#and it’s true anyone who cross posts on a03 or just does it in the tags

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) every word i say is kindling  STAR WARS

Jangobi Week Day 1 - Enemies to Lovers

A03

When they meet, it’s as enemies.

He’s been hired to help destroy the trust the Republic has in it’s  sainted Jedi guardians. Jango is an assassin, a merciless killer, and a father to one. He’s raised Boba to be the legacy that Jango could never be, to carry on Jaster’s memory where Jango has only been a disappointment.

His hate burns in his chest like a second heart, and his fury tastes like ash in his mouth. He’s given so many pieces of himself to his mission that he no longer knows who he is, but still he gives more, pushed on by the memories of his people’s bodies scattered in the snow of Galidraan and the phantom smell of burnt flesh in his mouth. He remembers snow crunching under his boots, stained red by his people’s blood, and the feeling of bones breaking under his hands.

Tyranus has offered him the perfect way to get the vengeance that has been pushing him to survive all these years, the vengeance that had kept him warm those cold nights in chains.

Jango hates the Jedi, and he hates himself too, for what he’s become.

He’d avenge his people; he’d destroy himself to give them the room they needed to live free, and Boba would succeed where he’d failed. He’d raised Boba to continue what Jaster started, he’d raised Boba to be  better . Jango would tear himself apart thousands of times over, millions more than he already had, if it meant that Boba would lead the people Jango had failed. He’d destroy the Jedi so that the Haat Mando’ade could grow and flourish once more without the threat of them. He ignores the pain he’s causing, he ignores the millions of children with his face and blood, if it means that his mission is complete.

Jango is not a good person.

He’s the survivor who never should have survived, the Mand’alor who had no people to lead, the leader who led his people to their deaths. He’s a coward who left the shredded remains of Jaster’s people to flounder on their own, because he had lost all semblance of honour when his armour had been stripped from his living body, he had lost any right he had to lead through his failure.

Jaster would hate the man he had grown to become.

When Jango meets him, he’s a shadow of the man he once was, fueled by the burning hatred in his heart, and by Manda does he  hate .

Obi-Wan Kenobi is a  Jetii. He comes to him soaking wet and completely at a loss. He has no idea of the plots in motion to destroy him; he’s naive, and too charming for his own good, and Jango  hates  him. Hates the cultured accent that rolls off his tongue, the mischievous sparkle in blue-green eyes that reminds him too much of Myles. He hates the way he talks circles around everyone, like Jaster had once done, and he hates  that  this  Jetii reminds him of the people he had lost.

He hates himself too, for the faint stirrings of attraction he feels the moment the reckless  jare di’kutla Jetii kicks him with enough force to knock him right over the edge of the landing platform, despite the cord that attaches them. He hates himself for the thought that crosses his mind as the Jedi follows him to Geonosis, the one that whispers to him that Jaster would like this man, the one that tells him that he’s  Mandokarla. It stings of betrayal, that he’d actually find himself hesitating as he stares down at the redhead chained up to die, wondering about his choices.

Kenobi is young, Jango can tell at a glance, smooth features hidden by a beard like it was an attempt to make himself appear more mature. He wonders how old the Jedi had been when Galidraan happened, and he knows deep down that the man had had no part in it. Looking at him, looking young and hurt, chained to that post and trying to keep up a mask of bravado that so many young warriors wear, strikes Jango like an electric shock, chasing away the fog of rage and pain and hate that had been seeping into him over the years since Galidraan. It makes him remember that the Jedi aren’t just some shadowy organization at the beck and call of the Senate, not just leashed dogs to be set on innocents - they’re a  culture too.

He remembers late nights listening to Jaster read from ancient histories, of the texts his Buir liked to read and study in an attempt to rebuild the Mandalorian culture that had been gutted by the Republic and the New Mandalorians, and rebuild it for the better. He remembers the respect his Buir had had for the Jedi Order, not just as another warrior culture, but as another warrior culture so much like the Mandalore he wanted to build. There were children in the Order,  Foundlings adopted into another multiethnic culture much like they were as Mando’ade. Children, and the old and sickly, the infirmed; they weren’t all the bloodthirsty monsters from Galidraan.

Jango doesn’t know how he could have forgotten that.

It’s like breaking through a wall, and when fighting breaks out, Jango sides with the Jedi and fights alongside them and the clones that arrive to rescue them.

Jango survives Geonosis; he survives the battle and finds himself fighting side by side with Kenobi. The Knight he had almost killed and led into a trap vouches for him when he’s confronted by the other  Jetiise. Jango is one step behind Kenobi when they go to confront Tyranus, one step behind when the man’s Padawan nearly abandons him for the pretty Senator Jengo had been hired to kill, and one step behind him when he learns Tyranus’ true identity.

Dooku.

The man he had been working for, the man who had hired him and promised him vengeance for his slaughtered people, for the bodies of his siblings that had been left abandoned in the snow, had been the very man who had led the slaughter against them. It’s a lightning strike of clarity in the muddled world of vengeance and hate he had been living in for over twenty years.

He’s been tricked.

Jango survives Geonosis, he survives to take his son and share what he knows with the  Jetiise . He doesn’t like it, he clenches his teeth through the whole thing, vibrating with sickening anger at the sight of the circle of space wizards surrounding him, staring down at him with dispassionate eyes, and he keeps a protective hold on Boba through the whole thing. Kenobi stays at his side, a calm rock in the storm of his emotions, with his furiously compassionate eyes that Jango  hated.

He survives Geonosis, survives the unmasking of the Sith Lord hiding in the Senate, and he keeps surviving as the Clone War rages. He keeps meeting Kenobi too, the younger man makes a name for himself as the best warfront tactician the  Jetiise  have. He works well with the clones assigned to him; Kote had always been good, competent, and if Jango had let himself think about it, he’d even say he had  Mandokarla. Jango watches their progress on the holoweb, keeps bumping into the  Jetii, and eventually,  Kenobi becomes Obi-Wan.

He seeks him out, and eventually, he realizes that Obi-Wan has been seeking him out too. They bump into each other when the  Jetii is on shore leave, and Jango finds that he likes the younger man, likes being around him. Jango finds himself falling in love with the man.

A rustle of movement pulls Jango from his thoughts, bringing him back to the pleasant ache in his body, and the former  Mand’alor blinks his eyes open, chasing the fog of sleep from his mind. Obi-Wan is sitting up on the edge of the hotel bed, pale back facing him, an expanse of freckles and scars and red marks that Jango had very smugly left there the night before. “Leaving already,  Mesh’la?” He asks, voice rough and deep, and he watches the way muscles ripple as Obi-Wan pulls on his boots.

Jango sits up, sheets pooling around his bare waist, as Obi-Wan turns to him, offering him a gentle smile. “Some of us have work to do, my dear.” He teases playfully, and Jango huffs, reaching out to curl a hand across the Jetii’s hip, absently tracing a bruised bite mark, a flame of smug pleasure kindling in his gut.

He wears his marks so prettily.

“Thought you were on shore leave.”

Obi-Wan chuckles, twisting to press a sweet, lingering kiss to Jango’s lips, and the bounty hunter finds himself melting into the touch as his lover’s long, graceful fingers brush across his jaw. He doesn’t want him to leave, wants to pull him back into the bed and keep him there.

“Well, responsibilities wait for no man.” The  Jetii says cheerfully as he pulls away, and Jango carefully doesn’t flinch. Obi-Wan watches him with blue-green eyes, gently tracing across the scar on the Mandalorian’s cheek, expression soft, with a wry twist of his lips. Jango grumbles, shifting towards the red head, and he tugs him closer, other hand moving to trail across his waist and up his ribs, tracing the scars across his chest and more bite marks. Obi-Wan coos teasingly at him, ruffling dark curls when the older man presses his head into his shoulder. “Still tired, my dear?”

“Well,” Jango says, petulant, “most people sleep in during their time off.”

“If I were most people,” his  Jetii laughs, “I’m sure we wouldn’t be in this situation. You don’t seem to be the type to fall into bed with just anyone.”

“One of a kind.” He teases, pressing a kiss to the side of Obi-Wan’s neck, feeling his beard drag against his temple. Jango grips at him protectively, and when he speaks, his voice teeters towards pleading, “Stay?”

Obi-Wan sighs, and Jango knows the answer even before he says anything, “You know I can’t, Jango.” His hands tighten on his lover’s torso, sliding across planes of packed core muscle, the Jedi’s skin chilled against his own, and Obi-Wan’s hands press against his own. They’re silent for a long moment, curled together, before Obi-Wan gently lifts one of Jango’s hands to press a kiss against his palm. “Ask me again after the War.” His voice is quiet, slow, like he’s trying the words out, playing with them on his tongue.

“After the War.” Jango repeats like a promise, like an oath, and he feels his  Jetii smile against his skin.

Taglist: @a-mediocre-succulent @yellowisharo @spoofymcgee @roseofalderaan @everything-or-anything @bellablue42  

#cole writes #jangobi week 2021 #day 1 enemies to lovers #jango fett #obi-wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi #Jangobi #jango lives #trans obi wan kenobi #star wars fanfiction #jangobi week day 1

[flowerfan2]

Group Texts Are Ridiculous (Or, Five-0 Starts a Group Text)

McDanno, T, A03, 6k so far

Summary:  After Steve leaves Oahu to go find himself, Five-0 starts a group text to keep in touch while Steve’s away.  Picks up after the end of Season 10.

Notes:  This story is set in the present, following 10x22, but there’s no COVID in it...  I wanted it to be fun.  The story is complete and will be posted over the next few weeks.  Many thanks as always to my awesome beta, @perryavenue.

Chapter 3

June 25, 2020

JR:  What’s the name of Steve’s vet, the one he sort of dated?

QL:  If you and Tani were considering a threesome you could have let me know.

TR:  News to me.  But I suppose we could talk…

JR:  Shut up.  Eddie’s hurt, do you know the vet’s name or not?

TR:  Oh no, what happened?

JR:  I’m not sure, we just got back from a run and he’s limping a little.

DW:  Don’t go anywhere.  Keep Eddie still, I’ll be there in ten.

JR:  Shouldn’t I take him to the vet?

DW:  Just called them.  Stay right where you are.

JR:  Danny, Eddie’s fine, I can just put him in the truck.  He probably just stepped on something sharp.

QL:  Is he bleeding?  You should elevate his leg.

JR:  No, he’s not bleeding, it’s not that serious.  

TR:  Can you tell which paw it is?

JR:  Of course I can tell, it’s the foot he’s holding up when he tries to walk.

DW:  Did you not understand the part about keeping him still?  Walking is not keeping him still.  Sit with him, don’t let him move.

 JR:  We’re sitting on the couch, don’t worry, Eddie is fine.  He’s licking my face.  Normal Eddie behavior.  I think he actually forgot about his foot.

 TR:  Doesn’t hurt to be careful.  Junes, where did you take Eddie anyway?  Just the beach?

 TR:  Junes?  You there?

 JR:  Sorry, had to let HPD in.

 TR:  Wait, why is HPD there?

 JR:  Apparently Danny sent them.  With flashers and sirens.

 TR:  Of course, that makes sense.

 JR:  Um, no it doesn’t.  Eddie is fine.  And Five-0 isn’t supposed to use HPD for personal stuff.

 TR:  Yeah, we never do that.  

 SM:  What the hell happened to my dog?

  July 5, 2020

 LG:  I hate all of you, but especially Tani.

 TR:  It was just lemonade, Grover.

 LG:  No, it was iced tequila with one lemon slice floating on top.

 TR:  Party lemonade.

 LG:  It’s not very patriotic to get your elders drunk.

 TR:  No one said you had to drink it.

 LG:  Pretty sure you said anyone who doesn’t taste my lemonade has to go home.

 TR:  I had already had some lemonade when I said that.  I can’t be held responsible for my actions.  Face it, you’re a lightweight.

 LG:  Clearly not true.

 TR:  Then why did Renee make you leave early?

 LG:  We had another party to go to, as I told you last night. Where is everyone, anyway?  I thought Junior and Quinn were on today.

 TR:  I’m sure they’ll turn up any minute.

 LG:  Junior is still asleep, isn’t he?

 TR:  The lump under the blankets just cursed at me when I thumped him, so no, not totally asleep.

 LG:  Tell him to get his ass in gear and get to work.

 TR:  He says his head is exploding and he wants to die.

 LG:  Requesting a sick day, then?

 TR:  I’ll come in instead.

 LG:  Seriously?

 TR:  It’ll be better than listening to Junior puke all morning.

 LG:   I didn’t need to know that. How come you’re all chipper?

 TR:  I drank a bunch of water before I went to bed.  Like you’re supposed to.

 LG:  Hey, did Danny ever show up last night?

 TR:  Nope.  

  July 11, 2020

 LG:  I’m at the dock, which way should I go?

 DW:  Towards the boats.  The big floating things.

 JR:  I can see you, keep going the way you’re facing, then head south when you get to the end of the

row.

 LG:  South?  Sorry, forgot my compass.  

 DW:  Just listen for the music.

 TR:  I can’t believe you know the words to Taylor Swift’s greatest hits. At least my music is relatively current.

 DW:  Grace was just the right age.  It got stuck in my head.  

 JR:  And now it’s stuck in ours.

 <i>TR has changed the name of the group text to</i> <b>Shake It Off Dance Party</b>

 QL:  Be there soon.  Just found Jerry wandering in the parking lot.

 JG:  I wasn’t wandering, I was organizing my gear.

 TR:  What kind of gear do you need for a boat ride?

 LG:  You do realize you are asking Jerry this.

 JG:  By the way, thanks for including me today.  I’ve missed you guys.

 DW:  We miss you too.  But if you could all hurry up, that would be great.  I’d like to leave the dock sometime before it gets dark.

 QL:  Do you guys do a Five-0 summer outing every year?

 TR:  Nope, first time.

 QL:  Really?

 TR:  Yeah, generally we get enough excitement at work.  And Danny has some issues with boats.

 DW:  I actually enjoy boats, when there isn’t any gunfire, or sharks, or poison. I only have issues with <i>Steve</i> and boats.  Steve isn’t here, so we’ll be fine.

 QL:  So much to unpack there.

 JR:  Didn’t Steve set this up?

 LG:  He surely did.  The boat belongs to a friend of his.  I think he thought we all needed some cheering up.

 TR:  You mean he thought Danny needed cheering up.

 DW:  If Steve wanted to cheer me up he wouldn’t have sent me on a boat trip with all of you.

 LG:  Ouch.

 JG:  We may have a slight delay.

 TR:  What did you do?

 JG:  I didn’t do anything.  But Quinn was texting and walking at the same time and tripped.

 DW:  Is she ok?

 JG:  She didn’t fall in the water.  But her phone did, and she’s kind of pissed.

 LG:  Well we’ve got beer, that might help.

 JG:  Now’s she in the water.  She’s trying to find the phone.

 JG:  Quinn can hold her breath for a really long time.  Kind of impressive.

 LG:  For pete’s sake, what’s the point?  She’s never going to find it, and it’ll be ruined anyway.

 JG:  I said the same thing, but she didn’t listen.  Now she’s going to talk to the harbormaster.

 TR:  To report a dropped phone?

 JG: I don’t know, she just told me to wait while she went to talk to the harbormaster.

 TR:  It’s not like we need our phones for fishing.  We probably don’t get service out there anyway.

 DW:  Hardly matters.  At this rate we’re never leaving the dock.

  July 17, 2020

 SM:  Send help to this address ASAP. My phone’s dying.

 DW:  WTF Steve?

 SM:  Tow truck kind of help.  Flat tire.

 DW:  It’s four in the morning here.

 SM:  Oh, sorry.  Got up early. Not that early.

 DW:  Way to give me a heart attack.

 SM:  Sorry, didn’t mean to.  You okay?

 DW:  Course I’m okay.  I’m in bed, asleep.  Or at least I was asleep.  Now Eddie’s awake too and thinks it’s time to get up and go for a walk.

 SM:  Wish I was there.

 DW:  What?

 SM:  In bed, I mean.  Instead of stuck on the side of the road.

 DW:  Where are you, anyway?  You haven’t mentioned lately.

 SM:  Near Yellowstone.  Been camping. Did some hiking into the backcountry.

 DW:  Sounds suitably outdoorsy.

 SM:  Yeah.

 DW:  Your phone doesn’t seem all that dead.  You could have called AAA yourself.  

 SM:  I wasn’t sure how long it would hold out.

 DW:  It’s okay.  I miss you too.

  July 18, 2020

 JR:  So we’re all ignoring that conversation, right?

 TR:  Yes, because we work for them, and we have better things to do today.

 TR has changed the name of the group text to Luau Luau Luau

 JR:  Good to know you’re excited.

 TR:  Just cross your fingers there aren’t any murders in the next six hours. I want to be there when the pig comes out of the pit.

 SM:  You guys are doing a real luau?

 TR:  Yup.  Kamekona dug the imu.  Or had someone else dig it, probably.  But that sucker’s been cooking for hours already.

 JR:  Hey Commander, how’s it going?

 SM:  It’s good, Junior.  Thanks. How’d you get Kame to cook you a pig?

 TR:  It’s to thank Danny for helping him with some kind of permitting problem for his new place in Kapolei.  Kame found out Danny had never done the whole pig in the ground thing, so he decided to show him how it’s done.

 SM:  You’re telling me Danny got up at dawn to put the pig in the imu?

 TR:  I can’t swear to it, I wasn’t there.  But that was the plan.  

 LG:  I was there.  And no, Kame didn’t do any actual digging, he got Nahele and his friends to do it.  We did have to carry some rocks.

 TR:  What do you think, Lou?  Pretty cool, right?

 LG:  I am in favor of anything that combines fire and meat, you know that about me.

 SM:  Danny must not have gotten any sleep at all.

 DW:  That’s why they invented coffee.

 SM:  How much did Kame charge you for it?

 DW:  Nahele brought us all coffee from Island Vintage.

 SM:  What, did he come into some money?

 DW:  I paid him back, you dunce.

 SM:  I can’t believe you guys are putting together your own luau.

 DW:  Makes you miss home, doesn’t it?

 SM:  Sure does.  Danny, you’ve really never been to a luau?

 DW:  Not really.  Seemed kind of touristy.

 TR:  That’s why you have to do it yourself.  I made chicken long rice last night, and Junior’s bringing the lomi lomi salmon.

 JR:  I wanted squid but Tani likes salmon better.

 SM:  Good luck getting Danny to eat squid unless they’re deep fried.

 DW:  I’ll have you know I haven’t had a fried fish in ages.  I’ve been grilling mahi almost every weekend.

 SM:  You have?  That’s awesome.

 JR:  He does a good job with it, too.  It’s never dry.

 DW:  Thanks, Junior.

 SM:  Clearly my healthy eating has finally made an impression on you, Danny. I’m so proud.

 JR:  I think it was his doctor that forced him into it, but whatever.

 SM:  What do you mean?  What’s wrong?

 DW:  Nothing’s wrong.

 SM:  High cholesterol?

 DW:  Shut up, I can eat whatever I want.  I’m just choosing to be more aware of what goes in my mouth, that’s all.

 LG:  Right, that’s why you banned malasadas from the office.

 TR:  Maybe he’s just trying to maintain his girlish figure.  

 JR:  Are you really trying to lose weight, Danny?  Because you’re as thin as I’ve ever seen you.

 LG:  I’m not sure they sell those slacks in extra-slim, you better be careful.

 DW:  Can we please stop talking about me?  

 SM:  Seriously, is everything all right, Danny?  

 DW:  You guys are ridiculous.  See you later at the beach.  You can ogle me there as I stuff my mouth with kalua pork.

  July 21, 2020

 JR:  Tani, you up?

 TR:  You know you can just come home and get into bed with me, you don’t need to say dumb stuff like that.

 JR:  Honestly I just wanted to know if you were awake.  It’s one o’clock in the morning.

 TR: LOL sorry.  Yeah, Quinn just left and I’m trying to clean up.  We tried to make fancy margaritas and it looks like Whole Foods’ fruit section exploded in my kitchen.

 JR:  What’s a fancy margarita?

 TR:  You know, you add in something that tastes good and something that tastes bad.

 JR:  That can’t really be the recipe.

 TR:  It seemed like it.  Grapefruit and rosemary – who wants rosemary in their margarita?

 JR:  Ok true.

 TR:  Strawberry and jalapeno was pretty good though.  But we put too many jalapenos in.

 JR:  Sounds dangerous.  How many have you had?

 TR: A good amount.  When are you coming home?

 JR:  Don’t know.  Adam and I are still parked down the road from the restaurant where the victim died yesterday.  Danny thinks whoever was responsible, the assistant chef probably, will break in tonight.

 TR:  Sounds fun.

 JR:  I’m bored out of my mind.  Ran out of things to talk about with Adam about two hours ago.

 TR:  Let’s play fuck, marry, kill.  

 JR:  Okay.  But let’s text just us, okay?

 TR:  Smart.  Okay, you go first.  Celebrities, fuck, marry or kill.

 JR:  Any celebrities?  That’s kind of broad.

 TR:  Ok, celebrities named Chris.

 JR:  You’re really making me go first.

 TR:  You’re the one who said you were bored.  I could just throw all this crap into the sink and go to bed.  But I’ll go first if you want.

 JR:  Okay.  

 TR:  And obviously no getting mad, right?

 JR:  Obviously.

 TR:  Fuck Chris Hemsworth, marry Chris Evans, kill Chris Pratt.

 JR:  That was fast.

 TR:  I may have thought about it before.  Now you go.

 JR:  Fuck Christina Aguilera, marry Chris Evans, kill Chris Noth.

 TR:  Very enlightened.

 JR:  Everyone wants to marry Chris Evans.

 TR:  Agreed.  Okay, next. Marvel characters.  

 JR:  That’s kind of an overlap, isn’t it?

 TR:  Only with a few of them.  We’ll say no repeats.  You go first this time.

 JR:  Fuck Wonder Woman, marry Black Widow, kill Loki.

 TR:  Sure you didn’t reverse Wonder Woman and Black Widow?

 JR:  Nah.  If I’m going to spend my life with somebody I want her to have some depth, you know?

 TR:  I’ll revisit that when I’m less drunk.  Okay, fuck T’Challa, marry Tony Stark, kill Fury.

 JR:  Fury?  He’s a good guy.

 TR:  I didn’t like the way he faked his death.

 JR:  You confuse me sometimes.

 TR:  I think that’s okay.  Any sign of the assistant chef?

 JR:  No.  And Adam seems entranced by some game on his phone.

 TR:  Animal crossing?

 JR:  I think it’s some kind of card game app.  Jerry mentioned it.

 TR:  Why play cards on an app instead of in person?

 JR:  Maybe because you’re stuck at work at one in the morning.

 TR:  Fair.

 JR:  Okay, let’s do another round.

 TR:  Fine.  Five-0. Present or former members.

 JR:  No way.

 TR:  Come on, you must have thought about it.  

 JR:  No getting mad?

 TR:  Obviously.  And we can’t say each other.

 JR:  Obviously.

 JR:  You go first.

 TR:  Fuck Steve, marry Danny, kill Catherine.

 JR:  Again, you do this really fast.

 TR:  These answers aren’t hard.

 JR:  Didn’t know you hated Catherine so much.

 TR:  She screwed over my imaginary fuck buddy and my imaginary husband, so, yeah.

 JR:  I feel like you know more about this situation than I do.

 TR:  As with all things.  Come on, your turn.

 JR:  This is hard.  And very unprofessional.

 TR:  You cannot leave me hanging.

 JR:  Fuck Quinn, marry Steve, kill Adam.

 TR:  He’s that boring?

 JR:  He’s that boring.

 TR:  You know Danny thinks I’m just like Steve.  In the good ways.

 JR:  I’m aware.

 TR:  You only said Quinn because you couldn’t think of any other women on Five-0, didn’t you?

 JR:  Ok fine.

 TR:  Be honest, who would you pick?  Really?

 JR:  There’s no way you’re getting me to put that in a text.

 TR:  It’s just us, come on.

 LG:  No it’s not.  

 TR:  Oh shit.

  July 22, 2020

 DW:  Ok, regarding last night’s text message fiasco, I’m incredibly disappointed and have no choice but to run this by HR.

 TR:  Wait, we have HR?

 DW:  No, actually.  But I talked about it with Steve and we laughed our asses off.  Try to rein in the sex talk just a bit, okay?  And maybe don’t mention actually killing people in our group text.

 JR:  Sorry, sir.

 TR:  Sorry, boss.

 DW:  And Junior’s right.  Everyone wants to marry Chris Evans.

#H50 #McDanno #McDanno fic #Hawaii Five-O #H50 fic #Danny Williams #Steve McGarrett

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 139

[Wow, tumblr is mega ugly right now. All my xkit extensions are broken. As a reminder this story is up on A03! I’d be happy to give the link to anyone that wants it. Every time I post with a link I get shadow’ed so... it is what it is. Enjoy!]

There was a chance this was a setup. That Kilgrave- with his tight schedule- had finally picked up Jessica and was now luring you in. He’d taken you to dinner, laid it out that you ending with him was an inevitability because you’d do the right thing in service of that greater good, hero that you were- and just give in to him. So it was possible you were going to go down to that office of Jessica’s, see the both of them there and be expected to throw your hands up and walk away with him. 

And that was why- “Let me go with you.” Tony no longer wanted you to be liable for your own fate. He no longer wanted you facing this menace alone. Because it seemed every time you did, whether on the phone or face to face, it left you worse for wear. And just a little closer to breaking in pieces so small they could no longer be put back together. 

If it were you, if he was being put in this position, this would be the same thing you’d ask of him. For him to allow you in. To let you help. It felt unfair that immediately your thought was to tell him no. “I don’t think he’ll be there.” You heard yourself saying this, but you weren’t actually sure how true you thought it was. It was just as likely that he would be, that he also would not be. You had no idea what you were walking into. 

Tony crossed his arms. “That has nothing to do with me wanting to go.” 

“It does a little.” Finally pulling yourself off the couch, entire body aching with the struggle of getting up after being down for so long. 

As you approached he softened. “Fine. A little. But we need to be done waiting.” Whether or not he meant it, this hit you a little hard. It was true. You were hurting the team by letting this go on so long. Whether or not that had been your choice, which it hadn’t. That was probably why he flinched upon realizing and quickly reached out to put his hand on your arm. “I just mean- we need an actual plan. And it’s not that I don’t think you can finish this- I just-” 

“Tony…” Soothing his sudden struggles with saying the right thing, how to say it, what the right thing even was… his brain was pulling in all directions. Because it was you, his entire being was demanding to be gentle here. But because it was you he wanted to storm the beach and just blast away until this was over. And you were standing in the middle. Impeding progress. He was having trouble handling it. You laid your hands on his chest, gazing up at him. “I know this is hard. And I appreciate that you’re trying-” 

“Don’t do that.” Both his hands slid up your arms then, stopping atop your shoulders. Pain sliced between the both of you. “Don’t ask me to sit here and watch you suffer anymore. Let’s be honest, it’s not working out for either of us.”

“It’s not.” You had to let him have that victory where it was so clear. Your falling apart was leading to his own struggles. It would have been the same the other way around. “If it’s just her- and I think it is- she won’t want you there. Which will slow everything down.” Just trying to put it all together out loud. Tony’s presence would upset Jessica because she wanted as little people involved as possible. 

His answer cemented how this was going to go. Fingers gentle as they lifted, sliding up the sides of your neck. Gaze soft on yours. It was completely unfair how easily that skin to skin contact made you just want to breathe in the comfort he provided. “I stayed for you.” 

To not only have your back, but to watch it. He couldn’t help you if you left him out- regardless of your feelings why that might be. Your need to protect him was as strong as his need to protect you. And soon- if not now, very soon- one of you was going to have to budge on it. And it felt like he’d keep asking your permission to do so until it was too late. And then where would that leave the both of you? “You did.” 

On the off chance Kilgrave was there… having Tony follow you was probably a smarter thing to do than to leave him at home. “I can be quiet.” A little wry arch of his brow with a weak grin to accompany it. 

“No you can’t.” Teasing back as much as you had the strength to. “But. If she doesn’t know you’re there…” 

“Mn.” A little nod of understanding. “I can do very quiet rooftop reconn. No problem, honey.” 

“Very quiet being key here.” Jessica couldn’t know he was there just as much as the entire city couldn’t know that Iron Man was perching on an apartment rooftop for seemingly no reason. It was really annoying. That your status was so well known. It made everything so much harder than it had any right to be. 

Before either of you could continue with the faux quipping, your phone buzzed. You took it from your pocket and read the text on the front screen. From Jessica. 

485 W 46th st. Now or never. I don’t have all night. 

Tony made no secret that he was spying. Once you let it down, the two of you shared one last look. And he promised, “Very, very quiet.” 

So that was that. 

                                                       ---

Tony let her go first after she got ready and left with just the barest of disguises on. A hat and sunglasses when it was already dark outside. If she wasn’t the one out for justice, the next person on the street might suspect she was dealing drugs. But it was what it was. She didn’t want photographers following her around to Hell’s Kitchen so that the media could ask what the hell she was doing there in the papers the next morning. 

There were already enough scandals to avoid, they didn’t need one more. And a personal one, at that. At least the address was only twenty or so minutes away. Very convenient. 

He took the suit off the private flight deck, the one specifically off angle from cameras or snoops (not like the public one from which most takeoffs happened for obvious reasons). He’d be easier to spot at night for sure with the flash of his thrusters, but he wasn’t too worried. “Find me a deadzone, JARVIS and let’s establish some boundaries.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

It wasn’t exactly his favorite thing to do, jamming signals and frying any phone that could be relatively pointed at him- but some things just needed to be done. He was sure he wouldn’t lose sleep over it. A target opened up on the rooftop across from Jones’ apartment building and he set down quickly, eased at least a little that there was a single heat signature waiting inside. With that he stepped out of the suit hoping that might be a little bit less obvious. A man on a roof was one thing. Iron Man on a roof was another. 

Jones had her curtains closed anyway. It wasn’t like he needed the suit to see anymore than he already had. Although it did make him a little anxious. He put a hand to his ear. “I’m in position. Only have a single hit in the apartment. No surprises waiting just yet.” 

“Beat me by a hair.” In fact, he saw her walking up the steps and leaning in to scrutinize the very rundown looking panel so she could get buzzed in. 

“And you left before me.” Teasing her, just a little. Just to claw at a sense of normalcy they’d long since lost. 

Her smile did him a world of good. “You jet boosted over here. Don’t get smart.” 

“Impossible to get when I’m already overflowing.” 

“You’re the worst.” 

This felt good. Like they were on a mission together. He had her back. Things would be okay. He didn’t respond when he saw her pull the front door open. She was already trying to blend in with the crowd here and not seem suspicious. While it was less-so to just seemingly talk to nobody these days, she was far more cautious than that. He needed to be, too. For her. 

Still, it didn’t help his quiet anxiety that their comm went dead quiet for a minute. But then he heard Jones ask her for a bug sweep- it cleared- and then just behind him the sound of someone stepping very heavily onto the rooftop. Not from a door opening- no- that was a jump. 

And when he turned around from his crouched position facing the street, he couldn’t help the face he made. “Ah, the devil on my shoulder. I wondered where you’ve been. Angel’s been getting lonely these days.” The last thing he needed tonight was further intervention from would-be superheroes. Yet the so-called Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was now staring him in the face- 

Shit. He really had to stop with the sight jokes. Inner monologue or not. Matt Murdock was blind, so the brief dig reports came back. But clearly he could see. Not understanding how yet… well…

“Is that the best you’ve got, Stark?” 

Tony’s lips thinned, head quirking to the side as he crossed his arms. “You’re right. Big Red was my first play. Should’ve gone with my gut.” 

“What are you doing here?” Tone gruff and entirely unwelcoming. 

Also entirely distracting. He was only focusing on about half of the conversation happening in the apartment. “Stargazing. Is that a crime? Can you go bother somebody else? I’m busy.” 

“Busy stargazing.” 

“Yep. So. If we’re done here…” 

“You’re in my neighborhood. I want to know why.” 

He couldn’t help the roll of his eyes and the wave of his arm. “Am I in a territory war suddenly? I have clearance over you, if that’s what we’re doing. Is that what we’re doing? You wanna see my badge?” Oops. 

Big Red stepped closer, but Tony just stayed still. It was when the man seemed to scrutinize him a little more with a forward lean- no. Not scrutinizing. Listening. He then turned to the apartment across the street, and Tony couldn’t help a spike of unease. “Ah.” And that didn’t make things better. Especially not when her name came out of his mouth next. “Who’s she in there with?” 

“You’re sure you didn’t wanna go with a bat costume? Or is that too played out?” Frustrated to his core. He needed to do an even deeper dive on Matt- ...if he was going to keep being somebody worth caring about, anyway. The preliminary stuff clearly hadn’t been enough. He could hear her on the comms- and knew she was in that apartment building. All without- “Look- you’re bothering me. Go perch on a different roof or- do whatever it is you do at night.” 

“This is what I do.” He stood again, facing Tony. 

The two had a stare down… or- err… “This is not a crime waiting to happen.” 

“Then what are you doing here? Does she know you’re following her around?” 

“You can ask her next time you follow her to a cafe.” Moving now past frustration into anger. 

There was a small blessed slice of silence as Big Red seemed to consider his position, and just as Tony caught a few more words passed inside of that apartment, he spoke again. “We’re not on opposing sides, you know.” 

Damn it all, he couldn’t help the flare of his temper. “Gosh, you know- we already have a righteous stickler in the group. So if this is your application, I’m gonna need you to look directly into the camera and tell Big Brother a different reason why you should be let into the house.” ...that was a triple oops by now. For sure. 

“If this is how you accept help I feel very sorry for her.” 

“You can’t give me something I didn’t ask for. Are you seriously gonna stand here and menace me all night? You don’t have anything better to do?” 

It was a battle of stubbornness at this point. Big Red had no idea who he was dealing with, in that case. They stood facing each other. Clearly figuring he was outmatched (so Tony believed anyway), Big Red finally turned away. “Have it your way, Stark.” 

“That’s definitely how I prefer things.” Dry as the desert, unable to help one last biting remark. He just had to get the last word in. Because this had been a huge waste of his time and he’d missed out on almost everything. He waited, watching the Devil jump over onto a different rooftop, and then another, and then take the side of the building down into an alleyway, disappearing. 

“Tony-” She was calling him. 

Quickly he turned back to look at the apartment building, only to see her standing on the sidewalk. “Yeah, honey, I’m here.” 

“Is everything okay?” She was peering up. Probably only just barely able to see him. 

“I got held up by takes himself too seriously man. I’m sorry. Is everything okay? What happened?” 

“Who?” Her head tipped far to the right in question. 

There was a warm flourish in his chest. They were in too much trouble for her to be that cute. “It’s not important. Can you debrief me on your walk back?” 

“Can we get dinner?” 

He was surprised to hear her ask this. But, obviously, “Yeah, sure. Let me get ground level and send the suit back.” 

While he was in the middle of doing so, she seemed unable to let the thought go. “Seriously- who were you talking about?” 

“Our favorite man in black- or I guess in red now. Someone should tell these kids there’s other boroughs. They’re a little clustered together.” 

She made a sound of realization and then, “I don’t think they know about each other.” 

“They probably will now.” ...quadruple oops?

                                                      ---

“You’re the worst.” Having Tony literally watching your back and right there in your ear really alleviated a lot of fears you had going into this meeting. Although you were genuinely running on empty in every which way, so that also helped. In a less good way. A lack of anything really settled the nerves when you were too tired to be afraid. Aside that, Tony had practically said it was just Jessica inside… 

The building was pretty rundown. Lots of the other apartments were making noise. Yelling. Moaning. TVs and stereos playing loudly. All things you tried to ignore as you took the shaky elevator up towards Jessica’s floor and then walked all the way to the back of the hallway. Alias Investigations spied on you the whole walk down and once there you knocked on the privacy glass to signal your presence. 

Tony had gone completely silent, but that was probably for the best. Just listening, for now. At this point you were mostly sure you wouldn’t need him for anything serious. Which was a good headspace to be in as Jessica opened the door half a crack, took one look at you and then undid the privacy chain. But before she allowed you in, she blocked you from entering, leaning in very close. “Can you check my place out?” Voice very quiet. 

So you whispered back. “For what?” 

“Anything listening.” 

“Oh.” Giving her a small nod. You then reached up to your earring cuff, pressing to activate your visor- something that seemed to marginally impress Jessica. For once. “LUNA run a level ten bug sweep.” Probably no need to be that serious about it but… well, you were already here. 

“Yes, ma’am.” You gestured for Jessica to move so you could get inside and look around. Her office was also her home. Something you could sort of relate to but… not quite the same. Your lifestyles were very different. No need to make a comment about it. All corners and access points and good hiding spots came up empty. Something LUNA agreed with, “All clear, ma’am.” 

Retracting the visor with one more press you looked back at her as she still stood in the doorway. “Your place is clean.” Now out of the focus of checking her place out, something became abundantly clear. Something you couldn’t help but remark on, as you pressed a hand against your mouth and nose- “It smells like bleach in here.” Thick and suffocating. All her windows were open but it wasn’t really helping. She walked ahead of you to sit behind her desk. 

“Yeah. Well. Kilgrave came and murdered my idiot neighbor in here.” Saying it as if she had already accepted it and moved on. Because what else could she do? “Apologies if things aren’t up to your standard of living.” 

Her cutting remark bounced off you while you were otherwise too busy being shocked. “He-” 

“Look, I don’t really wanna talk about it. I cleaned it up. It’s dealt with. That’s not what I called you here for.” She opened one of her desk drawers, pulling out a brand new bottle of liquor, cracking the top off and taking a large swig. 

Kilgrave was making big moves. That was what he must have meant by tight schedule. Had he planned to murder Jessica’s neighbor? What for? “Did he come to you?” Some of this had to start making sense. And this was the first time you’d been face to face with Jessica in a long while. It had to start making sense right now. Every second the both of you wasted, the further ahead Kilgrave got. “He got rid of a camera crew in public and then forced me to dinner the other night.” 

She scoffed. “Dinner. Must be nice.” 

The two of you really didn’t have time to be arguing with each other. And… all things considered, she had a right to feel that way, you supposed. He’d made you go to dinner. He’d killed a person in her place and probably left it for her to clean up. Yeah. There was a huge disparity here. ...but why? “He told me Hope is in the hospital.” 

But at this she glowered, looking away. “Did he, now?” 

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that?” Unable to help getting a little upset. 

“What difference would it make? What business is it of yours? As I recall- any involvement of yours in that case is pointless. So why would I waste my time giving you an update about it?” 

It was unfair. It was completely unfair that you had to hold yourself still. That you had to be the bigger person here. Still, you couldn’t stow the shake of your head or the cross of your arms. “He tried to tell me that I don’t know anything about you.” 

“At least he got something right.” Another scoff, another long sip of alcohol. She set the bottle down and shared a long hard look with you. Maybe it occurred to her that this little hardened act of hers wasn’t going to get either of you anywhere, so she dropped her eyes and finally quietly relented. “Hope was pregnant.” This put a still shock in you. “She paid someone to beat her up. So that she could lose the kid.” Her head tipped up sharply, “There. Does that help you to know that? Do you feel better now?” 

What were you supposed to say to any of that? Maybe she was right. Maybe it wasn’t important for you to know that. Maybe it was none of your business. And yet… “We can help her.” You were so sure of this. “We can-”

“It’d be swell for you to just swoop in and fix everything. To spend your billions to move her around until nobody knows or cares where she is anymore. I’m sure that’d make you feel good. But Hope deserves better. She deserves for the world to know she’s not a murderer. She deserves to have her life back.” 

“And where are we on that?” Staring her down. “Making lots of progress? Or are you too busy now fending off Kilgrave while she’s sitting in a hospital bed worrying about being pregnant-” 

She got up so suddenly her chair fell back. “I didn’t ask you to come here so you could pretend you care about any of this shit.” Making a slow advance towards you, hand up with a finger pointed accusingly your way. 

You stood still. Unmoving. Not backing down. “Why am I here, Jessica? I know what you want from me about as much as I know what Kilgrave wants. Are we working together? Or are we just yelling at each other while he leaps five steps ahead because we can’t get our shit together?” Glaring at her now as she came to a stop just a foot in front of you, unable to help your anger. “This is out of fucking control. So stop with the bullshit and actually fucking talk to me. Work with me. Or we’ll both lose. And you know it.” 

The two of you stood in the low light of her apartment, glaring at one another. For probably too long a time. It was ridiculous, really, but she had to be the first one to budge. You couldn’t make any more grand statements about how this was all garbage and a waste of time. She had to actually do something to let you in. 

Then. Finally. Your patience was rewarded. She backed down and stepped away. Still haughty, just a little, with a shake of her head. “Fine. It’s all bullshit. I agree.” Mumbling this to herself more than anything. You had to wonder if she was more than a little drunk at this point. Going over to her desk she pulled a different drawer open and then almost slammed down a small notebook. -a diary. “Kilgrave go through your childhood shit, too?” 

You couldn’t help the tip of your head or the confused face you made. “No-” Though something about that clicked. “I think he was trying to find stuff on me. But he couldn’t.” 

She scoffed again. “Must be nice having everything covered up for you by government agencies.” 

“They had nothing to do with that, actually.” A gentle thrum of discomfort and nervousness gurgled first in your stomach and then clutched at your heart as she looked up at you. “-it’s also not important.” Not right now, anyway. And not to Jessica Jones. “What’s he going through your stuff for?” 

She sat on the corner of her desk. “He’s lounging around in the house I grew up in. I’m pretty sure he expects me to go there and hand myself over to him.” 

“He said something similar to me at dinner.” Kilgrave just wanted the both of you to walk up to him and say okay it’s over, you win. But why? Why do it that way? “-he didn’t tell me to do anything the entire time.” 

“But you still went-”

“I didn’t have a choice. Commanded or not. Let’s not take a step back.” You got it. She was angry. All the time. And maybe she had a right to be. But if you let her continue to fall into that hole over and over and over again, nobody would win. She really needed to go to therapy. ...not that you were one to talk. “He threatened me, saying me going to him would spare a lot of other people.” 

“Yeah.” Her head turned down as she crossed her arms. “That’s the feeling I get, too.” 

The silence was a little bit uncomfortable. “...so what are you going to do?” 

“I’m gonna go. What choice do I have?” She looked up at you again and for a moment… you almost thought you saw a bit of pleading in that glassy-eyed stare of hers. Almost. Like she wanted you to come up with a better solution. When you disappointed her with no response she rolled her eyes. “Exactly.” 

She was where you were. She was giving in where it seemed impossible to do anything else. Making the smartest move. Kilgrave would win. “So you go. And lure him into a false sense of security. He’s chasing after something. He wants you to… be with him, I guess.”

“Oh you have no idea.” Hard as she spat this out. 

“Maybe I don’t. But. Go be with him. And then when he thinks it really is over we’ll take him out. He thinks we’re not working together- he definitely doesn’t want us to be. He might not expect it.” He probably understood how dangerous a combo that could be, if the two of you could get over yourselves. But he’d been very plainly trying to pit you against her. This could work. Maybe.

“Go be with him. Like it’s that fucking easy.” Spitting this at you with all the venom she had left in her. “That’s the best idea you have?” Making a face at you. Plainly calling you stupid. 

“You wanted to take him somewhere. We can still do that. We just need to line the pieces up right.” Maybe it was a stupid idea. But it was really all the two of you had. 

She scrutinized you. “Yeah- and what if he gets cornered and orders some innocent to kill themselves for cover- or me- or-” 

“So I’ll stop it.” Firm, your eyes watching hers. “I won’t let him hurt anyone else that way.” 

“You’re sure you can do that? Because if you can’t-” 

“I’m sure.” You had to be. Kilgrave had made it painfully obvious he thought he could always have someone else in the way so that you would have your hands tied. So maybe he didn’t know what you could do. And that was the only thing you had working for you. 

There was a slap of resentment as she found herself resigned to this nothing of a plan. “If you fuck this one up… everyone pays the price. Do you understand that?” 

You squared up to her. “More than you could ever imagine.” 

#Tony Stark #Tony Star x Reader #INY Chapter One Hundred Thirty Nine #Jessica Jones Spoilers #also yes that is Alias Investigation's real canonical address #fun things that you learn doing deep dives

[tisfan]

The Blacksmith

Square: K1 - historical Warning: none Pairing: Wanda Maximoff & Tony Stark Summary: During the Civil War (Shield Vs. Hydra) the common people find trouble no matter who the soldiers are.  Link: A03

A/N - So, very delicately, this is an AU of the Civil War (not the one in the MCU, but the actual anti-slavery, north vs south, American Civil War.

During the war, these things happened, soldiers from either side frequently robbed and abused the common people, either because they were owed it (North taking stuff that belonged to northerners, etc) or they were the enemy (south taking things from northerners) or they were deserters and taking stuff because they were already wanted men.

In any case, the non-combatants have a lot of terrible stories, and a lot of times, were never happy to see soldiers at all.

So, this is loosely based on some of that history.

I have a lot of weird backstory to this, and how the Hydra troops coming up the lawn actually have Bucky in their midst, and a TON of other story around it, but I wanted to try to keep this short. I may expand it later.

It's also sort of loosely based on Tony Stark's backstory for the 1872 series (which is really great if you've never read it, I highly recommend.)

Pietro dashed down the long drive toward the farm house, waving his arms frantically.

Wanda saw him from the corner of her eye as she hung up the wash. The wind kept flapping the towels and sheets at her, and she was struggling to get the wet stuff hung up. No choice, they needed the cleaning done.

“What is it?”

“Soldiers, soldiers comin’,” Pietro gasped as he staggered to a halt, resting his hands on his knees.

“Hydra or Shield?”

“Does it matter? They’re soldiers, they’re gonna be hungry.”

(more below the cut)

That much was true. Their farm was good sized, but they were at risk of not having enough food for the winter. Every time soldiers came by, no matter what color they wore or what flag they gave the nod to, they picked over the food and supplies. Hydra because they believed that any they conquered were their rightful prey, and Shield, because Shield believed that, as the defenders, the civilians owed them.

The pretty words didn’t matter much at all; the results were the same. Soldiers came and they took what they wanted. If they were very lucky, they could keep Steve from getting involved. He’d come home from the war, barely alive with a lung infection that was bound to kill him sooner or later, but he kept trying to fight, to defend their home.

“Still, if it’s Hydra, Steve’ll want to fight them, no matter what,” Wanda said. “You think we can convince him t’ go and visit Peggy, before they get here, keep him--”

“No,” Peitro said. “They’re too close, he’ll cross them on the way, even if we could get him horseback that fast. He’ll know.”

“They’re Hydra,” Wanda said. She and her twin brother had been born in Hydra territory, not understanding what the war was about.

When a wounded Shield soldier, Clint Barton, had defended them against pillagers, they’d gone with him. Their home was destroyed, but they were alive. Clint brought them north, and there they’d stayed, trying to make up for any wrongs they’d done.

“Quick, get the pigs--” Pietro said. “Some chickens, and the goat.”

“And do what with them?”

“Take ‘em over to the smithy,” Pietro said. “There hasn’t been a blacksmith here in months, even Hydra should know that. Maybe they won’t look, and we’ll have the animals for the winter.”

“And what are you going to do while I’m playing pigherd?”

“Take Lucky with you,” Pietro said. “I’m gonna take as much of the food out to the woods and hang it up. Tell Steve what’s going on.”

“Good luck.”

“Hurry, before they get in sight!”

Wanda managed to hitch the goat up to the small cart, caged half the chickens and all the fresh-hatched chicks, and two of the pigs bringing up the rear. The rest of the pigs would go to feed the Hydra troops and maybe they wouldn’t look for more. It had been a hard year, all the men away to war. No one expected much anymore. The war was destroying the country. Soon there wouldn’t be enough people left in it to fight over who was right and who was wrong. Who were real people, and who were property.

The cart was slow going, since she wasn’t taking the road, practically leading the nanny goat over tree roots and through brambles. By the time the smithy was in sight, all overgrown with weeds, the forge long-cold, she was cut and scraped from underbrush, thirsty and terrified.

Wanda about cried at the sight of the smithy, staggered toward it, dragging the goat and cart. The smith had needed water to quench the metal he worked, surely there was a well. Wanda tied the cart to the hitching post. Water first, then she’d see about getting the pigs penned in.

She opened the door to the smithy, a wide open building with lots of arcane tools-- “cup, cup, he must have--”

“You come to drink with me?”

Wanda shrieked, fell over backward, hitting a row of farm tools and knocking them to the ground with a terrible clatter. “Who are you?”

“You know who I am. The blacksmith,” the man said, getting to his feet. He swayed back and forth, someone who’d had a little too much wine. “This is my house. I think the question is; who are you?”

“I’m uh--” Wanda squeaked, and then one of the pigs practically mauled her, wandering inside to see what was going on. It was chewing on the end of its lead rope casually, like a man with a cigar.

“Well, Uh, that’s a big pig you got there,” the blacksmith said.

“Yes, I mean, yes sir, I mean. My name’s Wanda. I’m-- I live right--” She pointed back toward the house.

“I thought that was Captain Roger’s place,” the blacksmith said, taking a swig out of a little flask. “Want a drink?”

“I shouldn’t,” Wanda said.

“Neither should anyone. Alcohol is the very devil’s brew. Never stopped me,” the blacksmith said, offering her the flask.

Wanda took it, sniffed at it delicately. She’d never actually had anything stronger than a little watered down ratifa wine. This did not smell watered down, and there was the possibility that the smith’s mouth wasn’t entirely clean. Rather be hanged for the chicken then the egg, Wanda decided, tilted her head back and poured some of the liquor into her mouth. It burned, but almost pleasantly, like a warm bath for her tongue.

When she swallowed, all the air seemed to get drawn out of her lungs, and she coughed a few times, her eyes watering. The blacksmith didn’t laugh, or even smirk. “Go on, you keep that one, I have more.”

“What is it?” She took another sip, and this one warmed all the way down, to places that Wanda hadn’t even realized were cold.

“Brandy,” the blacksmith said. “You didn’t say why you’re living up to Roger’s place?”

“Oh, uh… we got. Adopted? I guess? My brother and I, we helped Mr. Barton when he was wounded, and he brought us up here after some deserters burned our home.”

“And the captain?”

“He’s recovering.”

“Recovering? Steve? From what? I would have thought it a cold day in hell before something could hurt that man.”

“He-- he got shot, infection settled into his lungs,” Wanda explained. She took another sip out of the flask. The brandy seemed to taste better the more she drank of it, and soon she was wrapping her hands around the flask. “What about you, sir? I didn’t know there was still a smith here.”

“There wasn’t,” Tony said. “Not until a few days ago. Not-- well, it doesn’t matter. I guess you could call me a deserter, too. But rather than burning other people’s homes and stealing food -- I assume you brought that big old porker with you to hide him -- I just took my toys and came home.”

“You’re a deserter?”

“Well, that’ll depend on the trial, if there is one,” Tony said. “After the war ends. If it does. I like to think of myself as a gentlemen, and after they violated their side of a gentlemen’s agreement, I was within my rights to leave them.” He dug through a bag and pulled out another flask. “Whiskey’s this one.” He tipped it up and probably drank half in a few long swallows.

“Is that all right?”

“The whiskey? It’s okay. I’ve had better.”

“No, if the pig-- two pigs, really, sir, and chickens, and our milking goat.”

“Enterprising little thing, aren’t you,” Tony commented. “Yeah, you can keep them here. Is it Hydra at the gate?”

“Yes, sir, my brother spotted them out to the highway.”

“Run on back home,” Tony said. “Get as many of the animals, and all your humans, bring them back here.”

“Here, sir?”

Tony nodded. “I’m a blacksmith,” he said. “Do you know what I smith?”

Wanda shook her head. “Farm tools and horseshoes?”

Tony shrugged. “Among other things. But mostly… guns. And warmachines. I brought my toys home. Get your family. I’ll protect them.”

“Just you, sir? Against a brigade?”

Tony whisked a blanket off-- something that looked like a metal man, all bristling weapons and shiny steel.

“Just me,” he said, opening up the armor. “Run, girl, go! Hydra doesn’t wait for visiting hours.”

Wanda handed Tony back his flask. “Yes, sir!”

#tonystarkbingo2019 #winteriron #historical #civil war #wanda maximoff & tony stark

[atamascolily]

Fanfic Excerpt: “Down and Out,”   Chapter 3, Scene 1

So I finally got around to working on my long-form Adventures of Sinbad fics. I've had the outline floating around for ages, but as usual, there was a gap between expectations and reality that had to be worked out before I could get rolling. I have two chapters left of the Bryn fic - the final battle and the aftermath - and battles are so hard because there are so many moving parts to keep track of. So I've been working on the other fic, which is a little bit easier at the moment.

Overall fic summary: When Maeve spies a mysterious figure on the deck of the Nomad at night, the encounter will twist the lives of everyone in the crew and nothing will ever be the same again. Episode 2x01 of a Virtual Season Two where Maeve leaves the crew for a time and Bryn takes her place, but otherwise diverges from the canon season two quite dramatically. Currently in-progress.

If you're new to the story, start here at the A03 page. This particular section starts where Chapter Two lets off. I'll post a completed Chapter Three to the A03 once I get that far.

"He's like a man possessed," Doubar groused as he strode through the bustling marketplace. Firouz and Rongar, a step or two behind on either side, had to dodge the first mate's extravagant hand gestures that punctuated his speech, a sign of how badly out of sorts he was. Except for the pale white walls and the deep blue rooftops on the buildings, they could have been in any port city throughout the Mediterranean or Arabian seas.

<i>What is the point of traveling if every place we go to looks pretty much the same?</i> Firouz wondered absently, even though he knew that wasn't really true. This town didn't stink nearly as much as the last one, for starters.

"Er, well, it is Maeve, after all," Firouz said aloud. Rongar nodded his agreement. "I think he wants to make sure she's all right. Last night wasn't - well - a good omen, really."

"I didn't think you believed in omens, Firouz." Doubar stopped to let a man leading a donkey go by, shouting a few choice insults as the two passed by. He wasn't really angry at them, but Doubar wasn't very good at hiding his feelings, and he found an outlet for his frustrations with every unlucky soul who crossed his path. Firouz, walking in his wake, usually found himself apologizing as he went to stave off any brawls. It might help Doubar's temper, but it was unlikely to achieve their objective.

"I don't. But you saw the harpy last night, Doubar. You saw how it transformed into Maeve! You can understand why that might be - upsetting for her."

"Aye. And I don't like it one bit. I wish she hadn't left us. But that's no reason for <i>Sinbad</i> to lose his head now that she's gone."

Rongar shrugged, rolled his eyes, and put his hands over his heart with a momentarily angelic expression.

"Point taken," said Firouz to Rongar. "Yes, well -" Firouz was at a loss for what to else to say to Doubar that he hadn't already said with every iteration of this particular rant since they had left the <i>Nomad</i>'s deck this morning. "Keep your eyes open. Maybe someone here has seen a woman with a hawk. She does - er, have a way of standing out in a crowd."

They all knew it probably wasn't going to be that easy. A cloak over her distinctive red hair and sending Dermott aloft, and she would likely blend into the background, even with her fair skin - assuming she hadn't used magic to disguise herself. She'd vanished into the night, when most honest folk were in bed asleep. The odds of anyone in the city seeing her - not to mention the odds of finding that person - were bleak.

But the captain had ordered them to look for her, so look for her they would. And if they failed to find her, it would not be a pleasant rendezvous for any of them.

Doubar looked up at the sky. "It's almost noon. We're supposed to meet Sinbad back at the tavern by the docks soon. And there's no sign of her. It's like she's vanished into thin air!"

"Maybe she did." Firouz considered the notion intently. "In which case, the absence of evidence itself could be a clue. But how do we distinguish that from failing to find her trail?"

Rongar, who was the only one of the crew besides Sinbad who was skilled at actual tracking, rolled his eyes again.

<i>Fascinating how much information can be conveyed without language,</i> Firouz mused to himself. Rongar could use sign language but rarely bothered for anything that wasn't abstract or removed from the circumstances at hand.

Suddenly, he felt something tug at his shoulder. He put his hand on his sword instinctively as he turned, but it was an elderly woman, wrapped in enough layers it was hard to make out her features. "Excuse me for interrupting, but I've seen you strangers walk by my booth three times now. Are you looking for something?"

"We're looking for a friend. She's lost. We - we don't know where to find her. Have you -"

"Oh! You must go ask the oracle! The oracle will help you find your friend!"

"Well, that's not - that's very - er, thank you," Firouz stammered. He wondered how to explain he, as a man of science, did not believe in oracles without hurting her feelings. Best to play along, he decided. "Where can we find this oracle?"

The old woman pointed up towards the hill above town. "Just keep heading up. On those rocky cliffs. There's a temple up there where you can make an offering to the oracle and have your question answered."

"Thank you! Thank you very much! We'll go do that. Doubar, Rongar, this way!" he called, and lead his two friends off in the direction the old woman had pointed.

"Firouz, what's all this about?" Doubar said, panting to stay at his heels.

"We're going to ask the oracle to tell us where Maeve is."

There was a pause while Doubar digested this. "I thought you didn't believe in oracles," he said finally.

"I don't. But we've exhausted all the other approaches and there's been no sign of her. Besides, do you have any better ideas?"

He didn't. "I hope it's not too far up this hill," was all Doubar said, as the three men began climbing upward to where they could see white columns shining in the distance on the cliffs above the city and the sea.

#adventures of sinbad #adventures of sinbad live action tv #my fanfiction #down and out #virtual season two: bryn #spleen #virtual season 2x01