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starker-eternity · 5 years ago

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Taken

A little fic Drabble surrounding an idea that won’t get out of my head...

Warnings: Starker, societally accepted kidnapping, ABO

*****

Pepper Potts knocked on the ornate mahogany doors that protected her boss’ private office, waiting for permission to enter before pushing open said door. As she strode to the desk where her boss sat, she noticed his attention was focused intensely on the holographic and touch screen surface of his desk. Several windows were open and he was switching amongst them with sharp waves of his hand.

Pepper came to a stop right before his desk and waited for Tony Stark, genius and billionaire philanthropist, to acknowledge her presence. As she waited, she took note that the Alpha was lingering on an image of a young man with a mop of chestnut curls. She couldn’t clearly see the picture from her angle and she knew better than to let her attention linger. If it was a matter that concerned her, she’d know it soon enough.

“Ah, Ms. Potts, right on time.”

Pepper nodded her head once, a professional smile on her face. “Of course, Mr. Stark. You needed to see me? What can I do for you today?”

Tony traced one finger down the digitally imaged cheek of the young man’s face before his gaze snapped up to look at his Beta assistant. Piercing dark eyes held her gaze as a smirk spread across his face. “We need to plan a party. A celebration, in fact!”

Pepper raised one eyebrow even as she opened her tablet to start taking notes. “What kind of party, sir? Small or large guest list? Time frame?” She was not prepared for his answers.

“Large party I think. Invite the elite of society. And it needs to be as soon as possible... this weekend.”

Pepper was startled and it showed on her face. “This weekend? It’s Thursday, Mr. Stark. That’s not a lot of notice. Venues alone will take time to be vetted and booked -.”

Tony cut Pepper off with an impatient slash of his hand through the air. “I don’t have the luxury of time, Ms. Potts. He’s legal now and I need to act before someone else does. The party is only a courtesy to let society know I’ve made my claim.”

Pepper’s eyes narrowed as she asked, “Exactly what kind of party is this, Mr. Stark?”

Tony’s face broke out in a smug smirk. “Why Ms. Potts, it’s a wedding party. I’m getting married, now that my chosen Omega has come of age.”

****

Peter finished setting his text books neatly on the provided shelf above the desk and took a step back. As he looked around the single dorm room, he gave a small pleased sigh. A typical dorm room for an Omega, it was more like a small studio apartment as it had its own bathroom and small kitchen space. All meant to give unclaimed Omegas a safe haven for their quarterly heats, away from their Alpha and Beta classmates. Claimed Omegas either lived with their mates and commuted to and from campus, or if both were students then they lived in the provided campus housing suites.

Peter flopped down on his bed, attention turned to the television that was blaring some news story. The commentator was one of those reporters with a bubbling personality, enthusiastically reporting on some societal event.

“And I’m here live, at Stark Towers, where the party of the decade is happening! As you can see, everyone who is anyone is here to celebrate one of the world’s wealthiest Alphas bidding a fond farewell to his bachelorhood!”

The bubbling reporter turned to observe the crowd before her eyes widened in surprise. “And here he is! The Alpha of the hour himself! Tony Stark, how does it feel to be celebrating your pending nuptials?”

The man in question turned to the reporter, his eyes covered in a pair of red tinted shades, a smoldering grin on his lips. As he removed his shades, he answered, “It’s great to see so many people celebrating with me. Really, it is!”

The reporter gave him another blinding smile even as she shot another question at him. “And the question on everyone’s mind - who is the lucky bride or groom? Are they even aware of their impending wedding?”

Tony smirk grew wider as something dark flashed through his eyes. “Well to answer that question, I’d have to say no. In one of the only few times in my life, I’ll be following in my father’s footsteps and kidnapping my groom. So I’m afraid you’ll have to wait with everyone else for an identity reveal, my dear.”

As the reporter tried to weasel more details out of the billionaire Alpha, Peter angrily turned off the television. Grabbing his pillow, he hugged it closely to himself, sulking at life. Tony Stark was a major icon of the world and one of Peter’s secret role models. Peter never would have believed he supported what he had just revealed. Personally, he was disgusted at what Tony Stark had just casually admitted.

Spouse kidnapping.

A disgusting, archaic tradition where the dominant partner, usually an Alpha, kidnapped their spouse to be. First, the dominant partner had to announce to the public their intentions to kidnap their bride or groom. After the public announcement, he or she had 48 hours to actually kidnap their chosen. Once taken, the kidnapper had one week to secure the union, usually by successfully mating with the victim.

There weren’t very many unsuccessful kidnappings throughout history, most victims giving in to society’s view of normal behavior. Sometimes there was outrage, but usually quieted down by the kidnapper later through gifts. In these modern times, most of the victims knew their abductor beforehand, so it wasn’t really a surprise.

Peter objected to the practice in theory. No one he knew personally had been the subject of an unwilling spousal kidnapping. His Uncle Ben had courted his Aunt May and had proposed to her. He then had a mock kidnapping to satisfy societal norms. Peter wasn’t sure how his parents’ union was, but he had been told it was mutual.

If Peter’s future spouse wanted to have a mock kidnapping, he supposed he’d go along with it. However, if he was kidnapped by a complete stranger? Peter shuddered to even think of it. Maybe Tony Stark’s groom to be knew about all of this and the couple was just portraying the societal expectation that being a celebrity entailed.

A notification coming through his phone distracted him from his stormy thoughts. Unlocking the device, he read a text from his best friend Ned, asking if he wanted to grab some dinner. Sending a confirmation back, Peter resolutely shifted all thoughts about Tony Stark and his situation out of his mind.

After all, what did any of it have to do with him?

*****

Tony looked at his extraction team with a shrewd eye. Every single member had been hand picked for this operation. He wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

He turned to his best friend, James Rhodes. “Honey bear, everything’s set up at the Compound for my week of isolation with my groom?”

He received a nod of affirmation so Tony turned his attention to Steve Rogers. “All right, Captain. You have the details - this needs to go smoothly. I don’t want a single bruise on my mate.”

The blond man rolled his eyes even as he said, “We know, Tony. We’ve only gone over this a million times.”

“Then once more for luck,” came the sharp demand.

“Fine. Clint will be on high, keeping an eye on the target and anyone in the surrounding area, notifying the group when the target is alone. Natasha will be tailing the target from behind. Thor and I will be lying in wait to ambush the target. And Happy will be driving the car, ready to transport the target to the Compound. So the target won’t be spooked, Tony will be waiting in the car. He might have seen the earlier declaration and seeing Tony may cause him to bolt.”

“And Sam will be driving the other car that’ll take us all back to the Tower, where we will wait for the news your groom has accepted your suit,” finished Rhodey.

Sam shook his head as he spoke up, “Man, I don’t know about all of this. Wouldn’t it be easier just to talk to the boy?”

Tony glared at man even as he gritted out, “No, I can’t take the risk. His Aunt prevented me from interacting with him when he was underage.”

“Well, you are much older than he is, Tony.”

The Alpha ignored the comment from the only female in the room. “And now that he is of age, I can’t take the risk someone else might snap him up. I knew he was meant to be mine the first time I saw him years ago. I will not be denied my mate any longer!”

“Okay, okay Tony. Calm down, man! It’s not us you have to convince anyway.”

“That part I’m not worried about,” joked the billionaire.

Natasha rolled her eyes and then looked to the group. “All right, everyone try to keep a low profile. The paparazzi are literally foaming at the mouth because it’s been 24 hours since Tony’s declaration and they haven’t seen movement. They know his time limit like we do. Tony, is your body double ready to occupy the media?”

“Yup, he’s all ready out there leading them in the opposite direction of where we’re going.”

“Good. Then let’s go.”

*****

They came out of nowhere.

Peter had been walking back to his campus dorm from the dining hall, after parting ways with Ned and MJ. The Omega dorms were on the opposite side of campus from the other student dorms and he’d waved off Ned’s offer to walk him to his dorm. In hindsight, he should have taken Ned up on the offer, but at the time he was thinking that there was no need for Ned to have to walk the campus and back.

As he walked along, he noticed that the campus was pretty empty. He didn’t think too much on it though as school wasn’t officially starting for another week or so, and the students were sure to be flooding in over the week. As he was crossing through a parking lot of one of the class buildings, a strong voice called out to him.

“Excuse me, son, but do you happen to have the time?”

Peter stopped to look toward the voice and saw a rather intimidating blond Alpha standing there. Although his hands were nonchalantly tucked into his jeans pockets, he still radiated strength and authority.

Nervously shuffling his feet, some inner sense telling him to keep his distance, Peter glanced at his phone and answered, “Um, it’s almost 8pm.”

The blond man gave him an earnest grin and said, “Thanks son. Thor?”

Just then Peter felt two strong arms clamp around his upper body, keeping his arms pinned to the side. As he gasped and looked over his shoulder, he saw his assailant was another blond man. Peter tried to struggle against the hold, but the other man rushed in and grabbed his legs, lifting his body completely off the ground.

Peter let loose with a yell, even as he futilely attempted to wiggle out of their hold. He barely heard the screeching of tires as a car pulled up beside the three, the door being flung open. Hands grabbed for him as the other two men pushed him into the waiting vehicle.

Peter was shoved into the backseat of a luxury car, the door slamming shut as soon as his feet were clear. He was thrown off balance against the seat as the car peeled away with a screech of tires. As soon as he managed to right himself, he tried to open the door to possibly escape the moving vehicle, but the door wouldn’t open.

Peter pounded on the window, yelling, “Let me out!”

That’s when he felt the prick in his neck.

Whipping around, one of his hands going to his neck automatically, he was just in time to see a man capping a syringe. He gaped at the man, even as his blurring vision recognized him.

“Tony Stark?!”

The man in question gave him a large smile and reached a hand out to card some of Peter’s curls away from his sweaty forehead. He ignored Peter’s flinch backwards as the young man tried to plaster himself against the car door, out of Tony’s reach.

“That’s right, sweetheart. You can call me Tony.”

Peter’s vision swam and the inside of the car began to spin. He realized he was losing consciousness as black spots appeared in his vision and he felt his eyes close. As Peter’s body fell forward, he was caught by a strong pair of arms and held in a loose embrace.

Peter felt his body being moved into a more comfortable position, hands carding through his hair. As he fell asleep, the last thing he heard was, “Sweet dreams, love. When you wake up, we’ll have much to talk about.”

*****

Maybe a part two later.

#starker fanfic #starker #au #fic drabble #abo

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mjtmcinnis6102 · 8 years ago

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Sedona: A Southwest Hidden Gem

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kateelizabethfowler · 8 years ago

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New Essay: The Work of Place Keeping in Eastern Kentucky

The Work of Place Keeping in Eastern Kentucky Introduction by Kate Fowler, director of the Appalachian Media Institute:

It’s May in Whitesburg, a small town of roughly two thousand people in the coalfields of eastern Kentucky. The redbuds are in bloom on the hillsides and many of my neighbors are out in their yards, tending to gardens. The mountains that covered our valley in darkness during the winter are now full and warm, tangled with honeysuckle and laurel. Early this year our friend confided that winter is a particularly hard time for her. As the leaves fall from the trees, the scars on the mountains become visible and she feels confronted with the long history of coal extraction that has come to define this place. Each winter she wonders if she can make it through. Yet, when spring returns, as the hills fill out again, she resolves to stay.

A year and a half ago my husband and I moved to Whitesburg with an overloaded U-Haul truck and our two dogs. Available housing is hard to find here and we spent our first week as guests in the home of the founders of Appalshop—a media arts organization where I had recently accepted a position. Bill and Josephine Richardson graciously opened their home to us while we hunted for one of our own. Our first days were spent combing through the classified ads and searching the roads, with evenings around the Richardsons’ kitchen table, where we learned about the complex history of arts, culture, and representation in our new community.

In those first evenings we learned that the Richardsons had moved to Whitesburg from New Haven, Connecticut in 1969. Bill had completed an architecture degree at Yale University and received funding from a War on Poverty partnership between the American Film Institute and the federal Office of Economic Opportunity to start a two-year Appalachian Community Film Workshop, part of a national program to provide ten “minority and disadvantaged” communities with 16mm film training and tools.

Bill and Josephine still reside in Whitesburg and the Appalachian Community Film Workshop has grown into Appalshop—a forty-eight-year-old organization that has produced more than one hundred documentary films and is host to a radio station, theater ensemble, youth media program, record label, state-of-the-art archive, and creative community development initiative.

Our friend’s dilemma, of whether to stay or leave, has been reflected in the core of Appalshop’s mission since its beginnings. An early Appalshop film, In Ya Blood, produced in 1969, illustrates young filmmaker Herby Smith’s internal quandary—to leave Whitesburg and attend Vanderbilt University in Nashville or to stay home and work in the mines. After receiving his degree, Herby returned to his filmmaking career at Appalshop, where he’s still working today.

Many involved in Appalshop’s youth program Appalachian Media Institute (AMI) have relayed their own similar personal conflict, whether to leave for higher education or higher-paying work elsewhere, or to stay in the place they love with their network of family and friends. Brandon Jent, an alumnus of AMI’s 2015 Summer Documentary Institute has experienced the heartache of leaving his home culture, deep community, and family ties to further his education. He states:

Home is Colson, Kentucky in Letcher County—a small little place about 20 minutes out from the county seat, Whitesburg. Home is land that’s been divided up in my family from Deane to Isom, from generation to generation, from family gardens to churches to coal mines and a train that used to pass behind my house so frequently that I stopped noticing it.

Home is promising. Home is knowing that it was tough to live at home, that it’s still tough, that it may always be tough. Home is knowing that it’s worth it.

Generations of eastern Kentucky youth have had to contend with the question of whether to leave, alongside the demeaning narrative of the rural “brain drain.” This reductive theory posits that the best and brightest minds leave rural communities for urban communities. This simplification of data ignores the stories of those who choose to stay or are not able to leave. For many young people here, it is an act of resistance to stay in the community they love, or like Brandon, to return home.

In March, the New York Times published “Why I’m Moving Back Home,” an op-ed by author J. D. Vance. Announcing his return to “rural America,” Vance presented his move from Silicon Valley to Columbus, Ohio as an event worthy of a press release. “It’s jarring,” he states, “to live in a world where every person feels his life will only get better when you come from a world where many rightfully believe that things have become worse.” Reflecting on the “real struggles” of life in rural America, Vance added, “It wasn’t an easy choice. I scaled back my commitments to a job I love because of the relocation. My wife and I worry about the quality of local public schools, and whether she (a San Diego native) could stand the unpredictable weather.”

Following the election of President Trump with 62% of the rural vote, Vance’s memoir, Hillbilly Elegy, gained the attention of a nation reckoning with the growing divide it had long ignored. Since then, Vance has become a prominent voice in discussions surrounding the political, cultural, and economic climate in the rural East from the coalfields of eastern Kentucky to the Ohio rust belt. Winter is tough here, but Vance was talking about Columbus—one of our nation’s fastest growing mid-sized cities. For many living in these mountains, there are starker worries: access to clean drinking water, health care, nutritious food, employment, and livable housing take precedence over concerns about the weather.

Eastern Kentucky is no stranger to the complexity of media representation. For nearly a century, this area has witnessed the dual capacity of documentary storytelling to both impact social change and reduce a people to a simplistic, often derogatory, stereotype. A powerful example of this dichotomy is Harry Caudill’s 1963 book Night Comes to the Cumberlands, which inspired Lyndon B. Johnson’s federal War on Poverty and catalyzed a national discussion about the disparity between the quality of life in the suburbs of postwar America and Caudill’s home—Whitesburg itself—in the coalfields of eastern Kentucky. Revealing the controlled poverty of an extraction-based economy, Caudill outlined the economic, environmental, and human toll of an industry that supplied fuel to our nation’s steel mills, households, and military.

The release of Night Comes to the Cumberlands accelerated the national media’s extensive coverage of life in the Appalachian mountains: sitcoms like The Beverly Hillbillies (1962) and documentaries like CBS’s Christmas in Appalachia (1965) through PBS’s Country Boys (2006) and an abundance of contemporary films, television shows, novels, and journalism, including Ron Howard’s forthcoming film adaptation of Hillbilly Elegy. Too often, the narratives that define economically impoverished communities are created by those who have left (or were never there in the first place). These perspectives seldom offer the richness and complexity of those shaped by residents, whose stories develop over time, through relationships, and with a depth of context that is hard to achieve in the media industry.

It’s important to acknowledge the valuable role of the national media in the widespread dissemination of stories, yet we should not regard national media professionals as the primary authority or voice in any narrative of place. Indeed, dynamic representation requires a diversity of perspectives—from the nuance and knowledge of life within community to the critical distance afforded to those outside of it.

For nearly five decades, there has been a sustained movement of eastern Kentucky residents who have used media as a tool to critically address the challenges and opportunities of their home. Many of these residents are committed to staying in or returning to their communities—in spite of an economy that is recovering from the collapse of its primary industry, and challenges in not just quality of life, but subsistence. In his New York Times essay, J. D. Vance proposes that not all communities should be economically saved. After my short time in eastern Kentucky, I’d contend that for places such as Whitesburg, we should move beyond a rhetoric of “saving” and listen to the strong narrative that’s coming from these hills of arts, culture, talent, and resistance. This is not a community worth “saving,” it’s a community worth investing in, and its narrative runs far deeper than the contemporary discussion prompted by Vance or the 2016 presidential election cycle.

“Growing up, I really didn’t know until my teenage years that my home was any different from the rest of the world,” reflects twenty-three-year-old filmmaker Oakley Fugate, who came of age during the collapse of the coal industry. Early on, Oakley was encouraged to work toward a future outside of the mountains, to leave his home. “It wasn’t until I got older [that] people told me I had to leave, that the only reliable career was in the coalfields. My teachers told me to give up on filmmaking, that there would be no way to make a living off of it, but media making is what drives me in life. I don’t want to leave. There really isn’t another place like home, a place that I’ve lived and know the majority of the people. I couldn’t make my films anywhere else.”

Over the next four weeks, we will share a series of films produced in collaboration between the youth filmmakers of the 2016 Summer Documentary Institute at Appalshop’s Appalachian Media Institute and filmmaker Jordan Freeman. The films show excerpts of the documentary projects produced by filmmakers Oakley Fugate, Elyssia Lowe, Josh Collier, Jaydon Tolliver, Aaron Combs, and Oliver Baker, along with interviews about their motivations and processes. Their full documentary films can be viewed here. Published in The Oxford American Magazine: http://www.oxfordamerican.org/item/1223-i-couldn-t-make-my-films-anywhere-else

#oxfordamerican #placekeeping #appalshop #appalachianmediainstitute #kentucky #easternkentucky

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