and Catherine Bradley) into making a new energy source that ended up powering a prototype Sentinel. A new energy source? Now where the chuff have I heard that before?

Oh right.  Because that’s what Lenore Shimamoto was doing.

Now, Shimamoto wasn’t powering up a Sentinel (as far as we know).  She was just trying to make the world a better place.  Then again, that’s what Nicola thought he was doing to for the Hellfire Club.

Of course, that didn’t end up going very well. But the similarity is very eerie, at the least.

San Francisco was also the home of the X-Men for a brief period of time during that same run in 2009.  They needed a place to stay because of the Civil War that was going on between them and the Avengers, so the mayor, Sadie Sinclair...

(Who we’re not even going to talk about how it sounds similar to Saito...)

Gave them sanctuary off their coast.

San Francisco was also an invasion target of the Skrulls during the Secret Invasion, a Marvel event that just so happens to be getting a mini-series as part of Phase 4.

Several prominent superheroes also called the city home at one point, including Daredevil, his law firm, Electro, Ant-Man, and the person who I had been reading on for the day.

In her current run, Black Widow returns to her apartment in New York, gets kidnapped, and three months later she ends up in San Francisco brainwashed and with a husband and child. Long story.

But she does eventually pull herself out of it, and then we get greeted with the end page of the comic with her in a new uniform and a new tagline...

What is the point that I’m trying to get to?

San Francisco has had its own events in the Marvel mythos, and I do wonder how much they could fit into a BH6 universe. But back to Nat.

Natalia Romanova/Natasha Romanoff is one of my favorite Marvel characters, and I have been asked more than once if I plan on adding her in some capacity to my Big Hero 6 stories.

The short answer is...not really?

Nat used to be one of those Untouchables for me.  It’s those heroes that don’t need to be in the story because they’ll overshadow everything around them.  The irony, as I’m sure you’ve figured out, is that Nat’s whole schtick is to not be in the spotlight.  So maybe she’d fit right into this world more than I would think. Now gradually, the idea of the Untouchables has waned over time, because I had no intentions of putting any of the Avengers in when I started writing BH6 stories.  With all of the shoutouts to Marvel that I’ve sort of sussed out, it pretty much became an afterthought.  That’s what happened when Clint showed up to talk to Kate in “The Straight and Arrow”.

As of right now, there’s really only one person who is never going to show up in any of my stories.  And that’s Tony Stark.  I can say with 100% confidence that he is never going to be in a story of mine.  Because whatever he can do...Hiro can do better.  XD But what of Natasha?  I’m sure you’re asking if I’ve figured out how to smush Nat into a story. To that, I say...

Have you ever met the alternate continuity daughter of Matt Murdock and Natasha, aka Mapone from the Daredevil: End of Days comic?

Redhead.  Blind.  The same powers as her dad.  The same badassness of her father?

Wonder if there’s a space for her in The Future...

#big hero 6 #big hero 6 the series #san francisco #san fransokyo #marvel #natalia romanova #natasha romanoff #black widow #secret invasion #daredevil #matt murdock #mapone romanova #lenore shimamoto #great catastrophe #just spitballing here

[who-talks-first]

Okay I'm having trouble finding everyone's posts from Friday. But I just watched chapter 9 and I have some thoughts.

Opening the episode with Din saying he doesn't gamble then ending it with him making a massive gamble was interesting. Although I genuinely don't think he ever does anything he doesn't believe he can do.

The fights in this episode are amazing. Just stunning:

The fight at the arena. The Child ducking when he sees the Birds activate. "I'm not." Really. Din, stop being so goddamn fucking hot, I'm trying to watch the damn show! The whole dangling the gangster part. "You won't die by my hand." (one of the best parts of the character Din Djarin is he is both viciously ruthless and honorable to a fault. I love it!)

The fighting at the end. Both men flying in sync to kill the beast. The Raiders and townsfolk grudgingly working together. But it would have worked better just leaving the loaded bantha in the valley, luring the best out, and detonating it. Fewer civilian deaths but what do I know, I wasn't raised in the fighting corps. And god at the end when Din soars out of the monster's mouth! I that was how the episode would end as soon as I saw the explosives. But still so fucking cool! Is there a name for that trope? I call it the Hercules.

Can we talk for a second about how Din looks in this ep? The strides, the poses and posture. He exudes so much bde that it physically hurts me. Clearly a lot of that is Mandalorian in nature, if those images of Boba Fett from the comics tell us anything (Fett sitting spread in his ship and Din doing it on the wagon at Sorgan have p much the same energy). Just looking fine as hell through the whole thing, even covered in deadly dragon stomach acid.

And can we talk about how much he says this episode? He explains the Tuskens' behavior, translates, plans, barters, smooches doggies, etc. He talks a lot. And I think that's interesting. Din has this reputation as being awkward in social situations and quiet. And like, it's one thing feeling shy around the beautiful widow who's hitting on you. But he says what he means clearly and more or less concisely, including some one-liners and sarcasm. I think he could be described as "laconic" (my character does describe him as such in the thing I'm writing), which means they use as few words as possible to get their point across. Din has no hesitation in speaking, he just prefers to only speak when he has something to say, if that makes sense.

So happy to see Aunt Peli! And Din being like "eh let them work" That's what we call growth.

The casting. I nearly lost my shit when Timothy Olyphant was under the helmet, looking like a whole ass meal. Like that is the most flattering haircut and beard combo I've ever seen on him. Don't @me but he could get it. And poor typecast Leguizamo. Still great tho. He was fun little asshole.

I love when this show doubles down on the western themes:

Vanth's name, accent, role, and general appearance all line up with a small town wild west sheriff. Just showing up and saving the town, so they're like, you're the Lone Ranger now! Olyphant has played western roles before, including voicing The Spirit of the West (an avatar of the legends and ideals of the wild west modeled on Clint Eastwood's western characters) in the animated film Rango (a lot of the Mandalorian's aesthetic comes from Eastwood's movies).

The Mandalorian theme but softly strummed on a Spanish (nylon string) guitar is very evocative of a border town.

The tuskens represent an Indian tribe. The abandoned mining town. The mysterious stranger who comes to town and saves it. Vanth and Din nearly have a quickdraw shootout! The child is hiding in a spittoon for chrissakes!

It really echoes the 7 Samurai theme of chapter 4. I know it's an overlapping, repeating theme in western film. I guess I was surprised to see it again so quickly.

I don't know how I feel about Din speaking Tusken. Signing was one thing. But I just giggled uncomfortably the whole time feeling it was kinda silly (and I had assumed the reason he signed was because humans couldn't speak Tusken). Was that our big hero, heartthrob, and favorite actor Mr. Pascal sitting in the studio making those noises? Rrrhehh rheh rrhehh! I dunno I'm just. Reeling.

Isn't interesting that Din would annihilate the entire populace of Jawas without batting an eye, but he would do almost anything to protect the Sand People? I know there's something to that, about marginalized/eugenicized groups versus like colonialism and whatever vulture like construct you would attribute to the Jawas. But I'm not smart enough to articulate it.

Okay, so the obvious: Boba Fett. Really shocked to see his armor on someone else. I'd already seen the casting of Morrison, so I wasn't like, "is he dead?" and I knew right away this hick didn't take it off him. I wonder if the Jawas stunned him and removed it. Either way, there's going to be hell to pay. I can't wait to see Din and Boba interact; I wonder how they'll respond to each other. And even though Fett should be in his early 40s (I think) he really looks like hell. I mean, I know he's seen some shit. But I wonder what's been up with him in the last decade or so.

Some stuff I thought I noticed, but I need y'all to help me confirm:

Was that Anakin's podracer engine?

Was that C-3PO graffitied on the wall in the dirty city?

Were we supposed to recognize R5?

There's a couple others but I forgot em. I gotta watch it again.

Some questions:

What was the spherical thing the Tusken Raiders recovered from the beast's remains? The scene mirrored the Jawas and the mudhorn's TSUGA! Tsuga tsuga! Tsuuuga! But that didn't look like an egg. If I didn't know better I would swear it was a pearl. (which almost makes sense if you take into account that this guy eats dirt for a living and could have an organ or extra stomach in there like those gross hard balls they used to pull out of ox bellies) Or was it mentioned earlier and I didn't catch it? There was a lot going on.

What are the sand doggies? They're so cute! And that totally establishes our mans as a dog person. Writers, start your fics!

I'm a bit confused about the town's history. How have the people survived for so long with the beast there? Was it the Krayt dragon that wiped it literally off the map? How does the slaving mining guild fit in there?

It really looks in chapter 4 that those krill are native (it's not explicitly stated tho). If no one even knows where Sorgan is and it doesn't have a big export economy, how do these people in the middle of buttfuck nowhere have spotchka?

On that note, how did that city gangster hear about Fett/Vanth? I mean, I dig that he's a collector of beskar'gam, but like, that's still way out there.

The jingling spurs sound in chapter 5 is deliberately obvious when that mysterious figure comes upon Fennec Shand. Can we assume that's Cobb Vanth there? Because clearly, Fett has been without his armor for a while. If it was Vanth, what did he do with her? I don't believe for a second that she's dead. He's not a bounty hunter and he wouldn't have any idea she was valuable since the Guild had abandoned Tatooine. Barter for help/transportation /goods/labor /etc? Also, if it was Vanth, did he witness the whole thing? If so, he knows who Din is. Maybe knows Toro. I dunno. Lots of thoughts. Did he just stumble upon her while traveling back to his village? I forgot the name already lol Mos Pelegrino?

Okay it's nearly 4 am. I genuinely can't remember if I had anything else to say. Please continue to tag your spoilers cuz I will again not get to view the episode until after y'all do next week. But until then, please come yell at me about our favorite show and space boyfriend. I like crazy theories too.

Love y'all. 😘😘😘

#cobb vanth #The mandalorian #The mandalorian spoilers #Mandalorian season 2 spoilers #The mandalorian season 2 spoilers #Mandalorian spoilers #The child #boba fett #Fennec Shand #pedro pascal #timothy olyphant #temuera morrison

[ironxkid]

why don't you like endgame or civil war

((hoo buddy, idk what brought this up but salt under the cut!! Like... a lot of salt - specifically regarding Endgame lmao

I’m gonna start off with CACW because it’s a short response lol

I don’t like it simply because I was done with the infighting between the Avengers. The found family crumbs we were given in Endgame was something I really wanted to see, and them just... ripping them apart frustrated me lol

honestly, the movie was... fine? Idk, I found it to be a lil slow for my taste (it felt like it just dragged on when I watched it in theaters), and I just don’t care for it in general  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also, ngl, I’m really bummed that Captain America: Serpent Society was a joke announcement because that sounds dope as hell and I really wanted to see that before I realized it’d been a joke dfgjhdsfhj

but, yeah, literally just because CACW is specifically an infighting movie annoys me to no end so I just won’t watch it again dgsfjhsfdhj

now, Endgame?

fuck Endgame

I. have a lot of issues with it, all of which are major grievances throughout the fandom. I’m pissed they killed Natasha and didn’t even bother giving her a fucking funeral because, I quote from Joe Russo, “Well, Tony does not have another movie. Tony is done. And Natasha has another film. And Marvel Universe obviously does not have to move forward linearly anymore. But that character still has more screen time coming.” (see here) and that annoys the hell out of me. She’s getting another movie - great! So you killed one of the few characters doing her fucking best to keep everything together at the compound, the one who was taking charge, give her a big role, and then murk her and... give her nothing but a brief mention at the end. Like... what the fuck? Natasha deserved so much better than what she was given. Tony’s funeral could’ve (and, frankly, should’ve) been a funeral for him, Natasha, and Vision because god forbid we see anyone mourn Vision other than Wanda

(actually this post covers how Endgame fucked over the MCU women perfectly, though Wanda’s not mentioned :c )

plus... Tony’s not done lol - he’s still a massive figure in the films/shows despite RDJ not acting in them, so his character has left shockwaves that aren’t dying any time soon. Natasha... basically disappeared, and I believe she would’ve been dropped completely if it wasn’t for the fact she does have a film coming out soon. Which, frankly, seems awesome and all, but it’s a film that goes back to post-CACW pre-IW and... frankly doesn’t give me any reason to understand why that means she didn’t get a funeral. She’s not coming back in future movies/shows that are in present MCU timeline - her movie is set in the past. She could’ve gotten a decent sendoff 

now, Clint’s arc as Ronin rubs me the wrong way. I know it’s a huge thing in the comics, and it’s not him taking a different mantle that I have an issue with. It’s the fact he, a white man, went around murdering people and got off scot-free. Yes, he was targeting genuinely bad people, but... to show that, they specifically singled out Mexican cartels and the yakuza (Japanese mafia, essentially) - so, in other words, the bad guys were people of color! I feel like I don’t need to explain how fucked up that is. And, to clarify, I love Clint! Clint is honestly one of my favorite characters, and the whole thing was just handled... poorly in the film

Tony’s arc genuinely hurts. This is a man who has suffered for years and has tried to make things right, and finally got a chance to settle down. He finally retired from the Avengers, finally settled down, and had a fucking life he could enjoy despite his ghosts, and yet... His arc ends with a message of “tortured soul finally gets rest by dying”. Because, y’know, it’s great seeing yet another long-suffering character only reaching peace through death, because god forbid they let characters heal! He could’ve still caused the second Snap, and he could’ve survived. He could’ve finally been able to step away for good and focus on his family, focus on recovering, and be truly happy. What’s so wrong with letting him stay alive so he can rest and be with his family? What’s so wrong with letting a long-suffering character finally find peace after one last bang? 

plus it pisses me off that they’re now using him as a reasoning as to why bad things are still happening. Why is this person the bad guy? Because Tony Stark somehow may or may not have done something that hurt them! Even though most of that really stems from Howard or Obadiah. Tony just ends up getting the blame in their place. He’s just an easy target to use, much like the tesseract seems to be the go-to answer for why things go wrong. But this is a different train of thought

Steve’s ending pisses me off just as much as the next person lmao. You take a character who has acknowledged he no longer belongs in the past (which, funnily enough, was written by the Russos), aaaaaaand have him go back to the past while ignoring two important people in his life that were still right there. He got Bucky and Sam back, and he leaves them. His arc is ruined within a matter of minutes, and it paints a hella bad picture of him in the process. He goes back in time to stay with Peggy (which ultimately destroys her own arc, and the fact she’s a person outside of her relationship (or lack thereof) with him because, y’know, why have her be able to move on and be her own person?), and we’re supposed to believe he’s fine with everything he knows from the future? Fine with knowing Bucky’s trapped with HYDRA and is suffering as the Winter Soldier? Fine with knowing HYDRA has infested SHIELD from day one? Fine with knowing Howard and Maria are going to die? Fine with royally fucking up the timelines? We’re supposed to believe he sat back and did nothing with all of that? They could’ve had him still hand the shield over to Sam - they could’ve let Steve stay an Avenger without the mantle

also the fact the Russos said he didn’t recognize Red Skull when he returned to Vormir to return the soul stone? Like... what the fuck?? Not to mention he literally returns the stone to Vormir, which “soul for a soul”, and they didn’t bring Nat back that way??

and now onto Thor. Thor... holy fuck is this hitting something personal for me. Thor was ridden with guilt - he was furious with himself, hated himself, and blamed himself for failing to stop the Snap. He fell into a massive depression, and... was promptly danced around as laughing stock. Like, “oh! look at Thor! he’s fat and drunk because he’s depressed haha!” - like fuck off. It’s not funny in any form. His suffering was made into a joke and it pisses me off because I suffer from depression. A lot of people suffer from depression. It’s not funny. It’s fucking terrifying at times. I wasted a shit ton of money on a stupid online sim game because it was a distraction - it gave me... god, I wouldn’t even say temporary happiness, but it gave me something to temporarily help, and I still hate myself for doing it. It was a poor decision on my part, and I wish I could change it. And, during that time, I was scared because I couldn’t see myself pulling out of it. I thought I was gonna feel that way forever. I called out of work multiple times because there were days I couldn’t stop crying (something I still feel horrible for doing), I couldn’t get myself to contact any of my friends for months, and it was all because the medication I was on at the time... stopped working. Thankfully, my depression doesn’t work in a way that makes me a danger to myself, so that wasn’t an issue, but it still fucking sucked. And to see a character that I could relate to on such a personal level treated as laughing stock fucking hurt. I’m not sharing this for sympathy - I’m sharing this because it Thor’s arc hit home and it’s literally the main reason why I will not watch Endgame again

this is more of a nitpick than anything else, but... I didn’t really care for Carol in it tbh? Which is unfortunately because Captain Marvel is one of my absolute favorite movies! And I’m well aware she was introduced in Endgame while CM was being drafted, but that in itself is annoying?? Because Carol was originally going to be introduced in AoU, but was cut because it wasn’t going to introduce her character properly. And yet they decide to introduce her character in a clusterfuck of a movie before her movie is in the final stages, and proceed to release her movie first and then give a complete different characterization in her following appearance

honestly I just wanna cover this now to clarify some things regarding Carter and her backstory: the only reason I keep Endgame as is is because it felt easier for me to do so for the purpose of bending canon for specific threads. I wanted to stay as true to the given plots as possible to help with fudging of both the movies and her background, and also because I didn’t want anyone to feel like I was trying to force my own headcanons onto them, y’know? 

I’m just gonna plug this here because fuck it lol, but I did start a fix-it fic regarding Endgame that you can read here! I... probably won’t finish it tbh, and I haven’t gone over it in a hot minute so it might be riddled with errors ahah - plus I’m not sure about how I wrote the characters! I get nervous when writing canon characters because I feel like I’ll miss their characterization completely, which is actually why I,,, rarely rp canon characters dgfjhgsfdhj

also the image in the doc was created by @/archervale!! 

#ooc #((I think I covered what I wanted and I hope it makes sense dgjhdfh #I'm pretty tired but I'm doing laundry so I figured I'd answer this while I wait #but yeah I don't care for CACW and I honest to god hate Endgame #the potential is there and it just never reached it)) #((I'm not even gonna touch the Russos directing style #'hey guys we're gonna film a wedding sIKE IT'S A FUNERAL' #like?? MAJORLY different event fellas #also I'm literally going off what I remember from Endgame so I'm sure there's QUITE a bit I'm missing #but I'm not watching it to make a bigger salt post lol #I don't hate watch things because I would much rather watch something I'd enjoy #tbh I don't understand hate watching at all but that's a different conversation gsdfjhdfhj)) #death mention tw #depression tw

[buckmecaptain]

With Two Os

So, I did a thing for @just-one-ordinary-fangirl​ ‘s #JOOF500Challenge , and I miiiiight have gone a little overboard with the prompts.  Maybe.  Kinda.  Sorta...uhh... I did them all.  (I tried to make sure I bolded them all in this post)

This is silly fluff -falls just short of a crack fic- Steve X (barely described) OC (she has a name and nickname, but that’s about it), with a hint of her having a bit of a thing for Bucky, and even Thor (mentioned).  Semi-oblivious Steve, Natasha as the voice of reason, overdramatic OC who might just be kind of a dumbass.  Pining, mentions of the rest of the team.  Obviously, this story ignores canon and everyone is happily living in the tower. :) Warnings:  A few naughty words, suggestive situations, so much dumbassery

Image is from knowyourmeme.com

-   ---  --   -  ---  -- -   ---  -- ---

 She pushed her long messy braid over her shoulder, then looked down at the table and sniffled, slowly stroking her fingertips over the glossy surface.  “So it's over, then.  We're finished.”

“Roxy,” Steve began, reaching for her, “I'm sorry, I-”

She flinched away from his touch.  “No. You're gonna have to give me some time.  This relationship... it isn't what I thought it was going to be.”  She wiped her hand over her face and sighed heavily.

“I said I was- wait, what?  It isn't?”  His eyebrows were knit tightly together, raised comically high,  shoulders hunched like he was trying to make himself smaller.

Turning to face the Captain, her lower lip trembled and eyes were wide.  “It was meant to be us.  Me and you, Roxanne and Steve, until death do us part.  And now you've destroyed that.”

“Seriously?”

She gasped and flung herself backwards onto the overstuffed sofa, one arm thrown across her eyes.  “Yes, seriously.  You left an undefended gap and the Empire blew up our base!” she whined, gesturing toward the tabletop game with her free hand.

Across the way, Wanda turned to Sam and asked, “If she's this dramatic when she loses a game, what happens when she wins?”

The Falcon chuckled.  “Well, let's just say she puts on a show.  Dancing tends to happen.”

Steve shook his head at Roxanne's antics.  “Well, that's enough Star Wars: Rebellion for tonight. What's next?”  He clapped his hands together and they began placing the game pieces back into the box.

“Are Thor and Bucky here?  If so, I volunteer for naked Twister,” Roxanne offered.

The Captain whipped his head around and gave her the Eyebrows of Disappointment.

She peeked at him from under her arm. “Hey, a girl can dream, right?”

“Let me guess.  It's game night and Roxanne's team lost, right?”

“ 'Tashaaaaa!”  Roxanne made grabby hands at the redhead.  “So glad you're home!  It's been forever and I miss waking up next to you every morning.”

Sam, Wanda, and Steve all did sitcom-worthy double-takes as Natasha snorted.

“Well, if you would set your damn alarm at night, I wouldn't have to come drag your ass out of bed in the mornings for training.”  She looked around at the other three people in the room.  “What?  She's like a sloth.  Or maybe a koala. Whatever, she sleeps incredibly soundly and clings, even when dragged out of bed by the ankles.”

Roxanne sat up and crossed her arms, pouting.  “So?  I need my rest.  It takes a minimum of eight hours of sleep for me to look this good.”

Natasha turned to Steve and smirked. “You guys lost pretty badly, huh?  Little Miss Queen-of-the-sore-losers is in a snit.”

Roxanne grumbled and dug out her phone from the couch cushions.  “Fine.  I'mma text Bucky.  He'll sympathize.  Or, wait... Nat, do you have Thor's number?”

Steve's hands clenched into fists at his side and he grit his teeth.  Natasha noticed, of course, but didn't react.  “He doesn't have a phone, Rox.”

“Really?” she sat up, wide-eyed, “Who doesn't have a phone these days?” she glanced back down at her screen.  “Aw, man.  They're canceling my favorite zombie drama. That's stupid with two Os,” she muttered as she ambled out of the room.

Natasha watched her leave, then whirled to face the fuming Captain.  “Really?  You're still pining over her?  When are you going to nut up and say something?” she prodded, glancing at his white-knuckled fists.

A muscle in his jaw twitched.  “It's pretty obvious she prefers Buck.  Or Thor.  Or both, you heard her,” he shrugged and looked toward the doorway, then sighed.  “I'm not going to chase after a rejection.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Methinks you might be stupid with two Os.  That woman has had the hots for you since she joined the team, and she's pretty much made a fool of herself for you for the last year.”

He groaned and dragged a hand over his face.   “Why is dealing with women so difficult?  It's just-just impossible,” he complained.

“Steve, you deal with aliens, terrorists, and murderous lunatics on a near-daily basis.  After all that, you still think women are difficult?”

He sighed and placed his hands on his hips.  “Bad guys can be dispatched, arrested, or otherwise stopped. Dealing with women takes finesse, and I don't have any of that. Or experience.  Give me a murderous lunatic any day of the week. I'd much prefer that.  The serum doesn't help with this one,” he grimaced.

Natasha's eyebrows raised.  “Okay, Captain Wuss,” she teased.

“That's the first time I've been called that,” he mumbled, “at least, to my face.”  The only reply was the Black Widow's signature smirk, so he hung his head and huffed.  “Sure feels like I'm being ganged up on around here.” He went in search of the rest of the team in an effort to continue game night, following the sound of cheering and whooping to the media room.

Apparently a high-stakes game of Mario Kart was the cause of the cacaphony.  The team was gathered on the plush seating, with Wanda, Sam, Clint, and Bucky playing while Vision and Roxanne watched and cheered them on.  

Steve squinted when he saw Roxanne was seated on the back of the couch behind Bucky.  He was wedged between her legs and she was running her fingers through his hair, detangling it as she encouraged him to “Kick their asses, Buckaroo!”

Disappointed, Steve frowned and turned to leave, almost crashing into Natasha in the process.

She glared up at him, silently stamped her foot, and pointed forcefully at Roxanne.

Steve shook his head and gestured with his thumb over his shoulder, then crossed his arms over his chest.

Natasha squinted.

He shook his head again.

She raised a finger and circled it in the air, then pointed again at Roxanne.

Steve shook his head again.

Natasha placed both hands on his chest and shoved, making him stagger back a step, then jutted her chin toward Roxanne.

He rolled his eyes, but the redhead poked his chest so hard, he coughed.   While he was distracted she took him by the shoulders and spun him around, then shoved.  He stumbled forward a couple of steps, then glared at her over his shoulder.

Natasha placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot.

“Oh what the hell?” he thought, and marched over to Roxanne, standing directly behind her.  She didn't notice because of the game noise, so he leaned down to her ear and loudly asked, “How's it going?”

In the blink of an eye, Steve found himself flat on his back with Roxanne on top of him holding a wickedly-sharp blade to his throat, wide-eyed and panting.

“Sorry!  I didn't mean to scare- Put the knife down.  Please,” he pleaded.  “Roxy?”

Roxanne tossed the knife aside and scrambled off of him, then ran out the door.

Steve lay there splayed out like a starfish, staring at the ceiling and wondering why fuckery kept finding its way to him, as his team mates gathered around.  They peered down at him curiously, barely-concealed amusement on each face.

“Hey Steve, you dead?”  Bucky asked, his lips twitching in an effort to keep laughter at bay.

Clint snickered.  “Dead from embarrassment, maybe.  Rox is crazy fast!”

Groaning, Steve pressed his palms into his eyes.  “You should go talk to her, Buck.”

“Huh?  Why me?”

Sitting up, the Captain eyeballed his best friend and snorted.  “Obvious reasons.”

Bucky blinked, then looked from Steve to Natasha.  “The fuck is he talkin' about?”

She shrugged.  “He thinks Rox has a thing for you.”

“Oh.  Oh!  Really?” Bucky hummed. “I should go talk to her.”  

Steve made a strangled moan as Bucky headed out the door, then stood and straightened his clothing.  “See you guys later,” he grunted and left the room as his team mates watched, helpless and confused.

*  *  *  *

Roxanne was seated at a window and brooding when she heard the tentative knocks at her door.  Ignoring the first few was easy, but it became more difficult when the knocks turned to loud booms. Grumbling, she made her way across the floor. “Okay, gimme a second.”  She yanked open the door to find Bucky on the other side.  “Oh, hey.  Come in.”   She went back to her window seat while he stood there shifting from one foot to the other. “Close the door, and sit down.”

He complied and took a seat on the overstuffed armchair.  “Everything okay, doll?  You kinda took off in a hurry earlier.”

She didn't bother to look at him, her gaze still fixed outside and fingertips trailing over the weave of the curtains.  “I pulled a knife on Steve, Buck.  Steve!”

“Yeah.  It's not the first time that's happened to him.  Won't be the last.”

“First for me.  He's my Captain.  My friend.  My very dear friend!” she insisted, “You don't hold a knife to your friend's throat!”

Bucky smirked and scoffed.  “I've done that.  And shot him.  Stabbed him, beat the hell out of him... and he's been my closest friend for eighty years.”

Roxanne pinched the bridge of her nose and grimaced.  “That is an entirely different situation...uh, entirely, and you know it.  He's never gonna forgive me for this, and even if he does, I won't forgive me.”  She slammed her fists down on the wooden window sill with bruising force, a resounding crack echoing through the room.

 Bucky was across the floor in an instant, taking her trembling wrists in his hands. “Doll, you're scaring me.  Please, just, calm down.”  They stayed like that until Roxanne's breathing slowed and the shaking stopped.    Finally he released her wrists and wrapped his arms around her as she leaned against his chest, swaying them back and forth.

“Ohh, I feel better already.  You're really warm.” She snuffled at his shirt.  “And you smell good,” she complimented, resting her hands on his sides.

He flinched.  “Thanks.”

Roxanne curled her fingers and he flinched again.  “Oh, Bucky... you're so...” she curled her fingers again, “Ticklish!”  She attacked his sides in earnest as he tried to fend her off carefully.

“Doll,” he squirmed, trying to back away from her, “Woman!  You'd better stop,” he warned.

She narrowed her eyes and smirked.  “Or what, Buckaroo?”  Snaking a hand into each of his armpits, she unleashed tickle hell.  “No mercy!”

Bucky bit his lower lip, trying to stifle his laughter.  “Okay, girly,” he snorted, “You've messed with the wrong person.”  He twisted away from her and crouched.

Roxanne backed up and her eyes went wide.  “Oh shit.  I've triggered the Big Bad Wolf!”  She giggled crazily and sprinted across the room, vaulting over the couch.

The chase was on.  Roxanne had the advantage of knowing the living space like the back of her hand, but Bucky was the superior tactician, so she she managed to keep out of his reach by the skin of her teeth.  He finally cornered her in the bedroom, where she'd ended up standing on the far side of her bed, plastered against the wall.

“I've got you!” he laughed, and leaped onto the bed with a victory shout, planting both feet in front of her.

Roxanne squealed and Bucky's fingers contacted her ribs, then they heard a small cracking sound.  “Uh oh,” she whispered as the bed tilted precariously and slammed to the floor.  They both lie there in a heap for a moment before disentangling from one another and jumping apart, Roxanne at the foot of the bed, Bucky at the up-tilted side.  They looked from the crazily leaning mattress to each other and back again, then burst into laughter.

“Not exactly the way I pictured us breaking my bed,” Roxanne quipped, waggling her eyebrows as she pulled the bed away from the wall and surveyed the damage.

Bucky's face flushed deep red and dared to glance at her.  “So, uh...” he trailed off.

“Hm?  I think I have something I can use to prop this up until tomorrow,” she murmured distractedly from the low side of the mattress.  “No big deal.  I was ready for something new anyway.”  The mattress shifted hard and she looked up to see Bucky was perched on the high side.  She held up a hand, forbidding him to continue.  “Sir, that slide is for children only.”

Bucky snorted and slid across the surface anyway, landing neatly beside her.  “Lemme see.”  He raised the mattress and box spring with one hand and peered at the broken side rail, then grimaced.  “Yep, snapped right in half. I'll hold this up while you get the blocks or whatever,” he offered.

When it was all put right, Roxanne hugged Bucky, thanking him for helping.  If they held on a little longer than friends do, neither mentioned it.  “Wanna watch a movie?” she offered, breaking the sudden tension, “You can choose.”

He agreed and she hustled off to take a quick shower while he searched through the titles for the new horror flick she'd been excited to see for a while.

When she returned she shimmied under the covers next to him and sighed happily.  “You found it!  Been waiting for this one.”

“Uh huh.  You're gonna fall asleep, you know.”

“No way.  I've been looking forward to this movie for months!”

“Right, sure.  Wanna bet on that?”

She growled playfully at him.  “All I want to do right now is cuddle with you in bed... is that too much to ask?”

Bucky waggled his eyebrows at her. “That's all?  You sure, doll?”

“Well,” she turned to him and trailed her fingers over his chest. “I also want you to take off your pants.”

He blinked.

“You gonna?”

He blinked again.

“Earth to Bucky.”

“Uh, sure, okay.”  He pulled off his sweatpants and tossed them carelessly to the floor.

“See?  Isn't that more comfortable? Oh,” she squinted at him, “You are wearing underpants, right?”

He blushed furiously.  “Roxy!  Of course I am!”

“Okay, geez.  Those sweats are pilly and scratchy.  Ugh, how can you wear those?  Get comfy and let's watch this flick.”I've been looking forward to this movie for months!”

They joked and snarked at the movie as it played – it really was written poorly – and generally laughed so much, they missed half of the dialogue.

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky snorted as the main characters made yet another idiotic mistake in the haunted estate.  “This would never happen if it was you and me in their place, doll.”

Roxanne nodded.  “Right? I'd freakin' lose it, I'd be all up in your face like, 'How could you lose our children in our own house?'  Bah!”

They made it through to the end and put on a dumb comedy afterward, but they were both fading fast.  Yawning widely, Roxanne squeezed the arm Bucky had wrapped around her waist.  “Thanks for helping me feel better, Buckaroo.  You're awesome.”

“I sure am,” he chuckled. “Anytime, Roxy-girl.”

They nodded off halfway or so through the movie, warm and comfortable in the temporarily-repaired bed. Bucky awoke somewhere around two o'clock and eased his way out of her quarters, still in his t-shirt and boxers, sweatpants in his hand.  As he quietly closed the door and made his way to his room, he failed to notice he was being observed by his best friend.

Steve stood at the corner, watching Bucky leave his girl's room, sadness and jealousy bubbling in his gut.  He scoffed at himself for calling Roxanne “his” in his own head and spun around to hit the gym again... only to come face-to-face with Natasha.

“Seems like I'm always catching you running away from Rox,” she quipped, and folded her arms across her chest.

He sighed.  “Not running away. Leaving.  She's already had, uh, company.”

“Who, Barnes?” she snorted, “I have it on good authority that she didn't bang him.”

The Captain raised a brow.  “Oh yeah? How's that, spycams in her bedroom?”

“Careful, Rogers,” she warned. “Because you're hurting, I'll let that one slide.  Here.”  She tapped at her phone a few times and handed it over, open to a messaging app.

Rox:  Natty!  I need HELLLLLLLP! Please!!!

-What's the matter?  Who do I have to murder?

Rox:  NAT

-No, really.  I will.

Rox:  Nothing like that.  I freaked out after almost stabbing Steve and Bucky came to check on me and long story short I asked him to snuggle in bed with me.   Did I fuck up????????

-…

Rox:  Hurry Natty!  Need answers I'm in the bathroom and need to leave!

-There's nothing wrong with you SNUGGLING with Bucky.  

Rox:  that's all we're gonna do I swear.  He's super hot but we're not there yet ya know???

Rox: gotta go thnx I love you!!!!

Steve read and re-read the manic message exchange a few times, letting it sink in.  He gave Natasha her phone back and dragged a hand over his face.  “Dammit.”

“Uh huh.”

He stood straighter, hands on hips, and cocked his head at her.  “That still doesn't mean they didn't... fondue.   Going by the timestamp on the messages, they had plenty of time for that.”

Natasha huffed and slapped him hard on the arm.  “If Rox had been planning on doing Barnes, she would have asked for wildly different advice.”

With a look, he urged her to continue.

“Oh dear God, you just might be stupid with two Os.  She's asked me for sex advice before, obviously.”

Steve frowned.  “I don't need to hear this.”

“Actually, I think you do.  Remember when you watched 'The Wizard of Oz' with her in your room and she took an oddly long time to bring the popcorn?”

His jaw dropped.

“She asked me how it was possible for you to be such an adorable puppy and so smokin' hot at the same time.”

His face went scarlet.  “She asked you that?”

“Yep,” she nodded.  “Compared you to a giant yellow labrador retriever puppy.  She was hopeful, but it didn't happen.  I mean, obviously.”

“I have-  I need to-  I've gotta go. Thanks, Natasha.” He stepped around her and jogged toward the elevator.

She watched him go, shaking her head and muttering, “All the men in this tower share the same brain cell, I swear.”

Roxanne was dreaming peacefully, quietly snoring into her pillow and curled up burrito-style in her blankets, when she was rudely jolted awake by a loud thumping. Snorting in a completely unladylike manner, she forced herself out of bed and across the floor.  

She slumped against the wall and snarled, “It's four in the morning, what do you want?”

Shuffling sounds came from the other side of the door.  “It's, uh, it's me.  Steve.  May I come in?”

“Oh.  Yeah- yes, please.”   She swung the door open wide to allow him inside.

“Are you okay?  You were so upset when you left, and I- I thought you might still be... sad?”

“Really?”

He nodded quickly.  “Yeah, so I thought I'd bring something to cheer you up.”  He produced a plush yellow Labrador puppy from behind his back and thrust it toward her.

Blinking, she gently took the stuffed toy.  “So you thought I was sad, because of...earlier.”

“Yes.”

“And you really thought buying me a puppy was going to cure my sadness?”

His expression mirrored the stuffed pup's exactly and she smiled fondly at him.

“Well... you were right.   Thank you!”  She tucked the gift under one arm and hugged Steve with the other before gasping and jumping away from him.  “I'm sorry!”

“Wait, what?  Why are you apologizing?”

Eyes glassy with tears that were about to spill over, she blurted, “You must hate me!  I put a knife to your throat, Steve.  That's not something you just brush off.  We're- we're f-friends.  Close.  You're my Captain!”  there was no stopping the word vomit now, as mortified as she was.  Might as well rip off the Band-aid.  “And you're amazing and smokin' hot and I've had the biggest damn crush on you for so long and all I want to do is kiss your stupidly handsome face, and...  Oh no,” she whined and covered her face with both hands.  “On a scale from one to ten how much do you want to punch me right now?”  She asked quietly, peeking at him between her fingers.

Concerned, Steve placed his hands on her shoulders and gently squeezed.  “Sweetheart, slow down.  Just breathe for me, okay?” he soothed.  “First of all... No, I don't hate you.  We're not there just yet.  You'd have to do a hell of a lot worse than pouncing on me with a knife to make me hate you,” he grinned at her.

Roxanne winced.  “I- I don't-”

“Are you saying you're plotting my demise as we speak, doll?”

“Steve!  I would never, and you know it,” she denied.

He laughed heartily at her distress. “Okay, okay, sorry.  Just giving you a little grief.  I'll let you get back to sleep.”  He turned to the door.

“Yeah, like I'm gonna be able to knock out again after all of this.”

Steve sighed.  “Want me to go get Buck for you?  Maybe he can help.”

Roxanne rolled her eyes and tossed the stuffed dog onto the sofa.  “Steve Rogers, you big, gorgeous idiot!”

He blinked.  “Um.  I'll take that as a compliment...I guess.”

She flung herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck.  “I've been mooning over you for a year now and- and I didn't know how to- didn't think I should say anything.  It's not my place and...”

He held her close and smiled.  “I've done my share of pining, too, sweetheart.”

“I have an idea,” she said, then leaned forward and pressed her lips to his for a short and sweet kiss.  “Wanna go stargazing and cuddle under the moonlight?  What's left of it, that is,” she suggested.

“On one condition.  Call me your ‘Captain’ again.”

Trailing her fingertips over his chest, she fluttered her eyelashes and in a breathy voice, asked, “Would my Captain like to go up on the rooftop with me?”

Steve’s chest rumbled and his eyes darkened.  “Yes ma’am, I’d like that very much.”

Later, bundled up together on one of the rooftop chaise lounges, Steve and Roxanne weren't doing much stargazing.  Caught up in the closeness, the newness, instead they spent the pre-dawn time making out and murmuring sweet nothings, as lovers do, until Steve's phone alarm sounding at half-past six pulled them from their serotonin haze, and they both groaned in irritation.

“We probably should have gotten some sleep, sweetheart.”

“I was sleeping soundly until somebody pounded on my door,” she teased, and poked his chin.

“Uh huh.  Was it worth it?”

“I dunno... I was really comfortable, and I need my beauty sleep or I wake up looking like sea hag.”

He tutted and kissed her forehead. “Aw, I'm sorry, doll.  How can I make it up to you?”

Tapping her lips with her fingers, she pretended to consider his words.  “How about... another cuddle session?  Longer this time and with more kissing.”

“I think I can manage that,” he grinned.

“Oh, and bring Bucky.”

He gasped and tickled her mercilessly.

“Okay, okay!  Enough!”  She kissed him soundly, then they untangled from the blankets and headed for the door, hand in hand.

Steve sighed wistfully.  “We wasted so much time, you know.”

“Yeah,  maybe we really are stupid with two Os,” she teased, nudging him with an elbow.

He chuckled and opened the door for her.  “Maybe so, darlin'.  Maybe so.”

She passed him and sauntered toward the residential area, calling back over her shoulder, “About bringing Bucky along, though-”

Thundering footfalls sounded behind her as she squealed and ran for her life, giggling madly all the way.

#JOOF500Challenge #steve rogers fanfiction #avengers fanfiction

[astaerion]

13, 30, 31, 35

13: favorite character that we haven't seen in a while/has an unexplainable disappearance?

i'd like to see okoye, rhodey, and nick fury come back soon. we had a little rhodey in tfatws, but it wasn't enough.

30: how/why did you get into marvel?

i got into it in 2012, right before the avengers came out. my best friend at the time has really into batman and dc stuff, so her older brother told her to go watch this new movie bc she'll love it for sure. since she didn't want to go alone she asked me to come with. we were a few days out from when we planned to go so i wanted to catch up on the previous movies. i skipped the two iron man movies bc i remembered seeing them on tv. my friend's brother said that the incredible hulk isn't really relevant so i skipped that too. i watched thor and the first avenger and liked both of them. i instantly took a liking to loki and i've been stuck here ever since. i'm honestly so happy i found this franchise bc i love it with all my heart and with all its flaws. it's gotten me some great friends over the years and i even wrote my BA thesis about it 😅

31: which side character do you hope/had hoped would get more recognition?

i think that mantis is definitely underrated and i hope she will become more central in the future, but i doubt it.

35: mcu characters you'd like to see in a show?

hmmm i don't know... right now i'm pretty happy with the characters that got shows and nobody comes to mind immediately. back in like 2015 i really wanted to eventually get a hawkeye show, specifically from the matt fraction run bc i just read it and thought it would make for a good tv show. from what we've seen, the hawkeye series we are getting will pull some inspiration from those comics, but i don't like jeremy renner or what clint's character has been made into in the mcu so i'm not too excited for it. my ideal hawkeye show would just drop the whole renner clint thing and start from scratch.

i'd also like to eventually get something with the young avengers, a runaways-like series would be a lot of fun. and now that a lot of characters who are part of the team are getting introduced it might actually happen!

MCU REFLECTION ASKS

#answered #about me #thank you for asking! <3

[helloprettybb]

i don’t want to set the world on fire

The other Steve Rogers fic did surprisingly well. I have so many more ideas, so look out for those. Also, Peter Parker may come soon, but who knows. While writing this, I realized that I could probably write a part two, so would you all like that? Also, just warning you, I lowkey insult rock, but it’s only for the sake of the plot. Rock is great. I’m also writing a prequel for ‘i’ll be back’ which will be posted after this hopefully.

I have a plan to make this a series all inspired by old music. This first part is inspired by this song:

Warnings: almost rape

word count: 3.9k

“I didn’t mean to,” were the first words you uttered to the Avengers. Laying next to you was a man whose body was burnt to a crisp. Yet you, small and innocent-looking, were perfectly fine. Of course, they had some questions.

Your father was never in your life and your mother died from childbirth, so for most of your life, you were raised by your great aunt. Life was great, even normal, until she died when you were thirteen. Since you were a minor, you were placed in an orphanage while the house was up for rent. When you turned 18, you were allowed to move into her house. Although rather lonely, you were safe  and inherited a decent amount of money. Still, you had a part-time job to stay financially stable. 

You were walking up to your car when you noticed a piece of paper on your windshield. You knew what that meant so you quickly turned the other way but were too late. A man appeared out of nowhere and grabbed you. As much as you struggled, it was useless as he was much stronger than you. Before you could pull out your pepper spray, the man knocks you unconscious.

The first thing you see when you come to is a man hovering over you. He must have noticed you woke up because he cooed, “Don’t worry, I won’t take long,” You start to scream for help, but survey your surroundings and realize that you’re probably in the middle of nowhere. 

You panic as the man starts to unzip your pants. You can feel a heat burning inside of you. It feels like a volcano was erupting from within, extremely hot, but not uncomfortable. All of a sudden, a blast of fire erupts from your hands and shoots through the roof. You’re so taken aback that you don’t even notice the man burning to death until his screams of agony cut through your train of thought. You pull back instantly but it’s too late. The man is dying before your eyes and you are stuck frozen. Your brain starts up again and you look for something to put the fire out. You find a blanket and eventually put out the fire, but he is already dead.

All you could do is cry at the fact that you just killed a man. You’re so caught up in your tears that you don’t even realize that all your clothes are burned off. Shivering, you try to think of what to do. Noticing a dark bag in the corner, you hesitantly touch it and hope that it doesn’t burn to a crisp. Luckily, nothing happens so you rummage through it to find anything. You pull out a long shirt and clean boxers. Before you could think of an exit plan, you are startled by a blast through the door. 

You cower in fear as Iron Man flies and lands right in front of you. The rest of his team follow suit. They look at you, the burnt man and then back at you. Iron Man’s hand is glowing and pointed right at your face.

He towers over you, causing you to scoot back. He starts to say something when Captain America put up a hand and says, “She’s just a kid, Tony.” He squats down so that he’s eye level with you and asks, “Can you tell us what happened?”

You could barely talk since you were so nervous. Seeming to sense your fear, he removed his mask. You’ve seen him on television, but only as Captain America. But crouched in front of you, he didn’t seem like a superhero, but just an ordinary man. You rack your brain and finally remember his name: Steve Rogers. 

“H-he was trying to attack me. I don’t know how it happened, but one moment he was on top of me and the next he was on fire. I tried to put it out, but he was already dead.” you stutter, still shocked beyond belief. You start to hyperventilate as your actions finally sink in. “I didn’t mean to, honest. I didn’t even know I could do that. You have to believe me!” you cry unprompted. Steve moves to touch you soothingly before you quickly scoot away.

“Please don’t touch me! I don’t want to kill you too.” you exclaim, scared of your own body. Steve’s eyes are filled with what looks like sympathy and he glances at Tony.

He speaks up, “She’s right, Cap.” You suddenly notice the scanner on his suit. “Her temperature is off the charts. How are you alive, kid?”

Before you could attempt to answer his question, Steve speaks up, “We have to take her to the lab. Banner will know what to do.” With no further questions, you are escorted toward their ship, careful not to touch anyone. 

On the ship, you hear their muttered whispers and assume it’s about what they should do with you. After all, you’re just a stowaway. The ride feels like an eternity until the jet finally lands. The other Avenger separate, leaving you alone with Steve and Tony. They guide you inside the giant complex and you try not to gawk at the high ceilings and large staircases, but you’ve never been in a building this huge. 

You are directed downstairs to a high-tech lab. Tony types on a keyboard and does a retinal scan before the door opens. A smallish, fidgety man is in there and greets Tony. When he notices you, he asks politely, “Who’s this?”

Realizing he never caught your name, Tony turns to you and asks in an almost comical way, “Who are you?” You say your name and Tony continues, “Anyway, she uh, has some special abilities.” Bruce quirks an eyebrow at his wording and does a biological scan. His eyes widen when he sees your vitals.

“You have a temperature of 160 degrees Celsius.” he explains. You watch as he interacts with the projected screen.

“She also burned a hole in the ceiling.” Steve states, purposely excluding the part about you killing someone.

“This may sound like a stupid question, but can I touch people without hurting them?” you ask hesitantly. You don’t want to live the rest of your life in constant fear.

Bruce pushes the screen down and responds, “Well, I’ll have to do some tests before I know for sure. But seeing as you’re clothes are still intact, I assume that you are safe.” Bruce walks over to his lab table and starts typing something on his computer. You feel Steve’s gaze as you fidget uncomfortably.

“We’ll do the tests tomorrow. Let her get some rest,” Steve’s voice booms above you. Bruce just nods as you, Tony, and Steve leave the lab. As the three of you walk up the stairs, Tony’s phone goes off. 

He looks down and tells Steve, “It’s Pepper. Can you show Y/n to the residential area.” Steve nods and you two part ways with Tony. You’re silent as Steve guides you around the building and towards the elevator.

He presses the third button and you two stand in silence as the doors close. A familiar tune plays on the speakers. You smile after recognizing it. Steve catches your small grin and asks, “You know this song?”

“Uh, yeah. ‘Stop Pretending’ was one of my great aunt’s favorites. Personally, I prefer ‘I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire’” you comment lightly. Steve opens his mouth to say something when the doors open. He steps out and you follow him down the hall.

He stops in front of a door at the far end and says, “You can stay here for the time being. My room’s the first door on the left if you need anything,” Steve doesn’t know why he added that last part, but something about your wide, innocent eyes intrigued him and your affinity for old music sure didn’t hurt.

You open the door and start to walk in before turning around and tell, “Thank you, Steve.” He gives you a glowing smile before you close the door. You didn’t realize how tired you were until your head hit the pillow and you instantly fell asleep.

-

You’re woken up by a muted, yet pestering, alarm. “Miss Y/n, Dr. Banner requests your presence.” a disembodied voice says. You look at the clock and see that it’s nearly ten o’clock. You step into the elevator and expecting to hear smooth jazz music, are extremely caught off guard by the jarring rock music. Never a big fan of rock, you cringe slightly as the speakers blast the loud electric guitars and intense drums. Luckily you are spared when the elevator doors open to the living room. You see the Avengers, now in normal clothes, lounging on the couches.

They all get up and walk towards you. A man with only one arm goes to introduce himself, “I’m Bucky. Who are you?”

“I’m y/n.” you reply sheepishly, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the new faces. You vaguely remember them from tv but an introduction helps. They go around and say their names. You remembered Natasha and Clint as Black Widow and Hawkeye but you didn’t know the man named Sam Wilson. You shake everyone’s hand and you mentally sigh in relief that you didn’t burn anyone.

They start a conversation with you and before you could respond a voice calls, “Y/n, aren’t you starting with Banner today?” You look over Natasha’s shoulder to see Steve. He’s wearing a fairly tight grey shirt and sweats that if you were in any other situation, would distract you greatly.

“Yeah, I was heading down there now.” you reply with a curt nod.

“I’ll walk you down.” he states, walking towards you. The others part so that Steve could get through. You follow him towards the stairs that lead to the lab.

“Sorry about them. They can be a little intense at first, but I promise they don’t bite.” Steve jokes and cracks a beautiful smile.

“No, it’s alright.” you reply with a smile to assure him, “They seem nice. I’m just not the best with people.” You realize how sad that sounded and it seems that he did too. It looks like he’s about to say something when the lab door opens.

“Y/n, come in.” Bruce insists. You and Steve walk in the lab and Bruce closes the door behind you. He leads you over to his work area and starts, “Before I test your abilities, I want to understand how your abilities work. I’ll do a couple blood tests, take some skin samples, and do a DNA test.” He pulls out a needle and you instantly stiffen. 

Steve notices and you half-joke, “I’m not the biggest fan of needles.” You expect Steve to leave when Bruce starts preparing the needle, but he stays. The more you think of the needle, the less you can control your shaky hands. You close your eyes to try and block out the image of the needles piercing your skin.

You feel a panic attack coming when you feel a hand slipping into yours. You open your eyes and look down at Steve’s outstretched hand. Before you could say anything, you feel the needle prick. Almost out of instinct, you grab onto Steve’s large hand. His calm, blue eyes ease your tension and divert your attention from the blood. Steve starts lightly caressing your knuckles and you feel yourself warm up. 

It’s a different type of warm than in the warehouse. It feels like a warm hearth spreading through your body. Your mind wanders 

“Okay, I’ll have the results in a couple days.” Banner states, interrupting your thoughts. You look down and see a band-aid on your arm.

“It’s done already?” you ask, surprised that you actually did it without passing out.

“Yeah, you did it, doll.” Steve replies with his hand still wrapped around yours. Doll. You wonder if you were just imagining that, but you have to admit, that nickname made you feel a certain way. 

You glance over at Banner who is dripping the blood into a tube. You start shaking again and start to feel the urge to throw up. Steve’s solid hand lightly squeezes yours and he asks Banner, “Does she need to do any more tests?” 

“No, not today at least. It’ll take me a couple days to perform tests since I have Tony’s side project to work on. You’re free to go.” he replies. 

Steve lets go of your hand and it immediately feels colder. You hop off the stool and follow Steve out of the lab. As you walk, your stomach grumbles and Steve asks, “When was the last time you’ve eaten?” 

You think back to the past 24 hours and realize you haven’t eaten since that man abducted you. “Not since yesterday,” you reply. 

Steve furrows his brow at that and states, “I’ll make you something.” Before you could protest, Steve walks into the kitchen and looks through the cabinets. “What would you like?” he asks politely.

“Um, anything. I’m not picky.” you respond, pulling out a stool from under the counter. Swinging your legs, you watch Steve as he begins to make you a sandwich. Something about Captain America making you a sandwich is so odd that you laugh to yourself.

You didn’t realize you actually laughed out loud until Steve looks up at you. “Sorry, I just think it’s funny that Captain America is cooking for me.” you explain. Steve responds with a small smile and light chuckle and continues cooking. When he’s done, he pulls out a plate and hands you your food.

You smile widely, surprised that he’s so nice and caring, “Thank you, I’m starving.” He hands you the plate and you sit on a stool by the counter. Steve stands on the other side, waiting for you to take your first bite. You moan with delight and mumble with food still in your mouth, “It’s delicious.” Steve smiles as you continue eating.

A comfortable silence forms around the two of you. When you finish, you wipe your mouth with a napkin and get up to put your plate in the dishwasher. “Hey, uh, thank you for not mentioning the guy dying.” you note awkwardly as you throw the napkin in the trash.

“Don’t mention it.” He replies, turning to face you and shooting a short smile. He sees you look down, presumably too ashamed to look him in the eye, “Hey,” he starts, drawing your attention, “If you ever need to talk, I’m here.” He adds an assuring smile that makes you melt a little.

“Thanks, Steve.” you convey before heading upstairs. You take the stairs to avoid the rock music and although it’s a tiring three flights, at least it’s quiet.

-

It’s not that you don’t like the Avengers, but being alone for nearly a decade gave you some certain habits. One distinct habit was eating alone, which you didn’t realize how odd it was until Natasha asked, “Hey, Y/n. Do you want to eat with us?”

You wanted to say yes, but your years of self-isolation made you reply, “Oh, uh, I’m just going to eat in my room. Thank you, though.” Steve gives you a brief wave before looking back at his crossword puzzle like a true old man. 

Natasha watches you walk out and hums a short, “Hm.” 

“What is it?” Bucky asks, eyes flitting over to Natasha who has a confused look on her face.

“I wonder why Y/n insists on eating alone.” she takes a bite of her food and thinks again, “Are we not inviting enough?”

Tony laughs and replies, “You’re about as inviting as the green guy.” Luckily Bruce is down at the lab or else he would have stared daggers at him.

Nat rolls her eyes and says, “Well, I showed her my knife collection and she seemed pretty entertained.” Tony, Bucky, and Natasha present multiple theories.

“Maybe she just likes her personal space.” Tony shrugs, proposing the most logical explanation.

“Yeah, I guess. But I don’t know, there has to be another-” Natasha starts before Wanda interrupts her.

“It’s because of her great aunt.” Everyone at the table turns to Wanda. 

“How do you know that?” Bucky asks skeptically. Wanda rolls her eyes and simply points at her head. “Oh, yeah.”

Wanda continues, “After she died, Y/n was left alone and stayed that way for years.” She takes one last bite and adds, “I think she isn’t used to all this company.” Everyone seems to accept this answer and they take their last bites before picking up their plates. 

Wanda remembers one last thing and states, “Oh, yeah, and because Steve held her hand.” Bucky wolf whistles and Natasha’s eyebrows shoot up.

Steve had been listening to the conversation, but after hearing his name, he speaks for the first time since dinner started. “Bruce was drawing her blood and she looked really nervous.” Steve explains with an eye roll. He walks away before they could bully him anymore.

-

Throughout the week, Banner performed a skin biopsy, MRI, and DNA test. While none of them were as bad as the blood test, you wished Steve had been with you for them. You knew he was busy, being Captain America and all. Occasionally, you’d see him around the Compound but you haven’t had a full conversation with him since that one time.

On your fifth day, you find yourself wandering the Compound yet again. It seems that no matter how many times you wander, you still find a new room to discover. You open a door on the first floor and see a vast ballroom. It isn’t the ballroom that catches your attention, but what lies in the corner.

A beautiful grand piano is tucked away next time a guitar, drums, and microphone. Strolling over, you remove the keyboard cover and press a key. The piano sings, sounding prettier than your great aunt’s old upright piano. Smiling to yourself, you sit on the bench and begin to play. You become so lost in the music that you don’t even hear the footsteps walking closer.

You come to the end of a song and a voice behind you asks, “You play?” You turn, even though you already knew who it was. Steve’s blue eyes are so intense that you falter a bit before responding.

“Yeah, or at least I used to. My great aunt taught me before she passed away.” you sigh and turn back to the piano. Steve sits beside you on the bench and you start a slow, pretty tune. “I haven’t played since.” you admit sadly. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, not knowing what to say at the moment.

You smile a little sadly and remark, “You would have loved her. She’d always have her record player on and it’d fill the house with The Ink Spots or Al Bowlly.” 

As you reminisce, Steve studies you. With everything going on, he hasn’t had the chance to truly see you. You’re beautiful, but Steve already knew that. He noticed all the little imperfections that seemed to make you even more flawless. He can tell that you’re scared and he admires your calm disposition with all of this. 

He focuses on your hands, elegant and graceful across the keys. You apologize a couple times for your mistakes, but Steve doesn’t hear them. Even if he did, he wouldn’t care. Everything about you seems effortless and beautiful. When he first met you, he thought you were just a kid, but now he couldn’t be more wrong. You didn’t look old, but you had a mature beauty and something about your essence tells Steve that you’ve seen things.

Your hands slow and Steve sees a sly smile spread across your face. When you start again, Steve recognizes the introduction. He matches your smile and asks, “I’m Beginning to See the Light?”

“Yes, it’s one of the first non-classical songs I learned.” you respond. Steve nods and you return your focus to the music. You get so lost in it that you don’t even realize that you’re singing quietly. 

Your trance-like state is interrupted when Steve says lowly, “You have a beautiful singing voice.” You blush a little since no one except your great aunt has heard you sing.

“Thank you,” you respond, a little embarrassed. He already heard you sing so mind as well continue. A little louder, you sing, “Then you came and caused a spark. That’s a four-alarm fire now.” When the song ends, a sudden thought strike you.

“Why does the elevator only play jazz when you’re on it?” you ask curiously, trying to change the conversation.

He chuckles lightly and responds, “The elevator is programmed to play certain music for each of us. For guests, it plays Tony’s rock playlist.” You roll your eyes and close the fallboard.

“It was awful. How could anyone enjoying something that loud, especially in the morning?” you joke and Steve laughs.

“You’ll find out sooner or later that there’s a lot of things about Stark that can’t be explained.” Steve jests and you laugh. 

“I’ve been avoiding the elevator ever since.” you admit and Steve chuckles. 

F.R.I.D.A.Y breaks the conversation and announces, “Y/n, you’re test results are in. Dr. Banner requests your presence.” Trying to hide your disappointment, you get up and Steve follows suit. The two of you walk out of the ballroom. 

At the top of the lab stairs, you tell Steve, “Well, I guess I better get going.” 

“Yeah, see you later.” Steve says, giving a quick wave. You give him a final goodbye before heading down to the lab.

-

“You said that was the first time it happened?” Bruce asks and you nod in response. For the past half hour, Bruce explained the many discoveries he made. Turns out, not only could you produce fire, but your body can withstand such high temperatures that you could walk through fire. 

He continues, “Well, it seems there was a stimulus that triggered your body to increase its temperature so high that you were able to produce fire.” You nod as he continues, “I think with proper training, you could learn to control and use your abilities.” 

You raise your eyebrows in shock. Obviously, these new abilities would change your life, but you never thought you could actually achieve something with them. You ask, “Well, um, how do we go about this training?” 

Bruce thinks a bit and responds, “I’ll ask the team and we’ll put something together.” Bruce turns to work on something else and you take that as your cue to leave.

You remember a distinct detail from when you used your abilities and ask, “Can you design a suit that doesn’t result in me being naked every time I set on fire?” 

Bruce blushes a bit out of embarrassment and replies, “I’ll tell Tony.” You walk out of the lab and up the stairs. Too tired, you grit your teeth and decide to use the elevator.

Bracing yourself for heavy rock, you plug your ears. But when the elevator doors close and you don’t hear anything, you remove your fingers from your ears. You smile to yourself as the song ‘I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire’ starts playing. 

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel #marvel imagine #avengers #avengers imagines

[bcrtonarrcws]

Meta: Claire's relationship with Barney

              HELLO, HI, YOU HAVE JUST UNLOCKED AN ESSAY THAT IS PROBABLY JUST A LITTLE TOO LONG, if I do say so myself and given that I wrote it, I would say you should listen.

 Anyway, the Bartons are actually my favorite comic siblings to ever exist – probably actually my two favorite comic characters ever ever. Their relationship is so dysfunctional and a little broken, yet held together by shitty guardians and a rough childhood. It’s kinda beautiful, how after everything that happened to each other, they’re still close?? Like they trust each other, tease each other, they have each other’s back?? The relationship between Clint and Barney is truly one of my favorite representations of a pair of siblings who didn’t have the easiest life, mainly because, like without the superhero nonsense, their relationship is actually very similar to my own relationship with my siblings – a severely messed up ride or die that might end with one of us killing each other.

Yet, this question is what does Barney’s and Claire’s relationship look like, not Barney’s and Clint, which despite how little it would change, does change some things. To figure out what it changes though, I’d like to head to what their relationship is like, in canon, for me. I know that the fandom has it’s own view of Barney Barton – I don’t agree with it nor particularly like it, so it’s probably best if I explain how I look at their relationship.

So Barney Barton, born Charles Bernard Barton, is the eldest of the two – no ages because this is the comics and characters can’t have canon ages ?? I guess it’ll break the suspension of disbelief but like shrugs – and he showed up in the comics in 1969, before this, he never existed. Of course this is during the age of the 60’s so most superheros didn’t really like have a life outside of the comics they were in so it’s not that big of a deal, but like still, Marvel just creates this character to be Clint’s brother, tells us he’s a racketeer that’s been on the Avenger’s radar for a while, and then kills him in the same issue, only revealing at the end that he was an undercover FBI agent.

(yeah, they gave Clint a family and then killed said family right away, sounds so similar, y’know kinda like the movie-verse which gave clint a family with very little characterization and then snapped them – no wonder I love Laura so much)

Anyway, later issues of Clint’s will explain that their parents were abusive, they died and Clint and Barney ran away from the orphanage they were in when they were like teenagers – this would be retconned to young teenagers, then implied to be younger as of the Hawkeye (2012) series, which puts Clint sleeping under the tents at age 9 (src), which could or could not imply them being their already - it’s whatever, like it’s just gonna get retconned again. Running away to the circus always puts strain on their relationship no matter what age they are though, mainly due to Clint receiving training from their mutual “father figure” Jacques DuQuesne and Barney becoming jealous; a completely and natural thing according to all child psych I’ve read, it creates an environment that allows one kid to be the “golden child” and the other to be the “scapegoat” – now of course, we don’t know much about the dynamics of their full childhood, Marvel hates sharing any information like that, but we can extrapolate a fair amount.

(also, just so everyone knows, this jealousy did not pave the way for their relationship in later comics, namely Blindspot. In that it’s very clearly stated that Barney was found by Egghead to still be slightly alive. He was then held onto, for nefarious reasons, in a healing chamber, until he was found by Baron Zemo years later who then manipulated Barney against his brother so that Baron Zemo could get his revenge against Clint Barton. I’ll say it again, Barney was used against his own brother by an evil guy who hated Clint because Clint slept with Zemo’s wife; that is where the “Cain and Abel” dynamic comes from – not childhood)

Back on the tangentially related topic I was writing about. This jealousy grows until Jacques DuQuesne leaves after Clint finds out about his illegal dealings ( though the all new hawkeye actually kinda, maybe, a little, I’m unsure, retcons this with Clint finding out about it much earlier, when he finds out about Jacques having Barney stealing from people and places and finds the hidden cache of a gun, money and some other things under Jacques’ bed??? I don’t know, I’m now a little confused if Jacques still fucks off thanks to that comic ) - of course, this is after Jacques chases Clint through the circus, cutting the high wire Clint tried to hide on. Barney tells Clint, while his brother is in the hospital (and in literally a comic that got retconned basically) that he should’ve kept his mouth shut and stuck by Jacques no matter what (can we say that that sounds like trauma?? because guess what, psych 101 says that that’s kinda sounding like trauma since Jacques was trash to these kids, like literally, fuck Jacques DuQuesne – all my friends hate him – he’s an interesting villain but fuck the whitewashing of his bullshit).

This doesn’t sour their relationship at all – no seriously, it doesn’t which uh shows that neither of them really take each other at face value anymore – and they go back to the circus, Clint heals up, starts working with Buck (a man currently being written out of the comics world which is a shame because he’s kinda important but kinda not) and then Barney decides he wants out. With Barney in the army, Clint continues down the crime street and well, now that we’ve got a bit of background (over 800 words of background), let’s get onto what their relationship is really like for Claire and Barney.

Simply put, like in the comic relationship with Clint and Barney, Barney is a protective older brother, he taught Claire how to fight and aim, how to patch up simple bruises and cuts, taught her to drink her first shot (at like age fourteen, but like what do you expect when that boy was drinking much younger???). He was her first teacher, her best teacher – yes their relationship got complicated; it’s Claire when isn’t her relationships complicated – but at the end of the day, he helped shape her into who she was.

Less simply put…

He is her everything—in all the P L A T O N I C (I’m emphasizing platonic because please don’t take this in the romantic sense, they’re fucked up but not like that; I am not Marvel, I don’t ship siblings and pretend that shit is fine.) sense of the word—he was her guardian when all the guardians around her failed to properly take care of her; he was her brother who teased her and made fun of her; he was her best friend who understood what she went through, the only other person who did; he taught her as much schooling as she would sit down and listen to, he taught her how to cook herself some basic food.

He was a father, a mother, a brother, a best friend, a moral compass – which is why when he went off to the Army, Claire found it a betrayal. She hated him for the time that he was gone, though she forgave him not long before she first shot him because she could understand that to him  (the little purple box in the third panel: Carnival of Death, of course this is how Barney would remember things) the circus was never a home, just another temporary place to stay. 

(btw this is “shooting barney” thing that is part of my main verse, is canon. Clint shot his brother, who was working undercover as a bodyguard, while Clint was breaking into a mansion with the aforementioned soon-to-be-retconned-I’m-sure-of-it Buck Chisholm, which led to Buck shooting Clint in the shoulder when he refused to leave his brother’s body and pinning him to a tree – I don’t quite recall how Clint got out of getting arrested, I’m pretty sure it never explained, but I’m rusty and not really up for pulling out some old comics to read up on) 

(I lied, here’s the comic strip: 1. 2. Clint “somehow” managed to get free, take his brother to the hospital and then leave??? yeah sure. )

Anyway, let’s get on with it. So if that was their relationship when they were younger, what is it like now?? Now that Claire has found a place – a sturdy, yet unsteady, comfortable, yet spartan, to call her own –

( and yes, this sounds angsty, but Clint has issues accepting that he is where he wants to be – Clint is always running, even when standing completely still. It’s a trauma response to his shitty childhood where they never stayed in one place for too long; even when their parents were alive, they moved from above the family butcher shop to the Barton farm. Barney had it too, but apparently a relationship helped with that (and okay, look I love Simone and Barney, but that part in All New Hawkeye rubbed me wrong as a fellow wandering child turned rootless adult; the guy needs therapy, not just a relationship – but then again, Barney Barton does not get agency or a personality outside of Clint Barton; his life must revolve around Clint Barton, even when he was on the Dark Avengers, it was about Clint – and yeah, they’re brothers, “two sides of the same coin”, and all that jazz but like I’ve got three sisters and a brother, I’m my own person at the end of the day – something Barney Barton cannot say, which means ending his story on the note of retirement and falling in love is just the best thing so they don’t have to keep finding a reason to try to remember that Clint has a brother   I’ll stop with the rant, I’m sorry.) )

   where does a man who no longer has to be a father, mother, brother, best friend, and moral compass stand when his sister has all that? Well, for the most part, he stands next to her – in my main verse at least. After he has come back wrong (Buffy much?), he finds his place standing beside his sister, no longer solely protecting her from the world (as he had always done because the world is not kind to lost little girls or boys), because he’s learned that she can, for the most part, protect herself, and Claire finds herself less on a lower standing (less of a burden in her eyes, less of a child in need of comfort) with her brother, but more like an equal, something that’s a bit of a new situation for the both of them.

In truth, Claire’s relationship with Barney is complicated and messy but it’s hers, and when you have something that’s complicated and messy, you have to figure it out, and that’s what, in my canon, she’s doing. Sure Barney isn’t around a lot - he’s got his own shit to figure out - but he’s her brother, and she loves him, and he loves her and they’re trying to get to a place where they don’t accidentally poke the trauma they’ve got and ruin a good thing. 

......

Okay, so like did any of this make sense??? I don’t know. I guess, to sum it up really quick, in my main verse - and most of my canon - I’d say Claire’s relationship with Barney is slightly yet not really awkward – it’s awkward because once upon a time, it was simple. Yet at the same time, it’s a really important relationship because Claire was shaped by her brother (and of course all those shitty adults because there are no good mentors in the Marvel world, not for kids at least).

Idk, this is really just me rambling. Like I should just state that tis is just Mun taking all the retcons that Marvel stuck her babies through and trying to make sense of them along with a healthy dose of a smattering of psychology shoved all about because unlike Marvel, I have no desire to ignore the C-PTSD/PTSD that seems to follow both boys around thanks to their childhood – of course this crazy amount of words actually kinda ignores all the trauma they have as adults, but that’s a whole nother post for some other day

I also know that I carry some ~controversial ~ barney barton views - ie. he’s not a villain and that him and clint share a close relationship, that he isn’t dumb muscle (bitch got a 1350 SAT score with like minimal schooling, i’d like to see you do that) and that he wasn’t a shit older brother when they were kids - i’m not apologizing for them. not at all. i will never apologize for them. characters are more than one dimensional and if i gotta be the one to wade through all this vague ass bullshit to get those other two dimensions then i’m going to do just that, which i have done. 

plus it doesn’t even matter because through all the retcons clint and barney has gone through, this is what their relationship is; a fucked up dysfunctional sibling relationship gone off the rails when Barney was brought back from the dead and manipulated/brainwashed into hating his brother. it eventually got better, how? we’ve got none of that, but it did and and at the end of the day, as clint said:

#murder-popsicle #/ i am so sorry this is so long #it's over 2000 words cause i couldn't shut up #long post #general trauma tw #child abuse tw #⤗ your friendly neighborhood wine aunt : bubbles speaks ❛ ooc ❜ #⤗ the past is only a story : headcanons ❛ meta ❜ #⤗ i am a leaf on the queue : queue ❛ claire barton ❜ #⤗ sometimes your moral compass gets fucked up a little : barney barton ❛ brother barton❜

[cagestark]

Could you please write about Tony being jealous after Peter spends too much time sciencing with Bruce?

Sorry if you didn’t want so much angst. Hope this is okay

Read here on AO3.

Warnings: alcoholism. Unhealthy behaviors all around. But it does have a hopeful ending I think. 5.7k

Peter is elbow deep in his paper on NASA’s Fermi Gamma-ray Space Telescope when he gets that tingle, like a finger being dragged up his spine. It sets all his hairs to standing, heart pounding. He is not alone. Keeping perfectly still, he holds his breath to better listen and scans what little of the kitchen he can see without moving his head. But the breaths—so quiet, he can barely hear them—are coming from behind him. The person is still, seated, unthreatening.

He relaxes, twisting on the stool at the island. “Hey, Nat. I didn’t hear you come in.”

She is the picture of poise, perched in the armchair across the room. Peter still isn’t quite used to seeing her like this. In private, she is very different from the woman he first met on the tarmac in Germany with the chic hair and tight, dark outfit. Not relaxed, per se, but maybe as relaxed as the assassin can be, dressed in loungewear, face clear of makeup, her growing hair plaited back. It must be a huge sign of trust for her to show this side of herself, but Peter has been told that he always looks for the best in people.

“Peter,” she greets coolly. Her legs cross, slowly, the dragging of nylon loud. He thinks she might be trying to seduce him. The Avengers already know that he is gay, but maybe old habits die hard. His internal character assessment almost causes him to miss what she says next: “Are you aware of what you’re doing?”

Peter blinks. He points at the paper scrawled with notes. “Actually. Not really. I’m working on this paper for my Physics class, see. But we’ve been discussing gamma-rays and there is something about electromagnetic—”

“I mean with Bruce and Tony,” Natalie says.

His face puckers into a comical expression of confusion, glancing around the kitchen like the two scientists might actually be there without him knowing. “Uh—nothing?”

She looks unimpressed. “You’ve been spending every day with Bruce in his lab or up on the roof.”

Does she think that something is like, going on with Peter and Dr. Banner?

“We’re looking for signs of gamma radiation in thunderclouds. There was a big study last month that found gamma-rays preface some lightning strikes—” Natasha’s flat, unmoved stare stops him before his rambling monologue can truly begin. He swallows, throat dry, feeling some sort of dread in his gut, though he doesn’t know why.

Why is she being so cold to him, right now? It’s reminiscent of the stress dreams he used to have after Tony first offered him the position with the Avengers, dreams where he moved into the tower only for everyone to ostracize him and ignore him, dreams where Tony and Steve would sit down with him and say, Sorry Pete, it isn’t working out, you don’t mesh well with us, and may we please have back your suit?

“What is it?” Peter asks, trying to be brave. “Have I—did I do something?”

Natasha sighs, lifting herself from the armchair gingerly like she is twice or thrice her real age. She crosses the room and he has to force himself not to move away. The tingle is back, and this time, that primal spider-instinct inside him feels threatened, like he is bug beneath an incoming shoe. A large black stiletto maybe, with the Black Widow insignia on the bottom like a target for where his tiny body ideally will be smushed.

But he overrides the instinct and swallows down the fear: this is Natasha. She wouldn’t hurt him.

She does box him in, though, coming into his space and bracketing him with her arms, palms flat on the marble countertop behind him. “Tony doesn’t like me, much, Peter. Surely even you have noticed that. I once broke his confidence in me, and now I work very hard to make that up to him. You could say that a part of my reparations involves looking out for him.”

“That’s really nice of you,” Peter says, polite but firm. “I like to look out for Mr. Stark too. Excuse me—could you give me some space?”

After another moment, she pulls away. “You’re too smart to play dumb. Stop hurting Tony.”

Then she is snatching an apple out of the fruit bowl and strolling out of the room, not even leaving the scent of perfume behind. Peter feels baffled enough by the conversation to wonder if maybe the entire thing hadn’t been a hallucination. There’s no feasible way that Peter could be hurting Mr. Stark—he’s barely seen the man all week, since Peter has been so busy being tutored Bruce for his physics class.

Still, it takes him a long ten minutes for his senses to stop feeling like he’s in danger, and by then, he has completely lost his train of thought for outlining his paper. Sighing, he closes the book.

-

“It’s just going over my head,” Peter admits. It’s the weekend, when any other college student would be out on the town. Not many college students have the option of hanging out with the Avengers though, so. You know. Peter isn’t totally lame. At this time on a Saturday evening, most of the core Avengers are occupying their floor in the Tower. Peter has his own room there, with sheets that are royal blue and soft as silk and a picture on the wall of Tony presenting him with his Stark Industries internship certificate. “Every other aspect of physics is cake to me. Chocolate cake, even.”

“That’s his favorite,” Clint supplies helpfully. He’s playing cards with Nat and Tony at the other end of the island. Natalie is the best bluffer, but Tony can count cards in his sleep, so the odds are pretty evenly stacked, he’d say.

“Yes, it’s my favorite—! But as soon as gamma-rays come in, it’s like my brain shorts out. I failed the quiz over these, and it’s throwing off my curve. If I don’t ace the paper, I’ll freak out.”

“Cheer up, kid,” Tony says. There is an amber glass at his elbow, even though it was whispered very quietly around the tower a few months ago that Mr. Stark was working on getting sober. Peter guesses that it isn’t going well. Now that he looks closely, the man doesn’t look well at all: thinner, grayer, sadder. His dress-shirt collar is rumpled. That’s so not Mr. Stark. His voice is a warm vibrato that Peter feels in his bones: “Take a break. We’ll deal you in. No one is good at everything.”

“What are you bad at?” Natasha asks, maybe flattering him, maybe teasing.

The smile Tony gives her shows too much teeth to be friendly, eyes hidden behind his tinted glasses that he is wearing more often than not these days. “I’m bad at plenty of things, Miss Rushman.”

“He’s right, Peter,” Bruce says. They’re at the other end of the island, both of their shoulders aching from hunching over Peter’s textbooks for the last hour and change. “This is pretty advanced stuff. Difficult enough for scientists who are in this field to grasp. You said that this isn’t the focus of your major? Then I wouldn’t stress over it.”

Peter is stressing though. MIT has been tougher than he thought it would be, and he still worries that his success in high school was just him being a big fish in a small pond. Suddenly the pond is bigger: a fucking ocean. He feels like algae on the waves, tossed to and fro compared to some of his classmates.

Glancing up, he catches Natasha’s eyes. She is watching him, face blank, but he can’t help but feel that there is a silent message in her eyes. Seeing her unfriendly disposition makes him remember the conversation they had the day before—the one where she threatened him, in vague terms. Against his will, his eyes flicker to Tony. The drink beside his chips is empty now. His elbow is propped on the table and his chin rests in it, one shaking thumb running over the edge of his cards. He looks lost in thought. Sad thought.

“Maybe you’re right,” Peter says slowly. He closes his book. “Go ahead and deal me in, Mr. Stark.”

And that makes Tony sit back in his seat in surprise, glasses slipping down his nose to show pleased though bloodshot eyes. He grins—not one of those shark-grins he gave Natasha, but a real one. A smile. It makes butterflies spread their wings in Peter’s gut. God, he’s had a crush on the man for, like, ever. But Mr. Stark is a crush so unobtainable that Peter’s never even had to stress over it. Never had to stress about the juvenile stuff like does he like me back or what can I do to make him notice me. He’s just able to melt in it, enjoy his attraction and idol-worship. It’s all very sexually frustrating and uncomplicated.

Tony pulls back the stool at his side and pats it invitingly. When Peter sits down, he can just barely smell the bourbon on the older man’s breath. Tony then asks: “Bruce, do you want in on this, too?”

There is a difference in the way the billionaire asked Bruce to play when compared to when he asked Peter, but Peter can’t put his finger on what it is. Something about the tone, the inflection... Under the countertop, Tony’s hand comes to rest on Peter’s knee for a moment, squeezing warmly. But then it doesn’t move, just rests there, burning a hole through Peter’s jeans. It prickles, but this is a different kind of danger, he thinks. He’s so busy trying to remember how to accomplish basic human functions like breathing and swallowing that he completely misses Bruce’s response—a kind no thanks. Then Tony’s thumb is moving, brushing the outside of Peter’s leg in a few slow, firm strokes, and Peter feels a dangerous stirring in his pants. The hand starts to slide up his leg—

Then the hand is gone. His blood is still rushing south, propelled by his hammering heart, but it’s like all his senses beside touch come rushing back the moment Tony removes his hand—Clint is dealing, cards whispering over marble as he passes them out, Natasha and Tony are bickering though Peter doesn’t yet have the brainpower to decipher what about. His knee is still burning hot, and it tingles for the rest of the night.

But he doesn’t think it’s his imagination that the entire evening is lighter, smiles and laughter flowing more freely, and when Mr. Stark gets up to get a drink, he comes back with water.

-

From then on, Peter’s image of Mr. Stark begins to change. Mostly thanks to the patchwork of knowledge Natasha feeds him in passing moments—when they encounter each other in the hall going different directions, when she is running on the treadmill beside him in the gym, when she passes behind him at the kitchen island for another apple, or, like today, an orange.

“He only drinks when he’s sad,” she says in his ear.

Peter starts to look for that as an indicator to Mr. Stark’s mood: times when it’s late at night and he walks in on Mr. Stark standing alone by the window looking at the view of the city, shaking hand clutching a drink that rattles when he sets it down to avoid Peter seeing it. Nights when Tony passes through the living area, glancing at the group gathered around (almost always Clint and Nat watching television, and Peter and Bruce talking through Peter’s homework), rejecting their offer for him to join with a quiet, just passing through, before grabbing a bottle from the kitchen and disappearing into the elevator. If Tony drinks when he’s sad, then he is often sad.

Peter thinks it’s safe to assume that when Tony isn’t drinking, he’s happy—or at least neutral. And taking into account the poker tournament from a few weeks before, Peter begins to notice that he himself seems to make Tony happy.

The knowledge weighs down his shoulders…but mostly, it makes him feel full of helium, light and bouncy, liable to lift off the ground and break through the atmosphere should he not hold on to the world around him. Peter makes Tony happy. For some reason.

“Everything he does is for other people,” she pants, trying to keep up with his enhanced abilities in the workout room. Peter himself is sweating from the break-neck pace he’s adopted on the treadmill, but he doesn’t need to focus to run, so instead his mind is far away.

Natasha is absolutely right. The topic is a sore spot. Peter knows that there were cutting words exchanged between Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers at the beginning of their relationship when the super soldier accused him of selfishness. It’s obvious how little they knew each other then, because even now he sees the fondness Steve has in his eyes for Tony, the gratefulness he exudes and goes out of his way to express to the billionaire. Tony funds the entire Avengers Initiative. He lets them live expense free in his home, feeds them, clothes them, patches them up. Scraping by with his Aunt for most of his life in a tiny apartment in Queens has made Peter keenly aware of all the things he has in his life now, solely thanks to Mr. Stark. And the older man doesn’t bat an eye at it.

And alright, Tony is a billionaire. Those expenses probably don’t scrape the surface of his wealth. Yet there are many other ways his altruism is expressed, ways only Tony Stark could express them. When Peter’s suit was malfunctioning in the wetter-than-usual New York springtime, Tony didn’t sleep for three days while working on it. Got to make sure you’re safe, kid, he’d muttered. Wouldn’t get a bit of sleep otherwise. Tony hadn’t even delivered it in person so that Peter could thank him, just left it neatly for him outside his bedroom door.

There were other things, of course. Providing Bruce his own lab and the resources to expand his research. Once he sat for a portrait at Steve’s insistence, and it was the stillest he’s ever seen the billionaire be. Mr. Stark makes it his personal responsibility to enrich the lives of those around him—he even seems to enjoy it—

“Did you hear me, Peter?” Natasha asks.

Peter stops the treadmill, jogging while it slowly decreases the pace. He’s been a thousand miles away, or several stories away, rather, down in the lab with Tony. “Sorry, I didn’t.”

“I said—what does he have for himself? What does he want for himself?”

Then she is gone, ponytail bouncing as she disappears towards the showers, a towel over her shoulder. Tony has everything. He has an inordinate amount of money at his disposal. What he could possibly want for?

The questions haunt Peter for the rest of the night, even as he spends the evening in Bruce’s lab while the man reads over his paper on the Fermi Telescope. Peter is anxiously squeezing a stress ball—carefully, though, because last time he truly squeezed one, it crumbled in his hand—when Tony appears in the doorway. He’s dressed in what Peter knows to be his lab-attire: comfortable, cheap t-shirt, jeans that are wearing through at the knees. The man’s hair is un-styled, free from gel, and it looks so soft—

“Hey, Pete,” Tony says. “Bruce.”

Bruce doesn’t even greet him, still reading Peter’s paper. He does lift a hand though.

“I brought the LVC permits for you, fresh off the government’s press.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Bruce says absently.

“What are you doing up here, Pete?” Tony asks, putting the papers on a nearby lab table. There’s something in the older man’s voice—something. But Peter’s never been good at stuff like that: deciphering looks, or tones, or subtextual clues. On instinct, he scans the man’s face, trying to determine his mood. It doesn’t look promising, the circles dark beneath his eyes, the frown lines deep. Even when he smiles, it looks tired and sad.

“Just having Bruce look over my paper, Mr. Stark.”

“When are you ever going to call me Tony, kid?”

Peter laughs a little. “Never, probably,” he jokes.

Tony doesn’t look like he thought the joke was funny. He gives a half-hearted wave goodbye and then disappears. Peter is at the perfect angle to watch him through the glass door. He stops outside the elevator and hits the button, leans his head forward to press his forehead to the doors, the picture of dejection. There is an uncomfortable knot growing in Peter’s stomach.

What could the man who has everything possibly want?

Bruce glances up ten minutes later after flipping to the last page, glasses a little askew. “Was that Tony I heard?”

-

The days afterwards, Natasha seems more disgusted with him than usual. Her occasional comments about Mr. Stark have stopped, and Peter laments the loss of help, because he feels no closer to understanding what she wants from him or what’s wrong with Mr. Stark.

Peter spends his nights laying in bed, restless, staring up at the ceiling to avoid listening to the distant movements of the Avengers around him in their own respective rooms—he didn’t need to know so much about Steve and Bucky’s after-hour activities, thanks very much—pouring over his interactions with Natasha.

What do you think you’re doing with Bruce and Tony? she had asked. And what was Peter doing? He’d been spending much more time with Bruce lately trying to grasp gamma-rays. Usually his time was spent equally divided between patrolling, school, homework, and spending time down in the lab with Tony. Of those things to take the backburner, it had been his time spent with his idol-cum-crush. Was the man feeling neglected?

Peter rolls out of bed. He’s tempted to put on his suit and go into stealth-mode, but instead, he tiptoes out of his room in his pajama bottoms and t-shirt, using all of his enhanced senses to make sure he doesn’t encounter any other Avenger on his way to Natasha’s room. When she opens the door, she looks like he’s the last person she ever wanted to see on the other side.

“It’s late,” she says. Peter slips through the crack between her and the door anyway, but he figures if she truly wanted to keep him out, she might have tried. You know. At all.  

Her rooms are as large as Peter’s, tastefully decorated. He notes that the only personal decorations in the room involve the Avengers: the group photograph taken of them and a few drawings of Steve’s, framed carefully.

“I’ve been thinking about all of the things you said, and I still don’t get it. I don’t know what’s going on—I see that there’s something wrong but I don’t know why and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Natasha sighs, already opening the door to usher him back out. “Everyone needs everything spelled out for them. It’s late, and I’m tired. Tony likes you. You like Tony. Quit choosing Bruce over him, or I’ll have to spend the next few weeks finding an incredible foreign benefactor willing to sponsor Bruce’s work only if he relocates overseas. That takes a lot of work Peter. A lot of work. Now get out, and fix this mess.”

He doesn’t even hear the real door shut in his face, because he’s too stunned by the metaphorical door that has been shut in his face. He gapes at the hardwood, eyes unseeing, all of his senses growing dim as he focuses his brainpower on the words that just spilled out of Natasha’s mouth.

Tony likes you. You like Tony. Quit choosing Bruce.

Peter lays awake the entire night. He can’t spot Natasha’s angle, can’t determine why she’d want to lie to him that way. Surely she has some sort of motive that Peter can’t see—he’s not a super-secret-spy type. Espionage and subtext aren’t his forte. She could probably run cryptic circles around him, and Tony once jokingly said that Natasha wouldn’t even sneeze unless she wanted someone to say bless you. So what is this? What is she doing to him? Hoping to embarrass him? Maybe she thinks that he’ll make some grand gesture, some romantic monologue to Tony and he’ll be so crushed at the subsequent rejection that he’ll leave the tower and stop Avenging altogether.

When sunlight is coming through the tinted windows of his room, he has not slept a wink, and has the throbbing headache to show it. His paper is due by 11:59 PM, and he still has a few revisions he needs to make. The other quizzes on gamma-rays and other electromagnetic radiations weren’t much better than the first, and all of his hopes for maintaining his perfect grade point average are riding on this one paper.

He dresses, only able to find mismatched socks, and takes the subway to make it to class on time. He’s there until early afternoon, and by the time he arrives back in the Tower, his stomach is growling painfully and he’s emotionally at the end of his rope. Why hadn’t he taken a gap year before starting school like Ned had? Maybe a year older, Peter would be more capable of handling all that is on his plate. As it is, he feels like a waiter balancing one-too-many glasses of water. Failure seems imminent.

As soon as he is in the tower, he cracks open his laptop and begins to finish the revisions Bruce advised him on—but then the word count is just under what the professor asked for, and now Peter is scrambling for extra content. His senses alert him that someone is coming, but he knows the length of the steps to be Tony.

“Hey Pete,” Tony mutters, looking like he just woke even though it is nearly three in the afternoon.

“Hey Mr. Stark,” says Peter. “How are you?”

“Has this coffee been here long?” Tony asks, pointing to the half-full pot. His hand is shaking.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I just got here.” Peter frowns to himself, fingers hovering over the keyboard even his brain feels like a train stuck on the same track. He has to say something to Mr. Stark. Has to. “Hey—um. I wanted to say. While you’re here—”

His mouth dries up as Tony turns to give him his full attention. The man is always so courteous, stopping whatever he’s doing to listen to what Peter has to say. It’d be impossible not to notice that the man has a problem with interrupting, talking over other people. But it’s never been that way with Peter. He stops. He listens with a kind of single-minded intensity that makes the younger man flushed. That much focus and attention feels like a laser beam directed at him, about to dissolve him into goo.

“—I wanted to say. That I hope we can hang out again soon.”

Tony leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. For a guy in his 40’s, he’s still fucking fit, biceps thick and strong, core toned. “I hope so too, kid. I’ve—missed you.”

Peter melts, heart aching in equal parts joy and sadness. “Maybe tonight? If you’re free. I could come down to the lab.”

Tony feigns like he’s thinking it over, knuckles rasping against his chin. “What about your—” he waves a vague hand at the laptop on the countertop. “I don’t want to come between you and school, Pete. I’m not very good at being a responsible role-model, but even I know that your education is important. That should be your focus.”

“Don’t worry about it. How does seven sound? I’ll finish this up, get it turned it, and then I’m all yours. I mean—we can—you know. Hang.”

The older man has that look he always gets when Peter’s mouth runs away from the rest of his consciousness: equal parts amusement and endearment and exasperated fondness. “Sounds good. You know where to find me.”

Peter does know. He does. The knowledge weighs on him for the next four hours that he spends staring at his laptop, writing a sentence just to destroy it, flipping frantically through the notes that Bruce gave him. Not meeting the word count means that he will automatically lose 10% of his grade, no matter how good the paper might be. But it’s like his brain is drawing a blank, all cylinders firing emptily.

By the time he is done, it ten PM. The hours ate him up like quicksand. His head aches with exhaustion, eyes burning from staring at the glow of the laptop, but he rushes into the elevator, eyes filling with tears. Surely Tony will understand why Peter is late. But it still makes him feel like shit.

“To the lab please, FRIDAY.”

The elevator moves without any verbal confirmation from the AI. By the time the doors open, he realizes he’s made a mistake. The lab is dark and quiet, lacking the usual soundtrack of classic rock hits. When he grasps the handle, it doesn’t turn. He’s too late. Mr. Stark was probably so angry that he went straight upstairs to the penthouse. If Peter were to follow, the door would probably be locked against him, refusing him entrance—

The door beneath him opens, automatic lock clicking open. Peter nearly falls through as it swings inward, his enhanced senses being his only saving grave. The lab is even more eerie from the inside, because it is all right and all wrong mixed together. The smell is comforting. The darkness is unsettling. He knows this place like the back of his hand when it is lit, but suddenly it is an entirely foreign place as he wanders through, carefully feeling his way, unsure why he hasn’t turned around and left yet.

Lights come up, blue dots like holographic breadcrumbs on the floor. FRIDAY. Where is she leading him, and why?

The lights circle on lab table, and when he comes close his eyes have adjusted enough to the darkness to see why. Mr. Stark is there, slumped over the lab table. Peter would say that he is asleep except for the stench of alcohol and the empty bottles beside him, faceless in the dark. Sad sentinels watching over their king.

“Oh Tony,” he says. His heart feels too heavy for his ribs to hold. He puts a hand on the man’s shoulder, gently trying to rouse him. It doesn’t work. Even when he whispers the man’s name in increasingly louder increments, the man doesn’t stir. Throat closed up tight in the fist of fear, he gently presses two fingers to just under the man’s jaw—

Tony jerks away from the lab table, striking out at Peter. His aim is off, so his knuckles barely glance against the younger man’s chest. The force of the failed punch tips over the chair and Tony nearly falls to the floor—would, if Peter weren’t there to catch him. Still he struggles against a foe he doesn’t recognize.

“Getaway—”

“Mr. Stark—it’s me, Peter.”

Mr. Stark blinks, eyes moonish in the dark. He squints. “Pete?” he asks, voice thick.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m so sorry that I’m late.” He guides the man back to the chair and searches for one of his own, finds a stool with wheels and rolls it over so they can sit side by side. Tony is swaying dangerously even just sitting.

“’s okay, Pete,” Tony says. “You were with Bruce.”

“What?” Peter cries. “No, I wasn’t. I was working on my paper, remember? Just like I told you in the kitchen? Why would I be with Bruce when I had—” he just barely catches himself before the words a date slip past his lips, “—when I had plans with you?”

The laugh the older man gives is mirthless, slumped over the table. With every shaking breath comes a cloud of acrid liquor. Peter has never understood how Tony could drink that stuff, alcohol with so much burn and no sweetness or sourness. “Why wouldn’ you be with Bruce, kid? I get it.”

“I don’t know what there is to get,” Peter says gently. He knows from his minimal experience with drunk people that drunkenness heightens emotion, and they can be as likely to lash out in anger as they are to burst into tears. Without his suit, Mr. Stark probably couldn’t hurt Peter even sober, but he doesn’t want the man to hurt himself.

“No, no, Bruce ‘s a great guy. He’s a great man. Better man th’n me.”

Peter gapes, even if Mr. Stark isn’t even looking or couldn’t even see him through the darkness. Because, what? Seriously? “Mr. Stark, you’re like the greatest man I know. I don’t—I don’t know anybody who I, I admire or look up to the way that I do you.” That answer is maybe a little too honest, but he can’t help it. This vulnerability, this sheer pain coming from the man who has held Peter’s heart between his palms since he was just a little boy. It’s a terrible thing to witness, and he’d do anything to change it.

“You’re a good kid,” says Tony. He reaches with a hand like he wants to pat Peter on the head but loses strength far before then.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Mr. Stark.”

Tony laughs again in that terrible depreciating way. He rests his forehead in his palm, staring down at the lab table. “Trust me, Pete. I know.”

“Why have you been so upset lately?” Peter asks smally. “I’ve been worried.”

“Didn’t mean to worry you, honey.” The name makes Peter glow, even if its slurred in that terrible, sad voice. “I guess ’ve been—going through some stuff.”

“Like what?”

The exhale he gives is long and loud in the quiet lab. “Adult stuff.”

“What, like, erectile dysfunction?”

The sound Tony makes is indignant. “No you little shit.” It’s said with unbearable tenderness and fondness though, until it almost feels like a caress instead of an insult. “Just, you know, your general everyday average feelings of inadequacy and unbearable loneliness.”

“You’re too hard on yourself Mr. Stark. I mean what I said. You’re the greatest man I know and I—I like you a whole lot. I know you’re having a tough time. But I’m here for you. And I know that you don’t think I’m strong enough, but you can lean on me. I can take it.”

When Tony stirs, lifting his head from his hands long enough to glance at Peter, his cheeks are wet, tracks of tears that just barely catch the light. He could almost mistake it as his mind playing tricks on him, but the man’s shoulders begin to tremble like his hands when he hasn’t had a drink, and Peter gets off of the stool so quickly that it goes rolling in the other direction.

Peter wraps his arms around Tony, pulling his head to his chest like a mother might hold a baby to her breast. There are no sounds, no sobs or whimpers, but the shaking lasts forever it seems. Then all at once the man melts, soft and languid. When he pulls away a hairsbreadth, Peter’s shirt is wet where his face was pressed.

He turns his head and leans in again, this time resting his temple on Peter’s abs. The younger man barely resists carding his fingers through Tony’s hair—just lets one hand gently rub at his back instead. When he speaks Peter can feel the movement on his stomach. “You’re too good f’r me, Pete. I’m so sorry I’m like this. Hated seeing you spend so much time with Bruce ‘cause I’m just a jealous old pervert. A fucking drunk, just like Howard—”

“Don’t say that.”

“’s true, kid.”

Peter swallows, struggling to gather courage. But if he can’t ask questions of Tony now when the man is drunk and possibly unlikely to remember them, when the man is too relaxed to lie, then when can he? “Why—why are you a pervert?”

All the breath seems to go out of Tony in a hot rush of air that Peter can feel through his shirt. “C’mon kid. You have to know.”

It does all make sense then: Tony’s recent behavior, Natasha’s cryptic comments.

What does he want for himself, she had asked.

Carefully—so, so, so carefully—Peter lets his hand drift up the back of Tony’s neck and slide into his hair, dark waves that are soft and free of product. It feels like silk under his fingertips, so fucking intimate. If this is all he gets of Tony, then he’s going to savor it, sear it into his memory. Blunt nails scratch gently at the man’s scalp and he purrs. He groans, the vibrations sinking through cotton and skin and muscle deep into Peter’s bones. “God, Pete,” he says. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Peter gasps. He’s hard, 0 to 60 in the blink of an eye, heart hammering, struggling to draw in breaths. “I won’t, Tony.”

“Never stop,” Tony groans softly. “You are the most important thing in my life, kid.”

And then the man is asleep, snoring breaths into Peter’s abs. It takes a while, listening to the gentle breathing, for Peter to calm down. “FRIDAY,” he croaks. “Unmute.”

“Thank you, Peter,” she says. “May I turn the lights on? I’m afraid boss might need some assistance getting to his room tonight. Would you be of service?”

“Yes. To all counts, FRIDAY. Thanks.”

“You are welcome.” A pause. “And thank you, Peter.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he mutters, hoisting the heavier man up. There’s no use putting just an arm over his shoulder—Tony is out cold. Instead, Peter scoops him up, grateful for his enhanced strength, and begins the trek to the elevator.

In the morning when Tony wakes, Peter will be there waiting. With some water and aspirin.

Because they need to talk.

#starker #tw: alcoholism #tw: alcohol

[indomitablemegnolia]

He growled, his eyes rolled, I had finally pushed him onto his uncomfortable place; "My imagination, my wants, my needs are simple; I just hunger to be near you. I would love to just sip coffee and kisses for days; make out like mad teenagers; I want nothing from you; all I require from you, all I ask of you, all I want is for this sliver of a moment, a simple time away from time."

He stopped, a look crossed his face as if something inside was daring him to tell the unvarnished truth; I simply waited for that idea that struck so suddenly his jaw dropped as though he had a revelation, he looked away letting out half a chuckle, finally he came to a resolve; "I realize to rip your attention away, to cast these doubts away is to lay it all out; I finally understand it's my turn to lay it all out bare; I have to be as unashamedly honest, to let you know what my imagination screams: I hunger for you," he raised to his knees crawling over my legs, "I need to touch you; I am lost to it," he crawled slowly up my body, "I want you, all of you;" he locked me in place as his arms braced his frame planted on either side of my head; "your eyes, your lips, your mind," he sighed, kissing me soft, "your heart, your body," he nestled himself between my legs, "sensually," he kissed me harder doing things with his tongue that made my breath leave in a moan; "sexually," he ground suggestively against me "I want bury myself so deeply in you;" he stopped looking a little ashamed, he kissed me, holding me close, "I want you, simply as a man wants a woman; simple, no rules, no expectations, no explanations just simple, basically, I am willing to take as much as you are willing to give." He kissed me softly, slowly, undressing my soul; "I ask you in return, why not you? Why me?" I must have given him that look again, he set his jaw, "Seriously darling, why me? How did you find me acceptable?"

"Simple," I rolled to where he had left my journal, he tried to reclaim it from my fingers, I slapped lightly at his hands, pulling it farther away from him when he reached for it I carded through until I found the dress piece; "Read, I knew you, I loved you well before we met." I pushed the look under his nose, he read, his eyes flairing; he looked up. I nodded, "Yup, I wrote of you long before the possibility of you seemed real. Look at the date." I pointed over the cover at the left corner. "Ages ago, fifteen years; back when I had friends and they spoke to me of their wedding plans; a friend was belabouring the cut of the dress, the flavour of the cake, how the brides maids would behave; but always ignoring the fact that her intended was a jerk, who ended up beating her; I wrote that to satisfy my soul; solidly believing that no such human existed; that I was safe; then there was you."

"How, how, I doubt anyone knew me; I didn't even know me, then." I watched him read it again, "I gather you thought these were impossibilities," he rolled to his side as close to me as possible, that long leg laying over mine like a downed tree; he began reading in that dramatic voice; "I was listening a friends diatribe about trying to find the perfect wedding dress… It has to have a bit of this, or an overlay of that. She was fussing and fawning over the bow details when the Person about to stand opposite of her was of inadequate material. So I started mulling over who, if ever anyone, I would stand opposite. I thought I would fuss over the important things.

Accepting NO less than the sum of all of these traits.

I imagine it like walking up to the service counter a lot like a cosmetic counter, kind of playing paper dolls. I would like him have eyes of green and blue; he must be tall like Clint Walker;" he was holding caressing my journal in one hand in the other he began counting the qualities he possessed; "he would speak with a strong Baritone like Marshall Dillon; he would have the sensibilities of Sargent Tyree, 'no ma'am I don't chaw and I don't play cards'; in essence no conformity and no lying;" his leg began caressing and rubbing where our bare skin touched; he looked to me, "I am sure our current understanding does not count in that" he looked into my eyes as I confirmed with a nod, he counted three; "the ideals of Steve Rogers. Boots and Hat would be nice, Cowboy, Mountie, fireman or other.' Hiking boots, I hope, count," he held up five fingers; "He must love dogs, cats, goats and well most animals except killer whales.' I have a dog, don't mind cats, never met a goat and we will come back to the whale thing; 'I’d like a man who can speak at least one computer language and two audible languages.' Check and check." He held up another completed hand of qualities.

"Someone who gets String theory, science jokes, bad puns and delicious entandre." His eyebrow raised deliciously on the last word, understanding what I was inferring. "Who loves all kinds of music, or at least who can stomach my musical schizophrenia, entailing all of, but not limited to: rock, punk, classical, country, especially older country, psychobilly, regae.' Oh, darlin you know I do;" he kissed my cheek; "The ability to laugh at himself is a MUST, laughing at my jokes…. still a maybe, I know they are bad.' You will have to believe me, but yes, I can. 'He has to enjoy singing and dancing, even if done badly.' I am charmed by your sing along and dances actually when it comes to the dances I am more than charmed, it's more of a turn on, and you know I dont hold back that much either; 'I would like a soul who loves whimsy, doing the funny walk up Market Street, singing and walking in the rain and willing to do the insane and comical, including moving every item in the house to center around a new precious gift.' I never thought about it, but I am game to try, 'I would hope he would like to cook; observe good etiquette, open the doors for me;' at all times, 'he should know the ignition timing for a ‘64 Chevy 283.' Not that exact information, but I like to tinker and grease monkey around in cars; 'I hope he would understand me when I tell him that simple things like a french toast breakfast for dinner using almond extract instead of vanilla, washing my hair or checking my engine fluids, means 'I love you' as well as hand written notes, cards made of glitter and cardboard are as romantic as diamonds in the right setting.' Anyone else I would doubt, but you, you are that anomaly."

"'He has to know how to say things that cut through to the heart of the matter, either romantic, apologetic, inspiring,or just truth and mean every word.' I have left the days of part measures behind. 'He has to like pancakes and breakfast for dinner' more of a waffle guy but I do understand, 'and ice cream in the morning. He has to value my thoughts BUT not weigh them too heavily,' you just watched my transition, 'debate especially HEATED debate is fun (and more than a little sexy),' Sounds fun. 'I would love someone who adored words as much as me, I always wondered if it was hoping too largely to hope for someone who could pick up my favorite books and know the passages that strike my very innermost being, maybe read them aloud to me with the longing and emotion I myself read them with,' Oh what a fun game that will be. 'Money wouldn’t hurt but neither is it a must, it is not important to me, neither are looks, according to most I do have an odd taste in beauty anyways.' Odd taste? I must probe that later, 'Most of all He has to take me as I am because I can’t change myself for anyone else. I was 12 the one time I tried to be someone else, I have never wanted to be anyone other than what life has shaped me into. He has to appreciate my laughing snort, my funny ugly toes, and the fact that I will laugh when he trips or falls, stubs a toe, or any other slapstick comedy-esque routine injury that doesn’t involve blood…He has to find my oddities, eccentricities and idiosyncrasies, the fact i wear oversized thermals as my sexy night clothes, t-shirt and ripped sweats, flirty dresses and sparkle jeans as sexy as fishnets and a bustier…. But most of all He has to laugh with me, love me even when he’s mad at me and not mind a lot of residual radiation…. Until then I don’t care to even think about bows, bustles, frocks or hoops, I want a hero, anything less would be completely inacceptable and uncivilized' god I love how you laid it all out exactly like playing paper dolls."

He kissed me long and deep, "So, you think I stack up pretty nicely do you? The ideals of Steve Rogers and the voice of Clint Walker. So, you like cowboy shows?" I nodded, "eyes of green and blue, so, then k mmm I assume for you this has been oddly easy for you?"

"Not in the least, I have to trust in hope, and we are not on speaking terms, I had to trust that you were not some figment, some dream, I had to trust in the universe; just this once. Too often, especially of late, hope has dangled dreams just beyond my fingertips simply to pull them away, just as I almost touched..." I sighed, still mourning the loss of my last dream; "so, when you appeared I assumed this was another hard lesson to be learned. You made that easier by being you." I pulled him down to me kissing him sweetly.

He sighed, finishing reading, "Damn darling. I am stunned. How did I make it easier by being myself?" His eyes got glossy and he drifted away.

"The cupcake, I didn't even think you were truly real until you did the most thoughtful thing I had ever seen personally." I kissed him sensually with a subtle roll of my hips; I pressed hard to him, it was his turn to let loose such an erotic sound, half moan, half growl. He pressed me hard down feasting on my soul. He almost let himself run with the moment; he slowed fingers soft, lips cajoling; slowly he edged to a stop, pulling away.

"Where did you go?"

His music changed again, Billie Holiday singing kiss me once, god, his smile, "I imagine recapturing that first kiss, no stumbled step just a surrender; you naturally, fiendishly moving against me; god, that first kiss we shared, the laugh, it wrecked me." He tucked my hair back behind my ears, I cuddled my cheek into his palm. "I want to see in your eyes, when that simple truth, that in this give and take, that you give yourself to me freely, that you take equally greedily; not because you have to, or because I asked you, but because you want it too. I want that mad passionate love. Mostly, I want you, any way you will give, the only way I get you."

He pressed me back into the bank of pillows, "Now, of course, for such a gem, I offer all that I am," I moaned as I felt his weight settle into my body. "I offer you freedom; a pure and total freedom; freedom from the drudgery of that other everyday life." He laced his fingers through mine, kissing each fingertip. "I offer freedom as an abstract ideal. I can't offer a freedom from pain." He ran his hands delicatly over my body, lingering in places "I offer you a freedom from responsibility, from guilt, from regret; momentarily a freedom from sadness. I offer you moments of pleasure, moments to be happy. Oh, I can offer you pleasure likes of which you have never known."

I rolled my eyes closed, pleasure already making my soul free. "No, please, don't close your eyes;" my eyes snapped open, "I need you to look at me." I let a slow breath out, "I want to see the realization in your eyes that I am offering you my love." Slipping along the deep V in the robes neck, his skilled hands teased my flesh, his deft tongue pulled my eyes. I felt so very alive, his fingers moving at a slow, a tantalizing pace, pressing the edges of the robe out, exposing more of my flesh; I was already drowning in lust and need; his eyes holding me captive. "Ah there it is, all of me is what I offer you, all of you is all I ask of you."

I had been so lost in this feeling I had forgotten to be self conscious, I notice finally, his fingers caressing some of my scars, angry red welts I have never let anyone see. I stopped breathing but then I saw his motion, his revrence, "Gods, you see them and you are not revolted?"

He shook his head, then I watched his lips caress the welt that transacted my sternum. "Nope, not even a little. All of you, it's all I ask of you."

"Kiss me until I forget how terrified I am of everything wrong with my life." God, did he, the man's kisses were amazing I felt his hands his tongue, both working in unison; I gravitate toward him, longing for, wanting to use my hands in such a delicious spell; thirsty for more contact. My awe apparent in my voice, as he pulled away, almost a whisper, "wow," I smiled. He was magnificent.

"Well, my sweet you never really defined, 'really, very good,' for me..." he kissed me almost in passing, "maybe we can work that out together." He kissed me, soft, asking, "or you tell me your favourite food."

"Chinese." I giggled,

He laughed, oh, that gorgeous marvel of deliciousness, pulling me to my feet, starting a sweet waltz, "I do love a good chinese dinner," he danced me in a soft circle, he buried his nose in my neck kissing at first; his tongue lightly licking, "I want you, I need you in the purest ways, the longing in my bones howls to be near you, to be with you;" he pulled me closer his hands, his lips, his tongue becoming more insistant; my arms slid along his wide shoulders caressing his neck my fingers playing with the soft curls there, he started with soft bites. I gripped the robes lapels, "I want bring all of your senses alive;" his hands began to move over the thick terry cloth, soft, looping circles he traced in the opposite direction of his tongue; pulling him closer, I let out a breathy sigh. My breath hitched, I slid my hands under his robe, sliding along his silky skin; "tell me sweetheart, total honesty, tell me how you feel about what I said."

"Hmmm, nerves, I never knew I had, are all on fire; I am lost on this ocean adrift on sensuality and revrence; I want more, to be honest no one has ever told anything like the intoxicating words the dreams you have been laying at my feet; like Yeats; I feel as if this is not one of those times hope isn't playing me for a fool. I am no longer unsure, afraid; we are alive in a way that I have never experienced; alive, I am having trouble making up my mind which I want the most; I crave your words, but that sweet haunting revrence of your touch," his hands moved with more intent, beginning to grip pulling the robe, holding me close, his lips with intention, I moaned unashamedly, living in the friction of his fingers using the terry cloth to excite, "mmm, the trailing fluidity of your hands creating punctuation for your crafted sentences, natural aphrodisiacs. Oh, those words followed by the delicious brush of your hands; oh, feeling, that feeling." Duet of the flowers started as if by Devine intention; "Apt moment for this particular aria, the quiet end of one flower, my fears, and the resurgence of beauty in this; these moments."

Kissing me breathless he bent me back taking advantage of the parting robe, his lips feasting along the edges of the terry cloth; I sighed, I bucked, I strained backwards, shuddering gasps escaped. "I love how you react instantly, honestly, you senses on edge, your shiver at my voice, your bend to my touch."

His revrent hand glided up my neck, dipping his thumb between my lips; words were pulled from me; "The way your touch softly glides, fingertips delicately trace the furrows, the hollows for those words to sweetly flow." I licked his digets, caressing the pads with my tongue; "the texture of those large, luscious, calloused hands, each of your fingers touched with just the perfect roughness; each finger pressed softly, trailing against my aching, hungry skin. The gentle veracity, the keening desire, your lingering breath weaves our tale." As I spoke I have been licking and kissing his glorious chest running my hands fore the skin of his shoulders.

His hands traced soft but insistently along my body over the robe; his lips sweetly asking for more. "Oh, sweet darling, please believe me your words flow so deliciously, just keep talking and I promise I will only follow your lead."

His sweet asking pushed me to a bold move; I traced my hands from his chest to his abdomin, his delicious breath hitched then shuddered his hands stilled; "Your kisses craft slowly flowing paragraphs; long languorous passages; savory, sensuous stanzas of will and want;" I found his sash and pulled it slowly, determined, it came loose, his robe falling open; he half moaned, half sighed in relief; my hands grew bolder at his reaction, my eyes skimming along, what can only qualify as the most beautiful specimen of human male I had ever seen, complete with perfectly bleached white jockey shorts, "the hushed whispers of the soul allows the movement of our bodies to create the chapters of our own perfectly written novel. Your eyes spoke to me of the extent of your will, I am shaken;" his hands now bold, reciprocated, pulling my sash, my robe fell open, I shivered, my soul had been standing here naked for a while, finally phisically I matched, dropping my arms letting it slide from my body; the steps to our dance had turned to soft swaying; he pressed our bodies close. His breath sucked in through his teeth, mine left in a gust of a sigh; "though, I confess not disappointed." He hooked his foot behind my knee and pushed; with a squeal I landed on the soft duvet, his weight delightfully covering me. I giggled.

"For long moments there, I could not speak," his lips soft on mine, his words an echo of my soul, "the fate of the world could have hung in the balance of my one uttered syllable and I would have been unable to even whisper acknowledgment." His hands revrently sliding mine gripping along his warm delicious frame; "I wish I could say sorry for falling over you, but you are just so delicious, this communication, so honest like blatant souls." I giggled as his fingers tickled, turning quickly to a hiss of air between my teeth, his lips caressing the scars lacing my abdomen, shocking myself I didn't try to push him away, instead I continued letting my lips kiss every piece of skin it found. "The more I get, I just want even more; tell me more, please, just keep talking."

I licked my hungry lips, surreptitiously making sure they had not fallen off completely. His glorious mouth drifting revrently over my scars, resting and reveling in my hungry skin; the things he was doing his hands, lips and tongue were deliciously driving me wild, he wasn't kidding about waking every one of my senses, "Oh, I watched as your eyes spoke, I was drowning in those green seas of desire; now, hearts, souls slowly burn. Gods, now I admit freely, it is you that I want; it has always ever been you, believe it always will be you." I gathered his robe pushing down his shoulders, running my fingers light over his soft skin, letting my nails lightly trail, his growl played across my skin. "In fact, I will fan the flames, I want to let them burn, right through my skin, right through the heart of me. I want to burn in this sunspot moment."

Our eyes locked, the look in those fathom deep depths stilled my breath; will and want and something more simmered deeply; he pulled me close, our bodies pressing sliding conforming to eachother; his mouth moved along my sholder, his tongue tracing lightly the length, gripping softly pushing my face to the left; his lips taking full advantage of the opened space. Legs winding, my hands growing even bolder, gripping his bum, his fingers danced across my skin, they flitted, butterfly soft over my breasts; I arched off of the bed, my breath shuddering; I clutched at his shoulders; we melt together, like two links remembered and fused again together; "we thirst, hunger, want, need, crave … lust. How wonderful to be alive." I kept the words from flowing, but how will hurt when we are through?"

He slowed, pulling lightly away, as if reading my mind, "No one knows the if's, when's, or how's, we should just bask in the is;" his breath coming in deep billowing pants; keeping in complete contact; "I need to know how far I should go."

Panting, I try to quip, "I dont know, how far do you think you can make it in this storm?"

He laughed, delicious feeling rushing over my senses, my bare skin. "You know exactly what I mean, do we, you and I, go all the way, no regrets; we will just fall asleep together when the night is burnt and tired, and I want, I want, I want... you, I have wanted you, I want to finish this day feeling your pulse pressed against mine just so we know we are both alive, in this beautiful second. I want… I” he took a breath; "but to hell with what I want, if you wish we can just sip coffee and kisses, until the storm is past."

I took a deep breath, and willed myself to answer with every ounce of sexuality I had, in a very Lauren Bacall style; I angled my head seductively, stretching an arm over my head saying rather with a bored tone, "Here I thought my laying naked and panting in your arms would have been a clear indication." I yawned, "Take me to bed or lose me forever." God his laugh, "I want it all, if we were at a restaurant I would be ordering the lobster with out checking the price, or even looking at the chicken." I ebbed away losing steam, I wound up to let loose one of my nervous, inane topic traversing tirade.

He pressed his finger to my lips, "Shhh, yes, I know you are nervous, but seriously listen. You hold the power, be that hurricane you showed me, that amazon queen."

He nuzzled and kissed my neck sending delicious butterflies dancing through me. I hummed a solitary note of praise, "Gods, the way you see me, I. .." I trailed off as he worked deliciously on the sensitive nerves where shoulder meets neck, I went slack, I clung to him.

@iamhisgloriouspurpose this is the continuation to the last part.

@keeper0fthestars. @pedeka @writernotwaiting

@sweetfairy1 @fromthedeskoftheraven

[thesaltofcarthage]

Avengers: Endgame: Did Marvel Pull It Off?

This is a followup to my (surprisingly popular!) post “The Stakes Are Too High.” (at least, it surprised the hell out of me that it got so popular; I wasn’t expecting it to resonate as widely as it did.)

FULL ENDGAME SPOILERS AHEAD. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. I’m putting it under a cut just in case.

Also, above the cut in case you’re still dodging spoilers, tagging @kryptaria @iamanartichoke @taurileonis @hjbender @chey-tips22 @wu-the-stoic @englishontheinside  @rennemichaels @alwida10 @ladylowkeyed @saltoftheearths @mizkit @thelightofthingshopedfor @essesnceofhappiness @theravenofwynter @pinetreeparadoxx @ironhammermagicshieldedgreenbow @philosopherking1887 @waywardkansasflower @lokeanrampant @maneth985 @ilovethemallsoimconfused @bengalaas @icyxmischief @yuuki-fandoms @snailchick  @fictions-stranger  @adhdasianaroace @artherra @missmaladicta @queerfictionwriter because you specifically commented/reblogged.

So having seen Endgame, the question becomes: Did Marvel pull it off? 

My answer is: yes and no.

Did we get an emotionally satisfying ending? Did Marvel understand that closure doesn’t have to come with corpses?

There were a lot of things I loved about Endgame. There were many, many of the “small character moments” we were begging for. Marvel didn’t forget that we fell in love with people and we need to see people and their choices and how they live with the consequences of those choices... mostly.

I loved how Marvel rewarded the audience for watching 11 years of movies. It was practically wall-to-wall Easter eggs and callbacks. I loved how the time travel allowed us to loop back through some of our favorite scenes and see them from other points of view, and the additional information. (Sitwell and Brumlow taking the scepter immediately after Loki’s capture: oh, so that’s how HYDRA got the Mind Stone!) I loved the cameos upon cameos (despite how silly it is for someone like Natalie Portman to show up for literally 15 seconds and not get any lines). I appreciated that Captain Marvel was used exactly the right amount: she saved Tony and Nebula, she was established as part of the post-Snap team, she came in at the end to lend some firepower, but she did not have any part in solving the problem nor was she the person who ultimately handed Thanos his raisin ass. I LOVED THE FINAL BATTLE, HOLY FUCK. (With the exception of Loki not being present, but I’ll get to that.) There were real laughs, and real tears. I cheered when Steve summoned Mjolnir (and laughed my head off at the Cap-on-Cap fight). I loved Morgan and Cassie, and the echoes of fathers and daughters throughout.

There were things I did not love, even before we got to the final or semi-final fates of some characters. I was genuinely offended with Thor’s treatment. I was not happy with Loki. I was confused about Vision, Gamora, and Black Widow, because they are due to return for future TV shows and movies, so leaving their statuses open or cloudy (or “dead,” which I put in quotes for a reason) was just disconcerting. The time travel opened up a lot of problems.

My original post was about endings, so let’s talk about those. In approximately descending order of Satisfying to WTF:

Stan Lee: Got his last cameo in the end of the arc so he didn’t miss any, driving along, clearly having the time of his life. Excelsior, Stan, and thank you for everything.

Clint: Got his happy ending. He was deeply bitter about losing his family, but got them restored to him. He did lose Nat, but I’ll cover her in her own section.

Steve: He did get his soft epilogue, albeit with Peggy Carter, and I can’t fault that. Marvel was never going to give us the Steve/Bucky romance no matter how obvious it was, and Steve/Peggy also works. (And really, I love Peggy, so for her to get a happy ending too is a bonus.) Steve gave so much of himself over the years. I can’t object to allowing him to be selfish and re-live his life quietly, to finally put down his shield and go home from the war. He got his reward.

It basically works with the existing timeline if you squint and assume that Peggy’s Alzheimer’s was messing with her at the beginning of Civil War, or if there’s another timeline altogether. I’m slightly annoyed that whatever he got to have with Bucky all happened offscreen between the stinger of Black Panther and the beginning of Infinity War, but apparently they did spend time together. And Steve clearly told Bucky was he was planning; that’s what “I’m gonna miss you” was foreshadowing.

STEVE IS WORTHY OF MJOLNIR. YESSSSSS!

Bruce: I was okay with the “Professor Hulk” storyline (which I was told by a sharp-eyed nephew is from the comics), although I wouldn’t have minded seeing that internal struggle onscreen, but I understand it’s an IP rights issue and there isn’t going to be another Marvel standalone Hulk film.

Tony: Augh. AUGH! I get it. I know why he died, on a meta level. But still.

This, at least, we can say is mostly “heartbreaking” and not “burn.” Tony got the five-year interval to make some kind of peace with his losses. He and Pepper got married and had Morgan. He got some kind of Happy For Now. He got some kind of reward, which RDJ brilliantly conveyed even in the few minutes we saw.  

@hjbender linked @starkysnarks’s excellent post about Tony’s arc. One important part:

That’s why I think that giving a better, more positive message is so important. While other characters have flaws, it’s only Tony who has this consistent, this carefully streamlined storyline of improvement, of redemption, of self-realization and self-betterment. It’s Tony who is most often referred to (by the aforementioned mainstream outlets AND within the fandom) as the most human of the characters, and his story – as the most humane. His happy ending with a new house and young family will not feel like an opt-out, it will not feel complacent, at least not to me. It will feel like hope. It will feel like achieving, at least partially, the goal of that endless internal struggle that we all go through daily. It will feel like it’s possible to be good and be happy and be content, to know that you have done you best and your best is good enough for you to live, and go forward, and be.

He ultimately got some of this, for a while. Tony’s fatal flaw is his fear about Thanos, or the threat that Thanos represents. Prior to Avengers, Tony was happy-go-lucky because he could, eventually, beat whatever the world threw at him. But Thanos was not of this world, and would have wiped everyone out if Tony hadn’t managed to get that nuke through the portal. That trauma, that guilt, that fear, is what drives him for the rest of the Infinity Stones storyline. He is desperate to protect everyone. It’s what makes him want to put “a suit of armor around the world” in Age of Ultron, and of course the way Ultron backfires compounds Tony’s PTSD and guilt, which is what leads to his position in Civil War and the fight he picks with Steve at the beginning of Endgame.

And the worst happens in Infinity War, and the Avengers lose. Everything Tony feared ultimately happened.

Five years later, he’s managed to move forward. He has his happy ending — as happy as he can be, given their losses. He’s accepted his failure, more or less. He wants to rest, which is why he rejects Steve and the others at first.

But his tinkerer’s brain won’t let him put their proposal aside. He needs to know intellectually that there’s no chance, that he can’t fix what he screwed up. Because that’s the other part of what drives him: they lost. He lost. “I lost the kid,” he tells Steve (meaning Peter). That fear of loss, of losing people, of failing people, of disappointing people, is what keeps pushing him. If he knows that there’s no possible way he can undo his mistake, he’ll figure out a way to cope, especially since he still has Pepper and then his daughter. But now there is a way, or there might be, and he can’t let that lie, he can’t rest, until he knows one way or the other. And when the way to fix things becomes possible, there is no other outcome for Tony to choose. He wouldn’t be a hero otherwise.

It is a terrible loss, but in the end I could accept it. Tony got a Happy For Now. He was able to enjoy his life for a little while. He got the genuine closure with his father which he couldn’t in the BARF hologram at the beginning of Civil War thanks to the time travel, and he got to see Peter restored and give him the hug which they weren’t at yet in Homecoming. Tony was triumphant. He defeated his greatest, most terrible adversary. He defeated his fear. Thanos is gone, and his minions with him. The echo of “I. Am. Iron Man.” was exquisite. (even more so knowing that line in the first movie was ad-libbed! it wasn’t in the script! It was RDJ’s idea!) So his death is sad, but it’s earned.

Natasha: Meh. Just meh. The scene where she and Clint fight over who is going to die was blackly hilarious. It made narrative sense for Nat to be the one who died — she has found family, but not children; she spent the interval trying to run the Avengers and SHIELD and trying to fix things, and this allowed her to contribute in a material way; she still has a lot of red in her moral ledger — but on a meta level, we know there’s a Black Widow movie in the works. It doesn’t make sense to have a spinoff series set before Endgame when you know how the character dies. It’s not a bad ending, all things considered, but the actress herself can’t get younger. Is it supposed to be her origin/backstory movie after the character has died? Is it Multiverse Branching Timelines? Was she restored when Steve returned all the Stones to their place in the timeline? Was she restored with Tony’s Snap, or Bruce’s? Not knowing how that’s going to work with the rest of the MCU timeline blunted the emotional effect of her death for me.

Although he’s not an original Avenger, I had similar issues with Vision. There will be a Scarlet Witch and Vision TV series. Vision is still dead, according to Wanda at Tony’s funeral. So was he restored with either Bruce’s Snap or Tony’s? Was 2018 Gamora? 

And the two which completely did not work for me, the ones where I think Marvel really missed:

Thor: Of the original Avengers, he was the one I was most upset about.

I really, really did not like how Thor’s very legitimate grief, depression, PTSD, and alcoholism were played for laughs. Thor is down to a “kingdom” of a few hundred people at best (we don’t know what Asgard’s population was to start with, but Hela killed quite a few, and then Thanos killed half of them on the Statesman, and it’s entirely possible that the Snappening dusted half of whomever remained). He’s living with the murders of Loki, Heimdall, and the Warriors Three (I can’t remember if Sif was supposed to have survived the Snappening, but she doesn’t appear in Endgame). He didn’t “go for the head” in Infinity War, which clearly haunts him despite the fact that Peter Quill is just as much to blame for interrupting Strange, Tony, Peter, and Mantis, or Wanda is just as much to blame for not getting the Stone out of Vision’s head faster, etc. etc. He cut off Thanos’s head after the fact and is clinging to that — “Who else here killed Thanos?” — as some kind of cold comfort. “Look, at least I did that in the end. At least I got revenge.”

Thor is a mess. His family is dead. His dearest friends are dead. He’s in a depressive spiral, self-medicating with food and alcohol, lost in video games because they are a consequence-free way to “win.” He’s holed up with Miek and Korg because they didn’t know him before Ragnarok and they have no real expectations of King Thor, God of Thunder, Avenger, Hero. He feels he has failed at everything which has ever been expected of him.

And the script... plays this... for laughs.

We are meant to laugh at his pot belly and flabby physique. We are meant to laugh at his unkempt matted hair and wild unbraided beard. We are meant to laugh at his drunkenness, at how he passes out, at how he blearily begs and whimpers to be the one to unSnap everyone ( “Please let me do something good, something right,” he pleads), at how he returns to Asgard on the day of Frigga’s murder and tries to frat-boy off to the cellars for some of Odin’s best ale because he cannot face his failure on this day too.

None of this is funny. It’s not funny at. all. It’s horrifying.

I do understand that this is likely more Hemsworth than Marvel. The actor vocally complained that he was bored with formal, upright Thor and would have been done with the character without Taika Waititi’s more comedic take in Ragnarok. He has said in interviews that Thor in Endgame is the closest to Hemsworth himself that the character has ever been, and clearly the actor loves doing comedy. He’s good at it — I enjoyed Kevin in Ghostbusters 2016.

I don’t object to loosening up Thor. I don’t object to showing Thor spiraling into alcoholism and depression and hiding from the world in food and games. I object to using depression and alcoholism for comedy.

Thor faces Frigga, reluctantly, and she counsels her son whom she loves, telling him not to worry about living up to expectations but to be his best true self. This is consistent with both characters; Thor has accepted how hard it is to be king. Then as Thor is quantumming out she adds “And eat a salad.” Really? You had to throw that in there? She sees the wreck her son has become and she nags? She gives him some kind and loving advice, she knows there’s some weirdness going on, but she has to cap it with fat-shaming?

We are meant to mock formerly ripped Thor for being “fat and ugly,” but let’s be clear: Thor’s appearance is an outward manifestation of deep emotional issues. Thor has not been able to cope with his failure. He and Tony faced similar terrible losses. Both characters originally had sunny dispositions. Tony, who still had Pepper at least, has managed to crawl out of his hole and build something with his wife and daughter. Thor lost his brother, his other half, and has mentally, emotionally, and physically collapsed. There really is no Thor without Loki.

And speaking of, I’m going to scream for a moment:

SERIOUSLY, MARVEL, WHAT EVEN THE FLAMING FUCK WAS THAT? YOU TEE UP A GODDAMN LINE LIKE “I ASSURE YOU, BROTHER, THE SUN WILL SHINE ON US AGAIN” AND THEN IT DOESN’T PAY OFF? I FUCKING WAVED THAT FLAG FOR A SOLID YEAR BECAUSE I WAS CONVINCED YOU WERE SMARTER THAN THAT AND THIS IS HOW YOU DO ME?

Loki: I am well aware that Loki started as an antagonist, and that my perspective is skewed from the fandoms I choose to participate in. I know that he’s not an Avenger.

But purely from a narrative point of view, Marvel, ya done fucked up. You dropped the ball.

From my previous post:

Loki’s death in Infinity War was so stupid and narratively pointless that a lot of fans, myself included, believe that there’s a plan behind the scenes (since we know Endgame involves time travel) which somehow explains it and gives it meaning. Because if not, then one of the most popular MCU characters — the only antagonist to keep returning, film after film, and primarily because audiences love him — died for nothing.

And there you have it. Explaining it after the fact in Loki’s TV show doesn’t count (and we don’t know that they will). Yes, Loki grabs the Tesseract in 2012 and disappears, so you can argue that “he doesn’t die,” but all that really does is screw up the timeline. It creates another timeline branch which isn’t resolved.

Is everything now a branched universe? If Loki took off with the Tesseract, does that mean The Dark World and Ragnarok never happened? If Loki didn’t go back to Asgard in chains at the end of Avengers, that means TDW couldn’t have happened the way it did. It means that Loki didn’t sacrifice himself, but does that also mean that Malekith would have gotten the Aether/Reality Stone from Jane and killed her? (It was Loki’s plan which saved Jane, let’s recall. And killed Kurse.) Does that mean Odin is still alive and on Asgard? And Hela was never unleashed? And therefore Loki and Thor never ended up on Sakaar and Hulk and Valkyrie Brunnhilde are still there? Or worse, that Odin died and Hela was unleashed but Thor wasn’t able to stop her because he didn’t have Hulk, Valkyrie, and Loki to help him? So she’s now loose and rampaging across the realms murdering at will?

It was appropriate for the larger arc for Carol to be part of the cavalry swooping in during the final battle to pummel Thanos for a while, but I kept waiting for Loki to show up. Loki was tortured by Thanos and Ebony Maw, which is what kicked off the plot of Avengers. If 2014 Thor was willing to break Loki out of prison to get revenge for Frigga’s death, why wouldn’t either 2014 Thor or 2023 Thor be willing to tell 2012 Loki “We have an opportunity for you to get back at Thanos. Wanna help?” Because as strung out and as still cocky as he was, jauntily waving in the elevator at the beast who just beat the shit out of him, I bet Loki would have been delighted to take a few swings at Giant Purple Nutsack Face. Yes, he probably would have escaped at some point during the final battle, because that’s who he was at the time, and still is — he’s “very comfortable with chaos,” as Hiddleston notes. And that would have been consistent. Help others if it also helps him, he’s not really a hero at that point in his arc, check out after Thanos is dead because he doesn’t want to go back to prison. That all would have worked. Even if he had no more to do than Shuri or Okoye, just to show him shooting a few blasts of seidr and showing that he is in fact just as powerful a sorcerer as Doctor “I’ve only been doing this for a year” Strange.

But Loki’s death in Infinity War is for nothing. Even if I wasn’t as invested in the character as I am, from a storytelling standpoint, it was pointless. The entire heavy foreshadowing of that line was utterly whiffed. You can’t even argue that “Loki sacrificed himself for Thor” because Thanos disappeared with the Space Stone, leaving Thor behind, and Thor crawled over to his brother’s dead, broken body and crumpled there to die. Thor gave up and never recovered. The last word he expected he would ever say was “Loki....” 

Thor didn’t choose in that moment to use Loki’s sacrifice to stand up and claim revenge. Even Clint did more than that after Natasha’s death. Thor only continued on to forge Stormbreaker because the Guardians happened to pick him up in the vacuum of space after the Statesman exploded. That wasn’t a choice by the character, which is what moves a character arc forward. It was happenstance. Thor’s heart was destroyed with Loki’s death. It’s a shell of a man who eventually beheads Thanos.

Loki got an “Avenge the Fallen” poster, but he wasn’t avenged. The 2012 version of him escaped and branched off a new timeline, according to the Ancient One’s explanation of how time travel works in the MCU.

We don’t know if either Tony’s or Bruce’s Snap restored 2018 Loki. Endgame is the end of this arc. Marvel can’t patch stuff up later and claim a do-over. 

AND FOR FUCK’S SAKE MARVEL WE NEVER GOT THOR AND LOKI’S HUG.

So: did Marvel hurt us?

Not as badly as I feared. There was a ton of fanservice and moments which were so go-for-broke that I felt like we were watching wish-fulfillment fanfic. (So many jokes about Steve’s ass. Steve joking about Steve’s ass.) The script didn’t stop to explain who people were or give context; it assumed the audience knew everything and was keeping up. And that last battle, have mercy, Helm’s Deep and Pelennor Fields look like playground skirmishes in comparison.

BUT: The loose ends are deeply frustrating, and I think the Loki fandom is going to blow a collective gasket. Grotty Drunk Thor having constant My Dick Is Bigger fights with Peter Quill is not going to make me want to watch Guardians 3. (Although if Loki comes back and sneers at Quill, and Thor follows his brother off into the wild yonder with stars in his eyes, okay, call me.)  

I will watch the Marvel TV shows because I’m a masochist, but I don’t know how much I’m going to allow myself to get emotionally involved. My expectations are far lower than before IW/EG. I don’t know how the shows and movies involving “dead” characters are going to explain things. Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey handwaving is kind of a cheat, and it doesn’t excuse the shit storytelling which was allowed to happen in the first place.

Do I regret the journey? I don’t. It’s been a hell of a ride, and I’m so glad to have met these characters. I could wish for some things to be better, and hoo boy is there going to be a lot of corrective fanfic, but I’m not sorry I came along. 

(and P.S.: Loki lives. :P)

#endgame spoilers #the stakes are too high #avengers: endgame #meta discussion #mcu #long post

[carynsilver]

Marvel 20 Questions

I wasn't tagged, but I saw this on @musette22‘s Tumblr and decided I wanted to play. Thanks! 

1. Favorite solo film? It’s so hard to choose. It would be easier to list my top five. :-) But, I have to go with Thor: Ragnarok, because it is funny and heartwarming and I love it. Plus I have been a sucker for Thor since his first movie. Captain America: The Winter Soldier is a really close second, though.

2. Favorite team-up film? The Avengers. It was so cool seeing all the characters we’d watched in the solo movies come together for the first time. Marvel really did the solo movies to team-up movies formula right--didn’t rush it like DC did. The payoff in that first Avengers movie was great. Plus a good villain, high stakes, and a plot that I didn’t have problems with. A good mix of humor to action. Love it. Also, I’m really partial to the AUs where the Avengers all live on their own floors in the tower, and that is the movie that sets that up (even if I’ll forever be sad that they did nothing with it).

3. Favorite female character? There are a lot of BAMF chicks in the MCU, but my absolute favorite is Peggy Carter. She is strong and gorgeous and knows her worth, even a time that is worse that today about allowing women to have that value. I liked her in the first Cap movie, but I loved her even more in the Agent Carter TV series. While I like the Peggy/Steve backstory, I like Peggy better on her own. Darcy Lewis is a really close second favorite--only second because, while I liked her in the Thor movies, it was fic that really fleshed out her character, while Peggy got all that character development on screen. But we’ll see how things go with Wandavision. Maybe Darcy will get the more developed character in cannon that she deserves. (I guess the Netflix shows no longer count for the MCU, huh? Because Jessica Jones was pretty awesome, too.)

4. Favorite male character? Oh my gosh. I love both Thor Odinson and Bucky Barnes SO MUCH--it’s nearly impossible to choose. However, I have to use the rule that I used for favorite female character, and give Thor the number one spot because his character’s awesomeness is fleshed out on screen. While I still think that his first movie could’ve used a bit more middle (more time than just one night on Earth to grow and change into someone who would give his life for others), I’ve loved watching Thor’s character grow and change over the years. He tried so hard to be a Gryffindor, but he’s really a Hufflepuff. While he would’ve been an all right king due to training, he doesn’t have the heart for it, and I think he finally realized that. He is so much more than muscles and a weird accent--he’s loving, supportive, and really smart; he forgives; he’s just an awesome guy. Bucky has that whole tragic redemption arc, which is great, but they really cheated his character out of development on screen after CA:tFA and CA:tWS. Like with Darcy, a lot of his development comes from fic and head cannons. I’m really hopeful for the Falcon & Winter Soldier TV series. Maybe now Bucky will finally get the character development he deserves!

5. Best canon ship? I’m not really tied to many of the cannon ships in the MCU. I liked Tony/Pepper a lot; probably because they got a lot of screen time, and Pepper is another favorite BAMF MCU lady. Scott/Hope is also pretty good. I would’ve said Thor/Jane, except then they broke up. Maybe they will resurge to the top of the list when we get Thor 4.

6. Best non-canon ship? I love so many non-cannon ships for the MCU! I like Stucky, Stony, WinterShock, WinterHawk (but only with the more comic-esque Clint who is deaf and a disaster; not boring family man movie Clint), WinterIron (but only in no power AUs without the Bucky killed Tony’s parents angle), ShieldShock, TaserTricks a bit... Basically any ship with either Bucky or Darcy in it would have a chance, and even though I don’t love cannon Steve all that much, I like a lot of ships with him in fanfic, too. Weirdly, I never read fic about Thor or Peggy--maybe because they are so fleshed out in cannon, I don’t need more from them.

7. Favorite actor? Man, another rough one. I love Chris Hemsworth and Sebastian Stan so much. I think I have to go with Sebastian on this one, though. Chris is great, hot, and I adore him, but Sebastian did so much with a character that had relatively little screen time overall. I mean, Bucky was in five movies, but in a lot of them he was there more for the action than the actual character development (which makes me sad! he deserves more!). But the fact that he took a smaller, supporting character and made him one of my favorites in the whole universe says a lot for Sebastian’s acting. Like, a lot of actors can make you love a character when they are the main character in multiple movies, but how many can do it from the sidelines? (**crossing my fingers for lots of good Bucky in the F&WS show!**)

8. Favorite actress? Gotta go with Hayley Atwell here. The way she played Peggy was masterful. I also really love Kat Dennings, though. Second only to Hayley.

9. Favorite director? Taika Waititi, hands down. He should do all MCU movies from here on out. Prior to him, it was Joss Whedon for his great work on the first Avengers, but Joss let me down with A:AoU.

10. What was the first MCU movie you ever watched? Iron Man. Aside from Spiderman: Homecoming and The Incredible Hulk, I watched all the MCU movies in theater in the order they came out. We are dedicated Marvel fans that way. :-)

11. Which MCU movie have you watched the most? Hmmm... I’m honestly not sure. I’ve never specifically counted viewings. I know the top contenders would be Thor: Ragnarok, Ant Man, The Avengers, Thor, Captain America: the First Avenger, and Iron Man. I have definitely watched every MCU movie except the Spiderman and Hulk solo films more than once, though.

12. Favorite super-suit? I think I’d have to go with the Iron Man suit. I mean, it’s by far the most useful, and it has Jarvis (or Friday) inside. And it lets you fly! That said, if we take it as most attractive suit, then I’d be torn between Steve’s navy and white suit (sans cowl) from the beginning of CA:tWS and Thor’s suit when it bared his arms (the long-sleeved version was weird looking).

13. Favorite weapon? Mjolnir, by far. Even though it creates some weird questions/plot issues, I love the idea of a weapon that only someone with a worthy heart can use. I think my favorite moment in End Game was when they paid out on that bit from AoU and Steve busted out fighting with his shield and Mjolnir. Steve and Thor fighting together with the hammer and the axe was fabulous. I do also like Cap’s shield, even though it’s a weird choice. I’m really looking forward to Thor 4, if the rumors are true and we’re going to get to see Jane use the hammer. That will be excellent!

14. Favorite origin story? Oh, another hard one! I am a sucker for a good redemption story arc, so I think Bucky/Winter Soldier edges in for the win here. Overcoming 70 years of brainwashing and mind wipes for his best friend, struggling to get back to human again, and then trying to make up for some of the wrongs from the past (which I hope is where we’re going in the F&WS show) is excellent. Though, Thor’s journey from spoiled brat to someone who is willing to sacrifice himself for others to king to someone who realizes that he isn’t the best king and is willing to hand the crown to someone else for the good of the people that he loves is a really good one, too. I also like tiny anger-ball Steve taking a risk to become a hero with a good heart. Didn’t necessarily agree with all his choices later, but did like the origin. Solid third.

15. Favorite villain? Definitely Loki. His arc in the first Thor movie is great. And knowing that in the first Avengers movie he was affected by the mind stone adds a great layer. Plus watching him continue to mature and grow until he finally was willing to be there for his brother in Ragnarok. That was a great arc, and the character toes that line of gray morality but redemption that is so compelling to watch. His death was the worst one to me in IW/EG--I really thought he was pulling some other con, and I’ll forever be sad they dropped that thread. I hope that his show is good, and I’ll give it a chance, but I’m still bummed that we’re going back to post-Avengers Loki and losing all that character development from Thor 2 and 3. :-(

16. Favorite fight sequence? Honestly, the action and fighting are probably my least favorite parts of these movies. I know, that’s atypical, lol. Like, they are the less interesting bits I have to put up with to get the character growth I want from my superheroes. Often, the action sequences go on too long. Shorter action sequences would allow them to both keep up momentum and put in more character development, but no one in charge asks me. :-P That said, I like the action sequences best when they show character development, and the best one for that is the highway fight in CA:tWS where Cap and co. fight the Winter Soldier for the first time. No one in the whole movie had challenged Steve that far, but the Winter Soldier truly put him in danger for the first time, and his friends, too. The Winter Soldier was menacing, and then paired with the Bucky reveal at the end. Best action sequence. Though I do also love the Revengers vs. Hela in Ragnarok when Thor finally gets his full lightening powers down and crashes into the battle. He is so OP now, but in an awesome way.

17. Favorite line from any of the films? I love that bit in the first Avengers movie when Thor snags Loki, Tony flies out after him, and Nat tells Steve not go because they are basically gods. I love Steve’s line of, “There’s only one God, Ma’am, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t dress like that.” That one cracks me up even now that I’ve watched it so many times.

18. Favorite scene from any of the films? Pretty much any scene with Darcy in it is a favorite. Her stuff in the first Thor movie is gold. I also like Bucky and Steve’s goodbye scene at the beginning of CA:tFA.

19. If you could pick an Infinity Stone to keep, which would you choose? Huh... I don’t know that I’d want any of them. I guess, if pressed, I’d choose the Space stone because I think it would let me teleport. The Time stone/time travel seems interesting, but I’d be afraid I’d mess up the timelines.

20. Which Disney Plus MCU series are you most looking forward to? Falcon & Winter Soldier, hands down. Though, when I heard Darcy would be a character, that jumped Wandavision up to second place.

I think that @virtual-insomnia would enjoy this. :-) 

#avengers #meme #thor #bucky barnes #darcy lewis #peggy carter #mcu