#howard good too he’s just a pleasant fellow

[sunburnacoustic]

INTERVIEW: MUSE on ‘BLACK HOLES AND REVELATIONS’

— Ian Winterton interviewing Matt Bellamy for The Leeds Guide magazine in 2006.

It’s midday on a Friday and I’ve accidentally got drunk. Now, the floaty, vaguely tripped-out feeling may be down to the four pints I’ve just glugged down, but I’m more inclined to blame the fact that I’ve been locked in a bar in London’s Soho Hotel with a dozen journalists for the playback of Muse’s new album. It’s a fantastically weird mix of prog-rock, electro, metal and sci-fi noodlings Hawkwind would have been proud of. And, at the stipulation of the band’s management, we had to listen to it twice, “in case we missed something”.

So, yeah, I’m feeling a little odd when, in a suite upstairs, I get to meet the man behind the madness, Matt Bellamy. In contrast to myself, he turns out to be both sober and sane, not to mention thoroughly pleasant and polite. With his designer casual clothes, prominent cheekbones and scrunchy hair, you’d sooner imagine him folding up jumpers in a swanky clothes shop than fronting one of the UK’s most successful rock bands. Then again, Muse have never been associated with rock ‘n’ roll excess. I put it to him that the band’s clean living is one reason they’re still going strong a decade after their debut album.

“We’ve had some very good times on tour in the past,” he says a tad defensively. “And we were young guys and at one point we were all single, but I don’t think we need to tell everyone about it. We’ve always wanted to get attention for being good musicians and for making good music.”

And good music they most certainly do make, although it’s not to everyone’s taste. For some, it’s silly, pretentious and overblown. To those who’ve drunk from the cup, however, it’s silly, pretentious and overblown. AND THAT’S THE POINT. With Black Holes And Revelations, Bellamy and his fellow bandmates – Chris Wolstenholme (bass) and Dominic Howard (drums) – have really pulled out the stops. In between beers during the playback, I jot down the names of other bands that come to mind, producing a list that includes New Order, The Scissor Sisters, The Pixies, Pet Shop Boys, Ennio Morricone and Spinal Tap.

In amongst the electro and the flamenco, it’s still the same old Muse: Bellamy’s falsetto vocals, pounding drums and loud ‘n’ fast rock guitar. For me, all the disparate elements of the album come together on the brilliantly titled closer Knights Of Cydonia. It begins with laser-guns and horses galloping.

“We really pushed that song to its limits,” says Bellamy. “We pushed the fantastical elements so far, maybe too far, so it sounds like a sci-fi film. Cydonia is the area of Mars where they think there’s that big-faced temple thing. Mars used to be the same distance from the Sun as we are now and so some people think that maybe there was a civilisation there. I find that idea quite appealing.”

“I think that’s a little far fetched,” he laughs, adding, “It’s a slippery slope. Once you start reading that stuff it takes you over a bit. I quite like alternative thinking. My girlfriend studies psychology and she’s working in a hospital in Milan where there are patients that actually believe the end of the world is nigh and that sort of thing. It’s interesting hearing about people who’ve been completely overtaken by these theories.”

How are they going to reproduce the sound of such a wilfully diverse and bonkers album live?

“With great difficulty!” Bellamy exclaims. “But we’ve actually got a fourth person in to do some of the electronic stuff for the first time. Morgan Nicholls, who’s actually in The Streets, took over on bass when Chris broke his wrist. It turns out he’s a really good keyboard player. We decided that next time we should give him a go.”

As thousands of fans can testify, Muse are awesome live – and, unlike most bands, they’re actually better playing huge gigs. Are they excited to be playing Leeds and Reading?

“Absolutely,” enthuses Bellamy. “Reading and Leeds are the biggest rock festivals you can play.  When I was younger I remember seeing bands playing there – I saw Jeff Buckley, one of my all-time heroes, there in ’94 and I remember thinking if I could get up there it would be amazing. Also, it feels nice to be a band that can do a gig like Glastonbury but also do Reading and Leeds, which is more of a rock audience. It’s nice to be able to move between the two.”

Just look out for those giant lizards.

#Muse interviews #black holes and revelations #Matt Bellamy #He lives his life unbothered and has hopefully never looked back/read an old interview of his ever #Us fans we’ll suffer through it </3 #muse band #matt bellamy #muse #muse interviews #2006 #But also lol at Matt trying to deny that they led pretty normal/clean lifestyles for rockstars #Yeah some shenanigans here and there but as far as rock music industry troubles went they genuinely were one of the least #troubled bands out there like the music industry has broken people worse

[moorheadthanyoucanhandle]

TRACK STAR

Opening this weekend:

Bullet Train--Brad Pitt plays one of several professional assassins riding the title vehicle on an overnight zip from Tokyo to Kyoto. Dubbed "Ladybug" by his dispatcher (Sandra Bullock), he's a lethal fellow with mad fighting and weapons skills, but he regards himself as a magnet for bad luck, and he's weary of his career and wants more positivity in his life.

This is Pitt in frumpy, glamor-debunking mode, decked out in a bucket hat, drab jacket and sneakers, with horn-rimmed nerd glasses. His manner is pleasant and unassuming; a central joke of the movie is that Ladybug clearly has no wish to hurt anyone. Pitt is very good company here, in the way that only a veteran movie star can be, and as a model for action movie heroes to come I heartily approve.

There are other strong actors here--Aaron Taylor-Young and Brian Tyree Henry as a team of bickering Brit killers, Hiroyuki Sanada and Andrew Koji as father-and-son assassins, Benito A Martinez Ocasio as a vengeful Mexican hit man, Zazie Beetz as a deadly concessions peddler, Joey King as a schoolgirl type with secrets, all chasing a briefcase McGuffin and trying to avoid the wrath of a shadowy Russian gangster known as "The White Death," not mention a pesky (if rather sweet-faced) boomslang snake on the loose. A few big names turn up in amusing cameos.

Yet all of this creditable work doesn't quite add up to a satisfying movie. Directed by David Leitch from a script by Zak Olkewicz adapted from a Japanese novel by Kotaro Isaka, Bullet Train feels like an exercise in nostalgia; it's like one of the innumerable '90s-era knockoffs of Tarantino, Robert Rodriguez or (especially) Guy Ritchie, full of savage yet "ironic" facetious violence and whip pans and cute but bloody flashbacks and characters engaging in detailed discussions of pop culture (Thomas the Tank Engine in this case).

It's well-crafted and perfectly watchable, as long as you aren't too squeamish. But for me, it lacked any real emotional stakes, and the homestretch grows overblown and tediously overextended. Compare it to 2018's underrated Bad Times at the El Royale, another faux-Tarantino throwback that had the same tongue in cheek, but a bit of heart in its chest as well.

Now on Prime  Video:

Thirteen Lives--It's the story of a rescue mission with the number thirteen in the title, and it's directed by Ron Howard. That's a pretty solid recipe for success.

In June of 2018 twelve members of a youth soccer team and their coach went on an outing into a cave in a provincial mountain park in northern Thailand. An unexpected early monsoon hit after they went in, the paths quickly filled up with water, and the boys were trapped, more than two miles into the narrow, twisty passages. The rescue efforts that followed over the next three weeks included participants ranging from Thai Navy Seals to U.S. Military to Brit rescue divers to a Bangkok-based engineer who figured out how to divert rainwater from sinkholes on the mountain, into the agricultural fields below. The movie asserts that more than 5,000 people from 17 countries pitched in.

Howard focuses on the Brits, nicely underplayed played by Colin Farrell, Viggo Mortensen and Tom Bateman, and an Australian diver, played by Joel Edgerton, who was called in because of the specifics of his medical background. Like Howard's best film, Apollo 13, this is a fairly deep dive (sorry about that) into the technical difficulties of the operation, and this attention to detail adds to the suspense rather than dragging on the pace.

The movie's a bit of a harrowing ordeal at times, especially for those of us with a claustrophobic streak, but it's just about impossible not to invest in it emotionally. And while it's inspiring, it may also leave you a little exasperated with our seeming inability to work together for the common good when it's not such an obviously urgent crisis. What a pity it's so hard for us to remember that, in the end, all humankind is one big Thai soccer team, hoping to get out of our respective caves.

#thirteen lives #bullet train #brad pitt #ron howard #viggo mortensen #colin farrell #joel edgerton #joey king #brian tyree henry #aaron taylor johnson

[cutter-kirby]

hey guys this is my announcement that you should go read the underland chronicles it is very good and I keep forgetting how much I love mareth

#he and hamnet were in love you can’t convince me otherwise <3 #the underland chronicles #tuc #gregor the overlander #mareth. my man #howard good too he’s just a pleasant fellow

[novaiya]

Good Things Come in Three - Arthur/Reader/Sadie (NSFW)

Summary: You and Arthur skip the gang's celebratory party in favor of some alone time, barely closing the door of the hotel room before freeing each other of your clothes. Naked and on the bed, you almost get down to business when Sadie knocks on your door, asking if she could join the fun. You didn't expect the night to take such a turn, but that's not to say you're opposed to what she's suggesting.

Words: 5,157

Warnings: threesome, girl on girl kissing, face sitting, honestly, nothing too out of the line, just some good ol' F/F/M

A/N: I've wanted to write an RDR2 threesome for months now, and finally, it happened! Hopefully there'll be more to cum (lol) I actually have a rough draft of a Arthur/Reader/Charles sitting in my folder, so maybe I'll do something with it soon. Also, I'm going to horny jail.

AO3 Link.

With successful completion of a big score came a big celebration. The job was two weeks in the making and involved half a dozen members of the gang, you included. A small bank in a cholera ridden town, though heavily guarded with lawmen both inside and around it; you knew there was more to it. After a little bit more digging, you discovered that one of the residents of town struck gold and was keeping his findings there for the time being. It took careful planning and rigorous preparations but on the chosen day, you were all ready.

Contrary to how the gang’s plans often went, this one went rather smoothly (probably due to inclusion of you and Sadie, women’s touch as they say) and not a day later the gang was about $40,000 richer, a few gold bars heavier and miles away.

The spirits were high; Not only did the job go smoothly, but nobody got hurt or caught. Dutch was ecstatic and decided that celebration was in order. As soon as you came upon a town with a functioning saloon in it, all the horses and the wagons were stopped and everybody went inside.

The saloon, which only a few minutes before was quiet and deserted, with only the barman standing and polishing the empty glasses, quickly filled with two dozen of the gang members and their combined laughs, cheers and songs.

“What’s your name, mister?” Dutch said to the barman as the gang filed into the saloon.

“Howard, sir.”

“Howard,” Dutch repeated as he shook Howard’s hand and inconspicuously slid a few bills into his hand. “These people,” he said and motioned to the members that had already scattered themselves around the saloon, some at the poker table, some by the bar stock. “They had a rough go at it. Can you please make sure they have a pleasant evening?”

“Well, of course, sir!” Howard beamed, already putting the bills in his back pocket. “I’ve been serving drinks at this saloon since before the war, sir, I know what people need.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Dutch said, patting Howard on the back. “Now, people,” he turned his attention to the gang, his voice raising a few octaves. “Tonight, we celebrate. I want all of you to enjoy yourself. Drink, eat, gamble and do whatever else you want, as much as you want. You deserve it.”

Dutch’s address was met with loud cheers and long applause and thus, the night began.

The last time Howard served so many people so quickly was in ’65 when the war ended. Yet, even then he didn’t remember having to go into the basement to bring more stock and having to wake up his sons so they could help serve the patrons quicker. As he filled each glass to the brim, he wondered how people could drink so much.

You wondered too as you watched your fellow gang members down one drink after another after another. Some fared better than others. Dutch and Hosea, preferring to enjoy their liquor rather than get wasted, sat in the corner of the room by the fire, nursing their whiskey and already planning their next move. Lenny, still being young and inexperienced, was already dancing hand in hand with Sean, who despite not being new to drinking, couldn’t hold his liquor. Pearson, along with Uncle, started playing their instruments and added live music to the mix of singing, laughter and talking that already filled the saloon. Even Charles joined in on harmonica a few times.

Howard wondered what the lot of you did to call for such a celebration, but he knew better than to ask questions. The money was paid and the drinks were sold; that’s all that mattered.

To say that you were tipsy was an understatement. Perhaps drinking a shot of whiskey and chasing it with a beer was not a good idea, but good ideas rarely made their way into your head, especially when running with the Van Der Linde gang. You were sitting in Arthur’s lap, your arms draped lazily over his form, your head on his shoulder. The two of you were sitting at the poker table, with the other players being Javier, John and Micah. All four of the men were far too drunk to make the right moves or plan their strategies, yet it didn’t stop them from gambling their share of the bank job and hoping for the best.

Unsurprisingly to you, Arthur was winning. Out of all the four men, he was the least inebriated (no thanks to his big size and ability to hold liquor), and even when the drinks were not in play, Arthur was generally a good player, knowing when to hold, to fold, or to walk away. Each time he won some, you’d land a kiss on his neck or his cheek and whisper in his ear, “Good job, love.” The stoic, ruthless gunslinger would turn into mush at your words and your touch, and with a pink blush on his cheeks would say, “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Despite enjoying a game of poker from time to time yourself, you found yourself a little bored and were looking forward to when the game would finish. As you sat in Arthur laps, waiting for the men to call it a night, your eyes traveled over the saloon, taking in the scenery around. It was a nice change to see the gang members so happy and carefree, the only thing on their mind, their next drink.

As you scanned the room, your eyes met with Sadie’s. She was leaning against the bar stock with a drink in her hand. You couldn’t read the exact look in her eyes; it was fierce, determined and hot. Hot. That’s exactly how you felt under her gaze. You shifted under Arthur, suddenly too aware that you were sitting on his lap. He groaned a little, one of his hands coming up to your hip to stop your movements.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he said under his breath, loud enough only for you to hear. You could still feel Sadie’s gaze, could see it from the corner of your eyes. His hand massaged your hip a little and he added, “I’m almost done here. Wanna go upstairs?”

A salacious smile, fueled by the alcohol in your veins and Arthur’s body against yours spread on your lips, and you hid your head in the crook of his neck, whispering, “You know I do.”

Arthur chuckled, before turning back to the game.

“All in,” he said.

Javier dropped out, but John and Micah went along, going all in.

One card up, second card up.

“Yes!”

You almost jumped out of Arthur’s lap as he roared, scooping up his winnings in no time.

John groaned, dropping his head onto the table with a loud thud, already preparing himself for Abigail’s wrath as soon as she would find out. Micah, on the other hand, was fuming, and his face was almost as red from the rage as his shirt. “Stupid game,” he said as he got up from the table and went to the barman, getting himself another drink.

“I got lady luck in my lap,” Arthur said before turning his head to you, capturing your lips in a kiss. You moaned against his lips and waved your fingers through his hair, not caring even a bit at the John and Javier present, the latter even whistling at your display of love. One of his hands was on your hip, and the other started to make its way up your leg and under your skirt, dangerously close to the hem of your drawers.

You broke the kiss, panting slightly, and said, “How about we get a room?” you said before kissing his jaw and adding, “Unless you want to take me right here at the table.”

He could feel himself stiffen at your words, and without wasting anymore time, got up from the chair and took your hand in his. No one paid you and Arthur any attention as you traversed through the saloon, everybody too busy with their own conversations or drink, except for Sadie. You could feel her eyes the entire time as you walked across the room to the stairs, and your mouth felt dry when you walked right past her, her deep, brown eyes staring right into your soul and calling out to something. As you walked up the stairs, you turned back one last time, and saw her sending you a warm, though hinting, smile.

The two of you giggled and laughed as you tried to undress each other, the alcohol doing its job at making your fingers nimble.

He pushed you against the door as he ravished your mouth, making your head feel dizzy and your need for air almost as strong as the need for Arthur. When he broke away from your lips, his mouth turned to attacking your neck, leaving kisses and hickeys all up and down the column of your neck as his hands worked on undoing the buttons of your blouse.

“Oh my god, Arthur,” you moaned, your eyes closed as Arthur finally discarded your blouse and revealed your chest to him, his mouth landing on one of your nipples while his fingers worked on the other.

“Been hard since the moment you sat your pretty little ass down on my lap,” he groaned against your chest. He sucked on one of your nipples, covering it in his spit before adding, “Thought of taking you right then and there when I felt your nipples brush against me.”

“Fuck,” you moaned, your fingers in his hair as he placed his mouth back on your chest, giving your other nipple the same treatment.

“You sure were as good with them cards tonight as you are with your mouth,” you said breathlessly when he released your nipple.

“Darlin’,” he said, his voice dropping an octave and having a dangerous edge to it, “There’s a lot of things I’m good at.”

“Then show me, cowboy,” you said as you pushed him a little before dropping your skirt together with your drawers on the ground, presenting yourself to Arthur in all your naked glory. He could feel his mouth go dry upon seeing your body, illuminated by a faint light from the lantern. No matter how many times he saw you naked, you always managed to take his breath away and wonder what he did to deserve a creature as marvelous as you.

He picked you up effortlessly and carried you to the bed. The cotton sheets felt cool and soft against your skin as Arthur laid you down before covering your body with his, his mouth on yours in seconds.

“Too many clothes,” you mumbled against his lips and pulled on his suspenders, the strap hitting him with an audible slap when you released it.

He didn’t waste much time, pushing his suspenders to the side and pulling out his shirt before throwing it on the floor, revealing his golden chest and torso to your eyes. You ran your hand up his torso, through the light blonde hair that covered it and up to his chest where you could hear his heart beat wildly. His hands were on his pants, ready to pull them down and reveal his leaking cock when a knock on the door froze both of you. You both darted your heads to the door, wondering who and for what reason would knock on your door. Perhaps it was one of your drunk friends, lost and trying to find an available room.

When neither of you answered, keeping still and quiet despite your breathing hard and heavy, a voice spoke from behind the door.

“It’s Sadie,” she said as if mentioning that it’s her and not one of the drunken boys would make a difference and by god, it did.

Her intense stare flashed before your eyes and you once again felt the weight of it over you. Perhaps the alcohol was doing it’s job, making you bolder and daring, but you turned your eyes at Arthur, searching for something in them; a visible ‘no’, a confusion or some sort of opposition, but when none came, you turned back towards the door and said, “Come in.”

You saw the doorknob twist before the door opened with an audible creak. As soon as Sadie passed through the threshold and closed the door behind her, her eyes landed on the two of you on the bed.

Arthur was just in his pants, situated between your naked, spread legs. Her eyes raked over his golden chest down to the bulge in his pants before darting to you, your nipples perky and at attention, your chest rising and falling each time you took a breath. It didn’t miss you when she licked her lips, her eyes still on your naked body.

“I…” she began, sounding just a hint sheepish, “I’m interested in joining. If it's okay with the two of you that is.”

You could feel yourself clench around nothing and your heart rate pick up a few beats upon hearing her words. From the way she occasionally watched you and Arthur engaging in some PDA and the looks the two of you would often share, you could feel something more than friendly feelings floating in the air. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t curious; Sadie was a beautiful woman; from her piercing brown eyes, to her full lips and her dirty blonde hair. You caught yourself thinking that she reminded you of Arthur in some ways, both of them having a similar, burning fire in them, bravery that could rival anyone else’s in the gang as well as a softer, caring side. Maybe that’s why you liked her and weren’t opposed to what she was suggesting.

You licked your lips and was more than ready to say yes, but turned to Arthur. After how long the two of you had been together, you didn’t need to use words to communicate. You looked at him, raising your brows slightly, silently asking, “Are you okay with this?” He gave you a lopsided grin, nodding his head just a tiny bit, his way of saying, “If you are, I am.”

You smiled before biting your lip and turning your head to Sadie. Arthur moved to the side, making room for you so you could get up from the bed. “Join us,” you said when you came to stand next to her, taking her hand in yours. She flashed you a smile, the one that was making you weak in the knees, before one of her hands made its way to the back of your head, bringing your head closer to hers. You could feel her breath against your lips, could smell the strong scent of whiskey on them. It felt that just by inhaling the scent, you were getting more intoxicated.

Her lips were soft and warm as she pressed them against yours, stealing your breath away as she kissed you. You tangled your fingers in her hair, deepening the kiss and moaning against her mouth when she slipped her tongue in. All tongue and teeth, the kiss was desperate and needy, as if the two of you were starving for each other. Arthur could do nothing but watch as the two of you kissed, his mind on fire at looking at one of the most erotic things he’s ever seen in his life. He could feel himself become rock hard to the point of pain, and palmed his erection through his pants, trying to relieve some of the tension.

Her clothes dropped on the floor in a pile as you helped to disrobe her, your lips not leaving her for more than a few seconds as you helped her pull her blouse over her head and her pants down. Your lips were swollen and wet when the two of you finally broke apart, lazy grins on your faces. You turned around to look at Arthur; he looked desperate and needy as he sat on the bed, his cock already in his hands, rock solid, leaking and red at the tip. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, and you smiled at Sadie before the two of you made your way to Arthur.

“Ladies,” he groaned as the two of you got up on the bed, making your way to Arthur like panthers to their prey. You pushed his hand aside, replacing it with yours. If there was heaven, then this was certainly it, Arthur thought when he watched the two of you bring your lips to his cock, your mouth on his tip while Sadie’s on his base. He fought back the urge to snap his hips forward, pushing more of himself in your mouth, and decided to simply take what the two of you were giving him. While you sucked on his head, popping the head in your mouth from time to time before sucking on it, Sadie was kissing up and down his cock, making a mess as her spit covered him from the base to the middle. Arthur couldn’t help but twitch when she took one of his balls in her mouth, and you took his cock deeper, the head hitting the back of your throat. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he moaned loud, perhaps too loud, at all the attention he was getting.

Thankfully, the two of you didn’t torture him for too long or otherwise he was sure he would’ve been cumming down your throat within minutes. As Sadie popped his balls from her mouth, and you took his cock out of yours, you kissed once again. Neither of you minded the taste of the man on each other’s lips, perhaps even chasing it as your tongues clashed against each other.

You turned to look at Arthur, your eyes almost completely black and full of lust, and said, “Arthur, I want you to fuck Sadie.” Your hands ran up his cock, giving a few slow, sensual strokes and earning a groan from him before adding, “I want her to feel how good your cock is.”

To say that he was expecting the night to go down like this would be a lie, but that’s not to say that he wasn’t enjoying it. He didn’t trust his words, so he simply nodded his head and pushed his hips a little for emphasis.

Sadie’s hand was in yours as she moved to straddle Arthur, his cock right against her nether lips. He could feel her witness coating his member, the heat from her lips already spreading over him. Arthur held himself in his hand as Sadie lowered herself on his cock, moaning at the stretch of being filled by him, pleasure bordering on pain from how thick he was. You kissed her all over, her neck, her cheeks, her lips, her chest, as she took him inch by inch, her breathing ragged and her eyes closed. When he was all the way in, his pelvis flush with her, it was as if everybody breathed a sigh of relief. Sadie felt full, unbelievably so, and without even moving, she could already feel unbelievable pleasure filling her.

You lowered your head to Arthur’s, kissing over his neck before bringing your lips to his ear and said, “Make her feel good, Arthur.”

The first pull and push of his cock had Sadie cry out in pleasure, her face contorted in ecstasy as Arthur pushed deep inside her. His hands were on her hips as he held her in place, pistoling his cock in and out of her wet channel. You could feel your wetness run down your legs as you watched her, so lost in pleasure and so beautiful as she moaned.

With his hands still on her hips, he turned his face to you, capturing your lips in a kiss. You could feel his hunger and desperation as his tongue danced around your’s, making your head spin from the intensity of the kiss.

When he broke away, a spit connecting your lips just for a moment, he said, “I want to feel you too.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. With excitement and lust and arousal coursing through your veins, you sat up on the bed before swinging your legs over Arthur’s head and bringing your soaked pussy over his mouth. He removed one of his hand’s from Sadie’s hips (who was now riding him in earnest herself, taking her pleasures from his cock) and placed it on one of your thighs to bring you down over his mouth.

Your moans joined Sadie’s as Arthur sucked on your sopping lips, before diving his tongue right into your hole. The room filled with nothing but sounds of moans, groans and skin slapping against skin. Perhaps, if someone looked up a definition of hedonism, a picture of the three of you would be there, indulging in your most basic carnal desires and chasing your pleasures.

With your eyes closed and your mouth open, you could do nothing but shake with pleasure as Arthur ate you out, his skillful tongue working between plunging itself into your hole and sucking on your clit. The feeling of Sadie’s hand on your cheek made you open your eyes. She was completely debauched, her face flush from arousal, her pussy wet and dripping as Arthur fucked into her. She brought your face to hers and kissed you, her tongue pushing past your lips right away. From Arthur tongue in your pussy to Sadie’s in your mouth, you could feel yourself nearing the edge.

“Fuck!” Sadie cried out, breaking away from your lips as her orgasm washed over her like a tsunami. Arthur didn’t let up for a moment, pistoling his hips in and out of her quivering hole until she couldn’t take it anymore. She felt herself gush all over him as he brought her to the peak of pleasures to the point where it was becoming all too much and she had to stop. She breathed heavily as she recovered, sitting to the side and waiting for the ringing in her ears to pass.

Satisfied with making one of the women happy, Arthur turned his full attention to you, both of his hands on your thigh, bringing you impossible close to his face, so much so that you wondered how he breathed.

“Arthur,” you moaned as he fucked you with his tongue and brought his thumb to play with your clit.

Sadie was at your side then, kissing down your neck till she reached your nipple and sucked on it.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, tears welling in your eyes as all the sensations were becoming too much. “You’re gonna make me cum,” you said to both of them, and not a moment later, you did.

You kept riding Arthur’s face as you chased your orgasm, crying his and Sadie’s name as they kept bringing you higher and higher. After a few more moments, you finally came to a stop, your thighs still shaking as Arthur helped you from his face down to the bed, laying at one of your sides while Sadie laid at your other. He kissed up and down your neck, leaving small bites and hickeys all over, while Sadie kissed over your chest, marking you as well.

Only after a few moments did it dawn on you that despite making the two of you cum and see stars, Arthur still hasn’t, his cock rock hard.

As if thinking the same thing, Sadie looked up at your from between your breasts, saying, “I wanna watch him fuck you,” before licking your nipple.

You moaned at that, your pussy twitching in anticipation, and looked at Arthur.

You were still sensitive from your orgasm, but you wanted to watch Arthur cum, so you spoke against his lips. “Arthur, please.”

He could never say no to you, not when you spoke his name with such a need in your voice. He smiled against your lips, brushing his nose against yours before saying, “Anything for you, darlin’.”

You parted your thighs to accommodate him and licked your lips when he took his cock in his hand, giving himself a few pumps before pushing just the head of his cock in. There was more than enough preparation, your own wetness and Arthur’s spit running down your pussy and your thighs, yet you still felt that familiar burn as he split you open, pushing more of himself in.

Inch by inch, he filled you, taking a pause here and there to let you get used to the feeling of him filling you to the brim. When he was all the way in, the head of his cock pushing so deep inside you you could practically taste it, you sighted his name, your head rolling back on the pillows and your fingers clawing at the sheets.

Sadie’s hand was on your lower abdomen, right where she could feel Arthur push in you.

She licked her lips before turning to him and said, “Fuck her proper, Arthur.”

The drag of his cockhead over your insides had you clench around him, the tears in your eyes coming back as your sensitive walls spasmed over him. One of your hands was clawing at the back of your pillows, the other at the sheets under you, and you could do little more than simply take Arthur’s pistoning, his cock reducing you to cries and moans of his name.

Sadie turned your head towards her, capturing your lips in her once again before speaking against them. “Tell me how good he’s making you feel,” she said.

You tried to speak, but as you opened your mouth, a moan came out as Arthur delivered a particularly rough thrust, hitting that special place inside of you. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see him smirk.

“So good, Sadie,” you finally managed. The bliss you were feeling had your mind going haywire as Arthur’s thrusts pushed you closer and closer to the edge of euphoria. “Fuck. He’s fucking me so good,” you moaned, your words no doubt feeding Arthur’s ego, making him puff out his chest more and fuck you harder into the mattress, “He’s gonna make me cum.”

Sadie smiled before kissing you once again, alternating between sucking on your tongue and delving hers into your mouth.

Arthur was at the end of his rope. He was holding out his own release, hoping to deliver you to yours first, but it was proving hard when your cunt spasmed over him each time he pushed inside. It didn’t help either that you and Sadie were all over each other, your lips against one another, your hands exploring each other’s bodies. Not even in his wildest dreams or fantasies had he seen something like this.

He placed both of his hands on the back of your thighs before pushing them up so your legs hung on his shoulder, kissing one of your ankles as he did so. Your legs twitched each time he slammed back in, the new position making him go in even deeper if that was possible, and if it wasn’t for Sadie’s mouth on yours, you were sure your scream’s would’ve definitely alerted somebody.

Delicate and slow, her hand traveled from one of your breasts, down your stomach and to your wet pussy. She could feel where Arthur was entering you again and again, the wetness around your walls making for an easy, though loud with sloppy sounds, entrance. Using two of her fingers, she started to add small circular motions around your clit, making your toes curl.

With the combination of Sadie’s fingers on your clit and Arthur’s cock in your pussy, you came, arching your back from the bed as pleasure coursed through your veins, so hard you thought you were gonna blackout from it. Sadie kissed you through it, muffling your cries and moans and screams with her mouth. The orgasm swept over you like a hurricane, leaving you completely boneless as you laid there, managing to do nothing more than keep taking Arthur’s cock.

The feeling of you spasming and tightening over him was too much for Arthur. “Fuck, darlin’, I’m close,” he said, the sweat on his face making it shiny.

With Sadie’s mouth away from yours, you managed a broken cry and a small, “Yes” moving your hips just a little to help Arthur to his release.

Sadie moved her hand from where it was near your clit to where Arthur was entering your sopping pussy again and again. With a mischievous smile, she took his balls in her hand and fondled them before saying, “Fill her up, Arthur.”

Arthur came with a heavy groan, his pace all out of rhythm as he kept pushing his cock into you, stuffing you full of his cum until you could feel it running down your thighs.

At last, he stilled, his breathing heavy as he pulled out of you and lowered your legs from his shoulder to the bed.

You could feel Arthur’s sweat drop from his forehead to yours as he bent down to kiss you, slow and tender, before dropping to your side. His head was on the pillow as he stared at the ceiling, still trying to comprehend what had just happened. On your other side, Sadie was catching her breath too, the activities you just engaged in making her previously clear complexion looking a tad bit pink. You could see a satisfied smile on her lips as she raised herself on her elbows to look at you, brushing a piece of hair out of your face before laying back down on the bed, one of her hands under her head.

As you laid there, well-fucked, satisfied and bemused, you wondered how you’d look Sadie in the eyes in the morning, when the effects of alcohol and lust would vanish, and you’d have nowhere to hide as the sun would illuminate every corner of the room. You remembered Dutch’s words, telling all of you to enjoy yourself. “As much as you want,” he specified. You’re not sure if he had this in mind when saying that.

Sadie, however, decided to not wait for the morning and spoke up now, saying, “Might I say that the two of you sure know how to fuck.”

The ease with which she spoke eased your restless nerves, and you felt yourself relax as you laughed at her words. At your side, Arthur couldn’t help but shake his head, a small smirk playing at his lips.

You knew the next morning would still bring the awkward laughs and pink blushes, but you decided you could deal with that later. Right now, you were happy to enjoy the warmness of the two bodies pressed at your sides.

#arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 smut #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 imagines #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 headcanons #red dead redemption 2 headcanons #red dead redemption 2 fanfics #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 smut #rdr2 #read dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead #red dead fanfiction #red dead smut #sadie adler #sadie adler x reader #sadie adler fanfiction #sadie adler smut #rdr2 reader insert #Arthur morgan x reader x sadie adler

[xxcorndogxx]

Sheldon x Reader||Chapter 2: First performance

 We finished setting up at The Cheesecake Factory. The guys come over and say hi. Eventually we settle down and play. "This is just a little something I wrote this morning so I apologize if it's not the best." I hope he gets it.

(You) "All I knew this morning when I woke, is I know something now, know something now, I didn't before."

(You) "And all I've seen since 18 hours ago, is blue eyes and freckles in your smile, in the back of my mind, making me feel like..."

(You) "I just wanna know you better, know, you better know, you better now, I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now, (Jackson joins in.) I just wanna know you, better know you better, know you better, know you better now, I just wanna know you, know you, know you."

(You and Jackson) "All I know is we said hello and your eyes looking like coming home, all I know is a simple name and everything has changed."

(You Jackson) "All I know is you held the door, you'll be mine and I'll be yours, all I've known since yesterday is everything has changed."

(Jackson) "And all my walls stood tall painted blue, but I'll take em down, take me down, and open up the door for you."

(You) "And all I feel, in my stomach is butterflies, the beautiful kind, making up for lost time, taking flight, making me feel like..."

(Both) "I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now, I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now, I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now, I just wanna know you, know you, know you."

(Both) "Cause all I know is you said hello, and your eyes looking like coming home, all I know is a simple name, and everything has changed."

(Both) "All I know is you held the door, you'll be mine and I'll be yours, all I know since yesterday is everything has changed."

(Both) "Come back and tell me why, I'm feeling like I've missed you all this time, and meet me there tonight, and let me know that it's not all in my mind, mind."

(You) "I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now, I just wanna know you, know you, know you."

(Both) "All I know is we said hello, your eyes looking like coming home, all I know is a simple name, and everything has changed."

(Both) "All I know is you held the door, you'll be mine and I'll be yours, all I know since yesterday, is everything has changed."

(You) "All I know is we said hello, so dust off you highest hopes, all I know is pouring rain, and everything has changed."

(You) "All I know is a new found grace, all my days I'll know your face, all I know since yesterday is everything has changed."

 Applause. I let out a few deep breaths and give my fellow bands mate hugs and high fives. I walk towards the guys as they walk towards me. "Y/n that was amazing!" Leonard says. Howard comes up to me and places a hand on my shoulder. "Y/n I new you liked me but you didn't have to go write me a song to show how much." I just look at Howard and walk up to Sheldon. "Sheldon." I look back at Penny. "Yes." He says. "What did you think?" "About what?" "My song." "Oh well I thought it was lovely." He 'smiles' "Very pretty tune, I must say you have a nice voice." "Is that all you got from that song?" "Uh, oh! Your friend has somewhat pleasant voice too." He nods. "Also I really like your shirt I appreciate good Star Trek humor." He does his little laugh. "Okay, I'll uh, see you later." "Okay." He smiles. I walk away my head hung low in disappointment. "Penny." "I know sweetie, I know." She hugs me. "I tried." "Yeah Sheldon isn't very good at figuring things like this out on his own, just give him time." "Okay." I look at Penny. "Thank you." "No problem."

#big bang theory #sheldon #sheldon cooper #sheldon cooper x reader #howard #nerdy #leonard #penny #raj #romance #fanfiction #fromwattpad #bigbangtheory #sheldon x reader #comedy #story #nerdy romance #tv show

[kiarcheo]

     Hidden Histories    -    There Is No Future for Us as a Pair     

The one where Katherine Howard and Catherine Parr meet during the early days of Anna’s marriage, they keep making plans and the king keeps messing them up.

Also on Ao3

AN: This was way bigger in my head, but my imagination is leagues ahead of my writing skills and this is all I could do.

Historical accuracy? Never heard of it. Timelines are skewed and tweaked, I mostly made Cathy younger and moved forward some events in her life. Should go without saying that while I used historical events as main guidelines and framework, I ignored some and invented others.

English is not my first language and I didn’t even try to attempt a 16th-century English. Also royal life and Tudor times in general are not my expertise.

TLDR: it’s a fanfiction, bear with me and my inaccuracies.

We all know how Katherine’s story ended so…yeah. There is that too.

                                           ———————————-

‘Lady Herbert, your presence is required.’ The two women who had been walking arm in arm in the royal gardens stop.

Lady Catherine Latimer pats her sister’s hand. ‘Go, Anne, don’t worry about me.’

‘Lady Howard, I entrust you with my dear sister.’

Catherine holds off her tongue to remind Anne that she is the oldest and doesn’t need looking after as she would have had if they had been alone. With her husband’s reputation in tatters, the last thing she wants is to undermine her sister’s position at court in any way. Not after she had managed to maintain her position as lady-in-waiting to the new queen Anna von Kleve after having similarly served the three previous queens.

‘Lady Latimer.’ The young girl offers her arm.

‘I do not wish to take you away from your duties.’ Catherine nonetheless takes it as politeness demands. ‘And please, there is no need for such formalities.’

‘My presence is not as necessary as Lady Herbert’s.’ Between Anne’s experience and the queen’s limited knowledge of English as well as of the working of court, Anne had taken on more responsibilities in the Queen’s household. ‘I dare say my absence might not even be noticed.’

‘Her Majesty seems to appreciate your presence.’ Catherine had not been at court for many days, but she has already noticed how the queen seems to favour the young maid of honour. Malevolent chatter is that it is because the queen sees something of herself in the girl, both floundering in roles they are not fit for, Lady Howard’s missteps and the queen’s chuckling reactions attributed not to benevolent demeanour but rather to ignorance that a blunder has been made in the first place.

‘It’s a pleasure and an honour to serve the Queen.’ It is probably the first time that Catherine is tempted to truly believe such words are said in total honesty.

‘The Queen is fortunate to have such a loyal lady at her service.’

‘Your words flatter me, Lady Latimer- Lady Catherine.’ She corrects herself at the pointed look she receives.

‘I’m merely stating what I observe, Lady Howard.’

‘Katherine.’

Catherine barely manages to avoid stumbling, surprised at the familiarity of being addressed by her first name.

‘I mean, my name is Katherine, if we are avoiding formalities.’

Katherine’s presence is indeed not as frequently required as Anne’s is, and while Catherine would object to her sister that she doesn’t need a chaperone, she doesn’t mind as much when it’s Katherine. The two quickly establish a friendship, Catherine finding out why the Queen seems to enjoy the younger girl’s company so much.

‘I see you have made a friend.’ Anne had commented one day as Katherine had warmly bid farewell to Catherine after Anne had informed her that the Queen had called for her.

‘Why do you sound so surprised?’

‘It is simply…unexpected.’

‘I thought you liked her.’ Anne isn’t one to speak ill of anyone (likely wouldn’t have been able to keep her position in the royal household with four different queens if she had been), but Catherine knows her sister and her tell-tale signs of silent dislike.

‘I do. She is a lovely girl. A bit flighty, but she is still young. Just not…particularly bright.’

The more time Catherine spends with Katherine, the more she disagrees with her sister. Except on the lovely part. While Katherine is younger than both of them, she is not even the youngest among the queen’s household. Anne had started at Queen Catherine of Aragon’s court at thirteen, but the usual age for appointment as maid-of-honour is sixteen.

Her vivacity, which got her reprimanded more than once by older attendants, rarely fails to put a smile on her companions’ faces, whether they are her fellow maids-of-honour or the Queen herself. Catherine has little doubt that it is often done on purpose, as when spending time together Katherine tends to be more on the quiet side.  

And the last part of Anne’s assessment. Catherine wonders if perhaps her sister is conflating education and intelligence. Few women (and not many men, if you ask Catherine) are as educated as Anne and Catherine had the privilege to be and Catherine often despairs over how many brilliant minds have been squandered because of it. Katherine has a hunger for knowledge that Catherine is only happy to help satiate, and she is quick on the uptake. While not particularly scholarly her contributions to their conversations are usually thoughtful and intelligent…once she gets over her reservations over sharing her thoughts. Catherine would like to have a chat with whoever had repeatedly told that she is stupid and nothing more than a pretty face. Catherine had even witnessed Katherine trying to learn German while helping the Queen practicing English. Having learnt foreign languages herself she has doubts on the effectiveness of the methods used, but she commends the attempts nonetheless.

While Catherine enjoys their intellectual conversations, the ones that she treasures the most are more private, personal ones. It surprises even herself when the subject turns to the Pilgrimage of Grace and she doesn’t shy away from the topic, despite it bringing up less than pleasant memories (or downright terrifying).

It’s during one of those chats that Katherine confesses that life at court is not what she expected and perhaps not something she would choose again, if given the choice. Catherine offers her a position at Snape Castle, mostly in jest. Katherine however expresses real interest in the proposition.

‘I thought you liked your duties.’

‘Oh, I like serving Her Majesty very much.’ Sometimes what it is not said speak louder than what it is. ‘Do you think your husband would have any objections?’

‘I would need to ask, but I do not think so.’ They don’t exactly have people rushing to work for them after what happened, the family reputation still tarnished even years later. ‘But leaving court for…It would be a demotion.’ She feels the duty to remind her.

Katherine doesn’t seem to mind too much and in her mind Catherine agrees that her friend is not well-suited for life at court. And not because she is not educated or smart enough or anything of that sort. The thought had been cemented the day Catherine had learned of what had happened while Katherine was under her step-grandmother’s care. Katherine had just vaguely hinted at it, but unfortunately Catherine thinks that there is no woman who would not get quickly what she was talking about. Which was dangerous and what worried Catherine the most.

Everyone knew about the uprising in the North and the rebels taking the castle and holding her and her stepchildren hostage, and what she had shared, while deeply personal, could not damage her reputation (not more than it already was due to her husband’s somewhat hazy role in the rebellion, at least). But Katherine’s past, if known, could ruin her. She supposes this is where the naivety of young age came to play. While touched by the trust showed, Catherine had made sure to impress upon Katherine that she was to not talk, mention, or even hint at it with anyone else ever again.

Catherine is aware that she can’t change the past and protect the younger girl from those men, but perhaps she can help now. If she moves in with her at Snape Castle, she would be safe from the nest of vipers that it is the court, always ready to stab you in the back. Maybe she could even find her a nice husband. Perhaps even her stepson John; they are close in age and it would allow Catherine to keep Katherine close.

                                                             —–

Catherine watches as the red-haired child dances, carefree, under the loving gaze of the girl playing the lute. Lady Elizabeth had been called at court by her father, the king, to meet his new queen, and Katherine had told Catherine how she had quickly came to care for the young girl, who was also her first cousin once removed.

Katherine halts the music when she notices Elizabeth has stopped dancing and is looking behind her.  She turns around, standing up once she sees who their spectator is.

‘Lady Elizabeth, this is Lady Catherine Latimer, a good friend of mine.’  

‘Have I been summoned?’ Elizabeth asks sending a disappointed look towards Katherine, after the protocol of introductions and greetings is over.

‘No,’ Catherine sends her a comforting smile. It seems that the affection her friend feels is reciprocal. ‘I’ve come to say goodbye as I’m about to leave.’

‘Is the King sending you away too?’

She is left speechless for a second before recovering. ‘No, I was visiting, but my presence is now required at my husband’s side, he’s unwell.’

‘Where?’

Catherine welcomes the childlike curiosity with a smile. ‘Yorkshire.’

‘I’ve never been there.’

‘You’re always welcome to visit.’ She exchanges a look with Katherine. Hopefully she will be visiting both of them there.

‘Would you like me to leave?’ They look at the seven-year-old as if they had forgotten she was there. Elizabeth doesn’t wait for a reply, she bids farewell to Catherine and turns around. The adults share a guilty glance as the child starts pickling at the lute.

Catherine grabs Katherine’s hands. ‘I will ask him as soon as I arrive. And I’ll write you.’

Katherine impulsively draws her into a hug. ‘I look forward to seeing you again soon.’

The situation, however, quickly spirals out of their control, too fast for their letters to keep up with. In a little more than a month Queen Anna is first asked to leave court, then her marriage is annulled, and the king gets married again.

Catherine finds herself visiting her sister, who is once again lady-in-waiting for a new queen, this time Queen Katherine Howard. And it’s her sister she has to thank if she is currently spending some time alone with her friend, after Anne had led Elizabeth away.

‘She seems happier.’ Catherine comments. The child had greeted her as cheerfully as protocol allowed, asking if she had come to visit her new mother.

‘One of the few good things to come out from this situation. And you visiting, of course.’ Katherine attempts to put back a smile on her face, which had fallen as soon as the company left and the door had closed behind them, leaving them alone. ‘Mary hates me.’

‘Katherine.’ Catherine frowns. She hates to see the younger girl like this.

‘I don’t blame her.’ She shakes her head. ‘She liked Anna. And doesn’t like having a step-mother several years younger than herself.’ She sits down. ‘I just hoped she could be a friend. God knows if I need one.’

‘I’m your friend.’ Catherine sits down next to her and takes her hands in her own.

‘And yet when I think of you as a friend, I feel oddly disappointed.’ Katherine squeezes her hands, before slowly and purposely leaning in. The intentions are clear, there is no need to have been married twice to get it, but she is giving Catherine all the time needed to move away. She doesn’t.

Their lips press together in a chaste kiss.

‘We can’t.’ Catherine leans away abruptly. ‘You are-’

‘Don’t say too young. If I’m old enough to be queen, I’m old enough to…at least for once I wanted to see how it feels to kiss someone because I want to.’ She trails off, defeated. ‘I apologise for making you uncomfortable.’

‘It is not that.’ And it’s not. She is not uncomfortable. Not because of her age, at least. The reason why she, and many others, are uncomfortable with the King marrying Katherine is not necessarily her age, but rather his. After all, Catherine herself had been Katherine’s age when she married the first time….but her husband had been in his twenties, not one year shy of fifty. And also, not the King. ‘You are my queen. This is treason.’

‘Forgive my foolishness.’ Katherine makes to stand up, but Catherine holds her down, not letting go her hands.

‘Perhaps we could revisit our plans in the future.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘In my personal experience, husbands too often leave their younger wives alone too early…and if such a terrible event happened, it would be my duty to offer consolation and support to a dear friend-’

‘How come kissing the Queen is treason,’ Katherine hisses, leaning closer even if they are completely alone in the room, ‘but talking about the King’s death is fine?’

‘It was just a general observation. And taking an interest in the king’s age and health is not a crime.’ Catherine also lowers her voice. ‘Besides we know what happened to your cousin.’

Katherine pales, realisation dawning on her. ‘Forgive me, the last thing I ever wanted was to put you in danger.’

‘Don’t trouble yourself which such thoughts.’

‘You should stay far away from me.’

‘Katherine.’ Catherine cups her cheek to turn her head so she is looking at her. ‘I do not wish to.’

‘Me neither. I had planned to ask you to move to court.’ The younger girl chuckles bitterly.

‘I have plans to join Mary’s household. I am not sure how long John is going to last and-’

‘That is a way to make sure that we will not meet too often. I am sure Mary will do her best to avoid my presence as much as possible.’ Katherine tries to joke.

Indeed, they will not meet again.

It is Mary who brings Catherine the news of Katherine being stripped of her title and imprisoned. Mary considers Catherine a friend and knows of her soft spot for the young queen. Between Catherine and her sister Elizabeth, Mary doesn’t know whom Katherine’s strongest supporter is. And she doesn’t know who is going to take the news harder. Her sister, who loves to call the Queen mother, to their father’s apparent delight, or her friend, who had relentlessly tried to convince her to give a chance to the younger girl. Even as she is clearly trying not to crumble, Catherine takes the time to defend her friend after Mary makes a dig about Katherine’s age. They might have settled into a cordial relationship, but that is still a sore point for Mary. Catherine agrees that indeed Katherine had been quite young…how old would have she been at the time of the first ‘indiscretions’? She can see the realisation on Mary’s face, that either those accusations are false or they are true, and then she had been a victim and not at fault anyway.

Catherine spends two months hoping against reasons that Katherine will be spared, but as the Parliament introduces a bill that would make failure to disclose the sexual history of the queen consort to the king within twenty days of marriage treason and punishable by death, she knows it is only a matter of time. A bill of attainder is soon passed declaring Katherine guilty.

And if it was not enough, Catherine is not even able to mourn (her Katherine in secret, her husband – by now also dead – openly), because Henry chooses her as his next wife.

She can’t say no. Not to the king. Just like Katherine couldn’t. So she gets married once again, on 12 July 1543. The only thing that could have made it worse would have been marrying on the four months’ anniversary of Katherine’s death instead of the day before.

There are two constant thoughts in Catherine’s mind.

One is the promise she makes to herself, and in her heart to Katherine,  to do her best to take care of and love Elizabeth and Edward and be a good friend to Mary, just like Katherine would have tried and would have wanted.

The other is that Henry can’t die soon enough.

In the first year of Catherine’s marriage a new act of succession is introduced, which makes Mary and Elizabeth part of the succession once again.

Both Edward and Elizabeth would consider and call Catherine mother.

Ten years after Katherine’s death Queen Mary I will reverse the  Act  of  Attainder against her, albeit on the basis of a technicality and not of her innocence.

#parrward #I might write a short alternate (happy) ending if you'd be interested in that... #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction #howard x parr #parr x howard #six fic #six the musical fic #six katherine howard #six cathy parr #mywork #my six posts #six writing #my posts #my ideas #six fanfic #six au #six the musical au

[chalantness]

fic: Here, On the Edge of Hell (3/6)

Rating: M Word Count: ~9,300 (part three) Characters: Steve/Natasha Summary: mafia au. She knows her father hadn’t been lying when he said that Uncle Howard wanted her to keep an eye on Steve, but if this was simply about protection, he wouldn’t have put her on the line at all. Especially not with all of the heat Steve Rogers is getting from the other Families, which means that her uncle has another reason for Natasha to be involved.

He just won’t tell her what it is. 

Read On: [ ao3 ]

A/N: Okay, here's a confession: I kept changing the end of this chapter and then just ended up taking that scene out entirely because it got super long and I felt like it was... too much? This may or may not bump the chapter count up to 7 but for now there are still only 6 parts, so let's celebrate for being (technically) halfway through this 'verse! I'll try my hardest to keep it down to only 3 more chapters, though, so the last three parts might just be super long. I hope you darlings won't hate that!

Natasha seems distracted, but considering everything that happened yesterday, he figures she’s got a few good reasons to be. He asked if she wanted to talk about it when she first got to his place, but she’d given him this coy little smile and asked, “Talk about what?” and he’d simply chuckled and taken it as his cue to leave it, at least for now. She must’ve spent the entire day sorting things out at the club with Howard; if she wants to take her mind off of it, if only for a few hours, then he can give that to her. He wants to give that to her, and honestly, the little smile she’s giving him right now, with her eyes twinkling and her cheeks slightly flushed from the wine, is entirely worth it.

“I ran into your sister this morning,” she tells him, passing over her empty glass when he holds a hand out for it. “She had interesting company.”

Steve breathes out a laugh, pouring her more wine (they’re both on their fourth glass) before handing it back. “Her interesting company invited us to breakfast tomorrow, by the way,” he says, and Natasha raises her eyebrows, her eyes sparkling in pleasant surprise. “Yeah, I know,” he says with a shake of his head, filling his own glass and then setting the bottle back down on the coffee table. “Technically, he said he and Sam wanted you there, and Wanda followed up by saying that she convinced Pietro to join us.”

Natasha laughs, her voice slightly raspy from all the wine. Steve feels his lips curve in response to the sound and he glances at her lips, but only for a second.

“Now that is a conversation I would’ve loved to see.”

Steve exhales a chuckle. “I think they’re all just doing it to make some sort of statement. I overheard Clint advising Pietro to play nice, establish a united front for my sake.”

Even as he says the words, though, he knows they’re not quite right, and the little grin Natasha gets is all the reassurance he needs. “They’re doing it for you, Steve,” she corrects, her voice lilting in amusement. “If this was just about making a statement, there are a dozen other ways they could’ve done that without throwing more fuel on the fire by taking two detectives to lunch. Although,” she adds with a tilt of her head, “I have no doubt that Pietro will insist otherwise until he warms up to Bucky and Sam.”

Steve feels himself smirk. Yeah, he doesn’t doubt that, either. His brother is stubborn as hell and not the type to like anyone at first.

That doesn’t mean that he immediately dislikes anyone, though. He’s simply wary, and maybe that’s because, when he does decide to trust you, he’s almost loyal to a fault.

He’d told Steve last night that he’d been following the Asgards around ever since the drive-by, and Steve knew that wasn’t just another impulse of his. Pietro could be a little reactive sometimes, that’s for damn sure, but something like this – accusing another member of the Family – is something he wouldn’t have taken lightly. Wanda thinking that she saw the car would’ve only been enough to raise suspicion, but it’d been Bucky vouching for his fellow officer identifying the car, too, that convinced Pietro it was a lead worth looking into. Maybe he doesn’t trust Bucky, but he trusts Steve, and that was enough for him to consider Bucky’s hunch about the drive-by being intended for Wanda.

(And Steve knew he didn’t need to remind Pietro to be careful, but he’d said it, anyway, and his brother hadn’t even rolled his eyes or quipped about him being overprotective.

They both know how dangerous things will get quickly if anyone finds out what Pietro is doing, let alone what they might be accusing the Asgards of.)

“Speaking of the twins,” Natasha adds after a moment, her voice softer now, some of the amusement fading from her expression when Steve looks at her. “They didn’t want to be here for this?”

Steve doesn’t need to ask what she means. This, as in finally opening the damn box on the table that they’d found in his mother’s old apartment.

It hadn’t been his only reason for inviting her over tonight; in fact, he never even mentioned in when they made the plans. He’d genuinely wanted to see her, to check on her after everything that happened yesterday, but he also knows she would want to be there to open it with him and honestly? He didn’t even consider doing so without her.

“I told them it was their choice, but that I also didn’t want to put them through it in case it was something shitty,” Steve tells her.

“Willing to carry that burden all on your own, huh?”

He shrugs, staring down into his wine glass. “Something like that, I guess. The two of them have been through a hell of a lot more than I ever have.”

“And you want to, what? Pay your dues?” She gives him a look. “That’s not how family works, Steve.”

He chuckles faintly. “No, I know. It’s not that. I guess—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head, turning to her with a wry sort of smile. “I know I’m the helpless one out of the three of us, but I guess I just want to protect them if I can. They were the ones that were raised by Dad. If something shitty about him is in that box…”

He trails off, stopping his own thoughts again, but he knows by the look in her eyes that Natasha doesn’t need him finish his sentence.

He knows that there could be nothing important in this box, or if there is, it could be something Pietro and Wanda have already known. It’s not as if he plans on keeping it a secret from them, either. He doesn’t even know why it feels important for him to see it first, but it does, and his siblings trust his judgment.

Natasha gives him this little smile. “You’re a good brother,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper before she takes a small sip of her wine. This time, she’s watching as his eyes shift down to her lips again, and he lets his gaze linger for a moment before turning away, smiling into his own glass. “So, shall we get this show on the road?”

“Might as well,” he murmurs, taking a gulp of wine before setting it aside.

Considering how old the metal box must be, it doesn’t surprise Steve that it only takes a few tries to get it open. That should’ve been his first clue that there might not be anything incriminating in here. There may not have been as many ways to keep things locked up back then, and it’s not as if this box was somewhere easy to find, but still. Going through the offices and coming up empty had shown Steve just how careful a man his dad was, so he wouldn’t have left anything important just sitting in this thing.

And Steve thinks he’s right, for the most part. The box is slim and rather small, so there’s nothing more than a few photos and folded pieces of paper inside.

Sketches, he realizes, when he unfolds the one sitting on top. The penciled scene looks vaguely of a grand building in an open field with a mountain range along the horizon, and there’s something about the architecture that seems like it should make it seem distinct, but the lines are too rough to really tell.

The rest of the sketches are more of the same – a few snowy landscapes, more mountain ranges and more buildings with unique silhouettes – so Steve sets them aside and picks up the small stack of photographs instead, flipping them over to find his mother’s face smiling back at him. She’s younger here, her hair brighter and longer and half-covering her face as it’s angled away from the camera, and the color from the photo is faded from years of sitting, but Steve knows without a doubt that this is his mother.

“She’s beautiful,” Natasha says quietly, her leg pressing against his as she leans in. “You have her smile.”

Steve feels his chest squeeze as he exhales a laugh. He’s heard that before, but even now, he doesn’t quite understand it. He knows he looks almost exactly like his father and that he always has, but he’s also always been told that he has his mother’s smile, too.

“Dad says that all the time,” he tells her, handing over the photo for her to take a closer look, and he watches as she gently traces it with her fingertip. “I don’t really see it.”

“I do,” she replies simply, her eyes flickering to his. “Trust me, you look just like her.”

“Okay.” His chest squeezes again, and he holds her stare for a moment longer before exhaling a breath, turning back to the small stack of photographs in his hand.

There are a few more of just his mother, a few of his parents together and then a few of them with Steve, but that’s it, so he sets them aside with his father’s sketches and picks up the worn leather journal, flipping it open. At first glance, it actually looks more like his mother’s swirling handwriting than his father’s, but before Steve can actually read anything, something slips out from between the pages. He picks it up from his lap, flipping it over, and then his heart slams against his ribcage at the face he sees.

Melina.

Steve has only ever seen her face in photos a few times and only once in person, and she’s much younger in this photo, but he knows it’s her—and he can tell by the way Natasha inhales sharply beside him, her entire body going completely still, that she knows it, too.

He recognizes his father standing next to Melina, his face much younger, just like hers, but it’s without a doubt Joseph Rogers. There’s another man and another woman with them, too, the four of them all right around the same age, not even into their teens yet. The other woman has light, long hair and a sweet, smiling face that seems vaguely familiar, at least at first glance. She has both of her arms curled around Melina, her body half-angled toward hers with the embrace, and the photograph seemed to have caught the two of them in the midst of a laugh. On the woman’s other side is a man that’s tall and broad, his figure imposing and his expression gruff, even in his young age. Unlike the other woman, though, there’s nothing about this man that stands out to Steve, nothing about him that feels as if he’s seen his face before, maybe even in passing.

Then again, maybe he didn’t really recognize the woman at all. Maybe it’s simply the fact that he does recognize his father and Natasha’s mother that’s throwing him off.

Never, not once, had his father mentioned having any kind of relationship with Melina Stark. Not one that came from childhood, at least.

His father is close to the Starks as a family, of course, but he’d always been closest with Howard. And not even Howard has mentioned anything in particular to Steve. If his father had known Melina for so long, Howard Stark would’ve brought it up. Even if he already assumed Steve knew it already, the man would’ve worked it into at least one conversation, especially since Howard knew Steve would be spending even more time with Melina’s daughter—except, fuck, could that have been the reason for it all along?

Steve could never quite put a finger on why Howard offered his niece up as another advisor for Steve, and even Natasha admitted it didn’t quite make sense, either.

But maybe the idea hadn’t actually come from him. Maybe it’d come from Melina.

“What the fuck is this?” Natasha breathes, her hands shaking ever so slightly as she reaches for the photo, which Steve passes over to her before smoothing one of his hands over her back, gently circling. He watches her as she stares at the photo, the shock so crystal clear in her expression that it makes his heartbeat falter in his chest. Her eyes are a little bit wild as they snap onto his. “Why is my mother in this photo with Joseph?” she asks, though he knows she isn’t asking him, specifically. “What am I looking at?”

To anyone else, her surprise almost seems tamed, but Steve knows better.

She may not be overreacting, but the fact that he can feel her trembling and that he can see the genuine surprise on her face means she isn’t trying to filter her reaction, or maybe she simply can’t in this moment. But whether that’s because of all of the wine or because she trusts him, or both, is a matter for Steve to address another night.

“I don’t know,” he admits quietly. He doesn’t quite kiss her temple, but his lips brush against it when she leans into him.

She exhales, her gaze fixing back on the photo for another moment before picking up the journal it had fallen from. Steve knows this is his mother’s handwriting, and as he skims over her words while Natasha flips through the pages, it’s clear that this is more of a diary than anything else. Half of the pages are empty, and there’d been nothing other than this one photograph tucked inside of it. He’s not sure why a picture of Natasha’s mother and his father would be in his mother’s journal of all places, especially since it’s from before his parents had even met—but, as Natasha flips to the last page that’s been written on, it’s clear they’re not going to get any kind of explanation for it, either.

She lets the journal fall closed as she places it back down in his lap, and then she’s standing, the photo in her hand as she starts to step around the coffee table.

Steve is up in the next second, gently but firmly grasping her by her arm, just above her elbow, and turning her back around to face him. He can practically see the thoughts flitting in her eyes as she murmurs, “I have to go.”

“Nat, no,” he argues. “We’ve both been drinking. A lot, might I add. You’re in no condition to drive home, and you’re not getting into a cab, either.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insists, about to turn around again, but he grasps her other arm, too, pulling her against him. He feels her struggle against his grip, but he also knows it’s only half-hearted. If Natasha wanted him off of her, he would’ve been flat on his ass right now.

“Someone purposefully put a car through the club you manage.” He feels his eyebrows furrow as he gives her a hard look. “You’re not getting in a fucking cab. And I know you’re not going to storm over to your mother right now and demand answers. Even half-drunk on wine, I know you’re a hell of a lot more strategic than that.”

She pulls back a little at his words, a reluctant flash of indignation – and also amusement – in her eyes. “I’m not half-drunk.”

He cracks a smile. “We went through an entire bottle of wine in an hour. You’re not half-sober, either.”

“I’ll be fine,” she repeats, though there’s less force behind her words this time. It’s not in defeat, he can tell, but she’s also stopped squirming against his hold. She shakes her head, not so much as flinching when he brings a hand up to cup her cheek, as if he’s touched her like this a dozen times. “I just need to think.”

“Then think here,” he tells her, almost pleading. She tilts her head up to look at him. “This was a big revelation for me, too, you know. Maybe I need you here to comfort me.”

Despite herself, Natasha breathes out a chuckle, rolling her eyes playfully. “Is that really the move you’re going with?”

“Is it working?” he asks, and she chuckles again, more of the tension ebbing from her body as she leans into him. “You can borrow something to sleep in, take Wanda’s room if you want. Hell, take my room and I’ll sleep in Pietro’s.” Natasha’s lips quirk and Steve feels his own smile widen a little in return. “I’ll get in a cab with you and make sure you get home if you really want to. But if all you’re going to do is worry about this alone in your apartment then you might as well worry about it here, with me in the other room.”

“In case you need comforting?” Her tone is mostly teasing, but there’s something about it that tells Steve that she knows what he really means, too.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, sliding his hand down her arm to gently grasp onto the photograph, and she lets him take it from her hand, twist around to set it on top of the coffee table behind him.

Her expression softens when he turns back to look at her. “Okay,” she says, barely above a whisper. He strokes her jaw again with the hand still cupping her cheek, his thumb only an inch away from the corner of her lips, and then he pulls away.

... ...

Natasha can’t remember the last time she slept in. She’s always gotten up early to take a run, even when she was younger; a habit she picked up from running with her father almost every morning, and one she continued even when she no longer in school and didn’t need to keep up some kind of schedule. But she likes having the routine, and she’s gotten so used to it that somehow, she knows before she’s even opened her eyes that she’s slept in, though a quick glance at her phone tells her it’d barely been by an hour.

There’s also a text from Maria that she’d sent last night. Honestly, Natasha had almost forgotten that she texted her at all, and after the revelation from that damn photograph, seeing Sarah Rogers’s signature on a receipt at the café seemed like something that happened days ago rather than just that morning.

And yes, she’d still contemplated telling Steve about it, even though she and Maria agreed it would be best just to leave it, at least for now. Sarah Rogers isn’t exactly an uncommon name, and considering the woman had gotten sick and passed away after Steve graduated high school—something Joseph told the Family himself when he and the twins attended her funeral—it seemed unnecessary bring up something that could be a coincidence. But that didn’t get rid of the feeling that she should’ve told him anyway.

It feels a little less important to bring up after last night, though.

She walks out into the hallway just as the door opposite of her room (well, Wanda’s room) opens, and Steve steps out in nothing but a pair of jeans, a towel draped around his neck as he uses it to rub at his damp hair. He pauses when he sees her, his mouth hitching up at one corner in a crooked, almost boyish sort of grin.

“Good morning,” he greets, and, to his credit, his eyes stay on her face rather than skim down to the tank top and tiny pajama shorts she’d borrowed from Wanda’s closet.

“Good morning,” she echoes, her lips tugging in a smile as her eyes flit over his bared chest. “If that’s how you plan on going to breakfast, it’ll probably end up being free.”

He breathes out a laugh. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure when you’d be awake,” he replies, glancing down at his own torso for a moment before his gaze is back on hers, his thumb pointed over his shoulder. “The shower in my bathroom still needs to be looked at, so I just keep using this one.”

“No need to apologize.” Her smile widens, just a little. “This is your place, after all.”

He presses his lips together, eyes glinting like he knows that she’s teasing—like he knows what she really means—and, since he doesn’t seem the least bit self-conscious, she lets her gaze fall back onto his chest. Now that she’s really looking, though, she can see them: thin, jagged lines scattered across his chest, all of them almost entirely faded into his complexion. But they’re there, and there are a few dozen of them, and Natasha is willing to bet that she’d find a few dozen more on his back if she asked him to turn.

Scars. He’s covered in scars.

“Steve,” she exhales, glancing up into his eyes, the amusement and teasing faded entirely from his face as he simply peers down at her. She reaches up, touching her fingertips to a particularly harsh line curling under his ribcage, and she feels rather than hears the way he takes a deep breath.

“I told you I was a scrawny kid,” he reminds gently, pulling the towel out from around his neck, revealing a few more slivers there, too. “Scrawny is easy to kick around.”

“This isn’t kicking around,” she argues, her voice barely above a whisper. “Did either of your parents know?”

She already has an idea of what the answer will be, so no, she’s not surprised when Steve shakes his head. “Mom always had a lot on her plate and I didn’t want to add another thing for her to worry about. By the time I met Dad, I only had a few months left until graduation.” He gives a small shrug. “It didn’t seem worth mentioning by then.”

Natasha’s chest tightens. “It could be decades from now and it would still be worth it to Joseph.”

“It wasn’t worth it to me, Nat.” He reaches up, covering her hand with his where it’s still pressed against his chest. “Dad would’ve done worse to them in return.”

She feels a little bit like she can’t breathe, and her voice comes out quiet and tight as she asks, “You don’t think they deserve it?”

Steve’s mouth hitches in a smirk, something dark flickering in his eyes—and, in that fleeting moment, he looks so much like his father that Natasha nearly shivers.

“I think they deserved worse than what my dad would’ve done with them,” he admits quietly, curling his fingers around hers in a gentle, almost comforting sort of squeeze. “But I’d made a promise to myself to fight my own battles, always. It just so happened that by the time I was capable of truly fighting back, I hadn’t seen them for a while. I wasn’t going to waste energy on seeking them out, but if we crossed paths again, I’d make sure that they couldn’t kick anyone else around. That time just hasn’t come yet.”

Yet.

His tone is casual, almost nonchalant, but she can hear the gravity of his threat in that one word.

And, not for the first time, Natasha thinks that maybe Steve Rogers is a lot more adept at this life than he realizes.

... ...

Steve honestly didn’t know what he anticipated when he and Natasha first got to the restaurant. There were a few dozen reasons for this to be a tense breakfast, or at least an awkward one, but he also didn’t think it would come to that. If any of them genuinely felt uncomfortable, they just wouldn’t have come.

But at this point, none of them are exactly on opposite sides, even if that’s still the case on paper. Bucky and Sam have been working their asses off to figure out who’d been behind the drive-by, and whether that’s because it’s their job as detectives or that’s because of their loyalty to Steve doesn’t really matter. They’re doing what they can to look out for Wanda, and Bucky has been trading off with Pietro and Clint to watch over her, which is more than enough of a reason for Pietro to give them the benefit of the doubt.

So, no, maybe Steve hadn’t expected all of them to argue the entire time.

But he hadn’t expected everyone to get along so damn well, either.

“Hardly even recognized him,” Bucky says through a laugh as he gestures a hand at where Steve is sitting across the table from him. Steve chuckles as he shakes his head. “He leaves for college and comes back, what? Almost a whole foot taller? With over a hundred extra pounds of pure muscle?”

“You know, I still thought maybe Dad had those photos of you when you were younger mixed up with some other poor sap.” Pietro grins, reaching behind Wanda to smack a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I didn’t realize student research projects allowed volunteers to be genetically modified,” he jokes, and Steve barks out a laugh, giving Pietro a half-hearted shove. Between them, Wanda shoots them both a warning look, though the way she giggles into her mimosa a moment later tells them she’s not actually pissed.

“I thought for damn sure I’d hear about him getting into more fights now that he could do some real damage,” Bucky adds. “Of course, only Steve would decide to stay out of trouble after he was able to throw a decent punch.”

Wanda’s eyes widen as she whirls her gaze onto her brother. “You got into fights?”

“Couldn’t keep the little punk out of them,” Bucky answers for Steve. “Granted, he never started any, and he never threw the first hit. But Steve wasn’t about to let the fact that he was less than a hundred pounds and sent himself into an asthma attack half the time stop him from fighting back.”

His tone is proud more than anything else, even though Steve can hear the hint of exasperation. Steve can’t exactly blame the guy. It seemed like Bucky was always jumping in to save his ass, though the guy hardly minded. If anything, he probably enjoyed putting those kids in their place. He just preferred Steve not to take the brunt of it first.

“I don’t like bullies,” Steve says simply with a shrug, glancing at Natasha beside him. She gives him an almost carefree sort of smile, but her eyes flash in the same way they did just an hour ago, as she traced over his scars with her fingertip—somehow burning bright and ice cold at the same time. He can almost see the calculation in her gaze, as if she plans on hunting down each and every asshole to lay a hand on Steve (he doesn’t doubt she has the means to, either) but he can also see something else. Pride, maybe. Back at his place, it’d almost look like there was awe in her eyes when he’d explained why he hadn’t sought out any sort of revenge against anyone that ever gave him a scar.

Seeing that praise in her eyes had felt damn good, but feeling her gentle, feather-light touch on his skin had felt even better.

Now’s not exactly the time to relive the memory, though. Not with his siblings and his best friends at the table.

She takes a sip of her mimosa as she holds his stare, that dangerous flash in her eyes shifting into amusement as she hides her smirk behind the rim of her glass.

He nudges her knee with his under the table, returning her smirk, but a groan from Pietro interrupts them, drawing their gaze onto his scowling face. “Speaking of bullies,” he mutters, and Steve follows his brother’s gaze across the street, feeling his body tense as he realizes who’s caught his brother’s attention.

Ivan.

Steve clenches his jaw. He’d heard of Ivan before they’d met, of course. Clint never had a single decent thing to say about him and Anton, and considering how mellow the guy usually is, that’d been one hell of an insight that just talking about those two seemed to piss Clint off. Evidently, that still hadn’t been a clear enough picture of them.

He couldn’t have cared less that Anton and Ivan clearly had it out for him and blatantly tried to provoke him into a fight the entire time he’d been with the Starks at Howard’s. What he did care about, though, is the way they eyed Natasha while also completely dismissing the danger she would’ve been in had she been at the club when it’d been hit. Clint had told Steve that Howard put up with them out of some sort of loyalty; Anton had been a key player in getting Stark Industries off of the ground, after all. But none of the Starks had ever liked him (apparently, half of the Family still doesn’t) and Steve had only been in their presence for five minutes before deciding he shared that sentiment.

“He seems like the kind of guy you’d want to hit for no real reason,” Sam comments.

“He is,” Wanda chimes in, turning away from Ivan and wrinkling her nose at her mimosa. “He may not even breathe in your direction, but if you threw the punch first, you’d still have plenty of reasons to justify it.”

“That bad?” Bucky’s voice is gruff. “Kind of sounds like you might be speaking from experience.” His eyes flit back to Ivan across the street, jaw ticking, and Steve is willing to bet his best friend is genuinely contemplating if it could be justified to punch the guy without being provoked.

But when Wanda huffs out a breath, his gaze shifts back to her, softening. “No, thankfully not,” she reassures. “But it’s hard not to know his business with the way he acts.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Bucky mutters into his coffee with a shake of his head. “Ivan’s got more hard evidence against him than anyone else in New York.”

“He’s sloppy and reckless,” Natasha agrees. “He doesn’t give a damn about casualties, and he sure as hell doesn’t give a damn about leaving his mark, either.” She rolls her eyes. “He likes notoriety for his ego, and he loves that every cop in the city knows his face.”

“Isn’t that a thing, though?” Sam wonders. “A way of sending a message?”

“Our messages are far more discreet,” Natasha tells him. “If you don’t know how to cover your own ass, you sure as hell shouldn’t be threatening someone else’s.”

Sam’s lips twitch in a grin. “Sounds fair.”

“You also shouldn’t be putting anyone else’s ass on the line just for the hell of it,” Pietro adds, almost scowling. “He used to just be dick and a mild headache, but now he’s getting stupid and has the rest of us putting out all of his damn fires. I don’t know why the hell he’s still in the picture at all,” he adds to Natasha, arching an eyebrow.

“Trust me, neither do I,” she replies, and then tips her head back, draining the last of her mimosa. “He’s got a reputation.”

“Don’t you all?” Sam’s tone is more joking than condescending, if a little curious.

“Yes,” Wanda replies with a bit of a giggle. “It’s different, though.”

Bucky’s smile widens as Sam chuckles in amusement, neither of them arguing with her claim, and it makes something warm tug at Steve’s chest.

Just a few weeks ago, Steve had almost used those very words as he struggled to explain to his best friends why he couldn’t just use his new role in the Family to turn them in. They’re still criminals, after all, and Steve had been convinced that he would’ve done exactly that if it wouldn’t have meant putting his brother and sister on the line as well. Now? He knows he couldn’t do it so easily. Honestly, he couldn’t do it at all, because he’s not just Family in name and not just in their eyes. He’s Family in his own eyes, too.

He doesn’t want to walk away from them.

He doesn’t want to walk away from Bucky and Sam, either, but he isn’t going to pretend it’s that simple for them. For right now, though, he can appreciate that his siblings and his best friends finally seem to be getting along—and not just for his sake anymore, but because they want to.

... ...

“You’d be surprised how many ‘Sarah Rogers’ are in New York,” Maria says, pulling out a stapled stack of papers from her bag and tossing it onto the counter. Natasha glances at the photo of the woman on the top page (a brunette, though, not a blonde) before passing over one of the martinis she’d poured, and Maria takes it from her by the stem of the glass. “But only five of them showed any activity in Manhattan around the time you would’ve seen her at the coffeehouse. Of those five,” she goes on, sipping her cocktail as she flips to the page she wants, pointing her finger at the picture, “this one is the only one to match the barista’s description.” Maria arches an eyebrow. “Look familiar?”

Natasha hums, taking a moment to study the young woman, with her long, golden hair and hazel eyes.

“Vaguely,” she admits, which doesn’t really mean much. Maria already knows Natasha hadn’t gotten a good look at the woman’s face that morning in the coffeehouse with Wanda, and considering how many faces the employees there must see every hour, asking the barista for a description two days after can only be so reliable.

“She flew into town a few weeks ago but never checked in anywhere,” Maria informs, but something in her tone catches Natasha’s attention.

“And?” she prompts.

Maria smirks, her eyes glinting. “And that purchase at the coffeehouse is the only purchase ever made on her card, other than her one-way plane ticket from London.”

Natasha can’t quite help the way her eyebrows lift in surprise. Well. That’s definitely unusual.

She knows Maria has been digging deeper into this woman, and Maria doesn’t wait for her to ask before she continues with, “So far I’ve only caught a few security camera sightings of her around Manhattan and Brooklyn. She’s been alone every time and she’s damn easy to lose track of.”

“Staying somewhere residential, or at least somewhere that doesn’t keep a digital record,” Natasha adds. “And only paying in cash, except for the coffeehouse.”

“Except the coffeehouse,” Maria echoes, arching an eyebrow. “I find it hard to believe she can get away with almost an entire month of never using her credit card and yet, she charges eight dollars for a latte and a croissant? She didn’t even pull it out to pay for her rental car.”

“She’s using a rental car?”

Maria nods. “I saw her getting into a car from a security camera and the license plate is registered with a car service, but her paperwork didn’t disclose any payment.”

Natasha feels something odd tug at her chest as she stares back at Maria. “A black compact car?” Natasha asks after a moment.

Maria pulls back a little, blinking. “How did you know that?”

Natasha exhales a sigh, taking a gulp of her martini before answering with, “Because there’s been a black compact parking across the street for the last three weeks that keeps catching my attention. Any chance you happened to see one on your way in?”

“Most likely, but I’ll have a look at the security feeds later to compare plates.” Maria tilts her head. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“It seemed a little paranoid, even for me,” Natasha admits with a shake of her head. “Plus, my family has been on edge even before what happened at the club that I didn’t want to give them another reason to act weird.” She furrows her eyebrows, thinking back to when she’d had dinner with Peter, and when she’d had dinner with Tony. She thinks about how her parents seemed to be bothered by something more often than not recently, and somehow, all of it feels less and less like some kind of a coincidence.

Maria nods, and Natasha can practically see it in her eyes as her best friend tries to find any kind of immediate connection.

Before either of them can say anything more, however, Natasha’s phone chimes with a text and she flips it over on the counter, her body pausing as she sees that the message is from an unknown number. Maria leans forward to look at the screen, too, and Natasha sets her martini down as she swipes to open the text.

... ...

Steve can hear her laughter above all of the excitement and chatter already filling the restaurant where Clint and Laura are hosting Baby Nathaniel’s first birthday—and, not for the first time since arriving, his gaze drifts across the room to seek her out. They’ve only had a chance to talk a few minutes here and there, but considering it’s usually one of the kids that ends up pulling her away from him, he can’t complain. It’s easy to see that she’s the favorite, although Peter and Pietro seem to be fairly close in second place.

“Auntie Nat has always been the one the kids adore the most,” Wanda chimes as she floats up to his side, offering him a limoncello and rum cocktail. “Although I admit, it’s still a little strange to see each time,” she adds, laughing as Morgan Stark suddenly pops up from under one of the tables in an attempt to surprise Natasha.

Steve laughs, too. He gets what she means. It’s a little odd to see Natasha being playful, almost silly, when she’s almost always elegant and composed, or coy and tempting.

But he also knows that she likes to tease and she certainly loves her jokes—the cheesier and nerdier, the better—so maybe this side of her isn’t actually odd at all.

“While we’re on the subject of strange sights,” Wanda adds, her voice lilting in amusement, and Steve finds her eyes twinkling brightly when he turns to look at her with one eyebrow arched. “I noticed Nat was wearing the same clothes at breakfast as she wore the day before, when we bumped into each other.”

He chuckles. He’s been wondering when this would come up.

His sister has probably wanted to ask him right after they dropped Natasha off at her apartment after breakfast, but then he’d taken Wanda and Pietro back to his place to take a look through the box themselves, so they ended up having other things to discuss. As he’d guessed, neither of them knew the man and the woman in that photograph with their father and Melina, and they also hadn’t had any idea that their father knew Melina from before he met Howard, let alone before Edward and Melina were married.

The silver lining had been that neither of his siblings seemed pissed off by this new revelation. They may have been a little upset, but he’d anticipated that.

It might have made sense that their father wouldn’t have had the chance to tell Steve about this, but Wanda and Pietro lived with Joseph their whole lives. Hell, they’d practically grown up with the Starks. Melina could’ve told them herself, or any of the Starks, for that matter.

Which makes it more likely than not that the Starks don’t know of it, either. Or, if they do, there’s a reason why everyone’s keeping quiet.

“I didn’t want her driving home after we’d been drinking,” Steve tells his sister, trying in vain to keep a straight face with Wanda practically beaming at him, “and I didn’t want her getting a cab, either. She borrowed your pajamas, by the way,” he adds. Wanda arches an eyebrow, giving him an expectant look. “She also slept in your bed.”

She pouts playfully, nudging his shoulder. “That’s not what I wanted to hear.”

“Wanda,” he laughs.

“You two are really good together,” she insists. “You’ve been spending so much time together, too. I thought you might’ve already…”

Steve rubs his lips together, glancing away with a shake of his head. Yeah, he doesn’t really need his sister finishing that sentence. He gets that she’s not a little girl, but he still doesn’t really want to hear that his sister assumed he and Natasha have hooked up already.

“We both work long days, almost every day,” he points out. “We only really meet for dinner, and honestly, we’re both tired as hell most of the time.”

It’s the truth, but only really half of it. Yes, he and Natasha see each other almost every day, and it hadn’t taken long for them dining out to transition into them ordering in (mostly at her place, because he’d rather be the one to drive home afterward than her). They tend to meet up late, and Steve is typically tired by the time they get around to eating, but that wouldn’t have been enough for him to say no if she asked him to stay the night. In fact, he tends to feel wide awake after they’ve spent the night talking.

He would be lying if he said he’s never thought of them being more. Honestly, he thinks he’s entertained the thought from the moment they met.

But he knew the reason she’d gone out of her way to see him at first had been because Howard asked her to, and after they’d developed a genuine friendship, he still hesitated because he knew she still felt apprehensive toward his friendship with Sam and Bucky.

But now, he can’t explain exactly why, but things feel different. Now it feels like they’re ready for more.

“But you do like her, don’t you?” Wanda asks, and he can tell that it isn’t really a question. She just wants him to admit it.

Steve feels his lips tugging into a smile as he takes a sip of his cocktail. Across the room, Natasha has managed to steal Baby Nathaniel away once more, holding him with their faces close together as her gaze drifts across the room. Her eyes catch Steve’s, her smile widening as it’s half-hidden behind Nathaniel, and she waves.

“Yeah,” Steve answers, feeling his own smile widen. “Yeah, I do.”

Wanda lets out a giggle, wrapping an arm around his waist to squeeze him into a hug, and Steve chuckles as he leans down to brush a kiss atop her head. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks about how, just a few months ago, he wouldn’t have had a conversation like this with his sister. Not because she wouldn’t have cared, but because, as often as they tried to visit each other, their lives wouldn’t have been intertwined enough to for them to talk like this. Not specifically, anyway, and certainly not enough for her to have a preference on who he might be interested in. Hell, she probably wouldn’t have known who else was in his life, other than Sam and Bucky, and he wouldn’t have known the same for her or Pietro, either. He’d always felt he was close with Pietro and Wanda before, as much as the three of the could be, considering their circumstances.

But he hadn’t realized just how much closer they could be if he could see them every day like he does now. If their lives were more involved on every facet.

And honestly, other than Sam and Bucky, Steve hadn’t had any particularly meaningful connections in his old life. He’d had friends, but none he allowed himself to get genuinely attached to. Who his father was had always lingered, and if push came to shove, Steve didn’t want to risk anyone getting tangled up in something they had no idea about if someone found out who he was and who his father was—and someone would’ve found out, even if his hand hadn’t been forced the day that his father went missing.

He’d gotten lucky that his two best friends had both ended up cops and put the dots together on their own, because Steve really wouldn’t have known how to tell them. He hates that he put them in a tough spot by choosing to stay friends, but, at the very least, he knows that they’re more equipped to handle themselves.

And now, he has the luxury of becoming attached. After a lifetime of only having his parents and Wanda and Pietro, and Bucky and Sam, now he has the whole Family.

And he has Natasha.

... ...

With the club only barely starting repairs, Natasha brought everything she needed from the office back to her apartment, though truthfully, there’s not much for her to work on. Her father is the one directly speaking to the contractors to get the front of the club fixed, and since they won’t be open until that’s done, she only really needs to check in with management. She supposes this means she could drop in on either of her parents to give them a hand, maybe spend a few hours at Stark Industries with her uncle or help May at the diner. Natasha plans to soon, because she doesn’t really get to see May all that much, and because Peter always helps out, too, so they can hang out more.

But between looking into “Sarah Rogers” and trying to figure out why the hell her mother and Joseph Rogers were in that photograph together, she’s still got quite enough to keep busy. She’ll likely need to start making the rounds soon, though, before her family starts asking what she’s up to.

Unless you happen to be Tony, who decides to invite himself over unannounced to find out.

She gets a text from her cousin as she’s stepping out of the shower, asking what she wants for breakfast, which she knows is really just him giving her a head’s up that he’s on his way over. The last few days of digging haven’t turned up anything, so she figures she can take a break to tag along with whatever Tony has planned.

But when she sees Peter walk in through her door after Tony, she realizes that this is more than just her cousin being nosy and wanting to poke into her business.

Peter has a terrible poker face, and right away, she knows something’s wrong. “What happened?” she asks, reaching over to push aside some of the longer chunks of his hair flopping into his eyes. “Why aren’t you in school?”

He hesitates, eyes flitting over Natasha as if worrying if something happened to her, before reaching into his pocket as he says, “I got something this morning.” He pulls out his phone, swiping at the screen a few times, and then flips it around to show her the screen to show her a photo of herself leaving her apartment. It’s obvious it’s taken at a distance, just across the street, though considering that cameras on phones can get a decent zoom quality, she can’t say for sure how far away the person had truly been.

Peter swipes for her before she can respond, pulling up another photo of her, taken through the front window of the club before someone had put a car through it.

Natasha blinks down at the photo for a moment before glancing up, eyes flitting from Peter and Tony, and she watches the realization flash across both of their faces almost in the exact same second as they stare back at her.

“You’ve gotten one, too, haven’t you?” Tony asks, holding up another photo of her on his own phone.

Peter’s expression pinches even tighter with worry, if possible. “Nat.”

“I did, just the other day,” she admits, turning to walk into the kitchen, knowing that they’ll follow. “Maria was here when I got it, so she knows, too.”

“The other day? What the hell, Nat?” Tony asks, setting the bakery box and tray with their coffees down on the island counter as Natasha drops onto one of the barstools. Peter immediately hops onto the one beside hers, spinning to face her. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Tony half-demands. Natasha doesn’t quite flinch at his tone, but she feels her surprise flit across her face before she can catch herself, and at this, Tony’s frustration seems to ebb almost entirely as he drops onto the other stool beside her. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she replies, and he nods once because he knows she’s being sincere. She knows he’s just worried and it makes him come off impatient.

On her other side, Peter judges his knee against hers. “When did you get your text?”

Natasha exhales, tugging the bakery box closer and popping the lid open as she replies, “The same day as Nathaniel’s party.”

“Is that why you haven’t told anyone yet?” Peter asks, although his voice sounds a little off, like he knows that isn’t quite right.

Natasha shakes her head, glancing from him to Tony. It’s not that she doesn’t trust them to keep quiet if she asks, but also, she doesn’t want them to have to keep a secret from everyone else. Still, now that they’re obviously involved to some extent, she doesn’t really have a choice. She also thinks that they’re likely the only two out of the family to get these photos so far, because everyone else would’ve come to her the moment they a text themselves, just as Tony and Peter did; clearly, since Peter is skipping school.

“You can’t tell the family,” she insists. “You can’t tell anyone, other than Steve and Maria. At this point, I suspect Wanda and Pietro might know, too.”

Confusion tugs at Tony’s expression. “They all got photos?”

“No. Or, if they did, they haven’t had the chance to tell me. But I’ve got more than just this going on,” Natasha admits, waving a hand at where Peter’s phone is on the counter, his screen still pulled up to the photo of her, “and I’ll admit that, at this point, I don’t know what the hell to feel about all of it.”

“Wow,” Peter says quietly, studying her face. “This is really bothering you, isn’t it?” His forehead creases. “And you’re sure you want to keep it from everyone else?”

“For now, it’s probably for the best,” she admits, her lips twitching in a wry smile. “Our family is pretty good at keeping secrets, anyway.”

... ...

Steve isn’t sure whether it’s reckless or just stupid for him to have Sam and Bucky here, but they were already near the brewery when they called to say they had news to share, and Steve figured that they’d at least have some semblance of privacy here in his office. People would talk—and have been talking—every time Steve meets up with either of them no matter what, and honestly, it doesn’t feel so much like a threat anymore. He’s knows that both Howard and Nick would back him up with little hesitation, and even if Odin hasn’t entirely warmed up to Steve yet, he also wouldn’t jeopardize his standings with the other two Families simply because his daughter wants to cause chaos.

Clint didn’t even bat an eye when Steve told him that Sam and Bucky were coming, and if Steve had been looking for approval, that would’ve been all he needed.

“Anonymous tips?”

Steve glances at where Clint is sitting on the corner of the desk, arching an eyebrow, before turning back to Bucky and Sam sitting in the chairs placed across his desk. “There’s no way they were all called in,” Clint argues, though his tone gives away the fact that at least part of him is genuinely considering this.

“I didn’t think so, either, but we’ve got all the call records to back it up,” Sam insists with a shake of his head. “Every damn one of those busts were tipped off, and most calls came in an hour beforehand, sometimes half an hour, but it still would’ve given the precincts a pretty generous chance to prep and then haul ass to each of the sites.”

“Well, shit,” Clint says on an exhale, swiping a hand over his face. “Now we know why they felt too damn consistent to be a coincidence.”

“Someone clearly had it out for you,” Bucky tells Steve.

Steve feels his lips twitch into a wry smile, but only for a moment, because then he’s glancing at Clint again. “It hasn’t just been our shipments, though,” he points out as he taps his pen to the desk for the sake of something to do. “Everyone’s been taking hits. Sabotaging me would make sense, maybe even cutting a few losses themselves to hide their own tracks. But all those shipments lost, all across the board?” Steve shakes his head. “It’d be a pretty damn risky plan, because now everyone in the Family is pissed.”

Clint nods, even as he adds, “Doesn’t mean it’s unfathomable. Someone just might be that reckless.”

“Or hold that big of a grudge,” Bucky chimes in.

Clint nods again, turning to Steve. “Could be Ivan. He sure as shit doesn’t think things through before acting. But then again, it’d be too damn obvious of an answer.”

“Yeah, but it’s still something worth looking into,” Steve points out. “And if anyone would be willing to piss off the whole Family for their own agenda, it’d be him. He’s barely loyal to his own father, let alone to Howard or anyone else. I doubt he’s pulling this off alone, though,” he adds, and all three men nod at this. Steve exhales sharply, shaking his head again. “What about the drive-by?” he asks, catching the way something dark flickers in Bucky’s eyes as he sits up a little straighter. “Anything new come up there?”

He knows they would’ve mentioned it themselves if anything substantial had turned up, but they don’t seem surprised that he’s asked.

“They got a match on the plate, which pretty much confirms what we knew about it being an Asgard car,” Sam answers. “No one we’ve interviewed from the scene so far has had any leads worth following, or any reason someone would be after them, specifically.”

“Other than Wanda,” Clint guesses.

Bucky nods, glancing from him to Steve. “Did Wanda have a reason for being there at that time, something that could’ve been planned? I know we asked already—”

“No, I know.” Steve offers a wry smile. “She won’t mind if you need to question her again, though.”

But Bucky shakes his head with an exhale. “She and I have already combed over the details of everything she could remember. She was there getting dinner, but it was something she’d done on an impulse because she’d been shopping nearby.” Something flickers in his eyes before he adds, “I asked if she could’ve been followed. If she had even a damn second of paranoia at all that day, or any day before, that maybe someone had been watching her. She said she didn’t, but as soon as I thought about it—”

Steve feels his chest tighten. Shit. As soon as Bucky had said the words, they felt pretty fucking real, and it felt like a damn good hunch.

“Fuck,” Clint mutters. “Why the hell hadn’t we thought of that?”

Sam winces, looking annoyed with himself. It’s true that they’d assumed Wanda had been the target, but they’d also just assumed someone knew she’d be there. She goes shopping in that area often enough that it would’ve made sense, but it was never anything she planned ahead of time, so how the hell could someone had anticipated it?

If someone had been following her, though, they wouldn’t have needed to know her schedule.

They would’ve just needed an opportunity.

#romanogers #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #chanty writes #mafia 'verse

[mantra4ia]

My Top/Bottom “10″ Moments of Avengers: Endgame [Spoilers Ahead]

In no particular rank…

The Good and the Legendary Moments (I had a hard time limiting it to 10, clearly there are more)

Cap’s “don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone” and Bucky’s reprise “How can I? You’e taking all the stupid with you…I’m gonna miss you.” He knows his friend well enough through all the years that he understands and accepts (and in that second, we do too) that Cap’s not coming back the fast way, that he’s chosen the slow path to the end of the line.

Sam inheriting the Shield from Rogers with Bucky’s blessing, “go to him.” Because Bucky knows that, even though they are the best of friends and fellow supersoldiers, Sam has kept an eye on Steve while Bucky was MIA, and that puts him in a reasonable position to inherit the mantle.

Post-snap “5 years later” we see Steve taking up Sam’s role as a group counselor, our first hint at the transition of roles later to come, capped off with Sam emerging from the portal with a timely “on your left.”

Hawkeye’s opening: the very real, personal, character driven moment in which Clint is with his family, and shortly thereafter the snap is dragged out of retirement kicking and screaming.

Tony’s and Stark’s intellectual interactions which began as animosity and conlcuded as a kind of mutual admiration “is this the one we win? / if I tell you, it won’t happen (almost apologetically because Strange knows what is about to happen and is letting it go forward anyway),” culminating with “I am Iron Man” and thunderous applause.

EVERYTHING having to do with Tony’s daughter Morgan. From her interaction with Jon Favreau aka Happy about cheeseburgers, to finding her dad’s suit mask, to Stark calculating time-travel while doing the dishes, then swearing, then swearing Morgan to secrecy, and most heartrendingly “I love you 3000.” Tony’s father-daughter relationship is one of those key character pieces that elevates this whole film from a Marvel capstone to a best picture.

Steve’s moment watching Peggy even though he never interacts with her, in 70s at the Pymm/Stark research facility. It’s the most poignant foreshadow of his destination to come. He doesn’t make that mistake twice.

Natasha’s character development. Five years later, even as she falls apart spinning her wheels about deep sea tectonic quakes, and she still cuts her peanut butter sandwich corner to corner as if daring “Nick” Fury to unsnap himself and say “no, let me show you how it’s done.” Two great insights into the depth of their familial relationship courtesy of the Captain Marvel film. Also a shout-out Steve’s subsequent offer to cook Nat dinner. Steve and Nat always carry great character moments, all the way back to CA:WS when she was setting him up on dates.

The small moments of battlefield humor that were just enough not to break the moment: Steve calling out to Parker “Hey Queens,” Peter engaging the Spidey suit kill mode and then him curled up in the fetal position, Wong’s deadpan “were you expecting more?” Jesus, just give Wong an entire act in the next Doctor Strange movie and I will be happy. I adore him. PS: what a pleasant surprise the way the Russos put Tilda Swinton in as Sorcerer Supreme opposite Banner. That was just the right character for the exposition on the perils of altered reality.

The overarching theme of premonitions as it deals with crossing through the quantum realm into the past, and the ensuing parallels from what we’ve already seen in the Marvel past. Specifically the ‘premonitions’ that past-Nebula had when future Nebula past through time and how they could access each others memories, which puts the interesting and poetic possibility that Tony’s dreams/visions this whole time (ex: Infinity War’s “[Pepper] we had a kid, it was so real”) were never a direct result of Thanos, but rather his travel through time. The Time Travel element also relates to parallels where Howard Stark meets “Howard Potts” and the potshots at his questionable beard. Tony meets Stark Sr. at the exact right moment when Maria is expecting and they relate to the perils and joys of fatherhood: “there’s no manual for this/ there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for this kid / you did your best”, which sets up Howard’s video journal to Tony and Tony’s post-battle video journal to Morgan as even more powerful together, in the context of each other, then when we saw the original Iron Man films. Endgame brings new depth / meaning to those historic moments.

Honorable mention to Thor who, after the “I aimed for the head” reprise, developed a sense of crippling anxiety and notable weight gain within his depressive reclusiveness, and still managed to suit up and be a hero anyway. While I didn’t necessarily like the fact that Thor dealt with his PTSD through hardcore gaming, I like the direction that the Russo’s steered him after subsequently calling him an “Angel Pirate” in Infinity War. The message, by contrast, that you don’t have to look a certain way, or step into the role that everyone expects of you (King of Asgard), or even have your shit together to be heroic - you just have to step your foot out of the door and face the day - is damn brilliant.

Honorable mention #2: Rocket’s speech to Thor “you’re not the only person to have ever lost someone.” Great BroTP, with tha dash of crossover Whovian.

Honorable trifecta: Steve Rogers wielding the Mjolnir and FINALLY. FIN-A-LLY “Avengers: Assemble!” What great standing ovation moments.

OVERALL: What this film misses in building the tension (it cycles down before it revs up), it makes up for by setting up the small, poignant character moments that show off the emotional talent of these actors in a way that I’ve never seen with this impact before: Infinity War, Black Panther, and Civil War being the runners up.

The Disappointing:

The “Smart Hulk” / Ant Man “little man” gag didn’t work for me. The autographs, the tacos, the test time travel run. It got stale very quickly.

Speaking of Ant Man, by contrast to Tony and Morgan, Scott Lang’s reunion with his daughter after 5 years didn’t hit the emotional note it was meant to. It make sense how they use Lang as perspective of “what’s going on / fish out of water” to drive the aftermath of the snap home and to introduce quantum science. But out of all the characters, I was probably least invested in him.

The female-led gauntlet scrimmage in the final act across the battlefield felt like more of a “set piece” rather than really earned emotion by comparison to Infinity War’s female tag team (Okoye, Nat, and Wanda) against Proxima, where Nat defends Wanda and says “she’s not alone.”

I didn’t like the script choice of killing the complex, Infinity War version of Thanos so quickly (while it was unexpected and paid off big time for a hot second when Thor’s said “I aimed for the head”) and taking on Past-Thanos. For me, it undermined and underdeveloped the villain. I would have wanted a deeper understanding of “The Garden” and flashbacks to Titan or young Gamora, or even more interaction between him and his daughter present-Nebula, before the war-torn Thanos gets the 1-2 chop, but I understand the choice given time constraints of a three hour film.

Hawkeye’s ronin montage: his revenge against criminals in the post-snap era, “why are you here, why did you get to survive and my family didn’t?” could have had the ability to be powerful, especially considering that Natasha has been keeping tabs on him and didn’t intervene until critical mass. But instead, I feel like it was mishandled, too thematic, it takes your out of the moment like a set piece.I loved Natasha’s bond with Clint up to and after the ronin sequence, it took two characters that I was on the fence with and got me emotionally invested in them as a team, I just hated the montage itself.

No Vision? What?! Hardly even a mention in this film except for Wanda’s wrath when she is resurrected and brings that house down on Thanos, but even then Thanos essentially said “who the heck are you and what did I do to make you mad?” completely taking the steam out of Vision’s fall. Hopefully Phase 4 addresses / fixes that.

No Loki resurrection? At the very least, no past-Loki dialogue?! Come on. I thought for a second, when Loki escaped STRIKE custody in the alternate timeline with the tessaract, that maybe the team had created a and untrimmed time branch (I still think they did, because if Rogers returned the Stone to 1970, it doesn’t fix the later botched attempt to steal it, so maybe there’s a branch reality where Loki is alive with witty trickster lines and I’ll cling to it). Then I was fooled again when Mjolnir went flying through the air I thought perhaps that Loki Odinson had returned and was worthy to wield it through his selfless sacrifice (I was only momentarily disappointed / awed to see it was Cap instead). Again, Phase 4, give me some help here!

The fact that Black Widow got no proper funeral sendoff, concluding Natasha’s long history of under-use throughout the entire Infinity Saga. Don’t get me wrong: I understand her soul stone sacrifice, and in a way I understand the people who say, “don’t take that away from her, it’s powerful.” It is. She comes from a manipulative, violent background that made her who she is and good at what she does. Throughout her history, she never had family, which she admits: “Red Skull knew my father’s name, that’s more than I ever did.” So it makes the choice more poignant that she built a family around herself and did whatever it took to keep them safe and united. That said, I wasn’t (until this film) necessarily invested in Black Widow like I am the other Avengers characters, but she’s had some great moments with Clint (I still want to see the Budapest mission, and the Iran extraction that Bucky compromised) and Rogers (Endgame: I’ve been telling everyone to move on, but not us. Winter Soldier: their getaway from Hydra-infested SHIELD) and Fury. Which is why I HATE that her only tribute was a bunch of men standing around lamenting over her (while simultaneously being oblivious to the Nebula swap, seemingly incapable of intelligent script development by McFeely and Markus around those two female characters). It would have at least been fitting if they had more regrets “why didn’t we know her better, we were supposed to be her family”, “why didn’t we appreciate her while we could” or her name added to an altered  “fallen” monument. There was no payoff to her chemistry with Bruce, and no final closure with un-dusted Fury to pay his respects, which would have been a small but vastly fitting gesture. WHAT A WASTE. 

Captain Marvel’s use in the film as essentially a ballistic, ship-destroying missile and her anticlimactic Thanos battle. Why use her at all in this film if it’s going to be as a plot device? She could have had potential opposite Thor, and I’ll argue that she should have been Banner’s tag-team person to bring him out of new-Asgard exile. But the Russos and writing team missed that opportunity as well. Danvers’ appearance felt hollow.

The pacing / cycle down of tension post-opening sequence was off-putting to me. I was revved up to level 10 ready to go to 11, but had to dial back down by half (ex: even though I love the montage of Tony and Nebula playing table football, it crawls by comparison to the expectations set right after Infinity War). The tonal shifts between the three acts of Endgame made me feel like I was watching two good films as opposed to the one great, legendary film I was expecting. Perhaps I came in to Endgame too pumped and needed to be more in the moment, because this displaced feeling was very strong on initial viewing, but faded the second time I saw the film.

Honorable mentions: Parts of the alternate reality “time travel” sequence really bothered me: ie the battle of New York (from A1). Hulk smash didn’t work for me, though Hulk “take the stairs” and Stark’s minor cardiac dysrhythmia corrected by Thor’s hammer were funny. Also Cap’s “I found Loki” was priceless. So I guess you have to absorb the disagreeable montages of time alterations to enjoy the good, like Banner and the Sorcerer Supreme, Howard and “Howard.”

Honorable mention #2: This movie did a hell of a job at all the couple / BroTP splitting, WTH! Steve and Sharon never stood a chance, Wanda and Vision, Banner and Natasha, Steve and Bucky, Steve and Sam, Thor and Loki, Gamora and Quill. Dammit, I hope Phase 4 at least patches up a few holes in these ships before sending in the speculated new ensemble of comics characters.

In SUMMARY: as my dislikes wane with time and my likes grow in retrospect with each saga part I rewatch, and each time I revisit A4 in theaters, I think that Avengers: Endgame, while not quite my favorite installment, will stick with me forever. What a decade! And my next great joy will be 10…15…20 years from now, when I get to meet a kid, let’s call her Morgan, who’s never seen an MCU film before and vicariously relive that first joy watching it with them. To the end of the line.

I can’t wait. 

#spoilers #avengers endgame #avengers endgame spoilers #top 10 #endgame #endgame reaction'd #infinity saga #mcu #mcu phase 4 #to the end of the line #i love you 3000 #tony stark #captain america #sam wilson #bucky barnes #black widow #hawkeye #bruce banner #a decade for the nerds #nerdlife #marvel #stan lee the legand #the russo brothers #jon favreau #kevin fiege #a standing ovation to everyone involved in these 22 glorious stories

[amethyst-lightsphere]

Stranger to most, well known to few

Summary: When a magical ritual happened, Allen Walker vanished, replaced by a strange man with red hair who resembled Allen. It was annoying as hell, but Kanda had to rectify the situation. Though, with Kanda’s renowned people skill, convincing a melodramatic scientist-slash-magician might take forever, much to his dismay.

Relationship: Kanda Yuu/Allen Walker, platonic Nea D. Campbell/past!Allen Walker

Note: This is a headcanon I have had for a long time since chapter 220. It feels very possible, at least in my head.

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Outcome

Things always had to turn up bizarre when exorcists and Noahs were involved.

Kanda couldn’t remember the last time he had to run so fast like this.

Maybe he had never had to. After all, Kanda was the type of guy who’d rather cut down all troubles that came his way than avoid them. Akuma, Noah, dead-friend-who-returned-as-a-demon. Even fellow exorcists had been stabbed. To die fighting had always been one way to live in his opinion, and it wouldn’t go away any time soon.

However, right now, a life depended on him. Allen’s life. Kanda didn’t know how the little shit had managed to wrestle the control of his body from the Fourteenth, but he had decided to spend it on going to the old mansion where Nea once lived. Upon his arrival, the Noah were there as the welcome party. The familiarity of his clansmen’s face and the place had evoked the Fourteenth, resulting in a bloody battle both within Allen and out on the open field surrounding the Campbell residence.

Since Kanda had been accompanying the beansprout, he joined in the battle. Half way through, the Noah decided to remove the presence of Allen’s supporter, namely him. A door was opened and he got dragged through by Tyki Mikk. Both ended up at somewhere a good distance from the Campbell mansion.

That got Kanda furious. More so as Tyki openly mocked and challenged him. Unlucky for him, Kanda knew better. So he ignored the provocation and tried to get back to Allen instead of engaging the Noah in combat. He didn’t come back so the beansprout got erased so easily like that.

As expected, Tyki tried to intercept Kanda. He had to trade blows with the bastard a few times while advancing towards his destination. At some point, a great explosion had occurred in the direction of the mansion. A pillar of light pierced the sky together with currents of energy flowing everywhere. Somehow it made Kanda’s blood go cold. It didn’t help that Tyki had a smirk on at that and jumped through a gate, not before throwing one last comment of “You are too late, exorcist.” Whatever the Noah did, ‘pleasant’ was definitely not the word to describe it.

Not wasting a moment, Kanda ran at his fastest speed possible. The closer he got, the denser the energy became. It also put pressure on his body. Sometimes Kanda encountered low-leveled Akuma on his way, forcing him to make quick works of them.

As he traversed, Kanda steeled himself for the worst: Nea’s full revival. The Noah may or may not their returned clansman, seeing as their relationship was complicated as fuck. In case they did, well, the Fourteenth would be well-defended. Adding in Howard Link - who by now Kanda knew aligned with Nea, it certainly would be even harder to kill the man. Nea himself was powerful, too. Outnumbered like that, Kanda would not get out of the ordeal alive. Even so, he would make sure to drag the Fourteenth with him to the afterlife for good this time.

Like that, Kanda’s resolve hardened one last time. Good timing as well, as he finally was back at the scene.

The mansion and its beautiful field were razed thoroughly. In the middle of it was the pillar of light, with its base expanded. A body was inside, barely visible by the blinding light that wrapped around him. That was Allen for sure. The Noah were surrounding the pillar, likely to make a defense line. One of them was fighting with Link.

“So you’re back, Kanda Yuu.” Kanda whipped his head to the speaker. It was Wisely, the fucker who he despised a tad more than his clansmen since the incident with Alma.

“Obviously, eye-brain.” He spat with all contempt he had for the bastard while raising his sword.

“And once again, you’re too late to stop what is in motion. How do you feel, now that you’re going to lose another important person?” That’s it. This fucker had to die, preferably by his Mugen, definitely by his Mugen, after Nea if he was the one who emerged.

“Murder.” was Kanda’s reply as he leapt at Wisely, swinging Mugen down.

“Whoa whoa! I’m not the guy to look for in a physical fight! Kindly take it to Tyki over there, please.” The Noah dodged his attack with ease while gesturing to Tyki.

With Wisely jumping out of his way creating an opening, Kanda switched to dashing to the pillar of light.

“Idiot! You let him through!” Tyki yelled and ran over to stop him. Two more joined in to help.

Things quickly devolved into a mad scramble. The Noah tried to push Kanda back while he was determined to reach Allen. One versus two was sorely pitiful on Kanda’s part as he couldn’t advance an inch. Step by step, he was forced to back away from his goal. One hard strike made him bounce back, softly colliding with another, whose aura told him that was Link.

“I want to call a truce.” Spoke Link. “We work together to get through to Walker.”

“Don’t call his name, traitor.” Kanda growled with venom in his tone. He didn’t know whether the CROW’s face had any changes as he didn’t bother to look, but with his still steady aura, likely it’s not. How professional.

“The Noah will have an advantage over both of us if he falls into their hands. I’d rather the alternative.” Kanda knew right away that the ‘us’ did not refer to him and Link. However, he had to agree that letting the Noah have their way was a big ‘no’.

“Make it worth.” And both of them split. This time, they worked in tandem, making strikes after strikes, slowly creating a path. Not that they were a great match-up, but rather they were skilled enough not to obstruct each other.

It wasn’t terrible like minutes ago, as Kanda was progressing towards Allen. In his opinion though, this was too slow.

“Wisely, can’t you read their minds or something? We need an edge here.” Tyki called.

“Impossible. It’s mostly their muscle memories at work there. Besides, just holding them is enough.”

“Are you blind, eye-brain? They’re advancing!” Tyki was not pleased with the answer.

“Don’t adopt the exorcist’s insult!” Wisely yell indignantly. “The ritual will be done any minute now.”

Of course, the fucker’s words had to come true at that exact moment with an even greater explosion than before, blowing dirt and debris everywhere. Akuma were vanquished in an instant. Kanda, Link and the Noah were swept up into the air like dry leaves.

Twirling mid-air, Kanda positioned himself for a sound landing with a barely audible ‘thud’. The same to Link. The Noah were not out of shape either, except Wisely who was hit in the head by a stray brick and dropped like a ragged doll, much to Kanda’s glee.

However, Kanda didn’t get to be delighted for long. The pillar of light shrank to human shape, then slowly faded away. Whatever ritual it was had been done. Kanda gripped Mugen tighter, readied his stance for the worst outcome. Not just him, everybody was also tense with anticipation. When the face was revealed, though…

Kanda didn’t know what to do.

The young man who emerged was not a Noah, for he had neither of the dark skin and the cross-shaped stigmata on his forehead. Not Allen either, since he had red hair and donned a pair of circle-framed glasses. But no doubt that had Allen been a few years older, the beansprout would have been his mirror image san hair.

“What the hell is this, Wisely?” Tyki seized Wisely’s collar, lifting him up from the ground and started shaking him awake.

“Huh…aah…stop it, Tyki…” the Noah moaned as he raised a hand to cover his head injury. “I’m not…responsible for it.”

Tyki was merciless with his shaking. “At least tell me why a strange guy is there instead of the Fourteenth?”

“I don’t know. Alchemy is not my forte.”

While the Noah bickered among themselves, Kanda had his eyes on the new face. He approached the man with caution since he didn’t know if he was friend or foe.

When he was a few feet from the red-haired man, he stirred. His eyes flew open, sporting brilliant silver. Scanning the view in front of him, he then curled his lips into a half-smile before speaking up for the first time.

“Well well, what do we have here?”

#yullen #kanda yuu #allen walker #I have to do this #headcanons are to be messed with #dgm #d.gray-man

[instantdeerlover]

The Best Ice Cream In NYC added to Google Docs

The Best Ice Cream In NYC

As you print out old photos from summers past and gently stroke them as if to say, “I’ll never forget you,” it’s important to remember that ice cream is still there for you. Plenty of ice cream spots around the city are open for takeout and delivery, including the best of the best.

Looking for soft serve? We have a guide for that too.

the spots  Noah Devereaux Eddie's Sweet Shop $ $ $ $ Dessert  in  Forest Hills ,  Queens $$$$ 10529 Metropolitan Ave

We only recently learned that Eddie’s Sweet Shop is the oldest ice cream parlor in New York City - but, in retrospect, this makes sense. With its chandeliers, vintage wallpaper, and pharmacy-like candy counter, this place looks as though it hasn’t changed in the past 90 years. In the 1950s, people probably came here and thought, “How quaint.” More importantly, however, this Forest Hills spot serves big scoops of dense, classic ice cream flavors, and their Banana Royal is a massive pile of ice cream topped with whipped cream and sprinkles. It’ll make you feel as if you’re in elementary school and you just won a spelling bee.

 Noah Devereaux Emack & Bolio's Ice Cream $ $ $ $ Ice Cream ,  Dessert  in  Upper East Side $$$$ 1564 1st Ave

We have a hypothesis that Emack and Bolio’s menu went through R&D with a focus group of particularly imaginative six-year-olds. This may explain the fact that you can order your ice cream in a cone covered in fruit loops and marshmallows. Our advice here is to be as outrageous as possible with your flavor and topping decisions. You’re eating ice cream, not choosing an insurance plan.

 Noah Devereaux The Original Chinatown Ice Cream Factory $ $ $ $ Ice Cream ,  Dessert  in  Chinatown $$$$ 65 Bayard St

Like all of the most respected 42-year-olds you know, the Original Chinatown Ice Cream Factory has used its years to fine tune itself. Now there are three locations (Chinatown, the Lower East Side and in Flushing), all serving flavors like Chinese egg custard, red bean, and coconut fudge. While we love green tea oreo and the black sesame that comes with specks of sesame seeds, this is the kind of place where you should try new flavors every time you visit.

 Mikey Likes It Mikey Likes It Ice Cream $ $ $ $ Ice Cream  in  East Village $$$$ 199 Avenue A

On a fundamental level, there are only two types of ice cream places. One type prioritizes base ice cream flavors, the other leans toward toppings and mix-ins (although this is, of course, a spectrum). For some reason, the latter also tends to have better names, and Mikey Likes It is a great example. Here, you can get a scoop of “Foxy Brown” with chocolate wafer cookies and a sea salt caramel swirl, or some “Pink Floyd” stuffed with strawberry and cheesecake. It’s a fun spot, and it’s perfect for when your standard ice cream place simply doesn’t have enough to offer.

 Davey's Ice Cream $ $ $ $ Ice Cream  in  East Village $$$$ 137 1st Ave

Remember that ice cream spectrum we were talking about? Davey’s in East Village is at the other end of it. They serve straightforward flavors like strawberry, pistachio, and cookies & cream, and you can get any of these things in a banana split, a milkshake, or a brownie sundae with hot fudge. The lack of gimmicky toppings and mix-ins gives this place an old-school feel, despite the fact that it isn’t especially old - although if you’d like to try something a little more fun, you can always get a slice of peanut pie blended into a milkshake.

 Alejandra Marin La Newyorkina $ $ $ $ $$$$ 240 Sullivan St

Known primarily for their paletas, La Newyorkina also serves scoops of ice cream - and if you ignore them, you need to reach inside yourself and wonder why that is. Once you’ve done this, order a scoop of horchata or Mexican chocolate ice cream, or get a sundae with caramelized banana and whipped cream. The ice cream at this Greenwich Village spot is rich and dense, and the tres leches flavor comes packed with chunks of cake that somehow stay fresh and fluffy, despite being frozen.

 Emily Schindler OddFellows Ice Cream - The Sandwich Shop $ $ $ $ Ice Cream  in  East Village $$$$ 75 E 4th St

Some people think this East Village place gets a little too fancy with its flavors. This is, of course, a misconception. Odd Fellows is exactly as fancy as it should be, and when we taste their more-complex flavors, we’re reminded of Icarus’ father, Daedalus. Whereas Icarus flew too close to the sun, Daedalus knew exactly what he was doing, and the result was impressive and majestic without being ostentatious. And that’s the perfect way to describe Odd Fellows’ salty, tangy miso cherry flavor, which is a top 10 all-time NYC ice cream. The flavors (like cornbread and vegan matcha black sesame) change daily, so check their website to see what’s available.

 Noah Devereaux Lady Moo-Moo $ $ $ $ Ice Cream  in  Bedford-Stuyvesant ,  Brooklyn $$$$ 365 Chauncey St.

Taking ice cream to-go is no new concept at Lady Moo Moo. For years now, this Bed-Stuy spot has been serving things like banana pudding ice cream and yuzu lemon sorbet from a takeout window on the corner of Chauncey Street and Howard Avenue. But if you really want to know why this place is great, focus your attention on their “Rooftop Honey” flavor. It’s pretty simple, and tastes like creamy gold.

 Ice & Vice $ $ $ $ Ice Cream  in  Lower East Side $$$$ 221 E Broadway

A self-proclaimed experimental ice cream shop, Ice & Vice makes its flavors with ingredients like chili lime plantain chips and lemon charcoal. Thankfully, this LES spot knows how to make complicated things actually taste good. Our recommendation? Go with your gut. Like most major TV networks today, this ice cream shop knows how to cater to several different niche audiences at the same time. But just in case you’re curious, the last thing we tried here was the “Opium Den,” which is full of toasted poppy seeds and lemon bread croutons.

 Sugar Hill Creamery Sugar Hill Creamery $ $ $ $ Ice Cream  in  Harlem $$$$ 184 Malcolm X Blvd

We don’t hand out awards for ice cream names, but if we did Sugar Hill Creamery’s A$AP Rocky Road would probably receive some sort of recognition. But you need to order it for the name alone. It’s stuffed with hazelnuts, marshmallows, brownies, and graham crackers, and it’s exactly what you want all over your face on a warm day in Harlem. Or, if you prefer, you can also get some peach cobbler, blueberry cheesecake, or strawberry ice cream with basil and lemon curds. Flavors change depending on the season, so check their website to see what’s available.

 Noah Devereaux Brooklyn Farmacy & Soda Fountain $ $ $ $ Ice Cream  in  Brooklyn ,  Carroll Gardens $$$$ 513 Henry St.

You don’t come to Brooklyn Farmacy for a scoop of vanilla on a sugar cone. You come to this soda fountain in Carroll Gardens for an embarrassingly large ice cream sundae with pretzel rods sticking out of its sides. And even though you’ll be eating it out of a large to-go cup instead of a glass dessert bowl this summer, the ice cream base of each sundae here will still give you a better understanding of what “velvety” really means.

 Van Leeuwen Artisan Ice Cream $ $ $ $ Dessert  in  Greenpoint $$$$ 620 Manhattan Ave

Flavors don’t get too wild at Van Leeuwen, but each one tastes like its ingredient in its truest form. Your first lick of strawberry, for instance, might taste more like strawberries than an actual strawberry. Do you remember those Gushers commercials from the ’90s? It’s kind of a situation like that in which, after consumption, your head might morph into a plump fruit (in a pleasant way). We don’t know how that visual would manifest for the earl grey, but you need to at least ask for a sample of this delicate, but creamy flavor. And for non-dairy eaters, Van Leeuwen has some of the best vegan ice cream we‘ve ever tried. The coconut cream base isn’t too overpowering, and just as creamy as the dairy-filled original.

 Ollie's Ice Cream $ $ $ $ Ice Cream  in  Brooklyn ,  Bushwick $$$$ 158 Irving Ave

Dogs are great. Everyone loves dogs. So we fully support Ollie’s choice to serve ice cream for dogs. We have not, however, tried this dog ice cream, and we’re therefore only able to discuss Ollie’s ice cream flavors for humans. It’s wonderful. Thick, sweet, and even slightly fluffy, it should be your go-to frozen dessert in Bushwick. Get a few scoops and bring them down the block to Maria Hernandez Park. The kettle corn flavor with its salty caramel swirls is especially worthwhile, as is the red velvet flavor, which doesn’t really taste like red velvet but is delicious nonetheless.

via The Infatuation Feed https://www.theinfatuation.com/new-york/guides/the-best-ice-cream-in-nyc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://trello.com/userhuongsen

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[bodizwonder]

Monsters of the Cart Paths

It’s simply earlier than 8 a.m. on a Friday morning in early June, and a gaggle of 12 cyclists, many with extra wrinkles and crows ft than hair, assembles in a central Texas car parking zone. The lot has slots for automobiles and golf carts.

“Hey! Hey!” yells 67-year-old Phil Durham to his fellow riders as I fumble to seize the smartphone out of my jersey pocket. I need a group shot, and the gathering of cyclists, most of them round Durham’s age and belonging to the Sun City Texas Cyclists club, resist breaking off their pre-ride chitchat. Durham, a retired credit score underwriter however solely a semi-retired street racer, waves his arms. Conversations about epic crashes and helmet manufacturers stall as membership members begin shuffling themselves and their street bikes into the beginnings of a cluster.

“Andrew’s thinking of doing an article on an old-age home like the one we’re in,” Durham publicizes. “And how we’re not all so old and ancient.”

The Masters Athlete

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As I attempt to match every of the fogeyish street warriors into 1 shot, the myth-busting certainly begins. Turns out that you simply shouldn’t decide an athlete by his age, or the cart-path neighborhood wherein he lives.

I’m 35 miles north of my dwelling in Austin, Texas, within the sprawling deliberate neighborhood of Sun City Texas. Sun City, like most of the rising variety of these tidy and swept developments throughout the nation, shouldn’t be an old-age dwelling, or some clichéd retirement neighborhood. Instead these generally huge villages are constructed particularly for “55-plus” or “active-adult” dwelling: the age-restricted amenities cater tightly to a sweet-spot demographic, with no bothersome youngsters, teen drivers, or frantic soccer mothers. Yet no resident is compromised to the purpose of needing dwelling help.

Hanging with the youngish older crowd has by no means been extra in vogue. Fifty-five-plus communities began round 1960, however because of getting old Baby Boomers, in addition to new group-think that asserts health is the fountain of youth, 55-plus communities have swelled, making up an increasing share of the $66-billion retirement-community trade. Fifty-five-plus-living even made headlines final spring in publications like Forbes and Rolling Stone. The huge information: Construction has begun on 2 formidable, Jimmy Buffett-backed, active-adult communities. “Latitude Margaritaville,” full with a signature partying environment, will quickly open in each Daytona Beach, Florida, and Hilton Head, South Carolina. The new digs will, in accordance with the International Council on Active Aging (and as of 2014), add to the estimated 2.7 million U.S. households already designated for 55-plus dwelling. “About 10,000 people a day in the United States are now turning 65,” says Danny Goodman, the chief working officer of 55places.com, a home-listing web site centered on the lively grownup market. “That trend will continue for the next 13 years.”

More and extra of the folks populating these communities are, athletically talking, fairly badass. They’re match and fit-minded; dismissive of canasta or bingo; and much more prone to hike, run, paddleboard, kayak, and follow yoga. There’s additionally a brand new sport that’s all the craze in 55-plus communities: pickleball, a detuned model of tennis (smaller courtroom; paddles as an alternative of rackets; no overhead serve), with its personal nationwide affiliation and championships aired on community TV. “We’re not anti-golf. But folks are migrating away from that,” says William Bullock, a senior vice-president at Minto U.S., one of many main 55-plus neighborhood builders.

A 2016 survey carried out by 55locations.com indicated that 67 p.c of respondents stated a health middle was the highest precedence for an active-adult improvement. Tennis courts acquired 2 simply p.c of the vote.

Then there’s biking. At Sun City Texas, 1 57-year-old member of the 160-rider membership places 10,000 or extra miles on her bike yearly. Another has crisscrossed the nation by bike a number of occasions. Earlier within the decade, Durham was one of many state’s greatest 60-plus racers.

With the Texas morning solar intensifying and the trip now formally late to begin, Durham once more tries to return to my rescue. Watching me battle whereas making an attempt to squeeze everybody into 1 photograph, he barks at his frisky club-mates as soon as extra.

“Hey! Hey!” he says. This time everybody seems to be on the digicam, and smiles. “Now suck it in, guys!”

We trip, heading out on the quiet and seamless road of Cool Spring Way, with a golf course and near-perfect houses lining the route out of the 5,200-acre, 7,500-home improvement. It’s simple to know how such a path of little resistance would possibly induce folks emigrate to such a spot. 

“The easy group-ride does 20 miles on the reservation,” says 74-year-old Mark Geppert as we pedal previous the umpteenth Sun City resident’s golf cart. Some of the golf carts round listed here are used as on a regular basis autos, they usually’re often custom-made, with bespoke paint, wheels, and tires. The carbon-fiber gear beneath Sun City cyclists could be equally blingy.

“Those club members doing the 20 go round-and-round here seven days a week,” Geppert provides with a shrug. Today, we’re taking a really completely different 50-mile loop, which extends nicely past the neighborhood earlier than returning for one thing of a victory lap.  

Folks like Geppert migrate to active-adult communities for a wide range of causes. Some transfer as a result of many 55-plus developments are protected retreats situated close to main metros. Others come for the social scene, with loosened beer caps and peppy nightlife. People just like the enterprise facilities and convention rooms (many in active-adult communities nonetheless work), the gyms that host wellness consultants, the strolling paths lined with train stations, the spotless streets, and the limitless golf equipment and camaraderie.

Some, just like the Sun City Cyclists, just like the using. The biking membership began again in 2001. The members, a few of whom trip 5 or six days per week and know a whole lot of the less-trafficked pavement in and round Williamson County, spend their days exploring backroads to spots like Salado and Lake Buchanan. 

“We know it’s healthy and fun, and that’s the combination that draws most of us out,” says Bill McMillin, as a pickup truck swings extensive across the group. McMillin is a retired CPA who, on this muggy day, is carrying particular, white arm covers which can be designed to work like sunblock.

“It’s a big part of our social lives,” provides Ted Koziell, who’s been using for over 4 many years, and has traversed the U.S., Canada, and, most lately, the Netherlands by bike. “Everyone just bullshits.”

Soon just a few of us line up behind an accelerating John Heckeroth, a semi-retired IBM advertising and marketing supervisor who lives simply exterior of Sun City however whom all of the membership members appear to know. They welcome Heckeroth, who’s often called Too Strong John. We race to the Andice metropolis limits signal. The peloton disintegrates.

A pair laborious efforts later, Phil Durham pulls up alongside me, barely out of breath however smiling. “My brain wrote the check,” Durham says as we crest an increase. “But the body couldn’t cash it.”

Quiet roads, sunny skies, all day to trip and yuk it up together with your friends, and a pleasant bike beneath you. The solely factor lacking, maybe, is a little bit youth.

About 35 miles into our trip, we make a retailer cease at a deluxe Valero in Florence. The cyclists all sit down with sizzling espresso and contemporary breakfast tacos contained in the fuel station’s oversize comfort retailer. The wisecracking instantly begins.

“Around Christmas we have a little club party, and hand out trophies to the people that make their goal for the year,” explains 69-year-old Howard Hammerbeck, who’s nursing a bottle of Gatorade. “Everyone self-reports. One guy did close to 12,000 miles.”

“Howard rode 85,000 in 2016,” says Geppert with a crooked grin from behind his wraparound shades. “Self-reported.”

But the jokes, the electrolytes, and the sausage and egg tacos aren’t the largest gasoline supply for these dudes. They keep younger as a result of they’ll nonetheless get on their bikes. One by 1, the tales come out about bodily setbacks which were offset by biking. Geppert can’t jog due to arthritis. Koziell has AFib, or atrial fibrillation, which is a doubtlessly debilitating coronary heart situation. Tom Crawford was a runner, till he obtained hit by a automotive.

“Not that cycling is always good for us,” says Geppert. “We still have people trying to bowl us over.” 

Of course, a number of older Americans don’t need to swap city grit, road noise, and a close-by taco truck—or possibly a lone log cabin within the woods—for miles of empty farm street. And then there are the folks flat-out repulsed by 55-plus communities, like creator Andrew Blechman, a former reporter for the Los Angeles Times and Des Moines Register who wrote a harsh evaluation of such developments in his 2008 e book, Leisureville: Adventures in a World Without Children. Blechman’s e book analysis centered on his month spent at north-central Florida’s the Villages, which has an estimated 157,000 residents, and over 30 golf programs.

“I don’t begrudge these people. It’s hard to know where to retire in America,” he advised me in a cellphone interview days after I’d ridden with the Sun City cyclists. “But these folks aren’t old, they’re young. And they’re checking out. It’s societal secession.”

Nearly a decade after Leisureville got here out, Blechman nonetheless thinks equally. In reality, the hedonistic decisions, he says, have expanded—courtesy of the getting old populations’ rising obsession with health.

“The kidney shaped dipping pools and shuffleboard? All gone,” Blechman advised me over the cellphone. “They want to attract people who are really into being sporty. The gyms aren’t little rooms with fans. They’re like something you’d see at an Equinox.”

Goodman, the COO for 55locations.com, admits that the developments promoted by his group are allowed by legislation to limit potential residents based mostly on age and familial standing. But he says that additionally they profit a large viewers, and often in ways in which don’t have anything to do with drink blenders or treadmills. Widows and widowers, he added, appreciated these communities as a result of there are all the time of us round, and issues to do. 

So yeah, active-adult communities might have their warts. They’re manicured to the purpose of seeming hermetically sealed, they usually don’t absolutely embrace kids. But the subsequent time you’re pedaling inside hanging distance of such a neighborhood, and also you go some biking geezers with helmet-mounted rearview mirrors and dorky, fuzzy, little helmet-strap attachments which can be designed to muffle wind noise, give them an attaboy or 2. Salute them for holding onto their youth.

And, maybe, put together to be handed again.

Source: fitnesscaster.com Source: Bodiz Wonder

#Bodiz Wonder #Bodiz Wonder - Wonderful Life

[kiarcheo]

Hug-a, hug-a, hug-a, hug me    

If you had told Catalina that she would come back centuries in the future and live with Henry’s five other wives and that she’d be closest with the fifth one…she would have…well, she  would have had you declared insane after the first part, to be honest. And even in the earliest days in the new world, she would have never believed you regarding who would be her favourite companion.

Also posted on Ao3

Catalina knew how she was seen. The first queen. The legitimate one. Regal. Composed. Always in control, keeping a cool head.  Steadfast. Proud. The paragon of royalty.

She is also human. And a Spaniard. And while she usually isn’t one to give into stereotypes (heavens knows she hates being boxed in any way when she is so much more complex than any oversimplified and general belief can convey), there was something she had noticed in her first life too. Arthur had been polite and courteous, but certainly not affectionate.  But considering that they were fifteen-year-old, unable to communicate properly because of language barriers and after few months they both got sick and then he died…circumstances and timings didn’t help. Once she married Henry, she thought it would be different. But since the beginning, while he was eager to be intimate with her, outside of the bedchambers he would shy away. If she tried to sit next to him or take his hand for no specific reason, he would look at her weirdly (and downright annoyed, later on). Even her English ladies-in-waiting, while no strangers to sharing a bed, would look oddly at her interactions with her darling Maria, or even with little Mary, attributing them to her ‘Mediterranean temperament’.

But now she is back, along with the other five wives of her (second) husband. And while it seems that affections are more widespread and accepted in this modern world, even in public, things didn’t change for her.

Don’t get her wrong. After a difficult period of adjustment, the queens had settled down nicely. Catalina has no doubt that they all care for each other, but people have different ways of showing they care. So yes. Does she think the queens love her? Yes (and she loves them back).  But is she going to knock on their doors and beg for some affection? Absolutely not. She went through one lifetime without humiliating herself like that, she will go through this one too.

That’s how she finds herself in front of the tv, the credits rolling after a documentary about the Alhambra, sobbing not so quietly into the empty house. Or what she thought was empty.

Because Kat is in the doorway, frozen, looking like a deer in the headlight. Catalina can almost see her mentally calculating whether she can just silently turn around and slip away, before realising that she had been noticed. Kat takes a step forward into the room. ‘Would you like a hug?’

Catalina honestly can’t remember the last time she hugged someone. And she had said she was not going to beg, but if it was offered…she gives a shaking nod.

Kat sits down on the couch next to her and after a moment of hesitation draws her into her arms. Catalina doesn’t know how long they stay like that. She just knows it’s so…nice doesn’t even begin to cover it. It’s almost a transcending experience.

‘You give really good hugs.’

‘Thanks?’ Kat sounds unsure at how to reply to that. ‘Why do you sound surprised? Did you expect me to be bad?’

She settles for a teasing tone and Catalina can see Anne’s influence, using humour to deflect and lighten up situations. To be honest she thought it was going to be a quick, perfunctory hug. Out of pity. She didn’t expect Kat to commit to it, to fully embrace her. Kat is warm and relaxed, and in her arms she feels surprisingly safe.

‘I expected a pat on the back.’ She admits. ‘I know you’re not really comfortable with me.’

‘Why do you say that?’

She reluctantly moves away. It feels stupid to answer that it’s because Kat had basically avoided any physical contact with her while lying in her arms.

‘You and Anne often sleep in the same bed and she shares her blanket with you during movies.’ Catalina expands on her reply as she sees Kat looking genuinely confused. ‘You let Jane play hairdresser with your hair. Anna puts her arm on your shoulders when we’re out…I mean, I get it. Anne and Jane are your cousins. You knew Anna from before and she is your best friend. Cathy holds your hand…’

‘Is it a problem?’ Kat asks as Catalina trails off. She had never said anything to them before, but it wouldn’t be the first time that walking hand in hand with Cathy had sparkled some less than pleasant reaction.

Catalina is just having a realisation. Cathy always offers her hand and wait for Kat to take it. It’s always Anne who spreads the blanket over their laps and cuddles up. It’s Jane who asks if she can try something new with her hair (she had recently branched out to Anne, if she can catch her on a good day when she feels like sitting still – that’s how the space buns came to be. Catalina has a feeling that soon Jane will expand her experiments to the three not-related queens too).

‘I thought you just didn’t want to hug me.’ Not that she has ever seen her hugging the others, now that she thinks about it. Not spontaneously. Or unprompted.

If Kat thinks Catalina sounds a bit childish, she doesn’t let it show, to her relief. ‘I didn’t know you wanted me to.’ They have all heard Anne loudly demanding cuddles and Kat happily providing them.

‘But you never take the first step.’ Catalina continues, voicing her realisation. ‘You never initiate the contact, you don’t touch them first.’ And the rare times she does, it’s always after expressly asking. Catalina had never really noticed it before.

‘I just don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.’

Okay, so it’s actually on purpose. Wait a second- ‘Do we make you uncomfortable?’ She is ready to have a chat with her fellow queens.

‘No, of course not.’ Kat hurries to reassure her, sounding almost surprised that she could suggest such a thing.

‘Then why would you make us uncomfortable?’

Kat shrugs. ‘I don’t know. That’s kind of the point. What if you don’t want to be touched? In that moment at least?’

Oh. That went deeper that she thought. Quite usual with the girl, so she shouldn’t really be surprised anymore.  But selfishly she is too exhausted to tackle the issue in that moment. ‘Well, hugs are always welcome with me. I pretty much always want one to be honest.’

There is no overnight change. It’s not like Kat starts to come up to her and hug her spontaneously. But more and more often she approaches her. Asking if she wants company. Making a point of saying that she will be in her room but that her door is open. When it evolves in wordless exchanges, Kat pointing to the spot next to Catalina or patting the one next to herself in invitation and waiting for Catalina’s move, the older queen is relieved that she doesn’t have to vocalise what sometimes still feels like a weakness. And she starts to feel comfortable looking out for affection from Kat in the first place, even going as far as knocking on her closed door if it’s a particularly bad day. Which leads to talking about said bad days.

If you had told Catalina that she would come back centuries in the future and live with Henry’s five other wives and that she’d be closest with the fifth one…she would have…well, she would have had you declared insane after the first part, to be honest. And even in the earliest days in the new world, she would have never believed you regarding who would be her favourite companion. She would have first guessed Cathy, maybe growing closer through their personal connections and discussing their shared passion for supporting female education in the past (and its progress in the present). Or Anna, bonding over being shipped to another country without speaking the language to marry a random dude – well, a king – and then being humiliated on a national and international stage. Even Jane. She had liked her in their first life and it had been somehow satisfying to learn that she had stolen Henry from Anne like Anne did to her. And she didn’t blame her for having a son: you can’t choose those things, she and Anne would know. Certainly she wouldn’t have picked that slip of a girl, who also happened to be her…well, Anne Boleyn’s cousin – Anne, who was the only other one even more unlikely to be her closest friend.

And yet…here she was.

Catalina de Trastámara y Trastámara, finding respite in the company of Katherine Howard, who never refuses a cuddle and never judges. She had quickly stopped being surprised at how intelligent and mature the girl is. In not even 20 years Kat had gone through more stuff than most people would in their whole lifetime…and that was before she was brought back to life centuries after her traumatic death. So while sometimes Catalina feels almost maternal towards her (how shocked and disgusted she had been to discover that Henry had married someone younger than his own daughter, her dear Mary), it’s rather a relationship between equals…even if sometimes she is a bit protective. Perhaps that’s how older sisters feel? She has no idea as she had been the youngest. Is Kat her best friend? Can someone be your best friend if she already has another best friend? She never pondered on such matters in the past.    

A past that Kat knows the most about. Anne and Jane might have known her personally and been witnesses to certain events, but Kat has insight into her feelings and thoughts.

All queens have bad days connected to their past. In some cases everyone is aware of the dates and the reasons, the days of their deaths being the most obvious ones. Others are kept private. Like the day Catalina saw Mary for the last time. How is she supposed to share her pain with the others, when she is the only one who got to see her child growing up? And that’s not delving into what Mary did after she died, which is a whole other matter.

November hit Catalina particularly hard. The memories of her wedding day to Arthur by a long shot welcomed compared to the anniversaries of the deaths of her last three children.  She hadn’t slept a lot, and even when she did, she had been plagued by nightmares, either of her babies dying, their life on earth lasting mere hours, or of Mary committing atrocities in the name of the religion she had devoted her life to.

She feels like death warmed up and she must look like it, if the reactions she gets entering the kitchen that morning are any indication.

Anne stops talking which leads to Anna turning around to find out why. Jane follows and frowns at what she sees.

‘Are you okay?’ Jane’s question has Cathy looking up too.

By the time Kat finishes pouring her coffee (she’d be hard pressed to say who consumes more, her or Cathy) and turns around, everyone is staring at Catalina with worried expressions. Kat puts down her mug and opens her arms. Not overtly obvious. She can easily pass it as a gesture meant to say ‘what’s going on?’ but even if her arms aren’t raised, the look she gives Catalina conveys a clear message: ‘Do you need a hug?’

Catalina doesn’t hesitate. She rarely does when Kat offers a hug, but in that moment she doesn’t even care that there are other people around. She takes few quick steps and she is in her arms. Kat pivots them around so that Catalina wouldn’t meet the others’ stares if she happened to look up. It’s not necessary because Catalina curled into herself enough that she has her face tucked in Kat’s neck despite being taller…and she has no intention to leave her spot. She feels Kat’s hand into her hair. She remembers Kat asking if that was something she would enjoy and the teasing that ensued because she enjoyed it indeed. Kat had likened the contented noises that she had let out to purrs and joked that she should have been the one with the Cat nickname. Catalina had liked it so much that she had offered a trade-off to Kat, wanting to share the delight. She had learned that while Kat doesn’t mind Jane styling them, she generally doesn’t like people touching them, especially in intimate settings (and as they were half reclined on the couch when Kat admitted such a thing, Catalina tucked into her side…she could see how it could be seen as intimate).

Catalina doesn’t know when she had started crying, she just realises that she is. Just like she isn’t sure how long she has been in Kat’s arms, swaying lightly on the spot. She just knows that she is there. Buried into Kat, who has one hand scratching her head while her other arm is around her waist, holding her securely against her body.

‘Want to move to the couch?’

She doesn’t answer but Kat must have felt the movement of her head because she leads them there.

When Catalina comes around, she can feel Kat under her and a blanket covering them. They must have fallen asleep.

She opens one eye. Anne is sitting on the armchair. She raises her eyebrow once she notices Catalina is awake and looking at her. In the early days of their return she would have read it as an accusatory gesture but by now she knows that it’s mostly curiosity. She can see how the first queen sleeping on the youngest one would make a curious sight. And Anne is not only close to her cousin but also very perceptive, so even if Kat had not told her, she must have realised how shy the girl is with physical touch. And all the times Catalina had seen them sleeping together Kat was always the big spoon, so she reckons Anne is probably aware that Kat doesn’t like to feel trapped. So for her to sleep peacefully despite having Catalina half-lying on her…

She ignores Anne’s questioning gaze and looks around, making sure not to move her head too much lest she wakes Kat up. Anna is sitting at the table, holding her camera up to show the screen to Cathy, who is standing behind her chair.

The German queen had discovered a passion for photography, but since she doesn’t make a habit to bring her trusty camera to breakfast, Catalina assumes that she went to retrieve it to take a picture of them. The fond expression on Cathy’s face, the one that she usually has when she looks at Kat, lends credibility to her theory. She makes a mental note to ask for a copy of the picture.

She can hear puttering around in the kitchen. Maybe it’s near lunch time or maybe Jane just wanted to be nearby. She knows that they are likely worried…and curious. And she supposes that she can give an explanation. Not necessarily about her and Kat, that’s not just up to her. But about her breaking down. Anne, at the very least, has surely her fair share of sad anniversaries.

But if she moves she is going to wake Kat and heaven knows if the girl needs all the sleep that she can get when she can get, with the amount of nightmares keeping her up at night, whether her own or Anne’s (and Cathy’s too. More than once Catalina had been ready to go and check on her goddaughter after hearing unmistakable noises from her room only to see that Kat was already on the task). And she is so comfy and warm. She closes her eyes. Just…for…five…more…minutes…

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

A/N: I love reading about the queens taking care of Kat because she deserves all the love, but sometime I want to see the opposite, with Kat taking care of the queens. And lately I have been on a Katherine-Catherine kick (besides the always present Parrward one) so...here it is. Hope you liked it.

#catherine and katherine #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical #six fic #six fanfiction #catalina just wants a hug #kat has plenty to give as long as you ask for them #six the musical fic #six fanfic #six catherine of aragon #six katherine howard #six writing #my posts #my six posts #mywork #my ideas #soft catherine of aragon

[junker-town]

Buccaneers’ decade of futility is almost over

With Jameis Winston entering his third year and a fast-improving defense, the Bucs’ rebuild might actually be ahead of schedule.

It’s certainly been trying times for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers this decade. They haven’t made the playoffs since 2007 and are on their fifth head coach in nine seasons. If Dirk Koetter, who is headed into his second season as head coach, makes it to a third year, he’ll eclipse the tenures of his two predecessors, Lovie Smith and Greg Schiano.

It sounds like a dysfunctional mess, but things are looking up for the Bucs thanks to having the one thing that’s eluded this franchise for decades: a legitimate franchise quarterback. Jameis Winston took some noticeable steps forward as an NFL sophomore, and the Bucs were one of the league’s hotter teams once the second half of 2016 came around, winning five straight games to enter the NFC’s playoff race. They faded down the stretch but still finished 9-7, the team’s first winning record since 2010.

With Winston under center, a superstar wide receiver in Mike Evans, and rising talent on the defensive side, general manager Jason Licht has quietly built one of the most promising young teams in the NFL. The next challenge for the Bucs will be navigating a tricky NFC South, where the Atlanta Falcons, Carolina Panthers, and New Orleans Saints will all be tough opponents.

But despite the competition and some question marks left on the roster, there’s little doubt that the Bucs are heading in the right direction.

Winston looks like the franchise QB they’ve been searching for

Here’s how dismal Tampa’s quarterback history is: Jameis Winston played two seasons and is already seventh all-time in Bucs passing yards. He needs just 6,688 yards to pass Vinny Testaverde as the franchise’s all-time leader. Thankfully for the Bucs, Winston looks like he’s finally their long-term answer at quarterback.

There are still holes in Winston’s game, to be sure. He commits too many turnovers — he threw 18 interceptions and fumbled the ball 10 times, losing three, last season. His accuracy isn’t quite as high as you’d like to see (Winston’s 60.8 completion percentage ranked No. 23 out of qualified quarterbacks.) He’s not quite a finished product, but at age 23, Winston has plenty of time to get there.

And while Winston isn’t exactly known for his running prowess, he’s shifty in the pocket and has a knack for keeping plays alive even when protection breaks down.

Steadily improving under Koetter’s mentorship, it probably won’t be long before Winston joins the NFL’s upper tier of quarterbacks.

It helps that the team keeps surrounding Winston with good weapons, greatly taking some pressure off his plate.

Mike Evans is an ace who has a new wingman

The Bucs’ first-round pick in 2014, Evans is a beast who stands in at 6’5, 231 pounds and plays every bit like it. It’s almost unfair how much of a mismatch he is for most opponents.

Other than struggling with drops, Evans has mostly lived up to the hype since entering the league out of Texas A&M. He already has 27 touchdowns and 3,578 receiving yards in three years, using his body and route-running skills to become a massive game-breaking threat. The Bucs picked up his fifth-year option for 2018, and a long-term extension could come as soon as next spring.

So Evans is the real deal, but he needed more help — a solid No. 2 receiver was one of the Bucs’ biggest offseason needs. Vincent Jackson was clearly on the decline even before tearing his ACL last year, and the 34-year-old free agent remains unsigned. With no other serious in-house replacements, the Bucs signed DeSean Jackson, who’s almost the opposite of Evans in terms of skill set.

Jackson is small, fast, and can still take the lid off defenses even after turning 30 years old. He’s also a consistent injury risk, having not played 16 games since 2013, but the Bucs will take that risk as long as Jackson frees up Evans to do his thing on the field.

Tampa also added some muscle in the draft, selecting Alabama tight end O.J. Howard in the first round. At 6’6, 251 pounds, Howard is a physical specimen who ran a 4.51 40 time at the combine. He gives Winston yet another big-bodied target alongside fellow tight end Cameron Brate, who emerged as a red-zone threat with 57 catches, 660 yards, and eight touchdowns. The Bucs kept Brate on a restricted free agent tender, and he’ll likely be the Week 1 starter as Howard gets up to speed.

Although Howard might not earn the starting job right away, he’s already drawing rave reviews from his quarterback.

“What he’s going to do to this team is going to be amazing,” Winston said, via Buccaneers.com. “You guys are going to see it, just sit back and watch. This is the fastest, most athletic 6-foot-6 (and) 255-pound guy I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s unreal. He looks like he’s 230 but he’s about 260 or 255. It’s amazing.”

With so much receiving talent, it’d be easy to overlook the running game, which has more upside than it appears at first glance.

How much can the Bucs trust Doug Martin?

Martin’s had a strange career, to say the least. He burst onto the scene as a 2012 rookie with 1,454 yards and 11 touchdowns, only to devolve into an injury-prone mess over the next two years. In 2015, Martin stayed healthy and racked up 1,402 yards, just in time to sign a five-year, $35.75 million extension.

However, 2016 was a disaster in every way for Martin. He missed eight games and performed dismally when he was on the field (2.9 yards per carry on 144 attempts). Late in the season, he was handed a four-game suspension by the league, which will cost him the first three games of 2017.

It wouldn’t have been surprising if the Bucs simply cut their losses and moved on with Charles Sims, Jacquizz Rodgers, and possibly a rookie draft pick. But instead, they supported him the whole time. Martin entered rehab, was a full participant in OTAs, and coaches couldn’t stop raving about him in the spring. Via Florida Football Insiders:

“We’ve been happy with the trajectory he’s on,’’ Licht said of Martin. “I’ve said that before but it’s the truth. He has the right mindset right now and he looks good physically.

“We still have some time there but just two years ago he was the second leading rusher in the NFL. Within the building here, we feel comfortable with our guys, and that includes Doug.’’

The Bucs showed their commitment to Martin by not bringing in any serious competition. Their only offseason moves at RB were re-signing Rodgers and drafting Jeremy McNichols in the fifth round. By all accounts, it sounds like Martin’s turned a new leaf, and if he’s back to dominating like we saw in 2012 and 2015, the Bucs’ offense suddenly looks a lot more dangerous than it would otherwise.

Even the defense showed real signs of growth

One of the more pleasant surprises from last season was how fast the Bucs’ defense made a leap. During the first half of the year, Tampa gave up at least 30 points four times, which contributed to the team’s slow 3-5 start. However, over the final eight games, the defense held opponents to 20 points or less five times and went 6-2 in that span. In the end, the Bucs finished a respectable 12th place in defensive DVOA.

Perhaps the team’s most important player on defense is defensive tackle Gerald McCoy, fresh off his fifth straight Pro Bowl selection. McCoy is a rock in the middle of the line and a talented pass rusher for a tackle — his 6.5 sacks tied for the team lead last season. Robert Ayers also had 6.5 sacks after joining the team as a free agent. Youth is one of the biggest things this line has going for it, with William Gholston (25 years old) and Noah Spence (23) both playing key roles. Spence in particular was impressive, recording 5.5 sacks as a rookie.

Lavonte David remains one of the best linebackers in the league, but Kwon Alexander (22 years old) is another rising young player on this defense. After missing four games to suspension his rookie year, Alexander played all 16 games in 2016 and led the team with 146 tackles, while putting up three sacks of his own.

If there are any glaring concerns left on defense, it’s in the secondary. Cornerback Brent Grimes is still producing at age 34, and Vernon Hargreaves showed promise as a rookie, but the safety positions have been a liability for a while now. Free agent signee J.J. Wilcox and second-round rookie Justin Evans are expected to challenge Chris Conte and Keith Tandy, who worked as the starting safeties in minicamp. Don’t expect this position to be settled until training camp is well underway.

Well, guess we have to talk about the kickers

Normally the kicking competition doesn’t get much ink, but when you trade up to draft a kicker in the second round like the Bucs did last year, you invite that kind of scrutiny. Roberto Aguayo entered the league with some hype as the most accurate kicker in college football history, but the second round was just too high and he didn’t come close living up to expectations.

Last season, Aguayo made just 22 of 31 field goals, a 71 percent conversion rate that was lowest in the NFL among qualified kickers. Under most circumstances that might be written off as rookie jitters, or the team might even just cut him without a second thought. Instead, the Bucs signed veteran Nick Folk to compete with Aguayo in camp.

With the Bucs starring on Hard Knocks this season, don’t expect this to be one of the top stories they focus on.

Is it ready to all come together?

Looking at the depth chart from top to bottom, there’s a ton to love about this Bucs team. It has the proper mix of young drafted players starting to come into their own and a handful of legitimate star talent still in their primes. Tampa came close last year, so it’s not hard to imagine the team fixing its glaring flaws and getting back into the postseason.

That said, the Bucs will have to get through a strong division that features the NFC’s last two Super Bowl representatives (Atlanta Falcons, Carolina Panthers), so the Bucs won’t have much room for error. Still, this team has a bright future ahead, and if Winston fulfills his potential, the Bucs won’t just be playoff contenders this year. They will be for many more years to come.

[bodizwonder]

Monsters of the Cart Paths

It’s simply earlier than 8 a.m. on a Friday morning in early June, and a gaggle of 12 cyclists, many with extra wrinkles and crows ft than hair, assembles in a central Texas car parking zone. The lot has slots for automobiles and golf carts.

“Hey! Hey!” yells 67-year-old Phil Durham to his fellow riders as I fumble to seize the smartphone out of my jersey pocket. I need a group shot, and the gathering of cyclists, most of them round Durham’s age and belonging to the Sun City Texas Cyclists club, resist breaking off their pre-ride chitchat. Durham, a retired credit score underwriter however solely a semi-retired street racer, waves his arms. Conversations about epic crashes and helmet manufacturers stall as membership members begin shuffling themselves and their street bikes into the beginnings of a cluster.

“Andrew’s thinking of doing an article on an old-age home like the one we’re in,” Durham publicizes. “And how we’re not all so old and ancient.”

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Who says the younger weapons get to have all of the enjoyable? In this column, we inform the tales of athletes dwelling full, match, high-performance lives—and for whom age is actually only a quantity.

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As I attempt to match every of the fogeyish street warriors into 1 shot, the myth-busting certainly begins. Turns out that you simply shouldn’t decide an athlete by his age, or the cart-path neighborhood wherein he lives.

I’m 35 miles north of my dwelling in Austin, Texas, within the sprawling deliberate neighborhood of Sun City Texas. Sun City, like most of the rising variety of these tidy and swept developments throughout the nation, shouldn’t be an old-age dwelling, or some clichéd retirement neighborhood. Instead these generally huge villages are constructed particularly for “55-plus” or “active-adult” dwelling: the age-restricted amenities cater tightly to a sweet-spot demographic, with no bothersome youngsters, teen drivers, or frantic soccer mothers. Yet no resident is compromised to the purpose of needing dwelling help.

Hanging with the youngish older crowd has by no means been extra in vogue. Fifty-five-plus communities began round 1960, however because of getting old Baby Boomers, in addition to new group-think that asserts health is the fountain of youth, 55-plus communities have swelled, making up an increasing share of the $66-billion retirement-community trade. Fifty-five-plus-living even made headlines final spring in publications like Forbes and Rolling Stone. The huge information: Construction has begun on 2 formidable, Jimmy Buffett-backed, active-adult communities. “Latitude Margaritaville,” full with a signature partying environment, will quickly open in each Daytona Beach, Florida, and Hilton Head, South Carolina. The new digs will, in accordance with the International Council on Active Aging (and as of 2014), add to the estimated 2.7 million U.S. households already designated for 55-plus dwelling. “About 10,000 people a day in the United States are now turning 65,” says Danny Goodman, the chief working officer of 55places.com, a home-listing web site centered on the lively grownup market. “That trend will continue for the next 13 years.”

More and extra of the folks populating these communities are, athletically talking, fairly badass. They’re match and fit-minded; dismissive of canasta or bingo; and much more prone to hike, run, paddleboard, kayak, and follow yoga. There’s additionally a brand new sport that’s all the craze in 55-plus communities: pickleball, a detuned model of tennis (smaller courtroom; paddles as an alternative of rackets; no overhead serve), with its personal nationwide affiliation and championships aired on community TV. “We’re not anti-golf. But folks are migrating away from that,” says William Bullock, a senior vice-president at Minto U.S., one of many main 55-plus neighborhood builders.

A 2016 survey carried out by 55locations.com indicated that 67 p.c of respondents stated a health middle was the highest precedence for an active-adult improvement. Tennis courts acquired 2 simply p.c of the vote.

Then there’s biking. At Sun City Texas, 1 57-year-old member of the 160-rider membership places 10,000 or extra miles on her bike yearly. Another has crisscrossed the nation by bike a number of occasions. Earlier within the decade, Durham was one of many state’s greatest 60-plus racers.

With the Texas morning solar intensifying and the trip now formally late to begin, Durham once more tries to return to my rescue. Watching me battle whereas making an attempt to squeeze everybody into 1 photograph, he barks at his frisky club-mates as soon as extra.

“Hey! Hey!” he says. This time everybody seems to be on the digicam, and smiles. “Now suck it in, guys!”

We trip, heading out on the quiet and seamless road of Cool Spring Way, with a golf course and near-perfect houses lining the route out of the 5,200-acre, 7,500-home improvement. It’s simple to know how such a path of little resistance would possibly induce folks emigrate to such a spot. 

“The easy group-ride does 20 miles on the reservation,” says 74-year-old Mark Geppert as we pedal previous the umpteenth Sun City resident’s golf cart. Some of the golf carts round listed here are used as on a regular basis autos, they usually’re often custom-made, with bespoke paint, wheels, and tires. The carbon-fiber gear beneath Sun City cyclists could be equally blingy.

“Those club members doing the 20 go round-and-round here seven days a week,” Geppert provides with a shrug. Today, we’re taking a really completely different 50-mile loop, which extends nicely past the neighborhood earlier than returning for one thing of a victory lap.  

Folks like Geppert migrate to active-adult communities for a wide range of causes. Some transfer as a result of many 55-plus developments are protected retreats situated close to main metros. Others come for the social scene, with loosened beer caps and peppy nightlife. People just like the enterprise facilities and convention rooms (many in active-adult communities nonetheless work), the gyms that host wellness consultants, the strolling paths lined with train stations, the spotless streets, and the limitless golf equipment and camaraderie.

Some, just like the Sun City Cyclists, just like the using. The biking membership began again in 2001. The members, a few of whom trip 5 or six days per week and know a whole lot of the less-trafficked pavement in and round Williamson County, spend their days exploring backroads to spots like Salado and Lake Buchanan. 

“We know it’s healthy and fun, and that’s the combination that draws most of us out,” says Bill McMillin, as a pickup truck swings extensive across the group. McMillin is a retired CPA who, on this muggy day, is carrying particular, white arm covers which can be designed to work like sunblock.

“It’s a big part of our social lives,” provides Ted Koziell, who’s been using for over 4 many years, and has traversed the U.S., Canada, and, most lately, the Netherlands by bike. “Everyone just bullshits.”

Soon just a few of us line up behind an accelerating John Heckeroth, a semi-retired IBM advertising and marketing supervisor who lives simply exterior of Sun City however whom all of the membership members appear to know. They welcome Heckeroth, who’s often called Too Strong John. We race to the Andice metropolis limits signal. The peloton disintegrates.

A pair laborious efforts later, Phil Durham pulls up alongside me, barely out of breath however smiling. “My brain wrote the check,” Durham says as we crest an increase. “But the body couldn’t cash it.”

Quiet roads, sunny skies, all day to trip and yuk it up together with your friends, and a pleasant bike beneath you. The solely factor lacking, maybe, is a little bit youth.

About 35 miles into our trip, we make a retailer cease at a deluxe Valero in Florence. The cyclists all sit down with sizzling espresso and contemporary breakfast tacos contained in the fuel station’s oversize comfort retailer. The wisecracking instantly begins.

“Around Christmas we have a little club party, and hand out trophies to the people that make their goal for the year,” explains 69-year-old Howard Hammerbeck, who’s nursing a bottle of Gatorade. “Everyone self-reports. One guy did close to 12,000 miles.”

“Howard rode 85,000 in 2016,” says Geppert with a crooked grin from behind his wraparound shades. “Self-reported.”

But the jokes, the electrolytes, and the sausage and egg tacos aren’t the largest gasoline supply for these dudes. They keep younger as a result of they’ll nonetheless get on their bikes. One by 1, the tales come out about bodily setbacks which were offset by biking. Geppert can’t jog due to arthritis. Koziell has AFib, or atrial fibrillation, which is a doubtlessly debilitating coronary heart situation. Tom Crawford was a runner, till he obtained hit by a automotive.

“Not that cycling is always good for us,” says Geppert. “We still have people trying to bowl us over.” 

Of course, a number of older Americans don’t need to swap city grit, road noise, and a close-by taco truck—or possibly a lone log cabin within the woods—for miles of empty farm street. And then there are the folks flat-out repulsed by 55-plus communities, like creator Andrew Blechman, a former reporter for the Los Angeles Times and Des Moines Register who wrote a harsh evaluation of such developments in his 2008 e book, Leisureville: Adventures in a World Without Children. Blechman’s e book analysis centered on his month spent at north-central Florida’s the Villages, which has an estimated 157,000 residents, and over 30 golf programs.

“I don’t begrudge these people. It’s hard to know where to retire in America,” he advised me in a cellphone interview days after I’d ridden with the Sun City cyclists. “But these folks aren’t old, they’re young. And they’re checking out. It’s societal secession.”

Nearly a decade after Leisureville got here out, Blechman nonetheless thinks equally. In reality, the hedonistic decisions, he says, have expanded—courtesy of the getting old populations’ rising obsession with health.

“The kidney shaped dipping pools and shuffleboard? All gone,” Blechman advised me over the cellphone. “They want to attract people who are really into being sporty. The gyms aren’t little rooms with fans. They’re like something you’d see at an Equinox.”

Goodman, the COO for 55locations.com, admits that the developments promoted by his group are allowed by legislation to limit potential residents based mostly on age and familial standing. But he says that additionally they profit a large viewers, and often in ways in which don’t have anything to do with drink blenders or treadmills. Widows and widowers, he added, appreciated these communities as a result of there are all the time of us round, and issues to do. 

So yeah, active-adult communities might have their warts. They’re manicured to the purpose of seeming hermetically sealed, they usually don’t absolutely embrace kids. But the subsequent time you’re pedaling inside hanging distance of such a neighborhood, and also you go some biking geezers with helmet-mounted rearview mirrors and dorky, fuzzy, little helmet-strap attachments which can be designed to muffle wind noise, give them an attaboy or 2. Salute them for holding onto their youth.

And, maybe, put together to be handed again.

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Source: fitnesscaster.com Source: Bodiz Wonder

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