#[ All New Hawkeye does look pretty promising though! And it will probably be a littl more regular

[esamastation]

Xerxes au snippet

The first official political overture the small desert nation of Xerxes makes towards Amestris in over fifty years is a year after the end of the Ishvalan Civil War. Though it is expected to concern the war, and the border between Amestris and Xerxes, or perhaps even Amestrian use of Alchemy in the war, is has nothing to do with the bloody conflict, or it's relation to Xerxes' famously pacifistic view on alchemy.

It is a simple, polite appeal to the Amestrian Government – an invitation for an Amestrian automail mechanic to join the Xerxesian court.

"Bit odd," Havoc mutters, after a copy of the letter has gone around the office a few times. "What do they need an automail mechanic for – isn't Xerxesian medical alchemy, like… world famous?"

"For given the value of fame, yes," Roy agrees, fingers crossed together and a thoughtful look on his face. "They say early Amestrian alchemists learned from Xerxesians. We still use a lot of their symbols in our alchemy – but if Xerxesian alchemists are world famous about anything these days, it's their reticence. No outsider has seen much about the way they go about things these days, if they even practice alchemy anymore."

Of course there are rumours, there are always rumours, and there's history – the great and wealthy kingdom of Xerxes, alchemically on top of the world and widely known for their wisdom and knowledge and the miracles they achieved… who reached too far, tried to achieve the power of gods, and got struck down by said gods for it. How accurate that is, no one knows, but it's known that some disaster hundreds of years ago devastated the kingdom, killed most of its people, and it never fully recovered. Now it's people can only barely scrape by, living in huts and caves and underground, and they don't treat with outsiders much beyond the absolutely necessary.

Beyond trade routes established to get Amestrian goods through Xerxes to Xing, there's never been much interest for Xerxes, except maybe for it's grand history and it's many ruins. It doesn't help that Xerxes, as far as anyone knows, has never really reached outside, keeping to its isolationist values – and since it has little to offer to other nations… no one reached back, either. As far as anyone knows, Xerxes hasn't advanced at all scientifically or technologically in the last hundred years.

Which makes the fact that they want specifically an automail mechanic, an craftsman of one of Amestris' most advanced technology, rather interesting, doesn't it?

"I hear they took a lot of Ishvalan refugees during the war," Fuery says – he's the one holding the letter, reading it through.

Roy hums grimly. There's that, though took in might be stretching it a bit. Xerxes didn't do much to protect its borders – there was no need, with a desert all around their kingdom. So, when Ishvalan refugees sought to escape the conflict and set out to the desert, there was nothing but the terrain itself to stop them. Who knows how many Ishvalans made it through the desert, on foot and probably hurt…

"Why'd they send this to our office?" Breda asks, casting a look at Roy.

"They sent it to Grumman who sent it to us," Roy sighs and leans back in his chair. "The Lieutenant General wants us to find a suitable mechanic and then escort them – along with the Fürher's greetings – to Xerxes. The mission isn't exactly time sensitive, but since we're in the East…"

There's probably many reasons it was thrown their way, really. Way to keep those uppity brats from East busy, easily justified with them being closest to the matter at hand. It also wasn't exactly vital as diplomatic missions go – but it was still a diplomatic mission to a foreign nation, which means that Roy would want to handle it himself instead of leaving it to any of his subordinates. Especially since it's to Xerxes – what Alchemist wouldn't give an arm and a leg for a glimpse at how Xerxesian alchemy is these days? So, it was expected that he'd go himself. Which would get him out of people's way for a while, and maybe open up a slot for someone else to be promoted to his place, depending how long it would take.

How annoying. Grumman can be one clever son of a bitch when he wants to be.

"Right," Roy says while his team exchanges looks. "I want a list of all automail mechanics of East on my desk by the end of the day – if you can figure out their feelings about Ishval and if they have any history with the Ishvalan Civil War, that'd be a plus. Get to work."

"Sir!" his team answers, and immediately get to it, Fuery and Fallman both heading out to probably check records, while Havoc fishes out a phone book and Breda gets the phone. Beside Roy, Hawkeye gives him a look.

"Should I start preparing for travel?" she asks mildly.

"If you please," Roy says, turning to his paperwork. "We'll take Breda with us."

"Understood."

-

Over the course of next two days, they list and investigate various automail shops in the east, Roy privately wincing at how many there are, and how many of them are less than a decade old. The Ishvalan Civil War had been a boon to the business, and a lot of mechanics from the south moved in to take advantage of the situation. Lots of new up and coming mechanics, cutting their teeth in on a lot of freshly traumatised soldiers.

It left a lot of them… unsuitable for a mission likely to involve Ishvalan refugees.

"Known for his Anti-Ishvalan sentiments," Breda says, crossing out another potential automail shop. "This one has a No Refugees sign on his shop front, which probably means the same thing. This one has a pretty high record of automail rejection syndrome. This one has had two patients die on the operation table…"

Roy rubs a hand over his forehead, already imagining having to reach for the Southern District to find someone sensible in Rush Valley, when Breda offers him a potential. "Rockbell Automail, in business for decades before the Ishvalan Conflict even began."

"Rockbell," Roy says, lifting his head. "Any relation to the two late Doctors Rockbell?"

"Yep. Son and daughter in law of Doctor Pinako Rockbell, the head mechanic of the shop," Breda says and lays the file on his desk. "Their daughter is currently an apprentice mechanic in the shop, too."

Roy grimaces at that, but accepts the file, leafing quickly through it. Old, well established shop, known for their skill and efficiency, with very high praise from a lot of former customers and no known record of either deaths on operation table, auto mail rejections, or any anti-Ishvalan sentiments. There is a slight issue of the head mechanic being an old woman and the only other mechanic being a young girl, but…

It's promising.

"Phone," Roy says, and Hawkeye quickly lifts it on his desk, turning it toward him so that he can dial easily.

"Rockbell Automail, Pinako Rockbell speaking," a woman's voice answers the phone promptly, her tone brisk.

"Doctor Rockbell, my name is Roy Mustang, I'm a Lieutenant Colonel from the East Area Headquarters – may I have a moment of your time?"

"Certainly," Doctor Rockbell answers, no noticeable change in her tone. "What can do for you, Lieutenant Colonel? Aside from automail, presumably."

"I am currently looking for a skilled automail mechanic to take part in a diplomatic mission, likely to involve Ishvalan refugees," Roy says. "Your shop came up as highly recommended."

"Hrm. What kind of diplomatic mission? Don't the military have their own automail mechanics?"

"There are some, but none in the Eastern Headquarters," Roy admits – probably because the East has such surplus of civilian mechanics these days. "And I'll be frank, the likely length of this mission makes it difficult to use any of our military mechanics. The mission is to Xerxes, and will likely take weeks, if not months."

"… Xerxes?" now the old woman's voice changes, growing a little incredulous.

"Yes, the Xerxes Royal Family sent the Amestrian government an appeal for a skilled automail mechanic to join their court, and I was tasked with the mission of finding one," Roy explains and leans back, turning to look out of the window while he talks. "You would be well compensated for your trouble, however long it would last."

"Is this… a permanent position? In Xerxes?" Still incredulous.

"We don't know as of yet, the treaties are yet to be drawn. You would naturally be part of the negotiations and your wishes and needs would be taken into account," Roy assures her. "I understand this is a bit much so suddenly, and I will hold it in no way against you if you refuse outright – though I am hoping that if that is the case, then perhaps you, as a well established mechanic, might be able to point me in the way of more suitable candidates…"

Honestly, with a shop as old and as well established as hers, Roy doubts very much she would take him up on the mission – she probably has a whole lot of regular clients and steady stream of income, and no need to move. But, it never hurts to ask.

The phone line is quiet for a moment as the old mechanic thinks. "I need to talk with my apprentice for a moment, can I call you back in, say, two hours?"

"Certainly," Roy agrees, and gives her his office number. "We'll be looking forward to your call."

"Right – one more thing. You said it's likely to involve Ishvalan refugees," Doctor Rockbell says. "How'd you mean?"

"We don't know for sure, the appeal didn't explain the need for a mechanic. But during the Ishvalan Civil War, many Ishvalan refugees fled to Xerxes. So we thought it safe to assume the two are connected."

"Ah," the mechanic says knowingly. "And they put a State Alchemist in charge of finding a solution."

Roy swallows. Ah. She knows about him. It's not entirely surprising, but… "They did indeed," is all he says. There's no real explanation he can give, no excuse. It is what it is."

"Hm," Doctor Rockbell answers, noncommittal. "I will call back in two hours."

And she does, accepting the mission with two conditions. The military would help her pack up her entire shop and all the materials and tools would be transported with them – which was understandable, even if it tripled the estimated convoy size. The other condition was that she was taking her eleven year old apprentice with her. Both conditions Roy readily agreed to, tasking Havoc and Fallman with her packing while the rest of the team arranged the convoy.

"Guess we're going to Xerxes then. We're going to need a lot of camels," Breda muses.

"Yes," Roy agrees and sighs. It would be a hard journey and probably a hard mission, and likely one for very little gain in the end. Still. Xerxes. His alchemy master would've killed for the opportunity. Might as well take full advantage of it, and learn whatever he can, even if it's only from broken murals on ancient ruins.

-

Hmm... not sure I’m getting Mustang’s voice right.

Edit: Also tumblr eats italics for breakfast apparently.

[marley-manson]

☕️ + Trapper?

Thank you for asking! I’m putting this under a cut bc it got a little long.

I love him. I'm really looking forward to getting back around to the first three seasons on this rewatch (I started Mash in season 7 bc I'd casually watched the first half a decade ago and the original plan was just to finish it lol) because I really want to pay more attention to him, both for fic purposes and general appreciation purposes.

So pending that rewatch, what I love most about him is his vibe with Hawkeye. Like I originally got into Mash pretty much solely for the barrage of gay jokes, and boy do they deliver on that promise. They're so fun together, their chemistry is very engaging, and they have a very in-sync, very mutually supportive vibe.

There's a pretty popular take that Trapper sort of mentored Hawkeye/supported him as the new kid, and Hawkeye passed along the favour to BJ, and I think that's a solid legit interpretation, but I think it sells Hawkeye's support of Trapper a little short. Trapper looks out for Hawkeye, does his best to protect him and stand with him and create a united front against any of their enemies from Frank to the entire army to the war, and Hawkeye also does the same when Trapper needs him - he's with him every step of the way when he tries to adopt Kim, he stops him from making stupid rash decisions as best as he can a few times, he's good with little supportive gestures and outpourings of emotion.

If Hawkeye supports Trapper less than the reverse it's because Trapper got fewer dramatic moments where he needed it because the writing tended to focus on Hawkeye imo. And I really enjoy that mutual support vibe - I can easily imagine that if Wayne Rogers stayed on through the character development years he would've gotten a lot more emotional plotlines featuring Hawkeye being supportive the way BJ did.

But to focus on Trapper specifically rather than just his relationship with Hawkeye, I love the aforementioned protectiveness, which we also see with Kim and Margaret a couple times. I think there are a few interesting implications wrt some of the lines, like the ex-Catholic thing. Not Catholic, but his parents wanted him to be a priest? I'd love to see his relationship with his family explored - maybe they're estranged, maybe he married too young to get away from them and start his own life, maybe he married for money to go to med school after being cut off.

If he's not religious but was raised very Catholic that's also interesting personality-wise. To me it suggests a certain free spirited streak, contrariness and/or urge to question, which fits perfectly with his and Hawkeye's attitudes towards the army as well. Like, to take that and run with it, I don't think he was just supporting Hawkeye's campaigns against the army, I think he also found value in them, and he probably really loves Hawkeye's rebellious streak in particular.

(Granted a lot of this is projection bc I have close family members who were raised in a christian cult, a few of whom left it, so I have some preconceived ideas about what type of person leaves an intense religious sect and possibly their family along with it.)

I also like to think he’s knowingly bi and has been around the Boston scene, much like Hawkeye, though I think he’s much better at subtlety than Hawkeye. I’m sure I’ve said this before but like, since we’re all taking Hawkeye’s jokes as his bi evidence then it just makes sense to do the same for Trapper, who has many of the same jokes with a very similar vibe and eagerly participates and hits on dudes like Klinger and Frank as well.

Hm what else... I like his cynicism in contrast to Hawkeye's idealism, as seen in Ceasefire, Mail Call, possibly Alcoholics Unanimous though I'm really feeling the need to rewatch to get the details correct now lol. But as a general vibe I think it's a good counterpoint to Hawkeye and I wonder where it comes from - I generally assume they were drafted around the same time, Trapper a few weeks earlier based on his conversation with Frank in O.R. and possibly the book continuity from my understanding, so I don't think it's just that he's been in Korea longer, I think it's something about Trapper as a person.

That's actually another reason he maybe supports Hawkeye on his campaigns so much - maybe he appreciates Hawkeye's idealism because he doesn't have much of it on his own. Trapper can ground Hawkeye a little and make him a bit more aware of consequences, but at the same time Hawkeye can inspire Trapper a little and make him see more possibilities.

I also think he's smarter and more observant than he's given credit for. He's straightforward but in an open and honest way, not in a simple or ignorant way. Like the common joke that if BJ and Trapper ever met BJ would be playing 4D chess and driving himself crazy and Trapper would have no idea and just be happy to meet a friend of Hawkeye's - like in that joke context, if that was BJ's vibe, I think Trapper would be aware of BJ's paggro hostility and simply ignore it. That's how I see Trapper.

So yeah basically I think Trapper has a lot of potential for depth to draw on, and he’s a great and very entertaining partner for Hawkeye, and I wish he got more seasons but life isn’t fair sadly.

[aquietwritingcorner]

Writers Month Day 1: Protective/School Word Count: 3165 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: G/K Characters: Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye Warning: NA Summary: Fourteen-year-old Roy Mustang makes some observations about ten-year-old Riza Hawkeye, and decides to do something about it Notes: Young Roy and Riza friendship is cute! AO3 || ff.net

 ____________________________________________

 Protective/School

 Fourteen-year-old Roy Mustang sauntered down the road, a carefree smile on his face. The day was a warm with a breeze, the perfect day for a walk into town, as far as he was concerned. He had finished all of the work that Master Hawkeye had assigned him, and Master Hawkeye was focused on his research at the moment. So focused, in fact, that he had handed Roy a list of supplies and told him to go to town and take his time. Naturally, Roy had taken his master’s request to heart.

Roy didn’t come into town too often, despite having been here over a year. Usually, he was kept busy with his studies, and when something was needed from town, young Miss Riza seemed to usually have it taken care of. Actually, she seemed to have most things taken care of. She took care of the house, the garden, the animals, the meals, hunting, and her schoolwork too. Honestly, Roy had no idea how the ten-year-old did it. He wasn’t half as responsible at her age. Then again, he had a lot of older sisters to look after him. Miss Riza had no one.

Still, he wasn’t about to waste a chance to take a walk into town and get out of the stuffy Hawkeye Manor. He wanted to socialize with people, see what was new, and wave at some of the girls. The girls here seemed to find him charming, and he just couldn’t disappoint them, now, could he?

Roy figured that most of the girls around his age were either working or in school at the moment, so showing off would be a little more difficult. He knew, though, that his path would take him by the school. He could at least wave to the girls who saw him through the windows of the one-room schoolhouse. Maybe he’d even take his time and walk back by when school let out. He couldn’t help the grin that grew on his face as he thought about that.

His grin faded, however, as he grew close to the school yard. Most of the voices he could hear came from inside the building, but he caught wind of a few that were coming from outside of it. He frowned, not liking the tone of the voices at all. They seemed harsh, and he had to wonder what was going on.

The voices weren’t coming from the side of the school that faced the road, and so Roy, not liking what he was hearing, walked on to the school property with just a minor glance around. No one was outside to stop him. He had just rounded the corner when he saw a water bucket being thrown down, and a familiar girl shoved back. He watched with wide eyes as she tripped over the bucket, tumbling down, and the three boys laughing at her.

“Can’t even carry a bucket of water!” one of them was saying. “How useless are you? Even your own dad replaced you!”

Riza said nothing, just stayed put, and kept her eyes down.

Roy saw red, and he quickly strode forward. “Hey!” he called out, grabbing all of their attention. “What are you doing?”

One of the boys—Thompson, Roy thought his family name was—turned towards him. He was bigger than Roy, but Roy wasn’t going to let that stop him. “It’s none of your business, City Boy,” he sneered.

Roy knelt by Riza’s side, reaching down to help the younger girl up, but his eyes stayed on the three boys in front of them. It had been a while, but he had scrapped plenty of times back in the city. These were unfair numbers, and he was pretty sure that these boys were stronger than he was, but he couldn’t just let this happen. Especially not to Miss Riza.

Before any of them could reply, the bell began ringing, indicating a break, and students came running out of the doors. The boys obviously didn’t want an audience, because they moved away with little more than sneers and muttered promises about “next time.”

Roy watched them for a moment, before turning his attention back to Riza. The girl was on her feet now, trying to brush off her dress, and wasn’t looking at him. Roy reached down for the water bucket, holding it out to Riza.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

Her cheeks flushed, and she grabbed the water bucket from him. “I’m fine,” she said defiantly.

“Are you sure?” Roy asked her again, not sure he believed her.

This time she did look up at him, glaring at him with such ferocity that he nearly took a step back. “I’m fine!” she snapped at him again, and then turned abruptly with the water bucket in her hands.

Not sure of what else to do, he followed her. “I’m sorry, Miss Riza. I just wanted to be sure.”

He watched as she attached the bucket to the rope and lowered it down into the well. “Well now you’re sure,” she said. “So go away. You shouldn’t be here anyway. You should be studying whatever my father left for you to do, so I could have just dealt with that like normal and moved on with the day.”

Roy’s brow crinkled at her words, but he moved passed them quickly. “I’m out on an errand for your father. I think he wanted to be left alone to research today.”

Riza’s lips pursed, and she hesitated only a moment before she began pulling the bucket back up. “Then it’s best you and I both stay away until time to fix supper,” she said, not pausing once in what she was doing. “Although you can probably risk going back sooner than I can.” She had the bucket back at the top by now and turned away with it in her hands. “I will see you this evening, Mr. Mustang.”

It was a clear dismissal, something he had gotten used to from the younger girl. Still, he couldn’t help but stare after her as she made her way back up the hill towards the schoolhouse. Something about what she had said bothered him. He didn’t want to let it go, but he wasn’t sure what else he could do.

Frowning, Roy reluctantly turned away. He had no business being here, and Roy was pretty sure that, if someone had been watching him this whole time, he had vastly overstayed his welcome. Roy continued on into town, taking his time there. Chris sent him a little pocket money each month, although he didn’t always have the chance to use it. Maybe today he would.

It was lunch time before he drifted back towards the school, sandwich in hand. The students were out as well, and Roy scanned them to see if he could see Riza. She wasn’t in amongst the other girls who were sitting together and eating. She wasn’t over with the younger kids who were playing. He didn’t even see her among the boys, which, after this morning, was a relief. He finally spotted her up near the school building, looking as if she were emptying out some water. He frowned. Was she working through lunch? Maybe she was in trouble.

“Roy!” A voice caught his ear and he looked over to see Cassidy Wiseman waving at him. “What are you doing here?”

He grinned and made his way over to her and the other older girls. “Just getting some supplies. Master Hawkeye is doing some research and sent me to town for him.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, grinning at him and batting her eyes a bit. “And what brings you by the school?”

“Curiosity,” he said with a grin. The girls tittered with laughter, and movement caught his eye again. It was Riza, still up near the schoolhouse. His own smile faded a bit. “Say, Cass, think you could answer a question for me?”

“For you Roy, anything.”

He gave her another dashing grin. “What’s up with Riza? Did she get in trouble or something?”

Cassidy and the other girls glanced up to where Riza was just emptying something else. Cassidy’s smile faded a little. “Her?” she snorted. “No. She sticks around the school a lot. Teacher’s pet, that’s what she’s trying to be. Besides, even on the days when she’s not doing work for the teacher, she’s always doing something else like reading, or doing calculations or something. She’s a bit… odd. Never does anything with us, even if she has food.”

“She is odd,” one of the others pipped in. “What’s with her hair? She always keeps it so short.”

“I heard she cut it off so her father can’t use it in alchemic experiments.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah, it’s because she’s trying to hard to be a boy. I mean, the short hair, the hunting—and look at her dresses. Patched and bare and out of style and never any stockings.”

“She’s hardly respectable.”

“She’ll never find herself anyone that way.”

“Can you imagine what a disaster it’ll be when she finally starts maturing?”

The girls laughed, but Roy ignored their gossip for the moment, his eyes back on Riza. Things were starting to add up for him. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Forgot something Master wanted me to do.”

Without so much as a goodbye, Roy made his way across the school yard and towards the building. “Hey! Hey, Miss Riza!”

Riza stopped, wastebasket in her hands and glared up at him. “What do you want, Mr. Mustang?” she asked him.

He didn’t miss the way that her eyes lingered on his sandwich for just a moment. “Not much. I mean, it looks like you’re busy. But, well, I bought this sandwich, and I only really wanted a half. I thought you might be interested in the other half.”

Her eyes lit up with interest, but they were quickly guarded again. “And why should I need you to give me anything?”

Right. Her pride. Even at ten she was stubborn. “You don’t,” he said with a shrug. “But it won’t last more than a few hours, probably. I didn’t want it to go to waste.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then sighed, setting the waste basket down. “Alright,” she said. “It wouldn’t do to have something go to waste—at least, no more to waste then buying a sandwich that you can make for free is already.”

She held her hand out, and he reached into his bag and pulled it out for her, giving it to her with a grin. “Hope you enjoy it!” he said.

She just frowned at him. “Thank you,” she said, fairly quietly.

There was an awkward pause, and Roy wasn’t sure what to do next. “Uh, say,” he said. “I still have to finish my half. Any chance I can sit here and eat it with you?”

Riza blinked at him in surprise. “Wouldn’t you rather go eat with the other girls?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “Nah. They’re busy talking about dresses and hair. I get enough of that from my sisters.”

“Oh.”

He glanced at Riza, but she wasn’t looking at him, just at her sandwich. After a moment, she sat down, and he did as well. But he kept an eye on her as they ate, noticing how her hand came up to her brush her short locks more often than normal.

Lunch was a short affair, and soon he was off, killing more time and exploring the town and the surrounding area. He supposed he could go back to the Hawkeye house, but instead he felt the need to stick around. By the time that school let out that day, Roy was waiting nearby, the supplies Master Hawkeye had requested with him, and a bag of apples as well. He smiled and waved at the girls that walked by, smirked at a boy or two who looked at him jealously, and then grinned when Riza walked up to him. In the distance he could see the boys from earlier scowling at him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him, hands on her hips.

He shrugged. “I had to take all of this stuff back anyway. I just thought it made sense to go back together.” He paused and held out an apple to her. “Apple?”

Riza still looked at him a little suspiciously, but after a moment she agreed. They worked out the packages among them, and started walking back towards the Hawkeye home, Roy doing most of the talking on the way, but Riza chiming in a little.

Over the next few weeks Master Hawkeye stayed focused on his research, giving Roy some work to do, but mostly leaving the boy on his own to self-teach. He did his assigned work, attempted to help out around the house, and did a lot of exploring of the area. It gave Roy a lot more time to talk to Riza too, and he found himself paying a bit more attention to the things she said or the ways that she acted. He had always known that she was treated poorly by her father. But before now, he hadn’t realized that she was having trouble with other kids as well. It was only when she came home one day, her dress torn, and Riza herself looking roughed up, that Roy decided to take matters into his own hands.

Roy liked Riza. Yeah, she was four years younger than him, but she usually seemed a lot older than that. Besides, when you got through her shell, she was funny, caring, and more than capable. He hadn’t quite breeched it yet, but he had seen glimpses of it. He genuinely liked the younger girl, like she was a little sister or a neighborhood kid that he was fond of or something.

It was with that feeling in mind that Roy made the decision to walk Riza home from school every day that he could manage it. Riza was suspicious of him at first, but she could find no real reason to object. The few objections that she did bring up—usually that he should be studying or else her father would be mad—he quickly dismissed. After all, what was alchemy without practical application? And wouldn’t that be better done outside?

Even as the fall temperatures moved further from the warm summer and towards the cold winter, Roy found himself keeping up this habit. Riza slowly started to warm to it as well, coming to expect him. She offered him little smiles, and small bits of biting humor as they walked. When the harvest came in, he would pick her up with things like apples and squash in bags, and she would turn them into meals and desserts. As the weather grew colder, his jacket often found its way around her shoulders.

Even at the Hawkeye Manor, their relationship improved. He would often sit at the kitchen table with her to study or puzzle out texts out loud in front of her. She would do her homework and start cooking. Roy started doing alchemy around the house more, supposedly as “practice” but really as an excuse to fix up what he could and help Riza in any way possible.

It was only when he presented her with a nice, warm winter coat—one made from several too small and too thin coats he had used as source material—that she questioned him.

She took the coat from him, the coat a soft, deep blue with black buttons, thick wool and in a fashion that he had knew was a classic style his sisters love. She felt it, but didn’t say anything, and his enthusiasm for the gift started to fade.

“Miss Riza?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

For a moment she didn’t say anything, just kept her head bowed over that coat, her thumbs stroking the material.

“I don’t understand,” she finally said.

His brows scrunched up. “What do you mean?”

She looked up at him, and he was surprised to see tears in the corner of her eyes. “I don’t understand,” she repeated again. “You walk me home. You buy things I like. You help me around the house. You fix things. You help me with my schoolwork. You seek me out to spend time with me. And now you’ve given me a coat.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand, Mr. Mustang. I’m no one. I’m just a ten-year-old girl who isn’t smart enough to learn alchemy. My own father doesn’t pay attention to me. But… you do all of these things. I don’t understand why.”

Roy was stunned. It had never occurred to him that she might feel this way. “Well, I mean… because I care, Miss Riza.”

Her head jerked up at him at that, eyes wide, almost as if she had been struck. And then, she was whirling away from him, coat still in hand. “You shouldn’t,” she said. “Thank you for the coat, but you should focus on your studies more.”

“Wait.” Roy reached out and grabbed her shoulder. “Miss—Riza. Riza wait.”

She stiffened under his touch, but looked back at him, clearly startled at the lack of formality.

“Why shouldn’t I care?” he asked her. “Why shouldn’t I care about you?”

“Because Father only wants you to care about alchemy. He wants you focused only on that. He won’t stand for distractions, and if he thinks I’m one then… then I’m not sure what he’ll do, but he won’t like it.” She turned to face him a bit more, and he could see that her lip was trembling, and her eyes were wet with tears she hadn’t let fall. “I’m not worth caring about. Your studies are much more important. I—”

“No,” Roy said, and said it so firmly she stopped, and stared at him. “No,” he repeated. “My studies are not more important than you.” He knelt in front of her, digging in his pocket for a handkerchief and using it to wipe her eyes. “Listen to me, Riza. No matter what anyone says or does, you’re worth caring about. Even if I’m the only one who ever does it, you’re worth caring about, okay? But I can promise you that there are plenty of other people out there that will care about you. You just haven’t found them yet. But you are worth caring about.”

She stared at him for a moment longer, trembling, and then she threw herself into his arms, sobbing. He held the young girl, rocking her back and forth as she silently sobbed on him. Roy was fine with this. He’d take care of her while he could, even if that meant walking her home from school every day until she graduated.

No one deserved to think that they weren’t worth caring about. And he’d prove it to her one day.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars #7-9

November, 1984

BERSERKER!

The death of an Avenger! The X-Men’s greatest battle! And, introducing the all-new SPIDER-WOMAN!

The cover sure isn’t burying the lede. This comic sure does introduce an All-New (presumably All-Different) Spider-Woman! Jessica Drew, move over! For now. You’ll be the Spider-Woman that endures in the long run.

Last times on Secret Wars: Some amazingly powerful being from Beyond the universe called the Beyonder kidnaps a bunch of heroes, villains, shades thereof, and chunks of random planets to put on a big toy commercial where action figures can bonk off each other.

The X-Men ditched the other heroes to do their own thing, as they’re wont to do. The villains storm the hero base and drop a mountain on them. The heroes take refuge at a small village where Johnny Storm finds a new girlfriend but there’s also a Galactus.

Galactus starts preparing a device to eat Battleworld, which would let him win the toy commercial in one fell swoop.

Oh, and Wasp was kidnapped by Magneto, escaped, crashed her escape ship, found the Lizard, and then got lasered to death by the Wrecking Crew. It was a Bad Time and I am sad, even though we know Wasp will be okay by the time they get back from Battleworld.

This time: Further not burying the lede.

The cover promised a new Spider-Woman and dammit, here’s one right away, first page. Truth in advertising!

Spider-Woman herself wastes no time introducing herself to everyone, that she comes from a chunk of Denver that got raptured by the Beyonder (still want that miniseries), that she came to help when she saw evidence of super fighting, and that she can pick up and throw large rocks so clearly she’d be able to help.

Captain America is hesitant about all this and Spider-Woman assumes that he thinks she’s a spy but as Captain America points out, why would Doom need to mess around with spies when he’s got so much power at his disposal.

Spider-Man is also hesitant at this new character. For different reasons.

Spider-Man: “She tossed that boulder as easily as I could have... at least! I wonder if she sticks to walls, too! And I wonder if I can sue her for infringing on my shticks! I should have gotten a patent or trademark or something...”

Cap tries to settle on the argument that a Secret War is too dangerous but Spider-Woman has the exceptional point “I suspect that it’s no less dangerous for the spectators, Captain America -- I might as well pitch in!”

And then the obvious toy pitch vehicle that the Wrecking Crew was driving in the swamp yesterday drives through the village blowing shit up, restarting the fires that the heroes just put out, and most insultingly of all, throwing Wasp van Dyne’s dead deceased corpse out the hatch before driving off.

Those dicks.

The heroes rush to Wasp and take her to Zsaji. That cool lady tries to heal Wasp but Jan has no pulse and isn’t breathing and might be beyond Cura. This may take Phoenix Down.

But since she went and got herself disintegrated on the Moon, Wasp is clearly dead forever.

-Looks over at Avengers #243- Hush, you!

The assembled heroes want to rush Doombase and kick the shit out of the villains and specifically the Wrecking Crew but Captain America tells them no.

Captain America: “Now, listen to me -- ! While we’re off getting even, what if Galactus starts to use that world-eating machine he’s building up on that mountain? Then every living thing on this world -- including these innocent villagers and all those people from that suburb of Denver will die! We’ve got to stay right here, ready to attack him! We may have only seconds to react when it begins!”

She-Hulk storms off while the other heroes debate the Galactus situation.

I’m sure this is fine.

Meanwhile, on the more volcano-y side of the planet, Xavier orders Cyclops, Rogue, and Wolverine to pursue Doom’s Four villains Molecule Man, Titania, Absorbing Man, and Doctor Octopus to try to capture them before they can return to Doom.

Back over at Doombase, Titania sees that her “little Owie” has been badly hurt and begs Enchantress to help.

Volcana: “Enchantress! You’re a sorceress! You could use your magic to transport me to my Owen!”

Enchantress -busy getting drunk-: “Yes... but why would I, mortal?”

Volcana: “Well... because... because I need you to! I can’t fly a ship! I -- I don’t even have a driver’s license for a car! Ultron won’t help me -- ! He only takes orders from Doom!”

Enchantress: “It takes much energy to transport a body as bloated as yours! I cannot be bothered!”

Wow! You’re a dick!

Volcana catches a lot of fat jokes and she’s not depicted as looking any different from Standard Comic Book Body Type. But also, don’t fatshame at all, Enchantress.

Anyway, Volcana promises anything to Enchantress if she helps.

Enchantress: “Rash words, mortal wench... and later, you shall deeply regret them!”

Its very handy for the villains that Volcana just showed up because their airship almost immediately gets show down by the X-Men. So even with Molecule Man out of commission, their numbers are back to Doom’s Four. And Volcana calls dibs on beating up Wolverine.

The X-Men have numbers but they’re not doing super well. Professor X is on the scene trying to be the field leader but the chaos of the battle and the villains’ minds being blocked by Enchantress’ magic makes it hard for him to coordinate.

Magneto even gets smack-talked by Absorbing Man.

Absorbing Man: “Tell me, Magneto. What’s scum like you doin’ hangin’ around with the X-Men? Sure, they’re outlaws -- but I thought you was big time! You got mass murder raps, manslaughter, terrorism, what else? Probably everything! You’re one of us! On second thought, a creampuff like you belongs with them losers!”

I can’t believe Magneto has to take that from a man who constantly carries a large metal orb with him everywhere.

Wolverine manages to slice off Absorbing Man’s arm, although the guy was made of rock at the time so it wasn’t as gory as it could have been.

Absorbing Man just. Picks up his arm and runs off to hit someone with it.

Amazing.

The villains manage to pin down the heroes with some Volcana blast and then steal one of the X-Men’s ships and get away.

Professor X declares that this is Totally a victory.

Xavier: “We lost nothing, save one of our ships -- which matters little -- and we gained much! We coalesced as a fighting unit passing our greatest test to date and I think we proved ourselves -- beyond a doubt!”

Like, you had a scuffle with some villains that ended inconclusively even though you had the advantage of a sneak attack, the villains stole one of your ships, and there was no major damage to either side.

It was largely pointless. But I guess Xavier has a vested interest in declaring it a huge success since it was his inaugural go at being field commander.

Meanwhile, skulking around Galactus’ ship, DOOM complains about doing that.

Doom: “Doctor Doom - a burglar! Rummaging about in another being’s home, seeking to steal some priceless thing! Bah! What choice do I have? I need a key, a way -- ! My armor’s sensors have led me to prize after prize -- hundreds, thousands of devices which, in the hands of a man as brilliant as myself could provide power to conquer entire galaxies -- ! Yet, all of them combined are not enough to defeat Galactus -- let alone the Beyonder! There must be a way! Doom must be supreme!”

Unfortunately for Doom, despite the volcano distraction making Galactus sigh and have to spend time fixing the planet so he can eat it, he senses something amiss in his house and mentally yeets Doom back to Battleworld.

The villains return back to Doombase but Doctor Octopus can’t help Molecule Man because dammit he’s a nuclear physicist, not a medical doctor! Ultron tells Volcana that there are medical devices that could fix Molecule Man up nicely but since he doesn’t have any relevant orders from Doom, he’s just going to stand here and look pretty. And Enchantress says she could heal him with a wave of her hand but refuses to because Volcana already gave her a blank check.

Absorbing Man returns and reattaches his arm by basically hoping like hell it’ll just be better if he holds it in place when he reverts to skin flesh.

And the Wrecking Crew have to throw the Lizard into a cell because he hasn’t stopped trying to eat their faces for killing Wasp, his new best friend.

The Wrecking Crew doesn’t get a chance to enjoy being back at base because She-Hulk has broken in and beats the crap out of them off-screen.

Titania comes in and starts fighting She-Hulk STARTING AN ENDURING RIVALRY.

Its fun how much got its start in Secret Wars.

The two fight more or less evenly from what I can tell but uh Doctor Octopus joins in as does the Absorbing Man and the Wrecking Crew once they catch their breath.

And She-Hulk is strong but this is a stomp.

In another part of Doombase where the Enchantress is sitting in “sullen reverie” refusing to get involved in the fight she can here, instead thinking about how much she’s going to seduce the crap out of Thor.

Doom arrives at Himbase after being expelled from Galactus’ ship and refuses to explain anything to Enchantress. He just stumbles over to his sweet bed and collapses in it.

Doom: “It is over... Finished...”

Back over at Zsaji’s Village, the heroes realize that She-Hulk took off. Hawkeye figures that she went after the villains and asks to go after her.

Hawkeye: “She can’t take ‘em alone, Cap! She needs us!”

Huh! When the chips are down even though they fought, Clint and Jen sure are coworkers.

Hulk also asks to go after her since she’s his cousin. The acknowledgement of which is what I’ve been wanting all along.

But Cap tells them no.

Hulk: “I don’t suppose you’d consider putting it to a vote?”

Trying to appeal to his love of democracy. How wily.

Captain America: “My heart would vote ‘yes’ in a minute... Too many innocent lives are at stake here, though! Many more than the few people on this planet -- we’ve got a universe depending on what we do here! We can’t allow ourselves the luxury of making decisions with our hearts!”

But Cap receives a psychic skype from Professor X who tells him that the X-Men can take Galactus watching duty for a bit so run along and save your teammate, you scamp.

Cap accepts.

Its fun how the tide of battle has shifted back and forth.

Now the heroes are largely fresh, having been sitting on their ass staring at Galactus, and the villains are bloodied from several fights with the X-Men and She-Hulk. Plus, their big gun Molecule Man got Wolverine’d.

But next issue is something so big that it overshadows basically everything else in Secret Wars.

December, 1984

INVASION!

YEAH ITS VENOM

OR WILL BE

Also, a bunch of other stuff happens. The cover is kind of funny for maybe unintentionally presaging what would happen where the black costume being more remembered than everything else in Secret Wars in general but definitely this issue specifically.

There’s actually a lot of really cool stuff happening in this issue.

Cap(tain America)’s group of heroes storms Doom’s Doombase, lucking out that Doom is too stunned by being expelled from Galactus’ ship to attempt any kind of defense and nobody else on his team has the braincells to be watching out for an attack.

Enchantress hears the heroes breaking in but she’s well and truly drunk by this point.

And bemoans her secret god meeting with Thor. That she was going to try to cast a spell on him to bend him to her will but is aware that she might have flipped good for him instead. And even now wonders what she’ll do if Thor shows up in front of her.

The villains still beating She-Hulk to her death hear the heroes breaking into the base and run off to ambush them, Doc Ock slamming She-Hulk against some wreckage as a coup de grace.

Wrecker gets the jump on Iron Man and Doc Ock dumps a convenient tank of water on Human Torch but Spider-Man jumps in and drops Bulldozer with one punch before he can pulp an extinguished Johnny.

The Thing tries fighting Absorbing Man but wouldn’t you know it, the Thing’s thingness fades at the worst time again, leaving him powerless.

Spider-Woman jumps in to save him.

She didn’t get to really do much in her actual introductory issue, despite being on the cover and splash. She just kinda shows up and goes ‘i can definitely help!’

She makes a much better second impression this time. Almost like she’s aware that she needs to sell herself.

Spider-Woman: “A clean knockout -- ! Of the awesome Absorbing Man -- ! And it’s only the fifth time I’ve ever been in a fight! The new Spider-Woman wins again!”

Marvel really wants you to like this non-Jessica Drew.

Piledriver charges Hawkeye, mocking him for missing with his arrows and gloating that arrows are useless to a guy who’s immune to bullets.

Piledriver: “Hawkeye the Archer! Hah! Boy you gonna need Hawkeye the M.A.S.H. doctor in a minute -- ‘cause I reckon this good ol’ boy is gonna ‘mash’ you!”

Good one, Piledriver. Good banter.

Hawkeye: “Those shots were just warnings, dummy! I don’t want to have to hit you! From my bow, at this range, an arrow hits a lot harder than any bullet! Back off... please...”

We did learn in the Hawkeye mini that Hawkeye’s bow has a ridiculous draw strength.

This is a pretty good Hawkeye moment people don’t really point to a lot.

Also, I do love when an invincible or durable person who isn’t used to getting hurt gets hurt once and goes ‘NOPE! I DO NOT CARE FOR THIS!’

Hulk busts into Enchantress’ drinking room and unfortunately falls for her “I am but a helpless female!” routine. She gets all up in his business, magically puts him to sleep, and then pours herself another drink.

It could have been a good day for Enchantress if Captain America hadn’t come in right after.

Captain America: “What have you done to the Hulk?”

Enchantress: “For the moment, he is merely asleep. Doubtless dreaming dreams of me! But, alas, he can never truly have me, for I am yours, my handsome captain! Am I not beautiful? Come to me...”

Points for audacity but Captain America is a champion of not thinking with his dick. Blah blah willpower is legendary, socked Prometheus in the noggin. You get it.

Anyway, he socks Enchantress in the noggin with his shield and knocks her out.

Hawkeye and unthinged Ben try to find the rest of the heroes but run into Klaw and Lizard, who Klaw let out of his cell because he didn’t like to see anyone imprisoned but also because he liked the way Lizard talks. What an audiophile.

Ben Grimm: “Uh... any ideas, Hawk?”

Hawkeye: “Well... I guess we’ll have to outwit ‘em!”

Ben Grimm: “Us?!”

Hah.

Thor, Iron Man, Spider-Woman, and Mr Fantastic find Volcana and Molecule Man.

Iron Man makes the dubious tactical decision to charge right into Volcana’s plasma burst and burns out his armor.

Mr Fantastic pulls him out of the way and the other heroes try to get through Molecule Man’s fused air molecules invisible shield. They fail until Captain Marvel just lightbeams right through it. Because its transparent.

Love it. Love that her power works like that. Because it should.

Captain Marvel grabbing Molecule Man pulls open his Wolverine wounds and he passes out. Volcana surrenders to spare her boyfriend more pain.

Not that Monica intended that or knew he was wounded. This is still early Monica before Nextwave hardened her outlook. This is the Monica who was horrified when Blackout and Moonstone got pulled through a singularity.

Titania tried to drop a forty-ton beam on the heroes’ heads but is interrupted by Spider-Man thanks to his spectacular spider-sense.

She out-muscles him by a lot but she can’t actually lay a hit on him because he’s got superior spider agility. Maybe if she had more experience it’d be different but she’s basically in the angry flailing stage of her skill tree so far.

Spidey brags “With a little room to operate, no one can lay a glove on me -- not the X-Men, not the Absorbing Man, and not you!”

Titania: “When I get you I’ll -- AGGH!”

Spider-Man: “All you’re going to get is frustrated... and, eventually, trashed!”

Titania: “No! It’s not fair! *UHH!*”

Spider-Man: “But, if we were fighting in a broom closet, that’d be fair, right?”

Titania: “Stop it! Stop it! Stop -- !”

Spider-Man: “You ought to be happy, cuddles! You aspired to be a bully, and, man, you’re a classic! You talk tough and nasty when you’ve got the upper hand -- but when you’re losing -- well, that’s when the whining little wimp-ette inside comes spilling out!”

And then he defenestrates her without a window.

Fun fact: she apparently developed a Spider-Man phobia from this.

Understandably.

Y’know, in terms of embarrassing and traumatizing people, Spider-Man is having a good run in this story.

Captain American and Human Torch find a passed out Piledriver who fainted from blood loss after staggering away. And they find Ultron, standing between them and Doom.

Ultron is an Avengers-tier stomper who takes down entire teams and there’s just two heroes who coincidentally were both portrayed by Chris Evans. And the Human Torch’s fire is ineffective as Ultron gloats.

Ultron: “The core of the hottest star could not melt my adamantium body, human! Nothing can harm me! I am invincible! I am mechanically precise and computer-swift! I am perfect!”

When Ultron grapples Human Torch and starts throttling him, Cap tells him to use his nova-flame. Then hides behind his shield.

The flame melts a good portion of the room and the air being superheated somehow doesn’t make Cap crispy. And when the nova flare of the nova flame fades, Ultron’s chassis is still intact.

But the heat damaged something inside and Ultron is down. Johnny is also down, spent from the nova.

I like that the Fantastic Four would have their own way to deal with Ultron should that ever come up. Has it? You’d think it would.

Captain America proceeds to Doom alone but Doom is non-responsive from being Galactus’d.

And Reed, Spider-Man, and Hulk finds Hawkeye and Ben Grimm, where they have outwitted Klaw and Lizard.

Lizard: “Disssturb our gamess-s and the Lizard will dessstroy you! Once we finissh, we will do as you s-ssay!”

Well, whatever works!

With the fighting done, Captain Marvel finds She-Hulk, barely alive. The heroes jam her into a healing tube saving her in the nick of time.

The heroes also jam the villains into healing tubes because they’re heroes and are nice like that.

Considering the heroes were fighting to take prisoners and the villains very much weren’t, it’s lucky that the heroes won the majority of conflicts and got away from the one they didn’t.

The villains that didn’t need bacta treatments - or whatever is in those tubes - got shoved into cells. Also, Doom, because he might need the healing juice but it would require peeling him out of his armor and its probably booby-trapped.

Hawkeye and Captain Marvel return to the village to bring Wasp’s body to DoomHerobase for a funeral but they’re in for a surprise.

It turns out that Zsaji WAS able to heal Wasp who wasn’t dead just in a laser-induced death-like stasis. AS YA DO. It nearly killed Zsaji to bring Wasp back from such grievous injuries.

Colossus learns this by getting into her exposition drugs while she’s passed out and mind-melding with her.

Of course, it just makes the big lug fall deeper in love with her.

The important takeaway is that Wasp is alive. Just like we knew that she would be. The universe has been set right.

Over at Herobase, Reed Richards fixes the Iron Man armor after Rhodey got it a little melted.

Iron Man, James Rhodes: “I’m curious... were you surprised there was a black man under the metal?”

Reed Richards: “Hmm... No, I never gave it a thought! I knew there was a man under there...”

Its a nice exchange.

Its kinda ruined retroactively by Illuminati revealing that Reed knew Tony was Iron Man and would have known about Tony having to step down due to his alcoholism and likely knew about Rhodey taking over.

Dammit, Illuminati!

Elsewhere in the base, Spider-Man spots Hulk and Thor coming out of a room with Thor sporting a brand new cape and helmet. They tell Spidey that there’s a device in there that will make any clothes you want.

Except Spider-Man doesn’t bother asking which device and they don’t bother specifying so Spidey just picks the likeliest one and gets a black glob.

An important black glob.

To eventually be revealed to be an alien goo symbiote and later eventually tied to a dark god that predates the universe.

But for right now, its a way to incorporate a new costume design that a fan submitted. And Spider-Man handwaves it not looking like his old costume by assuming he was thinking of the new Spider-Woman.

So that’s how it is, Pete? She ‘ripped’ you off so you’re gonna rip her off?

You know whats really funny?

A month before this came out, in Spider-Man’s own book, he had learned that the costume was a living symbiote and had gotten rid of it.

It be like that with Secret Wars but its still funny that we’re finally seeing him get the costume just as he’s getting rid of it.

Anyway, Spider-Man’s new costume buzz is interrupted by the planet shaking and someone yelling in his brain.

Professor X: “CAPTAIN AMERICA! COME AT ONCE! IT HAS BEGUN! GALACTUS IS DEVOURING THE PLANET!”

It’s nice that the crises are waiting their turn.

January, 1985

ASSAULT ON GALACTUS!

The issue titles for this story are all so excited.

The X-Men were left on Galactus watching duty so when the big lug starts trying to eat the planet, the X-Men charge in to attack him.

Hm.

Y’know, I sometimes wonder what iconic storylines would have been like if a different set of characters handled it. This used to be great What If fodder. I know there was one where the Avengers tackled Galactus’ first appearance. And because it was the tone of What If at the time to viciously shoot down any divergence of the 616 timeline, THINGS WENT HORRIBLY WRONG.

Think of it like the Turn Left episode of Doctor Who.

POINT BEING, I wonder how the X-Men would have handled Galactus’ first appearance. Of course, this would be the O5 roster so they’d have their work cut out for them.

Heck, even with Storm on the team, the X-Men are over their heads with Galactus.

She hits him with two massive lightning bolts and Galactus keeps working like he didn’t even notice.

The X-Men seem to realize how out of their depth they are (especially sans Phoenixes, their usual Galactus-fighting go-to) but at Professor Xavier’s command they charge in anyway.

Galactus sends out a defensive drone so he can continue not paying the X-Men any mind and the mutants find themselves completely bogged down in fighting the drone while Galactus does his thing.

And from Zsaji’s sweet village, Captain Marvel, Wasp, and Hawkeye see a massive explosion where the X-Men were.

I guess they’re totally dead forever.

Wasp: “Should we head up there now?”

Hawkeye: “No! We’d better wait for Cap... and strike as a unit!”

Hah.

Its the expression, really. Like Hawkeye thinking to himself ‘oh I want no part of that.’

The non-X-Men assemble at Herobase to rush to the fight.

Mr. Fantastic: “Hurry! No telling how long the X-Men can hold out!”

Spider-Man: “Yeah! Where’s the rest of the alphabet when you need it?”

HAH!

Oh, Spider-Man, you are a delight.

In the airship over, Thor notices that Hulk looks glum and tries to cheer him up.

Thor: “If ‘tis that you do not fit in these chairs that depresses you, count yourself fortunate! They were made, I think, for insect men... or by trolls, for torture! If ‘tis the impending battle troubling thee -- just think! What greater chance for glory has man or god e’er known? More even than Ragnarok, this is the battle I was born millennia ago to fight! You, too, are a warrior born, Hulk! A taste of battle and the berserker battle-lust shall rise in thy soul!”

Hulk: “I doubt it! I lost that when I gained the intelligence of my human side -- Bruce Banner! And now I’m slowly losing that, too! I’m not savage enough... or smart enough to be a relevant factor!”

Well, You Tried, Thor.

Johnny Torch is trying to cheer up Ben Grimm who is as grim as his name over his powers popping in and out as they please.

And then the rocks pop back on just as Ben is dramatically bemoaning that he can’t control them.

The Thing: “Whoopie! I’m the Thing again! I’m so happy, I even like you!”

Human Torch: “Yeow! You lummox! Put me down! Jeez, I can see the headlines -- ‘affectionate hug slays Human Torch en route to battle -- universe destroyed as a result’!’“

This book has some decent lines.

Iron Man ogles Spider-Woman under the pretense of not trusting her but then goes a little ‘I’ll show them all!’

Iron Man: “A lot of guys have worked with Iron Man before -- but that was when Tony Stark was in this suit! I think they’ve started to realize there’s a different guy in here, now... an’ they got their doubts! They’re keepin’ their distance -- don��t quite trust me yet! Don’t matter! As long as I got this armor, I’m one ba-ad dude -- especially since Richards souped it up! As soon as that fight starts, I’ll show ‘em -- show ‘em I’m Iron Man! The real Iron Man! James Rhodes is Iron Man -- now and forever!”

Rhodey pls.

Also meanwhile, because this is a long flight, Spider-Man starts hopping all around the interior of the airship overexcited because he’s just discovered that the totally benign goo suit he got has webshooters!

And he squirts Johnny in the face to prove it because that’s just how Spider-Man is sometimes.

Johnny complains that this webbing is even harder to burn than his old stuff which will turn itself into a bit of a plot hole down the line when its revealed that symbiotes are weak to fire.

Whoops.

Its fine though. Pre-modern Venom has always had sloppy writing around it.

He also demonstrates the goo suit’s ability to change shape.

I can’t believe that Marvel were cowards and never had Peter go around in the Summer Variant suit.

Reed lets himself go down a melancholic musing rabbit hole and starts poking holes in the story logic.

Mr. Fantastic: “At face value, the whole thing is absurd! Why would a being so far removed from us and so powerful as the Beyonder bring us across the universe for a stupid, simplistic ‘good-versus-evil’ gladiatorial contest? Is he a mad god? A cosmic idiot? And why us? Why this odd collection of beings, mostly from Earth? And why Galactus? He doesn’t fit! Human beings and even gods may be tempted, but Galactus is a force of nature -- no more capable of having enemies than a hurricane or an earthquake! Why is he here? There must be more to this... but what possible purpose could there be?”

Credit where its due, these are things I’ve been wondering!

But Reed is so busy pondering this that he runs the airship into the energy discharge from Galactus’ machine and crashes the ship on top of Colossus.

Smooth move, absent minded professor.

With only seconds before the world starts to burn, the Avengers, Fantastic Four, and assorted leap into battle against Galactus.

Iron Man manages to get past Galactus’ defense drones and punch his world eating engine, thanks to the upgrades done to the armor.

But now that they’re being successful, Reed interjects and tells them to stop winning so hard. Yes, really.

Mr. Fantastic: “Ben, we can’t go through with this! At last I see a purpose here -- a meaning to the universe for this insane conflict! WE MUST NOT STOP GALACTUS!’

Then Galactus effortlessly blasts the heroes away.

Which, if nothing else, gives Reed a chance to catch his breath to EXPOSIT MORE.

Mr. Fantastic: “For the first time this whole thing makes seom sense to me! I see a possible purpose in it! This is a chance to rid our universe of the threat of Galactus! All we have to do is let him win this contest! If the Beyonder indeed, grants hsi wish, he’ll be freed of his planet-consuming hunger at long last!”

The Thing: “And if the Beyonder reneges?”

Mr. Fantastic: “Re-energized by consuming this world, Galactuc will attack -- I know it! And force the Beyonder to pay up -- or be destroyed in the attempt. Any way you look at it... the universe wins! Countless billions who would have eventually fallen prey to Galactus -- will live in peace!”

Spider-Man: “Yeah, but why us? Why were we picked to decide the fate of the universe?”

Mr. Fantastic: “Why not us? We picked ourselves, remember? Besides... we beings of Earth seem to have a knack for being pivotal in the cosmic scheme of things.”

Reed, some offense but you’re the last person who should be speaking on this.

Galactus is only alive now because you had a hunch that he had some Big Important Role in the cosmic order and saved his life.

You may remember that because THE ENTIRETY OF SPACE PUT YOU ON TRIAL FOR IT.

Turning around on that because now you have a different hunch that everything will be a-okay if the Beyonder kills Galactus, is just such a classic Reed move.

Anyway, the discussion ends because Galactus raptures Reed and the entire mountaintop his machine was sitting on.

Since the suspects of Reed rapturing were Galactus or the Beyonder, its not very surprising that its Galactus forcibly inviting Reed up to his solar-system sized apartment.

What, you thought that the Beyonder would be more present in this story that it initiated? Fool.

Anyway, Galactus wants to have a friendly talk at Reed. Because Galactus is one of the few people that can talk down at Reed and he just has to sit tight and listen.

Meanwhile, over at the former Doombase, locked in a Doomcell, its Doom. Still in his catatonia OR IS IT?

Doom: “THE WORLD SHIP IS THE WAY! Galactus’s home itself is the way I seek! At last, I see!”

He activates the get-out-of-jail-free button hidden in his ankle which activates a point-singularity power supply that busts the door off his cell.

He ignores all of the other imprisoned villains to free Klaw.

Doom: “You, yourself, Klaw, are a ‘recording’ of sorts, due to the time you spent as a wave of vibratory energy coursing through the walls of Galactus’s homeworld! Come with me!”

Klaw: “Where to? Toodle-oo, toodle-oo!”

Doom: “To the lab! I’m going to dissect you!”

Klaw: “Oh, good!”

If it were anyone else that would read as sarcastic.

Its also revealed that Doom talks to himself because he is constantly recording.

Doom: “Every utterance of Doom must be recorded for posterity!”

How on-brand.

Meanwhile, back over at where the fight was, Cyclops OPTIC BLASTS out of the hole Magneto buried the X-Men in to save them from Galactus’ exploding drone.

Good job, Magneto.

Buuut. The fight is over so the X-Men just vaguely wander over to Zsaji’s village to catch up with Captain America’s group.

Zsaji wakes up from her Wasp-healing coma and runs over... right past Colossus to embrace Johnny. To make Colossus sad in the background.

But Johnny is too worried about Reed being raptured to make out with his new space girlfriend right now.

The heroes debate what to do.

Cap(tain America) wants to just stand ready until Galactus comes back and Cap(tain Marvel) suggests finding some spaceships at former Doombase and mounting an assault on Galactus’ imagination-ruiningly huge homeship.

The Thing offers the daring option of ‘hey Reed said not to fight Galactus and dangit what Reed says goes!’

He’s as bad as the Inhumans, I swear.

Reed reappears right about when Iron Man and the Thing are about to come to blows over the ‘do whatever Reed says’ plan.

The Thing: “Stretch! What happened?”

Mr. Fantastic: “Not much! We had tea...”

NOW I KNOW that Galactus likely has some robot servant or device that makes tea for him. But I can’t get the image out of my head of Galactus holding a tiny teapot and serving Reed tea.

How dare this comic cut away and let that happen off-panel!

Anyway, their big OFF-PANEL talk?

Mr. Fantastic: “He told me that I was a ‘force of the universe’ just as he is -- ! That I’m a ‘universal champion of life’ just as he is an instrument of death!”

Now. Nooooow. Champion slash Avatar of Life is a legitimate thing in Marvel, once filled by, uh, Captain Marvel. The Kree guy version. So the position is open.

I just find it easier to believe that Galactus was saying random nonsense to try to befuddle Reed into doing what Galactus wants rather than it being official.

The Avatar of Life page on marvel wiki doesn’t seem to credit it. It only has two versions of Adam Warlock, Drax, and Cancerverse Mar-Vell.

Anyway.

Mr. Fantastic: “I don’t what to say! I’m more convinced than ever that it’s right to let Galactus do what he must! And if I’m a ‘Champion of Life’ does it not make sense to allow Galactus to slay us so that countless billions will live? Or was he telling me that I must fight to serve even these relatively few lives here? I just don’t know...”

Yeeeeah. More convinced than ever that Galactus was filling Reed’s brain with cognitive chaff so to speak.

But Ben “Thing” Grimm is like ‘hey if Reed tells me I gotta die for the good of the universe then I’m ready to die so we’re not fighting unless Reed says so.’

Hawkeye: “This is a real crock! We’ve got to fight! Quitters! Cowards!”

I rarely say this but I think Hawkeye has a point.

Anyway, Galactus reappears the mountaintop, his machine, and himself to get back to snacking on the planet.

Far be it from me to tell Galactus how to ‘mortals are beneath my notice’ but maybe he’d get better results relocating his machine to the other side of the planet. Get some element of surprise, a head start.

No? Fine.

Captain America: “All right, listen up! I’m going to fight! The rest of you come or not as your conscience dictates!”

Wasp: “We’re with you, Cap!”

Captain America: “Good! But first... I just want to tell you, Professor Xavier, that despite our differences, you and your people did us -- and the universe, as far as I’m concerned -- a great service, earlier!”

Professor Xavier: “It was an honor!”

Captain America: “I hope you, the X-Men... and Magneto will come and fight side by side with us now! No one here will deny you’ve earned that much!”

Think about all the grief that could have been saved if people were willing to give Magneto the benefit of the doubt at the beginning of the story! Womp womp!

Meanwhile at Doombase (because the heroes are all off doing stuff and when the heroes are away Doom gets his base back), Doom observes the battle against Galactus starting AND that the Beyonder has cracked open his portal to watch the fight.

But more importantly, Doom cut Klaw into slices.

Back over at the heroes fighting Galactus, the heroes are fighting Galactus.

As in, directly. No drones.

Its a sign that they’re making some sort of progress.

He’s still batting them around like leaves in the wind.

But the Terrific Three show up to actually help.

Mr. Fantastic: “Galactus used enormous amounts of energy transporting his homeworld here -- and I’m sure he hasn’t fed for months! His power is almost depleted! We can take him!”

Captain America: “Richards, I -- I’m glad you’re here -- but what made you change your mind?”

Mr. Fantastic: “I... thought about what Galactus said -- and I’m still not certain that, in the cosmic scheme of things, what we’re doing is right -- but I realized just how badly I want to see my baby born, Cap! I want that more than anything -- ! And I’m going to fight for it!”

Aww.

He’s going to be waiting a long time for that baby though.

Not because of comic book time but because of intense drama reasons.

The heroes manage to reach the top of the mountain and start trashing Galactus’ machine despite Reed insisting that they ignore it and prevent Galactus from escaping.

And Galactus just animation-cell-slides-up ‘I must return to my homeworld’ style.

And as Reed explains how badly they done fucked up, Galactus takes a last look around his homeworld/spaceship. Because he doesn’t need his machine to eat planets. It just makes the process more efficient. So if the heroes are going to be annoying about him eating Battleworld, he’s just going to eat his own dang home!

Mr. Fantastic: “He’s devouring his own living world -- perhaps the greatest energy source in the universe! Moments after he’s finished, this godforsaken planet will be next! We won’t be able to stop him this time! Then he’ll probably consume the sun too! He’ll want every iota of energy available in case he must do battle with the Beyonder! We’re dead men!”

Wow. Is that the most kirby krackle we’ve ever seen?

But as Galactus converts his home into POWER COSMIC, Doom is ready with his own plan to steal that power, aided by a series of lenses he’s turned Klaw into.

As ya do?

You’ll have to tune in to the last quarter of Secret Wars to see if Doom succeeds in doing that thing that he always tries to do.

My thought is: maybe.

Follow @essential-avengers​ for the good job I’m doing with these Secret Warses. Like and reblog maybe.

[fullmetalscullyy]

the way it was - chapter 22

summary:  what if riza never went to war?  riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

read on ao3

1914

but you're a king and i'm a lionheart

When Chris had invited Riza and Mia around to the bar for dinner, Riza didn’t expect her daughter to be whisked away immediately by Vanessa as soon as they set foot inside the bar. Chris approached with determination.

“We need to talk.”

Anxiety settled in Riza’s stomach. What was all this about? There was no room for argument as Chris turned on her heel and walked away, expecting Riza to follow.

Riza wondered if this had something to do with Roy. He’d suddenly called shortly after arriving at work that morning to say that he wouldn’t be home until late that night. He had some work to do, but he was sorry, and he loved them both. She didn’t think much of it, just told him to be safe and got on with her day. Then, Chris called shortly afterwards, encouraging Riza to come for dinner. While she thought it would be lovely to spend the evening with her mother-in-law, there was a tiny niggle in the back of her mind that something was happening behind the scenes.

Chris led the way through to the backroom of the bar, into her home. She led Riza into her kitchen without any kind of indication of what the topic of discussion would be, and that made the wait worse. Was this something she needed to worry about? Riza’s thoughts were interrupted by Mia’s happy squeal from somewhere in the house, followed by Vanessa’s laugh.

Uncertainty clawed at Riza’s heart. She wanted to ask what was going on but knew better. Everything Chris did was for a reason, so if she was leading Riza away from Mia then it was something their daughter shouldn’t overhear. Riza bit her tongue.

Once inside the kitchen, Chris gestured for Riza to sit.

“Roy will be working late tonight, but I’m sure you already know about that.”

“He called this morning,” Riza confirmed.

Chris nodded. “He’s going to do something tonight, and wanted you brought here as a precaution.”

“What’s he doing?” Riza asked. Her stomach tightened at the serious look on Chris’ face.

“He’s going to fake someone’s death using his flame alchemy.” There was no hesitation, she stated it as bluntly as she could.

“Oh…" Riza's heart thudded inside her chest at the revelation. "Wait.” Riza paused, something clicking inside of her mind. “Does this have anything to do with Maria Ross?”

It had been all over the papers for a few days. Apparently the soldier had killed Maes Hughes. Initially, Riza had scrutinised the photo and wondered how that woman could have taken someone else’s life. She’d been an exemplary soldier, according to the news, so why would she murder one of her own? The story didn’t quite add up for Riza, and it didn’t for Roy either.

They hadn’t spoken much about it. They didn’t get a chance really when Mia was around. However, he’d spent more time in his study in the evenings after Mia had gone to bed. Riza would pop her head in and ask if he needed anything, only to be greeted by a tired smile and the reassurance he was all right. She’d spotted Maes’ name on the papers in front of him, alongside Maria Ross', which Roy had quickly scribbled down then scored out. Riza knew he was investigating his friend’s death and was worried for him. Roy explained he couldn’t do it at work, so would spend an hour or two looking over things. Sometimes Riza offered her own input but couldn’t do much. She had a good eye for details but wasn’t in investigations. Still, she could be someone he could talk to about it all.

Chris nodded. “It does. He’s going to fake her death tonight.”

“How though?” Maria Ross was in prison. What was he up to?

“He’s staging a prison break and will “kill” her.” Chris used finger quotations to explain herself.

Riza swallowed.

“It’s all staged though, don’t worry. He has a dummy at the ready that I helped procure the ingredients for. Breda came to me with some things he needed, and I helped the operation along. Havoc will protect Ross and help get her out of the country.”

“So, why bring Mia and I here?”

“Roy asked if I could invite you for dinner, partly as a precaution but also because he probably felt guilty he wouldn’t be home tonight.”

Riza nodded, things falling into place. He had sounded regretful on the phone earlier when he said he wouldn’t be home.

“Why is us being out of the house a precaution?”

Chris shrugged. “Beats me, but I have a pretty good theory.”

“What is it?”

She regarded Riza quietly for a long moment, which only caused frustration to build.

“Chris, please. If my daughter is in some kind of danger then I deserve to know what it is.”

She eyed Riza once more before nodding. “There’s dangerous people roaming around Central right now. They each bear a matching tattoo. An Ouroboros tattoo. They’re tied to the military somehow, but we don’t know why yet.”

Ouroboros… Riza had seen that word mentioned before, years ago in an ancient history book. She was sure it had been in her father’s study. “What does the tattoo look like?” At the mention of a tattoo, her back tingled lightly as a reminder. She hadn’t discussed any form of tattoo with anyone in a long time. They weren’t popular around Amestris, so weren’t a regular topic of conversation.

“A snake eating its own tail.”

That definitely sounded familiar to Riza. She was sure she’d seen it on Roy’s desk at home, half-hidden by other pieces of paper.

“And these people pose a threat?”

Chris nodded. “We don’t know who they’re targeting, but yes, they do. Just be cautious, all right? Know that if you ever need anything, I’m just a call away as well.”

Riza sat back in her chair.

“I have no reason to believe they will contact you personally, however, just keep an eye out," Chris warned.

“I will,” she swallowed. She was still in a daze from all this new information. It was weighing on her heavily. If Roy was targeted by them, who was to say they wouldn’t use her or Mia to get to him? She shuddered at the thought.

“Roy Boy asked if I could at least fill you in on what was going on tonight, and promised he’d answer any questions you had as soon as possible,” Chris added. “He sent me a coded message earlier and then a quick call. I have the letter if you want to see it?”

Curiosity got the better of her, and Riza nodded.

As Chris left the room Riza remained in place, processing the information she’d been given tonight.

This was… big. Riza knew of his plan to get to the top and was well aware of everything that entailed now, but… Now it was real. He was taking steps here that, if found out, could get him court-martialled. Her stomach twisted. But she knew him, and she knew his team. They were smart as hell. And if Chris was on their side too, helping them along, it eased Riza’s worries a little bit.

“I also have this, if you could pass it onto him?” Chris handed her an envelope along with the piece of paper. The front was blank, giving nothing away. “More information for him.”

This was usual practice between them both. Over the years when Riza and Mia had gone to visit Chris and Roy’s sisters, messages in letters had been passed onto Riza to be delivered to Roy. Riza knew he’d been overreacting when he insisted on not getting her involved in anything. And she’d been right. What was so dangerous about picking up a handful of envelopes to hand over to her husband?

“I will.”

“I’ll get us a drink.” Chris excused herself and left Riza with Roy’s coded letter.

It was a story. There were various names on the paper, each one starting with a specific letter at the beginning. Those letters were used to spell out the words of his message. Riza didn’t bother to read the story he’d crafted. The message itself was all that held her attention at that moment.

 Jailbreak MR. Get Riza and Mia for dinner. Love both.

 She smiled at the last part, her finger stroking over the paper.

Sometimes Riza would read the story just to see how he managed to fit it all together. Riza had tried it too in her spare time, leaving little notes for him in his office at home. Then he'd started doing it as well without a word of warning. His were far cuter than hers, with a message of ‘I love you’ left all over the house. Soon, it was common practice and they’d shown Mia how to do it too. Her messages weren’t long or complex, but it was just a bit of fun for the small family.

“He’s a dramatic one,” Chris snorted. “Jailbreak,” she muttered. “I don’t know where he got that flair from.”

Riza laughed. “He used to always tell me it was from you and wondered how I couldn’t see it.”

Chris shook her head and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “He’s a strange one, that’s for sure.”

“He certainly knows how to keep us on our toes,” Riza murmured, turning her focus back to his letter.

“He didn’t want to speak to you about it over the phone, is my guess. Too many people potentially listening in.”

“I know,” Riza reassured her. “I just hope tonight goes well for all involved.”

“That fake corpse was perfectly constructed,” Chris replied, sipping at her water. Her cigarette was absent from her lips. “And Roy, having a flair for dramatics, will make sure it’s well presented.”

Riza’s stomach turned. “Where are they taking Maria?” she asked, trying to turn the conversation away from the “corpse”.

“No idea. That was need to know only.”

Humming in agreement, Riza took a sip of her own water.

“I had another reason for bringing you here tonight, Riza.”

“Oh?”

“You’ve expressed interest in the part of becoming a part-time informant.”

She nodded. “I have.”

“Have you ever been interested in working the floor? You can absolutely say no,” Chris added, lifting her hands in front of her to placate any objections. “All you’d have to do is sit and talk to people.”

Riza cocked her head and considered it. Then grimaced. “No. The whole reason for me to come and collect the messages from you and the girls was to stop people thinking Roy was cheating on me by going out on “dates” with them. What would happen if word got out at his place of work that his wife was cheating on him?”

“A fair point, and a very good answer,” Chris chipped in. “However, I suppose I worded that incorrectly. Let me rephrase that, would you be interested in talking to people to gather information rather than simply collecting messages?”

“In what way?”

“Military wives love to gossip. They come in every Friday night. While their husbands sit in the bar, we have a space for them to catch up and basically moan about their partners for a couple of hours. It’s in the back of the bar, in that room just off to the right as you go out.”

Riza had noticed the door there but hadn’t thought much more of it. She’d never been through there.

“Your upstart Colonel husband would be a good talking point for those ladies,” Chris ventured.

“Are you asking me to gossip about my husband?” Riza frowned.

“Not at all, but you would be welcomed into their social circle openly. Roy Boy is certainly making a name for himself, especially after coming to Central, and he’s a hot topic of conversation.”

Riza wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. “Only good things, I hope?”

“Of course. Mostly because he’s a breath of fresh air with all the old stuffy military officials that usually frequent their company.”

She still wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. “And I assume these conversations are all innocent?”

Chris shook her head. “Riza, all those women are old enough to be Roy’s mother,” she chuckled. “They dote on him because he’s a kind kid who's friendly and polite to everyone. Always the charmer," she snorted. "Vanessa very quickly put an end to any possible… not so innocent thoughts. She went in there one Friday gushing about Roy’s beautiful wife and his adorable daughter.”

She laughed when Riza’s cheeks turned pink at the compliment, and Riza coughed to hide it.

“I’m not jealous,” Riza assured Chris. “I just don’t want pointless gossip to ruin his reputation.”

“If anything, they love your little family even more now. They ate it up. It’s the truth, of course, but they really do say nothing but good things, I promise. The girls covering the party make sure of it.” Chris sat back in her chair. “It was just an idea,” she relented. “Some other way for you to help. Military wives on a Friday night can be very animated, and I thought you stopping by would get them to open up even more. It’s completely up to yourself," she relented. "It can be a onetime thing or a regular occurrence. It was just something to try."

“I’ll consider it,” Riza stated carefully. She’d need to weigh her options and if she could find someone to look after Mia if Roy was working.

“That’s all I ask. Roy told me a while back you were interested in being an informant, and the idea occurred to me after that last Friday night.”

“What happened last Friday night?”

“Lots more oohing and ahing over your perfect family,” she smirked. “Honestly, they eat it up Riza. You should come and see it for yourself someday.”

“Are you suggesting we’re not perfect,” Riza quipped, smiling over the rim of her glass.

“No one is perfect,” Chris replied with her own smirk. “But they are correct. You are a beautiful woman and Mia is extremely adorable.”

Chris guffawed while Riza mumbled her thanks at another compliment from her. She was sure Chris only did it because she got a kick out of it.

“Every word of that is the truth,” Chris stated assuredly. “Come on, let’s go and see what Mia’s up to. See if she’s tired out Vanessa yet,” she chuckled.

*          *          *

Mia was half asleep as she walked up the stairs to her bedroom. The offer to remain at Chris’ for the night was there, but Mia had school tomorrow morning so it would be easier for Riza to just take her home. Her mother-in-law had also offered Roxanne’s protection. While Riza appreciated it and welcomed the determined and eager look on Roxanne’s face, she politely declined the offer.

Riza had only been in bed for fifteen minutes or so before she heard the front door opening. Her body tensed in its half-asleep state, but relaxed when she heard Roy sigh from downstairs. Lights were turned off as he climbed the stairs. With heavy footsteps, he reached the top of the stairs but stopped outside Mia’s bedroom door. Riza heard it creak open as he checked in on her. The house turned silent as he did so.

Their bedroom door opened and Riza looked up. Like his footfalls suggested, he looked exhausted, but he still offered her a smile.

“Hi,” he greeted. Roy’s voice sounded a little hoarse as he spoke, discarding his military jacket over the back of the armchair on his side of the bed.

“Hey,” she smiled. “How did it go?”

“Everything went well. The plan went off without a hitch.”

Roy kicked his trousers off and placed it over his jacket on the chair. His shirt however was discarded into a pile on the floor, so he remained in only his boxers. Climbing into bed, Roy wrapped his arms around Riza tightly, giving her a squeeze. A kiss was pressed to her forehead and Riza sighed into it, her body relaxing now she knew that he was home.

“Maria is safe?”

Roy nodded. “On her way to Xerxes.”

“Xerxes? That’s quite a distance,” she commented, racking her brain to try and think how far through the desert that was.

“We’ve determined that whoever is behind it all is working throughout Amestris,” Roy yawned. “I wanted to be safe. I have some associates from Xing, and they’ll escort her there.”

“And are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled tiredly.

“Chris told me what you had to do with the… corpse.” Riza grimaced. Her tired mind couldn’t think of a better or more tactful way to word it.

“It was fine. I saved someone’s life tonight, that’s what matters,” he yawned again, but his expression quickly turned pained. “I did become the villain for doing it though.”

“How come?”

“Edward always seems to be in the wrong place at the right time,” he mumbled. “He saw me ‘killing’ Ross. I had no idea who was tailing him or if he was compromised so I had to go with the murder story.”

“I’m sorry, Roy.”

“It’s all right,” he sighed. “But thank you. The kid hates me for sure now,” Roy chuckled. “But he’ll be on his way to Xerxes soon enough too so he can find out the truth.” His eyelids fluttered closed.

Riza looked up as his eyelashes splayed across his cheeks and his face finally relaxed. The day’s events had been weighing on him, and she was loath to take up any more of his sleeping time.

“Get some rest, Roy,” she breathed, pressing a kiss to his lips.

He grunted softly in response, deepening the kiss for a moment. “Just what I needed to feel better,” he grinned. It was that dopey smile that he only showed when he was tired, and Riza loved it. “Plus, I’ll need it. Tomorrow will be another long day.” Then, she felt him pause. “There’s… something coming up in a few days. I anticipate we’ll need to go after one of the people with the Ouroboros tattoo. Can you go to my mother’s that night?”

“Is this something I should be concerned about?”

Roy shook his head. “No. And I mean it,” he added earnestly. “I really don’t anticipate anything like that coming your way, however, it would give me peace of mind to know you’re all together.”

“You know I can handle myself,” she quipped lightly.

“I don’t doubt it for a second,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead again. “But until I know exactly what I’m dealing with and how to handle it, it would let me breathe easier if I knew my pregnant wife and my daughter were under my mother’s protection. She has a whole labyrinth of tunnels underneath her bar. If the wrong people come knocking then you can hide under there and I’ll come when it’s safe.”

“The wrong people, huh?”

He nodded. “The Ouroboros gang,” he drawled. “Keep an eye out for anyone with that tattoo by the way. I have a picture of it in my office. I’ll show you it tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, your mother already explained it to me.”

His eyelids drifted closed again and Riza smiled. She lifted a hand to caress his face lightly with her fingers. He flinched in fright but turned his head to press a kiss to her palm.

“Get some sleep,” she prompted.

“You said that before then distracted me,” he grumbled.

“I can take that kiss back,” she joked, moving out of his hold. This caused him to latch onto her torso even tighter.

“Please don’t,” he begged. “I’m sorry,” he gushed dramatically.

“Go to sleep, Roy. I love you.”

He hummed with a smile. “Love you too.”

[angryhausfrau-writes]

Something Old and Something New - Chapter 9: ...and a Show

Dinner feels like it's dragging on forever. Part of that may be the requisite several courses – canapes, soup, fish, entree, salad, and cheese plates - plus aperitif and digestive. And that's not counting the wedding cake as the dessert course. And all of it must be eaten in tiny delicate bites so as to appear refined and ladylike.

Frankly, Marjory is ready to throw propriety to the winds halfway through the third course. All she wants is to dash her silverware to the floor and run off with Charles to the honeymoon suite. Or Timbuktu, she's not picky. Anything to get away from the constant barrage of insincere well-wishers and political maneuvering.

But that's rather the whole point of the evening, so she will bear it with as much grace as she is able. And Charles is certainly in his element – powerful and cuttingly condescending and so completely the scion of American aristocracy. It makes Marjory laugh, it really does, to imagine just what the cowed and condescended wedding guests would say if they could see that Charles has his knee pressed against Marjory's under the table. If they knew just how kind and doting and sweet he can be. They'd all be shocked – and none more so than Charles's grandmother, who's watching over the wedding guests as they speak with the head table like a queen deigning to entertain petitioners. Cold and callous and utterly unsuaded by their pleas for mercy.

Though in all fairness to her, most of the guests attempting to curry favor are making a rather poor showing. Offerings of money and social connections means very little to a Winchester or an Oakes. They have both in spades – certainly more than a mere relatively impoverished offshoot of the Vanderbilt family. But custom dictates both sides play this game. They can no more refuse to petition the family than Charles can refuse to hear them out.

But all of this means that dinner takes several hours. And is almost interminably boring throughout.

Marjory can see that the back table, where all of the fun people are gathered, have similarly taken to rotating places throughout dinner so they can use the meal for a presumably much more enjoyable type of socializing. The focal point of the maneuvering appears to be Hawkeye – and she'll have to schedule a gossip session with Honoria, conveniently seated next to him, to pick up all the scuttlebutt once her honeymoon is over. Whatever the MASH contingent comes up with in the way of salacious gossip is bound to be infinitely more interesting than whatever one of the silver-spoon-set's mistress or polo pony or whatever has done now.

And Charles clearly agrees - Marjory can tell just how eager he is to join his friends at their table. But they must stand strong. Must endure.

She squeezes his hand surreptitiously in comfort. It can't be much longer now. They're bringing out the coffee and brandy and cigars. And then they'll have a few minutes to themselves before the room is cleared for dancing. They ought to be able to sneak away out of the spotlight then.

--

After dinner – and what appear to be obligatory stops at some of the more prestigious tables – Charles and Marjory come join the MASH table. And Trapper can see why they'd wanna join the unwashed masses. It seems like they're having a whole hell of a lot more fun than the stuffed shirts focused on propriety or whatever. And as much as Charles likes to pretend he's all proper – with a stiff upper lip and a heart made of stone - he really ain't.

And Trapper figures Charles oughtta have a good time on his own goddamn wedding day of all days. So he's happy enough to wave him over to join their Korean reminiscences – even if he's heard all of Charles's stories about eighty times by now. It's worth sitting through them again if it makes Charles look a little less like his public facade.

Plus, it gives him a chance to congratulate the other half of the happy couple. And maybe rib Charles a little about marrying up - cuz there ain't no way he's anywhere close to Marjory's league. And by Charles's blushing besottment, he knows it too.

And it's nice to chat with him for a bit. But they just saw each other and there's other fellas from further away who ain't seen him as recently wanting to say their own congratulations. So Trapper kinda backs off from the crowd, pulling Hawkeye along with him.

Cuz honestly? It's a lot. A lot of people, a lot of half-strangers – the partners of fellas stationed at the 4077 or people who'd only drifted through for a day or two, not permanent assignments, not part of the regular crowd. People who've all heard the legend of the famous Hawkeye Pierce and want a glimpse of the man. Want to crowd around and touch him like he's some kinda reliquary instead of a human being.

And Hawk's starting to look pretty run ragged at all the being at the center of attention-ness. All the feeling like he's gotta entertain people, be who the stories have made him out to be. So Trapper starts looking for an exit. And there – there's a door to the veranda right off the ballroom. Perfect.

“Hey, Hawk, I'm gonna step out for a smoke. Care to join me?”

The speed at which Hawkeye takes his arm and says, “Lay on, Macduff!” makes Trapper sure this was the right call. And he can't say he's too upset about a little alone time with Hawkeye, either.

--

“If I have to mmm hear one more mm question mmmm about when me and Margaret mmm me and Margaret are getting hitched mmmm oh Trap! I'm going to absolutely lose it!”

Trapper moves his kisses to Hawkeye's neck. He's talking too much right now to make his mouth a good target. And kissing him under the jaw usually gets him to cut out the griping pretty quick.

“No hickies, Trap! I mean it!”

Though maybe not in this case.

“Well, us coming out here alone and you coming back in with love bites would probably stop the questions about why the two of you ain't married yet.”

He licks over the spot he'd previously been trying to bite.

“But I promise I won't do anything to get us arrested.”

“It probably wouldn't work anyway,” Hawkeye says through a gasp. “They'd just think Margaret had snuck out here somehow.”

“Might be nice to have such an iron-clad beard. We could get away with a whole hell of a lot with Maggie as a built in alibi.” After all, that'd been the impetus behind them both chasing nurses so hard back in Korea. Part actual enjoyment – at least on Trapper's end, if not so much on Hawkeye's - part competition, and part cover.

But Trapper doesn't want to spend his limited time alone with Hawkeye thinking about that, so he goes back to mapping his skin with his mouth.

And gets pushed away when Hawkeye clutches a dramatic hand to his chest. “Trapper! How dare you suggest we move to Jersey! I absolutely refuse to live further south than Brooklyn.”

“You're such a snob, Hawk,” Trapper says, leaning back in to press another kiss into his skin. “But I guess you're right that Margaret wouldn't wanna leave off bossing around her nursing staff and move up north with us either.”

“So I guess we're stuck as bachelors, then.”

“Guess so.” Trapper kisses Hawkeye deep and full on the mouth. And they stay like that for a while, Hawk finally settled enough to sink into it.

Then Trapper pulls back a little and lights a cigar - since that's their whole cover for this little assignation – pulling on it just enough to light it. He needs all the air in his lungs to kiss Hawkeye.

Eventually, they hear the door to the veranda scrape open and Trapper puts some space between himself and Hawkeye. Who nearly undoes his efforts when he takes the cigar from Trapper's loose grip, wraps his lips around it, and takes a drag that Trapper feels in his dick.

“You're a fucking menace,” he growls, before taking the cigar away to prevent any further teasing.

--

BJ loses track of Hawkeye somewhere in the confusion of backslapping and well-wishes surrounding Charles and Marjory. And, noticeably, Trapper's gone as well.

And it's not that his frantic search for Hawkeye has anything to do with imagining what the two of them are doing by themselves, away from the party. It's just that BJ wants a chance to talk to Hawkeye away from the crowd of other wedding guests, that's all. His search is completely justified and not at all blown out of proportion.

When BJ finally finds Hawkeye, he's out on the veranda. And he is with Trapper.

They're standing in the lee of the building and Trapper seems to be acting as some form of windbreak for Hawkeye, practically looming over Hawkeye as he lounges against the wall. And it does something to BJ to see them like that.

Hawkeye's got a cigar in his mouth and he takes a long, slow drag. Then Trapper leans even further into his space and says something BJ can't quite hear but that ends in a growl. And then he's pulling the cigar from Hawkeye's mouth and taking a drag himself.

BJ is definitely interrupting. And he feels a little bit bad about it – but he really does want a chance to talk to Hawkeye – and just Hawkeye. And this seems like his best shot at it. If he can get Trapper to leave, that is.

“Hey, Hawkeye, can I talk to you for a minute?” BJ asks. As if all of this is normal and he isn't interrupting an obviously intimate moment.

Hawkeye just stays where he is, lounging against the wall, completely relaxed, and looks expectantly at him. And Trapper makes no move to move away from Hawkeye, either.

“Alone.” And that maybe comes out ruder than he'd intended. But if it works, BJ isn't going to exactly split hairs over the etiquette of horning in on his crush's elicit relationship.

“Figure I'm just about done out here anyway,” Trapper says after a beat of silent communication between himself and Hawkeye – which BJ has been seeing a little more of than he'd like tonight, if he's being honest.

And then Trapper stubs his cigar out on the wall next to Hawkeye's head. He's leaning in again, bracketing Hawkeye with his arm and BJ is. BJ is...

And then Trapper's pulling away, thank God, and saying, “I'll go see if Kat has an opening on her dance card.”

“Save a slot for me, will you?”

“You've always got a slot on my dance card, Hawk,” Trapper says with a wink.

BJ knows he's just joking. But. But what if he isn't.

He puts that out of his mind and just enjoys having Hawkeye all to himself for a while. And it's almost like being back in Korea together. They're on the same wavelength, practically finishing each other's sentences, full of inside jokes. And BJ thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can tell Hawkeye how he feels – all of how he feels.

But then BJ has to open his big fat mouth about Trapper.

--

When Trapper gets back inside, the band is just finishing tuning up and he gets to watch Charles and Marjory sweep across the floor in an elegant waltz. And it ain't really his favorite way to dance, but there's no denying they look real happy dancing like that together and he's glad he gets to see it. Especially cuz he missed the wedding ceremony. This feels like maybe almost as meaningful as witnessing the vows. Certainly more meaningful than the Godawful speeches from earlier.

And then there's all the other dances between different members of the wedding party, which kinda ruins that whole intimacy and tenderness deal. Especially the truly awkward looking dance between the bridesmaids and groomsmen – well, awkward on the part of Honoria's date, who seems to deeply regret whatever life choices led to him having to dance with the groom's drunk sister - who appears to be trying to drag him into a foxtrot rather than a waltz. But at least there's some entertainment value there.

And honestly, that seems like a pretty good idea, the foxtrot thing. So Trapper has a few dances with Maggie and Kat that are nice and sedate and in three-quarter time. But when Honoria stumbles back over, the two of them manage a pretty decent swing rhythm over top of the orchestral music. Which spurs other couples to try the same thing.

Letta and her husband show off an excellent Charleston – and Radar and Patricia are doing something that is very obviously not a waltz. Must be some new craze all the kids are into.

Trapper wishes Hawkeye were here, cuz he'd love this. And he'd prolly try and put a lindy to the slow waltzes, which is bound to be worth seeing. But he's still shooting the shit with BJ outside, so Trapper just pulls Donna out onto the dance floor. And she's game to get tossed around a little, so that's fun.

“Not feeling like hotfooting it with the rest of the youngsters, Padre?”

Francis smiles up at Colonel and Mrs. Potter as they make their way off the dance floor – which has grown rather crowded and frenetic of late.

“I'm afraid that attending the seminary doesn't keep one up to date on the latest dance hall crazes very well.”

Sherm laughs. “No, I guess it wouldn't. And they're sure pulling out all the stops – I haven't seen dancing like this since VE day in Paris.”

“Well, we're not exactly the dance hall crowd ourselves anymore either, dear,” his wife reminds him.

Sherm harrumphs in grudging agreement. “Getting old's the damnedest thing – pardon my French, Padre. Half the time I feel like a damn newlywed, just setting up house with the missus. And then I look in the mirror and I ask myself when I got so Goddamn old. Again, pardon my French.”

Francis just waves his apologies away. “I've certainly heard worse language than that, Colonel. I was at the front, after all.”

“I'm sure you did.” Colonel Potter laughs. “I don't envy you having to hear confession for this bunch.” He gestures to encompass the dance floor. Which is filled with several couples dancing quite close together indeed.

“Let's just say that my life has gotten significantly quieter since I left Korea.”

Not that he actually heard many confessions while at the 4077 – not official ones, anyway. Sure, there was always the occasional soldier passing through the hospital wanting to unburden himself before he went back home or back to the front. Or Catholic members of the MASH unit who would confess to months worth of sins all in one go, in order to receive the Eucharist at Easter or Christmas mass. But most of the confessions Francis heard were closer to conversations. Conversations full of deep seated fears and guilt and longing and grief, but conversations. Without the trappings of the confessional or the stole or the traditional forms of penance.

Because the majority of his flock hadn't been Catholic, and some hadn't even been Christian. And it was his job to administer over them all in whatever way they needed – his own personal theology be damned. It was his job to help them.

But the Philadelphia diocese doesn't quite see things that way. He isn't there to help, he's there to administer – and that's it. He's there to tally up all of his congregation's sins and punish their trespasses. He's there to uphold the might of the Church – and therefore the almighty God – before all else.

So it's just as well that Francis has been mostly doing youth outreach, these days.

Most of the young men he coaches simply want someone to listen to them. To hear their problems without judgment. To feel like they matter, in the vast scheme of the universe – that they are seen in the eyes of God.

And Francis may not hear so well anymore, but he's able to do this one small thing. Just as he was able to do it for his flock in Korea. Who have all managed to come home – mostly safe and mostly whole – and about as well as anyone could be after experiencing what they'd all gone through together.

“Do you ever miss it? Korea, I mean.”

“That's a hell of a question, Padre.” Sherm sighs. “I've been through three wars and each one was worse than the one before. But Korea – getting to know all the folks at the 4077 – that was almost worth it. Worth the mud and the blood and the shi- the crap. Worth being away from my wife and kids and grandkid. Almost.”

Sherman looks out at the dance floor again. At all the smiling, laughing kids - who managed to make it home, who've managed to be happy.

“So I don't really miss Korea all that much, but I sure did miss this.”

Francis nods in understanding and they sit together in silence that's something akin to communion.

--

Hawkeye comes back inside to find that the 4077 has caused a whole pile of chaos and consternation – and he's missed being at the heart of it!

But it looks like the little dance party that's sprung up in his absence is still going strong. They've attracted a bit of a crowd, too – mostly bored kids and all the MASH guys not busy dancing with their own dates – all standing around the dancing couples in a loose circle. It looks a little bit like an exhibition and Hawkeye can see that Trapper is showing off some of the fancier steps he knows while dancing with Kat. And it looks like he's having a pretty good time – but Hawkeye's willing to bet neither of them would mind too much if he cuts in. And since BJ's run off to dance with Peg, well, there's not much point in him standing around on the sidelines.

“How'd it go, dear?” Peg whispers into BJ's chest as they waltz together. “Did you tell him?”

BJ sighs. “I wanted to, I really did, Peggy. And I tried. But I made the mistake of mentioning Trapper - and then Hawkeye was too busy gushing on about him to listen to anything I had to say.”

He looks over to where Hawkeye and Trapper are giving the kids who've congregated around their little group swing dancing lessons – with Hawkeye focusing on footwork, and Trapper throwing the kids around like grinning, giggling sacks of potatoes.

“And I – I couldn't just stand there listening to that. Not without doing or saying something stupid.” Not without wrecking his own chances of Hawkeye hearing him out. His own chances with Hawkeye.

“Well, I'm glad you didn't put your foot in it,” Peg says matter-of-factly. “And I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunities to talk about it later,” she adds in consolation.

They dance on in silence for a while.

“That's the thing, Peg – what if I don't? What if I can't?”

BJ glances over at Hawkeye again, who's now looking warmly, so warmly, at Trapper as he very seriously leads a little girl through a slowed-down Charleston. He looks fucking besotted.

“It's not like me telling him will change anything.”

It's pretty obvious that Hawkeye isn't going to hear BJ's confession and come rushing into his arms. It's obvious that, for whatever reason, the barrel of commitment issues that is Hawkeye Pierce loves Trapper – has chosen to spend his life with Trapper.

And maybe, BJ consoles himself, it's just a case of Trapper getting there first. Staking his claim. Because BJ still doesn't understand what it is Hawk sees in the guy, what it is Trapper can offer him that BJ can't offer more of or better or.

He shakes his head to dispel that train of thought. Because that way lies madness. And he's been trying not to be so petulant about this.

And Peg's giving him a look.

“I'll try to find a chance to tell him as soon as I can.”

Peg nods. “That's all I ask – that you try.” She moves her hand off his shoulder to cup his neck. “Now how bout you stop thinking on Hawkeye and show your wife a good time?”

BJ pulls her even closer – till she's practically plastered to his front – and does his best to put Hawkeye out of his mind. But it's not easy. Not when Hawkeye is so bright and shining and right there, head thrown back in joyous laughter. And so, so beautiful.

--

Him and Hawkeye are making a pretty good showing of teaching dance moves to all the kids who've been let run loose by their rich snob parents – parents too busy with squabbling and grandstanding and standing around drinking champagne to look after their own damn kids – and so used to servants, prolly, that they don't even think that it could be their responsibility.

And Trapper don't mind doing it, really. He likes kids, and it ain't their fault their parents can't be bothered with 'em. It's pretty fun, even, once he convinces the kids they gotta behave like decent human beings and wait their turns or he ain't gonna teach 'em. So, Trapper don't mind at all what his evening's turned into.

But Trapper knows Hawkeye – better than he knows himself sometimes. And he can see that mischief's brewing, can see it in his eyes.

So he ain't surprised when Hawkeye starts making noise about this being fun and all but he really wants to dance the lindy sometime tonight. And he starts making an exaggerated show of looking around for a dance partner. And Trapper just knows what's gonna come next in this little production Hawk's putting on.

“Does anyone here know the lindy hop? Anyone at all?” Hawkeye looks pointedly around the crowd, practically daring them to come forward.

Next to him, Trapper sighs resignedly – though he really don't mind all that much, if he's being honest – and raises his hand.

And Hawkeye starts in on the next act of the pageant. “Anyone other than Trapper? A woman, maybe? A woman of the female persuasion?”

No one says anything. And Trapper makes eye contact with Letta, who most definitely knows the lindy, he's sure of it. But she just winks at him and stays silent.

“Looks like you're outta luck there, Hawk,” Trapper says with a commiserating hand on his shoulder.

“I know. I was really looking forward to it, but I guess that's just how it goes.”

And Hawk looks at their audience with sad puppy-dog eyes, a cue for the next act to start. Cuz they need someone else to step forward for the next part of this little play or it won't look right.

Max takes the cue – and she always was quick on the uptake when it came to schemes and practical jokes. Always willing to help out a friend.

“Nah, c'mon Hawkeye. You talked it up all the time in Korea – how good you were at the lindy. And now you're gonna wiggle outta showing us again? We ain't even being shelled.” Max takes a breath so the next line has maximum impact. “I think it's just that you ain't even all that good.”

And that – that's perfect.

Making it a challenge. Making it so that Hawkeye loses face if he doesn't do it. Making it so that it plays right into the competitiveness of American masculinity.

And then Charles – who'd wandered over sometime during the dance lessons, apparently – makes it even more iron-clad.

“Yes, Hawkeye. Show us your prodigious skill on the dancefloor that I've heard so much about – and have yet to see in person. If you're not bluffing, that is.”

And that seals the deal.

“Why Charles, you know I could never refuse your oh-so-reasonable request. And certainly not on your wedding day!” Hawkeye grins up at Trapper, full of delight and mischief and tenderness. And then he holds out his hand, like some kinda gentleman or something. “May I have the honor of this dance?”

And Trapper takes his hand in kind, fluttering his eyelashes and acting like a real blushing belle – just really playing up the farce of it. The joke of two guys dancing together. The joke of it being Hawkeye leading.

Cuz then, they ain't looking close enough to see how Trapper leans into it. Just how tender Hawkeye's hand is on the small of his back when they come together. Just how well the two of them fit.

And the lindy's a good choice for this kinda thing. They ain't dancing too close together – most of the steps involve them flinging themselves away from each other, orbiting their joined hands, before crashing briefly together for a moment before being thrown apart again. And the pace is fast, frenetic, not at all romantic. Not visibly intimate.

Though Trapper doesn't know how it couldn't be intimate, not when it's Hawkeye, not when it's the two of them together.

The trust it takes – the soul-deep knowing of each other it takes – for them to switch who's leading in the middle of a step and not lose the thread of the dance. For them to part with Hawkeye leading and join back together with Trapper in charge, cuz he can toss Hawkeye around a little, show off some of their fancier steps. Cuz he can be the steady anchor for Hawkeye when he goes flying through the air in joyful abandon. Cuz he can be there to catch Hawkeye when he comes back around. Trapper doesn't know that there's anything much more intimate than that.

This. This was what he wanted, what he needed. The feel of Trapper's strong arms and steady hands. The knowledge that he's there to guide Hawkeye through the steps – and that he won't let him stumble. The feeling of freedom as he flies across the dancefloor, knowing Trapper will be there to catch him as he descends back to earth.

Hawkeye feels like his face is going to split open, his smile's so wide.

And he would love to dance with Trapper the rest of the night. To revel in that feeling until the end of time. But eventually the band ends their current song and they have to stop. Because they can get away with one song – already longer than he'd usually have when dancing the lindy, due to the slow tempo of the waltzes the band keeps playing – but two songs would be out of the question.

So the song comes to an end and he and Trapper separate. With plenty of backslapping and joking around and a general air of it all just being one big joke. And Hawkeye sketches an elaborate bow at the raucously cheering crowd of kids and MASH vets – and even some of the Back Bay brigade, who have deigned to stop and watch the show, are applauding genteelly.

“Thank you, thank you, you're too kind. Really.”

And Trapper's standing next to him, a friendly hand clapped to his shoulder. A hand Hawkeye can subtly lean into, press himself against. Use to shore himself up as he comes down from the adrenaline rush of the dance.

“Really, thank you. We're here all week.” Hawkeye grins at Trapper. “Or the rest of our natural lives, whichever comes first.”

“I don't think I can afford to put us up at this hotel for the rest of our lives, Hawk. Might not wanna tell 'em that.”

Trapper has started steering them off the dancefloor, through the crowd, and over to their table. So one of the snobs overhears that comment and laughs meanly. And Hawkeye can feel Trapper tense where he's still got an arm slung over Hawkeye's shoulders.

“Hmm, that's true. But surely you can afford to buy me a club soda.” Hawkeye fans himself dramatically with a hand. “I'm parched.”

“Sure, Hawk. I think I can swing that.”

Trapper relaxes slightly, with a task to fulfill and an excuse to get out of there. So Hawkeye relaxes too, and turns to chat with the Padre and the rest of the MASH folks. Because everyone seem to have taken Hawkeye sitting down as the official signal to end their own dancing and start congregating around the table.

And part of him hates being the social center of the 4077 again. Hates being pushed back into the role that'd driven him literally insane back in Korea.

But part of him is glad because it means he can deflect all of the attention off Trapper and onto himself.

And he isn't worried about getting lost again. Not with Sidney sitting across from him and BJ at his elbow and Trapper across the room. Not with Father Mulcahy smiling at him in gentle understanding and suggesting a poker game as he brings out a deck of cards.

[firewoodfigs]

letters to a young poet 

Summary: Riza Hawkeye, a young, aspiring poet, exchanges letters with her fiancé, Roy Mustang during his time in the military academy. He attempts to write her poems and prose about life and love, and occasionally sends her presents to remind her of him. Like his boxers.

read on ao3  

(a/n: (i) title is taken from Rilke's book. (ii) tw: the timeline of this is largely based on yet another man's battlefield, so there are brief mentions of racism here. (iii) I recommend reading on ao3 instead because... formatting issues, again xD (iv) original poetry at the end)

for @royaiweek 2020 - thank you to the lovely mods for organising!! 💖 

~x~

“Promise you’ll write to me when I’m away?”

“Of course, Roy,” Riza drawls idly as she adjusts his coat and ensures that his tie is neatly in place.

“Thank you. I’m going to miss you terribly, you know,” he says, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before stretching his arms out invitingly. Smiling, she leans in and allows herself to be crushed to his chest in a warm, firm embrace.

God, I’m really going to miss her, he thinks, as he inhales her scent - a lovely mix of gunpowder and peonies and old books - and incarcerates it in his memory.

Roy steps back to admire her pretty countenance properly. Pride and admiration swells in his heart, and he can't help but run his fingers gently through her flaxen tresses once more before resting them on her lips.  

“Let me be your muse,” Roy declares with a triumphant grin, pressing a hand to his heart with a melodramatic flourish that earns an amused eye roll from his fiancée. “For parting is such sweet sorrow, and -“

“Shut up.” She pulls him by his tie to kiss him roughly, before flashing a wicked grin and kicking him out of the door. “Get going, you lovesick, histrionic fool.”

Riza throws his belongings out and slams the door as he stares at the wood longingly with an endearing pout.

~x~

June 8th

Dear Riza,

How doth your literary endeavours come along? I hope all is well with thee. Whenever I close my eyes, I see you Like a midsummer’s night dream, exquisite And when I open my eyes to sunlight I cannot wait to see you once again.

All my love, Roy.

~x~

June 12th

Roy,

Stop trying to imitate Shakespeare and force all your sentences into iambic pentameters. It makes me shudder - in disgust, not delight, lest you misconstrue what I’m saying.

Anyway, my literary endeavours are coming along fine. I’ve been spending my time reading some of the books you got me for my birthday, and for someone who writes so incorrigibly you sure do have impeccable taste. All is well on my end. What about you? How are you adjusting to the academy?

Thanks for the pressed flowers that you sent over, by the way. They’re surprisingly lovely, though I’m sure all credit goes to Vanessa’s guidance.

I also enclosed a scarf that I personally knitted for you in case it gets cold at night. Because you have an uncanny tendency to misplace your things, I embroidered a few water droplets in blue at the bottom for clearer identification (if you lose it I’m never making you anything ever again, this took me days to complete).

Hopefully, they serve as a reminder to you that you’re useless in the rain as well, so that you’ll refrain from doing anything reckless or stupid in my absence.

All my love, Riza.

~x~

Roy tears the package open with all the enthusiasm of a child opening his presents on Christmas morning the instant it lands in his hands. His eyes light up appreciatively at the lovely scarf, laughing at the tiny water droplets at the bottom that she’d added as a personal touch.

When he reads her letter and realises its intended meaning, though, an indignant frown makes its way to his handsome features.

Nevertheless, he dons it on immediately, relishing in the warm comfort and how it smelt like her, like flowers blooming in spring (even if his fiancée didn’t appreciate his poetic attempts, he very much liked to believe he was capable of using a simile properly).

June 16th

Dear Riza,

Thank you for the lovely gift, although your harsh words wound me terribly. Nevertheless, I understand that underneath your acerbic tongue lies a tender heart full of love, and I am a lucky man to be the sole recipient of it. I’m glad you liked the flowers. One day I’ll buy you a carful of them, I promise.

Things are going fine here. I’m adjusting well to the ridiculous sleep schedule (you’re the only person I know who willingly wakes up at seven in the morning daily), and with the rigorous physical training we have to endure I believe you’ll have a glorious set of washboard abs to admire the next time you see me.

I must say, though, the food here is pretty bad. Spinach quiche is pretty much the only edible thing, but this man - I think his name was Huggles or something. Sorry, Hughes - had the audacity to take the last piece of quiche right under my nose.

(Per your commands, though, I refrained from trying anything stupid.)

What’s even worse is the racial prejudice. The other day I saw an Ishvalan getting bullied by a trio of ugly men, but they left before I realised what was really happening… So I helped him out after that. I can’t bear it, to this day - they picked on him just because of his skin colour, for goodness sake! It was completely unwarranted.  

It’s only been a week but I already miss you terribly. Can’t wait till I see you again.

All my love, which extends from one end of Amestris to Xing, Roy.

~x~

June 21st

Dear Roy,

Sure, keep deluding yourself however you like if it makes you happy. You’re not the only recipient, by the way - I made a cute little scarf for Hayate, too, who has replaced your ‘snuggling spot’ in my bed, as you like to call it. Between the both of you I sometimes can’t tell who smells worse.

Also, don’t be ridiculous - what would I even do with a carful of flowers?

I’m glad to hear that things are fine on your end. Waking up at seven is a wonderful thing, especially when you get to see the sunrise, no? I look forward to seeing those abs, though with your drinking habits I’m sure you’ll probably end up with a beer belly in the foreseeable future. Don’t drink too much.

I’m sorry to hear about the quiche. I’ll make you one when you’re back. If it makes you feel better, though, I’ve sent some cookies I made the other day to you as well. Express delivery, in case they go bad.

Also, even if you haven’t already punched the Hughes guy I can already envision you slamming your tray down on the table, turning around to scowl at him like a petulant child and competing with him in just about everything you do.

All I will say is this: relax, it’s just a bloody quiche.

Good to know that you did that! The Ishvalans most certainly don’t deserve such treatment. No one does, of course, but it’s frustrating that certain ethnicities still continue to be singled out and ostracised in Amestris, despite the state’s proclamation that it’s a cosmopolitan society accepting of different cultures and whatnot… Until then, we have to stand with them, stand up for what’s right, and -- oh, I don’t mean to ramble. Just know that I’m proud of you, Roy. Keep at it.  

If it does make you feel better I suppose a tiny part of me does miss you too. Just the slightest.

All my love, Riza (not interested in your silly competitions) Hawkeye.

~x~

Roy blanched at the bag of cookies she’d sent him and the thought of Riza’s quiche. Cooking had never been her strongest suit, and while she was talented in many areas somehow all of that seemed to go away every time she entered a kitchen.

Nevertheless, it was Riza who’d painstakingly made them, and because he appreciates his fiancée’s efforts he vows to eat every single one of them even in her absence.

He bites down on a cookie apprehensively, and is pleasantly surprised to discover that it’s edible. It bears emphasising that this is an incredible feat for Riza Hawkeye - considering how she’d managed to almost burn the entire kitchen down when she tried to make a simple pasta dish for his birthday.

(Fortunately, they’d managed to extinguish it, but afterwards Roy mentally designated himself as head chef for the rest of their lives.)

Deeply touched by the gesture, he wraps one of his shirts to send back as a gift. The thought of her dressed in his apparel has him grinning like the lovesick, histrionic fool that Riza said he was.

June 26th 

Dear Riza,

Don’t say that, I definitely smell better than Hayate. And I know for a fact that you love me, although maybe not as much as I love you -- my love for you knows no territorial boundaries.

You could curate your own gardens with a carful of flowers, I suppose. And we could… Well, smell the flowers and procrastinate together?

It is - the sunlight reminds me of you, and I appreciate that. A lot. I also haven’t been drinking, so don’t worry - these glorious abs are definitely en route to you.

Thank you for the cookies - they were delicious, and I look forward to your quiche when I return. Baby steps, alright? I hope the kitchen will still be intact when I come home.

… It’s sometimes creepy how well you know me… But I think you’ll be pleased to at least know that I became friends with Hughes, after we confronted said trio.

We also made a new friend today - Heathcliff! He’s the Ishvalan I told you about in my last letter. He told us he joined the military because he wanted to change and empower the people’s perceptions of Ishval and its culture from a point of leadership. I think that’s an admirable dream - one that I’d like to assist in, too. He’s been a great friend, and I can’t stand to see him be the recipient of so many pejorative remarks. It’s completely unjustified, and you’re absolutely right on that point.

I take that as an admission that you miss me ‘most ardently’ - have you been writing poems about me in my absence?  

On that note, you’ll be pleased to know that I have a break on the 8th of July for a couple of days. Want to do something fun? I know you’ve been dying to check out that shooting range, and I’ve been training in the academy for my victory.

All my love, kisses and glorious abs, Roy

P.S. I’ve also enclosed a token of my own affection herein for you - hopefully it reminds you of me whenever you wear it.

~x~

Riza stared confusedly at the oddly-shaped lump that surfaced after she opened the package. After reading his letter she was expecting one of his shirts, maybe one of his button-downs that would’ve been perfect as an oversized sleeping top on her, but she certainly wasn’t expecting his…

Boxers.

His boxers, of all things. She holds it up to scrutinise it in its full glory, and it’s peppered with little puppies - his favorite pair.

To say Riza is surprised is an understatement. She’s not quite sure why he’d sent her his boxers or how she’s supposed to even wear it, but she chucks it aside in the laundry for him to retrieve it when he returns.

July the 8th. The date's circled in bold, bright red on her calendar.  

She’d never admit this out loud to any living person, not even her best friend Rebecca. The only person who’d heard her let out an almost-giggle (almost, because Riza Hawkeye did not do giggles) in excitement was Hayate. Because God, did she miss him terribly, and true to his predictions he’d been her muse for quite a number of her recent poetic endeavours.

July 3rd

Dear Roy,

Whatever, you insane idiot. I miss you and I love you too. That is all.

For the record, the kitchen is still intact, and will continue to be so. My cooking skills aren’t that bad.  

That’s great to hear. You’re an honorable and intelligent (this is questionable) man, Roy, and I would definitely like to see that kind of change happening. I hope Heathcliff is well, too - send him my regards.

… I refuse to lower myself to drawing smiley faces on my letters, but you’ll see one on July the 8th in person.

And yes, it would be nice to check out that shooting range, though let’s be real - we both know you can’t defeat me no matter how hard you try. I do live up to my namesake, after all.

All my love, Riza

P.S I don’t know if it was intentional, but I never knew you had a thing for me wearing your boxers. Unfortunately, they are way too loose for me and I won’t be wearing them any time soon. Your underwear and I eagerly await your return.

~x~

The 8th of July finally comes around. Everyone in the academy is astonished at just how fast Roy Mustang is capable of running. He might’ve been the golden boy, and he generally outran most, if not all, of them during their training sessions, but now he looked like his pants were on fire as he made a dash for the gate and boarded the first train in a sweaty mess.

Roy continues running like a madman after alighting the train, desperate to reach their home as soon as possible to explain his predicament. He certainly hadn’t intended to send his underwear over, and was sure that one of the other men must have done so as a practical joke on him.

(Fortunately for the culprit, Roy didn’t manage to identify who he was, but there would certainly be hell to pay when he did so.)

As if on cue, Riza opens the door with a beatific smile adorning her features. “I can hear you panting all the way from the other end of Amestris, Roy.”

He chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. “Well, I’m excited to see you, for starters. And, uh…”

“You want your underwear back?”

“Yes, of course I do.” He pants, struggling to catch his breath while trying to formulate a coherent explanation. “Look, I swear it wasn’t deliberate - I intended to send you one of my shirts, and I definitely don’t have a thing for you wearing my boxers. I don’t know which idiot in the academy substituted my shirt for my underwear to sabotage -” She lets out a laugh. It's loud, unrestrained. Roy thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s heard in a month. “You really are hopeless, Roy. It’s fine. Defeat me at the shooting range, and you can have it back tonight.”

~x~

In the end, his favorite pair of boxers sits at the bottom of the laundry for the rest of the day, because Riza Hawkeye is an indomitable force of nature at the shooting range.

She does, however, have a poem written for him, and he’s so enraptured by it that he forgets all about the underwear fiasco. “I’m back home, ma chérie,” he whispers as he runs his fingers down the groove of her spine, as if he’s tracing constellations on the canvas of her back while they lay together on satin, hearts thrumming in harmony. “I’d like to keep holding you close, too -” he recites, but he’s quickly interrupted by her.

“You sound best when you don’t speak, Roy,” and with that Riza silences him with a fiery kiss that rouses an overwhelming conflagration in him.

One that can only be put out by her.

Roy grins delightfully into the kiss, all too willing to oblige. Her lips are an inviting chamber of unbridled affection and unsatisfied desire, and he finds himself exploring her eagerly, fingers tracing her sharp cheekbones in reverent adoration.

Riza responds in kind, trailing a hand down his shirt and notes, somewhat gleefully, that he has indeed returned with said glorious abs. She makes a move to untuck his shirt, humming to herself in amusement as she feels his bare stomach quiver beneath her curious palm.

He’s quick to make a comeback, though. Unwilling to be teased by her Roy draws her deeper into the kiss - she’s utterly incredible, he thinks, as he cards his fingers through her flaxen tresses - and he tastes traces of eggs and pastries and -

- and spinach?

“You made spinach quiche?” Roy asks curiously, breaking away from the kiss for the briefest of moments.

“What on earth,” she huffs. “Way to ruin the moment, Roy.” A scarlet blush makes its way to her cheeks - equal parts breathlessness from the vigour with which he kisses her, and embarrassment at being found out.

He laughs, and quotes yet another line teasingly. “Didn’t you say you’ll even listen to my silly moonshine?”

Riza scowls. “I do regret writing that now. Perhaps I will -”

“No, no, please continue writing more,” Roy pleads in earnest, and before she can make a decision he’ll live to regret he kisses her again with such an ardent love, such a fervent passion that it completely derails her train of thought.

The quiche rests in the oven, burnt and forgotten.

~x~ 

adieu, mon chéri. may you fare well. in my heart, you will always dwell. (won’t you please come home soon, or will it only be after june?)

you write to me, letters (hidden within are flowers) to abate my need for you. i knit scarves in a room candlelit;

holding a heavy weight within from empty spaces on satin. i’d like to hold you close again -- hurry, love, won’t you run to the train?

i’ll let you place your weight on mine oh, i’ll even listen to your silly moonshine (come home to me, darling my soul is aching in longing)

~x~ 

*moonshine: foolish talk or ideas.

[deniigi]

What happens when Frank Castle meets Sam? Is there going to be an adoption war?

oh I have a scrap for this. hold on.

----------

It was his own fault.

He’d been lax. He’d come in after a night out for drinks with the gals and had been maybe a touch drunker than intended—but like. It was his solemn duty in the group to finish people’s drinks. That was his job. He was assigned it and everything since some of his friends were very good at buying drinks and even better at getting others bought for them that they could not finish.

So Sam was just lookin’ out for folks, you know?

Being chivalrous or something.

Or maybe the girls had just figured out that the drunker he was, the more likely he was to dance was them.

Actually, probably that.

He was certainly uncoordinated when he got home at what felt like 3am but what his phone seemed to think was 2.

He might have run into everything in the downstairs kitchen. Might have dropped his room keys twice. Might have started giggling when Tuesday came downstairs to try to help but just made him drop them again.

Only then did he realize that there was absence of noise upstairs and the lights were on.

Only then did he realize that people were judging him.

Whuh-oh.

“E’erything’s good,” he promised the staircase. “E’eryone got home. I’m home. Hiiiii.”

Upstairs did not resume making noise despite the light.

“Red, what the fuck?” Mr. Castle’s husky voice asked. “You just lettin’ randos live with you now?”

Sam didn’t need superhearing to hear Matt’s groan.

“He’s not—listen, tell Karen—”

“No, you tell Karen,” Mr. Castle snapped.

“Fine. I’ll tell Karen that I told her not to fuck with the Russians and so now her only option is Hawkeye,” Matt huffed. “In the meantime, you will get the fuck out of my house.”

Oh no, Karen. She was always doing something weird and wild. Dangerous was a box that had to be ticked for her to take a case, Sam was pretty sure.

“Teach, is Karen okay?” he slurred up the stairs.

Sudden silence.

“I thought you said he was a roommate,” Mr. Castle said dangerously.

“He is. Karen is our family; we are allowed to discuss our family, Francis,” Matt said.

“Who is he, Red?”

“A roommate, Guns-and-Roses. Get out.”

“Who you are close enough to to chat happy families? I don’t think so. Who is he?”

And just like that, Sam’s New York brain lit the fuck back up and he realized who was upstairs chattin’ with the old man.

He didn’t drop his keys this time.

He did, however, hush Tuesday when she tried to follow him in.

“Your damn dog ain’t that friendly Red, who is he?” Mr. Castle’s voice rumbled threateningly even though softly now, through the wall.

Sam flopped down onto the bed and decided that everything was fine. Everything was chill. No problems here, nope.

“WHAT.”

None, none, none.

No problems. He was going to sleep.

“Are you out of your mind, Red? Are you actually out of your—where is he—”

On the way to unconsciousness if Sam had anything to say about it.

“Frank, leave it,” Matt’s voice said dangerously over a commotion on the stairs.

“Hell no. You’re gonna get him killed. Does he even know what he’s signed up for? He’s like fourteen.”

Wow.

Rude.

Sam knew everything about his baby face, thanks, and fourteen was lowballing it by far.

He looked at least fifteen. Come on now.

He heard a weird noise outside his door and decided to bury himself under the comforters to pretend it wasn’t there.

“Frank,” Matt warned, only feet away now. “Drop this.”

“This is Spidey all over again,” Mr. Castle said. “All over again. That kid is permanently damaged, Red. He ain’t never coming back from the shit he’s seen. It’s a goddamn miracle he’s half as functional as he is. And you’re doing it again? You’re letting another one go through this?”

“Peter had every opportunity to leave,” Matt said. “I never—we never told him that he couldn’t leave.”

“You just don’t get it,” Mr. Castle said. “All these years and you don’t fuckin’ get it—you makin’ these kids feel special just makes ‘em cling harder to this shit. The harder the cling, the sooner they die. None of them are special, Red. You know it. Your teacher knew it. They’re made into something special.”

“Sam’s different.”

Sam’s heart turned all the way over in his chest. All the way. A full rotation that dropped his stomach while it was at it.

Mr. Castle said nothing for a long time.

“He’s not,” he said finally. “Don’t do this. You know better than this. Let him go. Scare him away. Do what you have to—I’m serious. It’s just gonna hurt you both in the—”

“Get. Out,” Matt said.

“You’re so fuckin’ stub—”

“Get the fuck out. Now. I’ll deal with Karen. Get the fuck out.”

Sam held his breath, listening hard for the sound of feet moving away from the door.

They didn’t come.

Oh, shit.

Things were about to get real.

“Where’s he from, Red?” Mr. Castle asked lowly.

“Leave,” Matt said.

“I’ll take him back. Where’d you find him? Won’t let nothin’ happen to him on the way, alright? Let’s be easy about this for once.”

“I’m going to say it one last time,” Matt said. “Get. Out. Now.”

Sam heard the step forward and the sound of Matt stepping back against the door. He threw off the covers.

 --

Mr. Castle clearly didn’t expect some half-pint Chinese brat with glowing eyes to slam out of the room and land a good one on his undefended solar plexus.

He stumbled back and Matt lunged forward to grab Sam before he could do any more damage. Sam hated when he did that. He always ended up tossed over a shoulder.

This time was no different.

First tossed over a shoulder, then dropped in bed. And then the door closed again in a flash.

“Upstairs,” Matt’s baritone ordered in the hall.

The room was pitch black.

“You want to talk? Fine. We’ll talk. Upstairs,” Matt repeated.

Tuesday whimpered.

“Fuckin’ same, girl,” Sam grumbled to her in the dark. “Can’t even defend my own honor apparently.”

“What the actual fuck was that?” Mr. Castle’s voice rasped.

Sam found that the sound made him proud.

“Someone different,” Matt said. “Your choice. Either upstairs or out.”

Sam was surprised when the footfalls turned around and sounded back up the stairs instead of to the door. He couldn’t hear Matt’s, but catching Matt’s footsteps was an art and not one that Sam was in the headspace to practice.

And he didn’t have to.

The door opened after a moment.

----------

(I also have a little snippet of a de-aged, baby Inimitable Sam with Frank which is very cute, but a little less relevant to this question lol)

Frank kind of misinterprets the relationship between Matt and Sam and thinks Matt is being selfish and reckless; he doesn’t really understand what Sam gets out of this relationship too.

Idk if Sam and Frank would get on very well honestly, anon. They are very different people with very different perspectives. I feel like Frank would spend a lot of time trying to save Sam from shit he doesn’t want to be saved from and there would be a lot of kicking and screaming and adamant refusals (on Sam’s part) to play the victim, which I’m not sure Frank would know how to deal with in the same way that Matt, who has had to play the victim his whole life and so really knows that frustration, does.

[theunholygrails]

Very Differently

Summary: This isn’t really new, just something I never got around to posting here. Basically my take on Budapest with an OC added to the mix for fun. 

Masterlist

Zdravstvuyte

The shadows cast from the wastefully clad guests in the soft angles and indecipherable masses were notably more elegant than the calculating frowns of their creators. A gloved hand traced along a freshly polished curling oak banister as Sonja made her was to join the babbling benefactors. Leaflets of conversations rustled not long enough to take root but simply flew past on the careful air of disinterest her fellow hosts held about them. With a sharp nod of her head and a demure curve of her lips, she joined the nearest transaction.

Arms dealing can be tricky business when neither party particularly trusted the other.

Jewels painted the necklines of her most generous buyer and in their pristine surfaces, she could make out the warning flash of the smallest red dot. Sonja shifted with a subtle flip of her hair to block the shot and simultaneously tapped her earpiece.

“Ma’am, I do believe my husband is coming down with something fatal.” she said.

Even if she did not have a husband to speak of, the message was abundantly clear—the event was compromised because Black Widow herself was present.

“Take care of it, Chief. I need this night to be spotless.”

“Got it.”

Security hustled onto the floor at Sonja’s signal to escort each of the dozen or so guests back to their armored vehicles.

With the prompting of her boss in her ear, Sonja slipped out the back door to attempt to uncover any tracks the Widow might have left behind.

The wet asphalt did little to help her heels find traction as she scanned the nearest buildings for the optimal vantage point the spy must have taken to train a snipper on people under her protection. With the rest of her security team busy locking down the premises, she was left to the goose chase even though looking for tracks from this particular prey was about as promising as searching for footprints after a storm.

She tensed when something popped right beside her ear and the sharp slap of metal hit her cheek. She scolded her hammering heart and forced a calm gaze to the arrow that kissed her skin and was now imbedded in the wall. Her hand went to the dual blades tucked against her thighs knowing full well that any assassin after her would not be foolish enough to miss twice.

A test of her ear piece told her its signal had been knocked out somehow. A heavy pair of boots splashed down beside her and she whipped into a defensive pose before the archer could cut her mission short.

The man kneeling across from her had his bow pressed to the ground and his black stealth suit clinging to him like any woman in her proper mind would in a scenario a little less lethal than this. Given a situation where she were allowed to use her real name and wash the blonde dye from her hair, she might have done just that because his looks were wasted on the dark, filthy streets of Samara, Russia.

“Hello, easy, Chief. I’m not here for you. Sonic took out your communications, also I was listening in a little bit, Ma’am is a weird name. Is that like the birth one or did she rename herself that? I’m looking for the Widow. You know anything?”

“Does anyone?” she flicked her blades so they would glint in warning beneath the lazy stars.

“They sent one person out to challenge her? Seems a little under kill. Unless you’re just the bait.”

She advanced a step to show just how much of a danger she truly was. His mouth curved up in amusement when he rose from his crouch. “You’re not going to let me leave,” he said.

“I fear my boss will want to speak with anyone chasing her.”

“Knew better,” he sighed. “Alright, let’s do this before I have to check out of my hotel.”

Her first swipe cut only into nothing as he swiveled around to her back. She feigned left, sweeping her right foot back to catch his ankles.

“Woah, who taught you that?” he demanded, dancing over the attack.

While she paused to process his stunned remark his completely unstunned body cracked his bow against her forehead. She grabbed at his forearm, twisting until it clattered free of his grip. “Quiet, American.”

“Was it Hill?” he carried on. “You with S.H.I.E.L.D?”

Now she faltered and he did not take the opportunity to jam any of his color coordinated arrows into her temple.

“I wasn’t told of another operative here,” he babbled.

She slammed her shoulder into his chest and landed him flat on his ass where she could properly threaten him.

“I’m handling it.”

“This is about as under control as a mouse wrestling a snake.”

“You realize I’m pinning you right,” she demanded, dropping her knees to either side of his hips and pressing the flats of her blades against either of his wrists.

“That means nothing. I’m letting you. Just so you know, they asked me to do your job first. Also, the first and last fight I had with the Widow ended with my jaw dislocated. That was back when I cornered her in Milan. That makes me a mouse too.”

“Sadly, I think that just makes more dinner for the snake instead of an overwhelming force.”

He shrugged his eyebrows and glanced down pointedly. With a sigh she crawled to sit beside him as he grunted and rolled onto his stomach. Hands propped under his head as princess worthy blue eyes fluttered up at her. “Feel better? I think you missed bruising one of my ribs if you wanted a clean sweep.”

“I was going to ask why Fury didn’t tell me you were coming, but pretending you don’t exist does seem to be the only way to deal with your bullshit.”

“Supposed to be super top fucking secret but since you kind of outed me, not cool by the way, want to work together to charm a snake?”

“Is she a spider or a snake, man? Make up your damn mind.”

He rocked back, clutching his knees as a laugh barreled through him. “Oh, I like you. You don’t get a say now. We’re working together. Got something more stealthy than that yellow dress?”

***

She did not give one rat’s ass how he got into her apartment only that he could have possibly blown her cover.

“Brought flowers. Told the doorman I wanted to surprise you.”

“Was the surprise that I had a boyfriend?” she deadpanned as she shrugged off her bulky overcoat.

“Fiancé, when he asks but that’s not why I’m here. I need your help bringing her in. She vanished, shook all my tracking abilities. From what I hear, you’re pretty handy with the underworld system.”

“If you hear anything then I’m doing my job wrong. Why would you want her brought in anyway? Isn’t protocol to take out someone that rouge and dangerous?”  

He gave his knees a firm pat before pushing off them to match their heights. “I think she could prove an asset. I made this call. If it goes south, it’s on me. I know I’m asking you to compromise yourself but from what I can tell, the Widow is more involved in mafia’s inner working than the little crew you head. We find her, we get you your hot target too.”

“Ma’am is a pretty cold-hearted bitch from ghost chatter I’ve picked up.”

A tug of his grey hoodie secured it around his face for a safety net just in case anyone was spying in from the dirt smeared window to their right. Sonja was afforded no such luxury because her face was always bared to the world. She was buried way too deep in her world of shit to risk disguises. “Funny. We should work well together.”

“What’s your clearance?” She demanded.

The space of her apartment was deemed worthy of her retailer to host grand parties of up to a dozen people but she already felt stuffy with his confident presence entirely too close to her though he remained clear across the green wallpapered room with his feet twisting into her recently purchased, hand woven rug. It was probably worth three times his ratty boots with its intricate depiction of a fanfare of angels descending the heavens; this man was no angel.

“Alpha.”

“That doesn’t exist. Ten is the highest. I would know, I was the reason they created it.”

A tilt of his head told her he was only amused with her declaration and not in awe like all other inferiors she came across. “Welcome to Alpha then. I’ll fill you in on the plane.”

“I thought you didn’t know where she was.”

“I said she shook me. That doesn’t mean I don’t know her well enough to predict where she would go. Pack light, Budapest can be unforgiving this time of year.”

“Got a name?”

“Got a code, Hawkeye. Yours?”

“Zero.”

***

Being nearly run over three time while crossing a single street was a personal record for Sonja. Hawkeye was weighed down beneath a tan backpack filled with waters, old and clunky laptops, maps, granola bars (as if she could live off of those along), and a very distinct lack of weapons. Hawkeye had insisted on leaving them behind because airport security did not make exceptions for undercover agents and using a private jet would raise too many eyebrows. He had extracted her daggers from her and then held his hand out expectantly for the spares he could not have known she kept tucked neatly between her planner and wallet in her purse. She felt slightly less naked when he tossed his bow as well but still would rather not relying on their combined wit and charm since her partner appeared to be painfully lacking in both and making up for it with 100 proof sarcasm.

The wind buckled with the weight of the dry air it carried and tugged at the ends of Sonja’s hastily dyed and chopped off brunette locks. A sunhat kept the loose waves mashed against her face and even bigger sunglasses kept the prying sun at bay along with Hawkeye’s dancing glances back to make sure she was keeping up with his soundless steps.

“Come on,” he called even though the only closer she could have been to him would be to just piggyback it.

“Where is the safe house again?” she called over the roar of traffic.

He pause while a couple bustled between them, their heads bent in deep conversation then nodded politely to a minister though she doubted his devilish grin could even point out a church. “Next block. You wanna take over bag duty? I’ve got this crick in my neck I haven’t been able to shake since the plane.”

“That’s because you were stupid enough to sleep on the plane. On my shoulder no less. There’s a drool stain.”

The bag was tossed at her chest where her hands caught it without the aid of her gaze leaving his. “If your posture was more slumped we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“Excuse me for remaining vigilant.”

“Trust me, your people don’t know you’re missing yet. You’ve probably got until noon.” His eyes skipped between his blank wrist and the sun overhead to judge the time. “And once we get set up with internet, I will clear the airways of anything we might have left behind. Say, do you think you could give me some sort of reaction? The constant dead expression is a bit intimidating.”

“I can see why the Widow dislocated your jaw, you talk too much.”

She spotted the covert insignia for S.H.I.E.L.D. and pushed past him to key in the day’s number sequence for entrance. There was distinct absence of air conditioning when they entered the stale room sitting on the basement level of what appeared to be the back of a tourist ice cream shop. Hawkeye’s bulky jacket hit the floor then his paisley shirt was tossed over the back of a chair that used to be sand colored but appeared to have been recently stained with globs of red. His back hit the ground as he fiddled with the window unit and Sonja set to toeing along the perimeter of their quarters.

She came across the outlet first sitting adjacent to the Ethernet cable in the far right corner. After depositing the backpack for him to fiddle with later on, she peeled off her overcoat and tank top while she stuck her head into the bathroom to check on the water situation. What trickled from the sink was lukewarm at coldest and the pressure in the shower was laughable but at least the toilet flushed and air freshener hung from the doorknob. Its orange tree shape was swinging in the next moment as blessed air filled the cramped space.

Sonja emerged from the bathroom with her sports bra held away from her damp skin. “Guess you are useful.”

“Do me a favor and check the freezer.” He toed off his boots as he walked, adding more of his shit to the mess that made her fingers twitch to clean only slightly.

“Think they left us frozen dinners? Because you’re health nut bars are not going to cut it Hawk.”

“I’ll order pizza for us,” he called with a wink as he tapped away on the booting up monster of a laptop.

She grumbled her response and pried open the rusted closed freezer doors that concealed an inside that somehow felt hotter than the oven of a city. Two metal cases rested inside, one smaller and snugly sitting atop

“You know how to defuse bombs right?” she called, eyes tracing the otherwise empty white cubicle for any wire or trigger.

“That’s a no. They’re presents from Fury.”

She did not move to take his word for it but instead carefully shifted the boxes sideways while sliding her hand where they sat in case it was weight sensitive. When she felt only the sleek, flat bottom, she cautiously picked up the bottom box from either edge with just the tips of her fingers and walked it as far away from Hawkeye as she could manage.

“For Christ’s sake, Z. I special requested those. Look, the code is 1971 on the bigger one and all zeroes on the other because I’m brilliant. If those don’t work then you can pull out your bomb squad suit.” He strode over, task forgotten, and squatted beside her kneeling form. “I’m not sure whether I’m offended you don’t trust me or flattered you’re trying to keep my out of harm's way.”

She flinched when he keyed in the numbers and passed her the first case carelessly before punching in his own and flipping the lid up to reveal and brand-spanking-new carbon fiber and purple streaked bow.

“Stealthy.” Sonja pulled out her own sleek new dagger set. Four blades so sharp just the skimming of her fingers drew their first blood. “Gorgeous.”

“I’m going to assume both of those were for me. Look, since I slept earlier, you take this round and I’ll wake you when night says it's time to move.”

When she made no move to do as such, he groaned and jutted out his hand. “Clint,” he said.

“What,” she snapped.

“That’s my name. Clint Barton. 1971 is the year I was born.”

“Is this supposed to make me trust you?”

“What? You want my social security number? Passport? Birth certificate? To be honest, I have so many of those I probably couldn’t pinpoint the original for you.”

She glanced down to hide the smiled curving up her lips and tucked a single dagger into her calf high sock. After refolding the hem of her khaki shorts, she felt composed enough to meet his impatient blue eyes. His smile was quick and brilliant and caught her so off guard she returned it, still vulnerable from the previous moments.

“There she is. Listen miss bomb technician, that why they call you zero? Because of the countdown? Anyway, if you don’t sleep you risk both our asses tonight and I happen to have a fine ass. As a gentleman I have not checked yours out but I am willing to bet that it’s at least half as good as mine.”

“If I go to sleep will you shut up?”

He touched his scarred knuckles against her cheek and lugged his new toys over to the ancient ones where he set up shop for the next few hours. The flimsy mattress with springs poking out every few inches was tucked away between the window and the front door and Sonja barely got her coat down on it before her head crashed against her arm for her pillow and her eyes tapped out.

***

do svidaniya

Clint’s version of a gentle awakening was a kick to her foot as he passed by. Of course, her leg swept out in defense and he landed face first on the mattress beside her. Her groggy eyes blinked open at him and promptly scowled at the dumbfounded expressions holding even his usual smart ass comment at bay.

“We better be under attack,” she grumbled, failing when she attempted to remove her already asleep arm from beneath his heavy torso.

It took him an alarming number of seconds to compose an answer and she squinted through sleep crust to glare at him. His lips parted then apparently he discovered them too dry to speak because his tongue swept out and at this proximity, so close she would not even have to reach to strangle him, the smell of his lingering bubblegum toothpaste pulled her fully into reality.

The same abrupt force that stilled him froze her from shoving him off the bed. She blamed the dreams still singing to her but the more likely cause was his hand which had by the damnation of some god landed on the dip of her waist, not her ass or her breast, which would be far simpler to explain the skip in her chest.

His recovery was like watching a runner recover from a particularly nasty hurdle “Afraid your mafia is running a little behind schedule, so we have to go out and meet them. Gear up.”

He grunted when her knee sent him rolling to the floor next.

“What time is it, Hawk?”

“2100. Think you bruised my bladder.”

Her change of clothes were swept up and the bathroom door slammed between them and the meager form of water she coaxed from the sink drowned out the breath she heaved from her lungs. The woman staring back at her was faded and spotted where the mirror was tarnished from the years without maintenance.

There was scarcely enough time to worry about saving her own skin let alone playing guess that hormone with an archer she met two days ago. A quick coaching session of her emotions and the addition of a black beanie, matching under armor shirt, and a lightweight bullet proof vest she emerged, undoing the button to her shorts after regretfully noticing the absence of the last bit of her uniform.

Clint lounged in front of the air unit in identical gear, hands folded across his pulled in knees so that the muscles fought against the fabric of his shirt. “Didn’t know pants were optional,” he called as she neatly folded her shorts beside their supply bag and produced the cargo pants that would be hiding her weapons for the evening. “I did appreciate that silky number you wore for me on our first mission,” he continued.

A belt secured the bottoms and after shoving her feet into the boots she stomped one down dangerously close to his most vulnerable bits and offered a sweet smile down at him.

“Think the world has one too many eunuchs as it is. Next time you want me to tie your laces try a nice ‘Clinton, would you be a dear and tie my fucking shoes?’”

“Don’t I feel like Cinderella?”

Deft fingers made quick work of her laces and she was still admiring the knots she could not even begin worrying about how to undo when he stood and shouldered his bow.

“Let’s go catch a spider, Z.”

“Let’s take down the Samarian crew as well while we’re at it.”

The night was their friend, lending its heaviest cloud cover from the stars that dared shine from the moonless sky as they jogged through the still bustling city’s alleys.

They passed a meat truck making a last minute delivery and Clint offered the driver the nod of his head before prodding Sonja’s body to pick up the speed as if they were out for a jog instead of on the tracks of the most dangerous woman on any side of the world. She shifted out of his reach, none too content on having her mind replay its earlier clash with emotions for the rest of the mission.

The building where Clint’s found surveillance footage last picked up her image was tucked between the river and the last wall of structures. A fishing shack where Sonja doubted the lights from the horn riddled bridge now stretching over their heads could penetrate if a paid professional like herself were taking shelter there.

Rounding the last bend on the downward slanting street, Clint caught her belt loop and pulled her against the crumbling brick building that smelled like moss and moldy bread. She bent her knees to keep from slipping down the slope on the loose cobblestones beneath their feet and still managed to subtly maneuver further from him because his aftershave was making repeating the plan like a mantra in her head a thing for the birds.

“Hey, you with me, Zero? You remember what we talked about?”

“Not dying or the not fucking up part?”

“See, I knew you weren’t listening to me.”

“Relax, Hawk. I’ve been doing this since I was toddling.”

“Really? Diapers for me.”

She swatted his arm when his blue eyes danced with humor and closed her own to reel herself back in.

“Seriously, though, you up for this? Because I can go in alone…”

“Like, hell, Hawk. You’re long range, I distract. Stick to it.”

He held out his knuckles wrapped in fingerless gloves that would help his aim. With a laugh disguised as a groan, she knocked hers against his and watched as he began scaling the fire escape to the tops of the connected houses leading to the perfect vantage point.

It took the coaxing of the restless waves to remind her that she too did not have the fortune of sitting still and allowing her already spiraling life to make Budapest its final resting place.

The traps took precious time to pick out--a motion detector from the front porch, a snoring dog with paws running in the air when she slipped around to the side, an electrical ward along the single sealed window, and finally a good old fashioned set of cans on the roof she managed to climb on. Sonja crouched on the narrow ledge of the none-too-secure roofing tiles, still off balance from her misjudged landing.

The cans, a mix of unopened green peas for which Sonja could not blame her and chili whose lids appeared to have been ripped off by bare hands, were stacks to at least twice her height and made a perfect circle around what she had to assume was another vulnerable entrance. From her original distance of spotting from the bridge with Clint, it had appeared merely another level of the shack which she could scale but now was proving to be just a pain in her ass. She circled on feet quieter than death to the side where Clint could see her and held out her hands helplessly.

“No in?” He said over the ear piece.

A shake of her head was the answer she knew his strapped on night goggles could pick up.

“Alright, hold on.”

“Clint!” she hissed out as an idea struck.

“Hell of a time to break out the Christian name.”

“Knock out the electricity on window.”

“I know you remember how these sonic arrows work. Our communication will be cut off and I know you’ll miss this sweet watchful voice, Z.”

“Sonja,” she whispered, hunching down on her knees and throwing a finger down as if he did not know the window she intended.

“No, sonic.”

“That’s my name you moron. You’ve got to trust me. Just shoot it.”

There was that hesitation from him again, she was beginning to understand how his head worked. The job was simple, something he was trained beyond reason for, but she was a variable he had to carefully calculate into the equation.

“Alright. I’m right behind you.”

“I know. Just don’t miss.”

She heard the smile in his response, “I find your lack of faith disturbing.”

“Are we really resorting to quoting Star Wars right now?”

“Fire in the hole, Sonja.”

The arrow struck home with a muted thwack and Sonja slid down onto the windowsill throwing a thumbs up into the now unresponsive night as she jimmied her dagger around to unlock the window. A second blade joined her free hand when she ducked inside.

The first thing she noticed was the complete lack of interior decoration just like their own safe house and the second unfortunately was that the insides were also void of any inhabitants. Why so much security without anything to protect?

There was a knock at the front door and a moment later Sonja remembered the power surge would also have affected the motion detector. She wearily trudged over before sliding into a defensive position when she flung the door back.

She saw the Black Widow first and her arrogant smirk followed by the prompting of an arrow to her skull.

“Plan B then?” Sonja called as Clint jostled their target into the room.

“I thought we agreed this was the more likely alternative,” he said. “Making it plan A.”

Sonja shrugged and pulled the handcuffs from her calf pocket before moving to snap them securely around the Widow’s ankles. The woman grunted as a green glow filled the room and a shift of her hips proved her unable of even lifting her feet.

When Sonja straightened and reached to tuck a stray strand of hair back into her braid, the woman finally spoke. “Props.” she said.

“Thanks, we’ve been practicing that last bit for hours now. I was really worried about the execution.” Clint strolled around to the front of their captive, pockets bulging with confiscated weapons.

“Not you, Barton. I knew you were on my ass for months. Her I wasn’t even looking for.”

Sonja crossed her arms. “Case. Point. What’s your real name?”

“Natasha Romanov.”

The plain reply jarred both her and her partner equally and Clint took her arm, walking her as far back into the room as he could manage before inclining his forehead to make the whisper easier hear. “She’s going to try to play a game with us. Anyone around her is instantly compromised. I need you to stay with me.”

A sharp nod answered him and his grin danced with mischief as he swung back around to stroll over to Natasha with his bow forgotten and swinging in his left hand. Sonja did not even feign relaxation but rubbed her thumbs over the sweating hilts of her daggers.

“This about the Avengers initiative? I read all about it last week,” Natasha said.

“You know it is. That’s why you let us capture you.”

“Let?” Sonja’s arms slipped from their protective frame.

Clint pushed on, feigning deafness when Sonja knew good and well his hearing aids were in. “You’ve got a nasty ledger and S.H.I.E.L.D. only wants to help you rectify it through the Avengers.”

“Avengers?” Sonja questioned.

“I’m fine where I am,” Natasha retorted giving the glowing shackles weighing down her feet a good tug and only ending up on her knees which, despite the powerless position, she somehow conveyed was right where she wanted to be.

Clint sighed and dropped as well. “You’re fine painting every city you go to with blood for people you don’t even know? The Avengers are going to protect the world and we want you to be a part of that.”

“Cute speech. Did Sonja feed it to you? You’re not bright enough to try the emotion ploy.”

Sonja was too busy puzzling how she knew her name to reply. That’s when the first bullet cut through the air and buried itself clean in Clint’s left calf. When he keeled forward in pain, Natasha swiped the gun tucked into the back of his belt and began firing to cover all their asses.

Lurching forward, Sonja kicked the door shut and pried her pistol from her belt as her back smacked against the wall. “Clint!” she called when he finally lifted himself from the ground.

“You led the Samarians here!” Natasha shouted as bullets pelted the door and walls relentlessly.

“Whoops,” Clint managed.

“Damn right you’re gonna need my help with the Avengers if you can’t even manage to stay off their radar. I assume you at least had an escape route in place.”

Clint wiped his bloody hand off on his shirt and primed an arrow for release should their defenses be breached by the crew. “Boat out back.”

“You’re gonna have to uncuff me.” Natasha called, firing precisely through an already fragile portion of the wall to produce a thunk of dead weight only a few yard away.

The deadly accuracy made Clint hesitate as he added in yet another variable, but Sonja just tossed the keys without a word and returned to keeping her gun aimed at the door.

“Barton go first and we’ll cover you,” Natasha called as she dodged a bullet cutting entirely too close to her brain. When she sat up straight again a line of red across her forehead added to her already flaming hair and scarlet pjs look.

Clint’s gaze snapped to Sonja unwavering in its unspoken question: would she be ok alone?

“Get out of here, Hawkeye,” she added the last bit to help him depersonalize, to remind him this was just a mission and all lives involved were expendable. “I’m right behind you,” she continued when he did not move.

His mouth curved up as he heaved himself onto mostly steady feet and sprinted to the backdoor while Sonja and Natasha laid down cover fire until both were down a clip. “Together?” Natasha called.

“Hell, why not?”

Sonja leapt up first, followed shortly by the much faster woman. The night air was thick with humidity that only pooled more sweat on their skin. On the free side of the house, a man screamed as the now awakened guard dog set to work. The other side was occluded by the closely stacks buildings and on the water just ahead, Clint revved the waiting engine of the speed boat.

Natasha waded into the water and slung her leg over the side, hauling herself on board in one fluid motion. Sonja had time to see her eyes go wide before she heard the other female voice cut through the night, “Chief!”

A sword was leveled at her instead of a gun and Sonja had the absolute pleasure of facing her old boss when she turned around. “Ma’am,” she replied without a trace of emotion.

She heard the cock of Natasha’s gun along with the wiry draw of Clint’s bow and briefly wondered if he could even keep his hands steady at the moment due to the blood loss.

“Or is it Agent Zero now?”

“Whatever you prefer, Ma’am.”

“Shall we settle this like the duals of old or has all your honor gone through the window with the american?”

Sonja heard Natasha grumble about being ignored as she tucked her gun into her pocket and produced a dagger. The other hand reached for her back pocket slower all the while keeping her opponent's gaze fixed on her words. Ma’am’s bulky henchmen fanned out behind her patiently waiting to be allowed to have some fun with the traitor and spy.

“What can I say? He brought presents.”

She waited the appropriate ten seconds for the meaning behind her words to smash into Clint before she pulled the pin. The homemade grenade sailed from her hand while her body was flung in the other direction. Her side slammed into the boat and Natasha just managed to get a drip on her belt before Clint slammed the throttle into its highest gear. He was ducked on the floor by the steering console for safety just as Natasha had thrown herself beneath the low walls at Clint’s advisement.

“When did you even have time to make that?” he demanded, driving blindly down the wide river.

“You’re the one who apparently knows everything,” she snapped.

“Christ, I’m sorry, alright. You weren’t cleared to know.” He paused then turned to her while Natasha huffed and took over driving. “Zero failed missions?”

“Guess again.”

“Zero like you were the original?”

“You’re not cleared, asshole.”

***

Natasha made airports her bitch with the new fresh faced S.H.I.E.L.D recruits scurrying behind her toting her luggage and a flight attendant rushing to retrieve her properly iced water. She shot Sonja a lazy wink but the other woman was too busy scowling away any potential disturbances to do anything other than reshoulder her backpack.

Clint took the lead, his reputation sending the herd of freshmen scattering in his wake of glory. Sonja quickened her steps, determined to talk to him now that the paramedics aboard their evac copter were no longer shooting him full of drugs.

“You’re not careless,” she said once she matched long legs to his abrupt stride.

“Think Nat will make them carry her?” he mused, wincing when he stopped focusing on his uneven gait.

Sonja caught under his arm and he glanced over through sleep deprived blue eyes and the tangles his cropped hair had somehow managed to tie itself into. “You gonna make me carry you?” she countered.

“I’ve got it.”

The usual airport crowd of proud mothers, blubbering fathers, and excitable kids ready to go off and make lives for themselves meandered past them. Sonja wondered what life awaited her back at S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.

“I was born there, you know. S.H.I.E.L.D that is. Born and raised. I don’t exist to our government because S.H.I.E.L.D doesn’t. I’m nothing, I’m just zero.”

“I let the Samarians follow us,” he admitted in the breath after she finished her confession.

“I know. You’re not careless. You needed a common enemy for us to get Romanov on our side.”

“I was going to apologize for ruining your original mission, but I think all of earth takes precedence. We wouldn’t have made it out of there if not for you.”

“Taking out Ma’am was my mission Clint. Yesterday was the first time I saw her in person. I spent years working my way up through the ranks only to figure out I would only ever be important to her when I betrayed her.”

“You’re welcome, then.” He leaned in when he sang it and she gave his face a shove away as they exited the building through sliding glass doors and reached a junction in the sidewalk where she would climb into the car that would carry her home and he would get in his rental and drive out to his next mission.

“How long has it been since you’ve been stateside?”

“Just four years. I haven’t been home since I was a teenager, though when I completed my training.”

“You don’t have to face those bastards, you know. I’ve got something involving lightning and a hammer waiting for me. Could use some backup I trust.”

“Sounds alpha level. I’ll leave you to it.”

He nodded, shifting his weight off his bad leg and closing the humming space between their bodies just enough for her to notice it was deliberate. Her hand shifted under the strap of her bag while she toed at some bits of loose gravel beneath her sneakers.

“Guess this is goodbye, then. Keep an eye on Nat for me, will you? She respects you.”

“Only because she was comparing me to you.”

His mouth pulled up in a smile she had grown all too accustomed to seeing regularly and had truthfully taken for granted now that he was leaving. The civil term of closer inspection crossed her mind as she leaned in further still followed by the embarrassing real word she had been searching for--a kiss.

She could not even recall the last time she had kissed someone without an ulterior motive. She expected him to politely return it or to laugh and tell her to collect herself, not for him to bite her lip and slide his lips between hers like the whole damn earth might spin off course if he did not. His hands were soft in her hair and his hand slid down tracing over her cheek so that his fingers replaced his lips when he reluctantly pulled away.

“Put a pin in that, Sonja?”

“You mean like when I pinned you? Or what I pulled the pin on the grenade?”

“No explosions and no more beating me up.” He punctuated his sentence with a rushed kiss to her forehead. “Unless we can twist those into kinky things.”

“Oh, it’s possible,” Natasha called as she strolled past and climbed into the waiting black SUV.

Sonja gave his chest a push and took two controlled steps backwards simply because if she didn’t there was no guarantee either of them would be setting out on their respective journeys today.

“Goodbye,” Sonja said.

With a wink that sent her spiraling higher than the pyres of Moscow’s finest cathedrals Clint Barton was gone.

[blushdressshop]

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girlfriend then ninjaand potentially secret weapon for the handand she’s like a let’s find together because I see her doing that nowand so they do if I think he was a mainly with franking space to Karen what happened to his familyand the bondand become best is so daredeviland Electra are going around fighting the accuserand ultimately come across this giant pit the hand is digging in order to get Dragon bonesand to become immortal that still going on their tax by handand just until state shows up to save the day meanwhile on the lower side of things the punisher trial happensand during that Frank saw like an Angus into jail where he meets Wilson Fisk Fisk is like Frank nothings working everything but my biggest rival this person helped kill your family soand Frank Sykes say no more so he takes a that guy that this double crossesand try seven killed by Frank is just too good for that so Fisk lets them goand Frank tells Fisk to kill him when if he sees them again Frank it’s a geland mean wild animals like snow but again then ninja he thought he go before was brought back by the hand also their little kids being drained of their blood also for resurrection purposes through similar shenanigans the punisher keeps going around killing guys involved with his family’s murderand I will still have conflicting ideologiesand punish ends up killing an old Marine buddy of his Electra stick have a falling outand cystic trust tablets are killedand she didn’t like that so she tries to kill him will saves the dayand sticks kidnapped by the hand so Matt goesand save steak but while he’s doing that nobody reveals that Electra is a black skyand should be leading the hand she almost does but ends up joining their double insteadand the five images together real lasted I’m on right there after a hostage situationand Electra go up against like an infinite supply of hingesand Electra ends up sacrificing yourself for daredevil the punisher also shows up at the last minute to get daredeviland assist which is a pretty awesome moment not to lie no booze killed for real this time by stickand the good guys win except the hand takes Electra’s bodyand uses their Dragon magic to bring her back to life so she can work for them one of the five leaders of the hand the main one Alexandra comes to oversee her resurrection fog equatesand hours for Hogarth from Jessica Jones reveals he’s daredevil to Karenand the punisher goes off to kill everyone was involved with his family’s murder micro also wants answers about the whole Cerberus thing as a goes into Frank’s houseand puts the disk there with the video on it Castle’s unit in Afghanistan tortureand killing that innocent guy which Frank findsand takes with them tiny little break from the granite stuff here a witch just straight up which shows up in Londonand steals a magical artifact called the dark scepter however long case aliasand more masters of the Mystic arts show upand stop her a reminder that there’s magic in this world back to the streets now the gauge is now working at Pops barbershopand I know people disagree on what years these Netflix shows in particular take placeand they are confusing but based on the research I did this seems to check out anyway Luke also works of the barand one evening because he such a player he starts floating with detective Misty Knight the club Lucas working is also my cottonmouth now is a big shot crime boss’s cousin Mariah is a City Councilmanand is also pretty shady just more low key than enough strike is a hammer check from Justin Hammer for some good money but the operation goes wrong look secret half brother Willa striker is also involved here at the highest level is a big criminal now is now called diamondbackand is cottonmouth’s boss basicallyand so he sends in his body shades to make sure everything is running smoothly godmother still cool because these be friends back in the day but because the guy because the deal to go wrong is involved with pop one of cotton’s goons goes against disordersand shoots at the barbershop killing pop through this link in contrast to fightingand looks all like I really care for but not my radar so stop doing illegal stuffand calmness like know so we can start messing up his operation Luke also teams up with Claire Temple daredevil hotel buffet crimeand start a romance energy gets his hands on some bullets I can actually penetrate Luke’s impenetrable scan forand use them thoughand up having an argumentand so she murders him with a mic standand because the new big crime boss with shades help diamondback decides to team up with their setting out a plan to run the crime will do Harlem well Mariah does all the boring political stuff diamondback also shoots a cage twice with those magic bulletsand reveals that he’s actually his brother Claire takes her to the doctor who originated the experiment on themand they send an asset or boiling water something painfuland basically he’s restored to full strength while diamondbackand Mariah are running like a spear campaign against the cage to turn the people filed against them they do this through politicsand super shock loves Lucas backand FaceTime back in the police eventually diamondback shows up in a terrible super suitand even the punch each other for a bit is the end against diamondback partly with helping New York Spiderman style despite all his heroicsand proving himself a good guide to the policeand the people Harlem Lucasand back to prison because been discovered as Carl Lucas back in the day with your call despite being innocent broke out of prisonand so still needs to service time however one of Luke’s barbershop friends is a file that proves his innocence so he’s getting out soon also diamondback is taking them but I doctor who did this experienceand Luke so he’ll probably have some modifications the next time we see them there is a little bummed out that Luke is in jailand that they can’t get a cup of coffee for a while but she keeps itself occupied by starting martial arts training with help from Colleen way that martial artist to statically buy land but doesn’t really know that the hand is evil a bunch of little stuff happens here now firstly that kid who Iron Man said a while back Peter Parker is bitten by a radioactive spider which gives in special abilities like superstrength the ability to climb the wallsand having a dead uncle because he’s a genius kid he also designs web shooters that shoot superstrong webs also because he’s a good kid he realizes if you help people using his new powers he’s responsible for one bad stuff happens so he designs a pajama looking costume takes a living Spidermanand starts fighting little crimes in Queens now over with the Masters of the Mystic arts page 1and Margot find a group called the Dragon Raiders just FYI also falcon is still pretty impressed by thatand I guys a while back I think she could be a valuable asset to the team so he finds a way to contact with them through Luis about potentially joining the avengers Scots like well I cannot stay with my daughter right now but if you really need me yes give me a call we had about the shield team in a while but they’re still doing stuff around these husband Andrew turned into an inhuman call mile he did that is now a giant monster whose sole purpose really is to hunt other humans with humans popping up around the world now shields main mission objective is protecting in humansand training them is made harder because the government treats a group called the ATC you which is designed to track down superpowered people like humansand take them then basically they’re designed to replace yield now that shield has had to go underground in the ATC you is this guy called Malik once again is a big secret Hydra guy said he thought we were done with Hydra you were sorely mistaken the reason this ATC you exists is so Hydra can get a hold of all these in humansand use them you guessed it to make a super soldier army is not getting that seriously 99 of Hydra’s plans so shield in the ATC are fighting for to try to get Simmons off at alien planet which eventually doesand what is still working on rebuilding Hydra I guess Marilyn Stucker’s weightless cool son Werner to join him in a nutshell the main thing is shield us to start up a team of humans the inhuman hunting monster is out there going after them thing of lash is like a less strong or cool version of the book he changes in this monster at different times Olson is asking pretty close to one of the higher ups at the ATC you who isn’t actually evil but then worksheets are in the throat cycles is like I just have to crush discussed just Hydra also wants to get to the matter because they want to bring Benjamin back because they think will be a big secret weapon for them so word fits in Colson end up on an alien planetand cousins like mandatory wordand he crushes Ward’s chest with his robot handand then goes back to think that’s the end of Ward but then the superpowerful clinical human eye possesses corpseand then makes its way back to earth I was now leading Hydra through Ward’s bodyand he’s observing people for strengthand you know typical evil villain stuff so that any rent is still in and now going to basket CCI festand that’s what the iron fist does ever he starts missing homeand gets bored because he’s kind of a spoiled brat so just ramp runs away when the pass is open his eyes to go back to New York to take packs company because that’s I think it works because he’s also kind of a thundering dumbass doesn’t work focuses old friends join Ward Meacham if it were just go with it think is a crazy homeless person understandably wards think that that Harold is still kind of running the company while being controlled by the hand which he started to get kinda sick of becomes friends with Colleen at the dojo he also meets Claire Temple bananas put in a mental hospital he breaks out there with the power of the iron fist stocking 30 with Colleenand Bruce’s friends that it actually is an is coming back with the help of Jerry Hogarth he kinda sucks a business though because he’s been living among city in another dimension for the past decade ends of meeting Harold whose IK we should work together can sometimes take a controlling me so you can go kill themand I like gathers the main purpose in life I had to hand them gal the hand is still selling heroinand Denny’s unhappy about that science of beating herand agreeing to a series of challenges the loser has to pack upand get out of the city anyways but Manga breaks the promise but she’s got ancient society superpowers so there’s not much you can do about it Danny keeps consistently sucking a ring’s company so he’s married now by the board along with the Meacham’s words also super pissed at is that Harold is he took all of his money so he tells Harold bio comes back thanks to the hand Danny Colleenand Claire go to Chinaand take them gal realizes that Ward killed him so he frames them for drug possessionand so Ward gets locked up in the asylum Harold of its joy to be his new number two Danny also made potato Colleen so teacher was also secretly when the 5 m of the handand find out about thisand is in the fan now this guy called divers who isn’t that Dallas is days old friend from and he shows up to help Dannyand Colleen Joyce into saying that the hand probably his neck in the end after helping Dallas is like take the path to come on is open right nowand you’re supposed regarding it what the hell manand I was like well you know is boringand decides to team up with Haroldand joy to take on handand the Kudo but the kudos now working with wordand long story short is defeated but runs away Dallas is not a Danny but they work it out kind of data gets frame for drug stuffand goes in the runand Harold is the bag on the endand tries to take over the company Danny Lord in the big final battle team up kill Haroldand burn his corpse so he will come back to life now Ward is running the companyand Dallas teams of joyand maybe not out to kill Danny down the lineand then sends a team led by lecture to come on which again has no iron fist protecting it they kill a bunch of the monks there it’s pretty brutal the entrance is then close for safety so no one knows when it’ll open up again because back to check out the passand find the city is goneand some abilityand he realizes he probably should state to protect it also Luke Cage sends Claire letter from prison because there still thing overand cover Taj at this point Casillas is starting to get kinda pissed with Angel on it if you like his training isn’t getting him what he wants to start having some friction with most the Masters there also finds out that the angel on his drawing power from the dark dimension which he thinks is pretty have a critical because he must use the dark dimension to see his dead family againand to gain immortality but the angeland told him no because a bunch of people that the ancient one is withholding informationand they should bring tomato from the dark dimension to earth to golf it in eternity forms to rise up against the ancient one they break into the libraryand cover tiesand steal some pages from the ageless book about the dark dimension one tries to stop them but they get away in the end one point Rogers well the shielding goes to Mexicoand meets the human called yo yo who has superspeed who eventually joins the ranksand eventually becomes next girlfriend also Bobby Hunter leave the team because they were so staff spent off but that didn’t happen somewhere venturesand Sue Shield has an inhuman team but highest the inhuman Hydra God takes control of Daisy’s mind because he can do thatand turns against the team just as a vision of the future where one of them diesand other important detail there’s this group called the watchdogs which is basically inhuman racist who are going around killing humans as they plan by the way is to make every human in the worldand in human goes against Dr Ratcliff a scientist who he thinks can help them re create the original Cree experiment that native humans in the first place he realizes he needs actual Cree blood to do it so he sends a signal to the Creed to get some to come downand they do in a fight ensues they’re both taken out but also rendered useless however some Cree blood from daisies used from when she was saved without original Cree corpse long story doesn’t really matter experience go half rate asand it turns peopleand these gross disfigured mindless things meanwhile Scott laying after successfully cross job is still training is at man with Hankand hope that at some point here he upgrade to suitand test out new tech that allows him to become giant he tries it onceand passes out but hey it works Peter is continuing to Spiderman around the city at one point stopping a car crashand getting caught on camera the footage is uploaded to YouTubeand catches the eye of Tony Stark who keeps it in his watch later until he really needs it he’s got bigger stuff to think about right now is right around this point people are starting to take more notice of how much damage the superheroes have actually caused in their superheroand the guy who’s all over this is unsurprisingly general Ross from the days he needs of the presidentand his appointed Secretary of Stateand start talking about how they can keep the stuff moreand check the start of on the ideas for the Segovia cords basically a way of regulating superheroes with more oversight by forcing them to register with the government while this is happening Frank Castle continues his killing spree of people who were involved in this family’s murder going from truck murder to sniper murder to the bathroom murder is getting what he thinks is all them in a decides to move all of his life is the whole point the punisher was to avenge his family so that’s done now or so he thinks also after lectures not has stopping daredevil for a few months now because he’s just too sad things are not bad though foggy Nelson get some helpand I got in the barbershopand clears the cages nameand Lucas at a prison loop is up with Claireand they get that coffee they’d wanted Jessica Jones comes across lecture during one of her cases is still doing whatever the hand once rememberand objective Dragon bones under New York immortality the only problem is those Dragon bones are essential foundations for the city so the removal of them is causing serious earthquakesand could eventually to the whole city collapsing is also hiring a bunch of Harlem kids to help them kill and or clean up the mess is left behind by their enemies cages about this news like I got to protect the people of Harlemand Danny Randy is about this is like I gotta take a hand saw this lease to them crossing pathsand having a bit of a fight every day become friends because of their mutual friend Claire through fortuitous circumstances Jessica’s tracking guy connected to the handand that Murdoch ends up being her lawyerand also gets interested in the case so all four of them end up at the hands buildingand start fighting their ninjas electro sent into daredevil surprise but doesn’t remember him remind you of anyone but they all managed to get out of thereand go hide out in a Chinese restaurant where the become more acquainted state gets kidnapped by the hand but gets out of there by cutting off his own hand get itand goes to talk to the team Alexandraand had followed to see Alexandraand the hand is a whole knee iron fist alive because his iron fist is the key to open the gate to the sweet sweet Dragon bones if I happens electro starts remember who she isand that offenders get their hands on one of the hands main leaders also have their superhero team name is the defenders this guy is not of much help thoughand so stick to set off is not happy about this because they’re running out of there immortality juice the defender starting though because they’re like if the hand need you Danny we should probably had your wayand then he does what he does bestand is a whiny baby so they’ll punch him for a whileand then time however stickand typical stick fashion thinks that he might in the world so I’m getting kill him but lecture shows upand kill stickand tasty on fist to the hand she also kills Alexandra as she wants to be in charge I guess Jessica Jones find out more about that whole get it will found a while back with hands digging for Dragon bones after Lilith over the police that offenders minus Danny fight the hand plus the got Colleen to help Danny accidentally opens the gates of the Dragon bones because of course he doesand other defenders are fighting to hand in a lecture while also trying to block building so the hand can destroy New York the kudos guild Misty Knight loses an armand the offenders whenand get out of there butback to talk to Bucky I mean Electra yesterday heard the building collapses on the master kissingand that he saved by some nuns think look that they savedand that doesn’t actually die thank God it’s time to introduce another very important character very late in the game a Stephen strange is an amazing surgeon but he’s also super arrogantand kind of addict’s ex girlfriend also works with him called Rachel McAdams one day he’s drivingand textingand he crashes his car crushing his amazing surgeon hands in his life because he can’t be an awesome surgeon anymoreand he somehow even more awful to sex than usual really his life is just falling apart he starts to find ways to heal himself however ridiculous eventually he comes across Jonathan born the guy who trained with the ancient oneand was cured so strange has two Taj is there more to one of the masters takes into the ancient one because of all the crazy ultra dimensions there are at least the trip used ones he’s like help me learnand she’s like no your grossand sad in a terrible person but he pleadsand stays her door so she reluctantly changes her mind so strange that’s learning how to control the Mystic artsand other dimensionsand make hologram shieldsand whatnot with the help of Moto the ancient oneand the bookkeeper Wong who he befriends is about the different symptomsand how they protect worldand trains for several months along the way he also stumbles upon the times done sitting in a handy necklace the INI tomato figures out how to been time with it more unwanted like you don’t do that you could get stuck in a time loop anyway at one point you stuck to Mount Everest restraining just while all this other stuff is happening remember Stephen strange is getting great a magic this whole time so U ventures all trained upand going on missions also still looking for Bucky the next hydrogen in Lagosand think it might finally be Bucky but as they get there they realize it’s actually Brock Romo crossbones who understoodand is planning on suicide lineup himselfand Capt. From the capital nation to be only the abandoned government found wanting to you is down for lack of probably racial stories are for slavery would like we enjoyed helping our countries pushed the right from overcorrection Levi Roberts reports be noticeable degree for nearly a century was to story one of America’s years and will grow as he never heard her needs needs degree beating my hair as See Other related products: God Made Scots A Wee Bit Better T-Shirt

[avengerscompound]

The B-List Avenger - 2

The B-List Avenger: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist // PREVIOUS

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  2694

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Action, Injuries, Angst, Pregnancy, Smut (vaginal sex)

Synopsis:  After an explosion in your building, it’s up to Hawkeye to get you and your daughter to safety.  There might be worst ways to get to know someone.

Chapter 2: Upstate New York

You were in the hospital for two weeks.  In that time your mother flew in from out of town to take care of Alexis.  You had received significant bruising on your spine that was exacerbated by the amount of time it took you to run to the evac point.  The leg injury had required sixteen stitches.

Most of your friends had been affected by the sudden attack by HYDRA too so apart from when your mother brought Alexis around to see you, you didn’t have any visitors.  That is, except for Clint Barton.

Clint had come in a day after you were admitted looking like he hadn’t been shot at all.  You knew for a fact that he had.  You’d seen wound with your own two eyes.

“Avenger’s get the good insurance.”  He’d said when you’d asked about it.

Every day for two weeks he came in to see how you were doing.  Sometimes he was there when your mother was visiting with Alexis.  When that happened Alexis was just obsessed with him.  He took it with good humor.  Letting her climb in his lap and held conversations with her like she was a full-grown adult and not a one-year-old.

Your mom was developing quite the crush.  If Clint was there when she was, she always spoke animatedly with him and praised him for how good he was with Alexis.  Or for saving your life.  Or for just general Avengers things.  If he wasn’t she took to speaking about him to you.  How cute he was.  How great it was that he kept stopping by.  How he looked like he’d be such a good father.

It would be annoying, and you tried very hard to pretend it was, except that you thought the same thing.  He was cute.  And hilarious.  And he was really amazing with Alexis.  Not to mention his arms were amazing.  You really, really wanted this to not just be him taking pity on you.

Only the signals were as mixed as if they’d been put through a blender.  When it was just the two of you he’d respond to flirting like it was a second language that he spoke fluently.  Always knowing just the thing to say that would make your mouth dry and other parts of you much moister.  If Alexis was around though he flicked between being potential future husband candidate of the year, laughing at your mother’s jokes, being affectionate and caring to your daughter and smiling and joking with you.  Or he was all business-like he’d stopped by out of some moral obligation and had no desire to even make friends with you.

On the day before you were due to be released, he came to see you while you were alone.

“Checking out tomorrow?”  He asks, leaning in the doorway of your room.

“Yeah.  The doctors said I still need to take it easy.  I’m not allowed to pick Lexi up for another month.”  You explain.  “Also, I don’t actually have a home anymore.  Or a job.  So that’s gonna be fun.”

Clint grimaces and walks over, sitting on the end of your bed.  “What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna go back home and live with mom until I get back on my feet.  It’s pretty shit.  But there’s not much I can do about it.”  You answer.

Clint looks crestfallen.  His shoulders slump and he looks down at his hands.  “Where does your mom live?”

“Upstate New York.”  You answer, poking him with your foot.

He looks up at you with a smile on his face.  “That’s where I live.”

“I know it is.  It’s a little hard to miss.”  You say.

“How far away?”  He asks.  

You chew your lip and look at him.  “Like two towns over.  Maybe half an hour or so?  Forty-five minutes tops.”

He scoots a little closer to you.  “So you think we could hang out sometime?”

“I’d really like that.”  You agree.

It’s another couple of weeks before you see him again.  You were busy having to talk with insurance people, buying clothes and settle down into a new routine.  Alexis was pretty thrilled to be spending so much time with Grandma.  She’s even more thrilled when Clint shows up to pick you up for your first date.

“Cwint.  Cwint.  Come.”  She squeals as she stands at the end of the hall bouncing up and down on her chubby little legs.

“Hey, kiddo.  Just give me a minute to say hi to your mom.”  He says, kissing your cheek.  “You look beautiful.”

“Looking pretty good yourself, Barton.”  You say.  Which is not a lie.  He’s wearing a suit that’s color isn’t quite gray and it isn’t quite blue.  It doesn’t quite fit him right, but just something about him in it makes you want to get him out of it.

He follows Alexis to her bedroom where she shows him all the new toys that have been bought for her since the move.  He lets her show him everything before ruffling her hair and telling her he is taking you out.  She doesn’t take it well.  Almost immediately breaking down into tears and throwing herself on the ground.

“Aww… kid.  You’re killing me.”  Clint says, crouching down beside her and patting her back.  “Tell you what, next time we can all go out.”

That doesn’t help.  At all.  She just becomes more hysterical.  Thankfully your mom comes and saves the day.  Taking her into the living room to watch TV while you escape with Clint.

“I’m so sorry.  I think after the incident, she’s gotten really attached to you.”  You say as you follow him out to the car.  It’s a lavender Volkswagen Beetle. You try not to look as surprised as you feel about him driving it.

“That’s what we’re calling it?  The incident?” Clint asks as he opens the door for you.

“I don’t really know what else to call it.”  You say when he climbs into the driver’s side.

“The incident is fine,”  Clint says.   “And don’t worry about Lexi.  I always say that I hate kids.  But I think actually …”  He trails off and groans.

You turn to look at him as he drives.  “What’s wrong?”  You ask.

He whines.  “Can’t talk about deep stuff.”

“Does dating someone with a kid scare you?”  You ask.

“Yes.”  He whines.  “But only marginally more than getting serious with anyone.  I’m not good at it.”

You start to nervously strum your fingers on your leg.  “Clint.  I’m not trying to push you into anything that you’re not ready for…”

He grabs your hand and holds it still.  “You don’t have to say it.  I’ve told myself it a million times now.  You can’t lead this chick on.  She has a kid and you and your fuckin’ problems with … whatever … will hurt them both.  I like you though.  A lot.  I get it if I’m too high risk, but if you could give me a chance.”

“Is the ‘whatever’ intimacy issues?”  You ask, linking your fingers with his.

He nods his head.

“If you do this and they get the better of you, you’ll break both our hearts you know?”

He nods again.  “I know.  I can’t promise it won’t.  I can’t even promise we won’t break up for other reasons.  I just feel like maybe I can do it with you.  In a way, I haven’t with anyone else.”  He lets go of your hand and runs it through his hair.  “Normally when I think about someone I … like or whatever…”  He shakes his head.  “Even if it’s just for a one-time thing.  I have an expiry date in my head.  One night.  Two weeks and three days.  Six months and she cuts up most of my clothes.  With you, I don’t see a time.”

You sigh and turn and bite his shoulder.  “How serious are you about trying?”  You ask.

“Pretty serious.”  He says.  “Maybe I should grow up a little.”

“Just a little though.”  You tease.  “Would you consider going to therapy?”

“Aww… therapy?”  He whines.  He pulls the car into the parking lot of a steakhouse and looks at you.  His blue eyes doing that sad puppy thing.  “Yeah.  I guess I could probably use it, given I don’t sleep.”

“Alright.  If you’re willing to do that I’m willing to try.  I do have one more question though.”  You say.

“Yeah?”  He says sounding nervous.

“How do you feel about putting out on the first date?”  You ask.

He smirks and squeezes your leg.  “I am in favor of it.”

“That’s good because I am dying to get laid.”  You joke.

Dinner goes fine.  He really does have a way of putting you at ease even when he’s slightly panicked and overthinking everything.  After dinner, he takes you up to a lookout that looks over the town and takes in some forest and the Avengers compound in the distance.

You sit side by side holding hands, your head resting on his shoulder and his cheek on your head.  “It’s really beautiful up here.”  You sigh.

“Yeah.”  Clint agrees.  “I always see things best from high up.”

“I think they call that being far-sighted.”  You tease.  “You can get glasses to correct it.”

Clint digs his fingers in your sides.  “You think you’re so funny.”  He snarks, as you squirm away from him.  

At some point his hands move from your side to your back, pulling you tightly against him.  You wrap your arms around his neck and you’re kissing before you even know what’s happening.  It’s hungry and desperate.  You claw at each, bite at each other’s lips.  Your tongues swirl together and explore each other’s mouths.

His hands move down to your hips, dragging you closer and then up under your skirt.  You break the kiss panting.  “We should - we should go somewhere - less public.” You pant.

Clint teases along the line of your panties.  “You sure about that?”

You whine a little and nod.  “Pretty sure.”

“Your place or mine.”  He asks, helping you to your feet.

“We gonna have a sleepover?”  You ask as you head to the car.

He falters for a moment and you watch as the gears turn behind his eyes.  “Yeah.  Yep.  Sleepover.  That’s what couples do.”

You pause at the door and look at him.  “Clint?”

“No.  It’s good.  I want this.”  He says with a smile.  

You laugh and shake your head before getting in the car.  “My place then.”

As soon as you’re back at your mom’s house you’re all over each other.  He kisses at your throat and tugs up your skirt.  You somehow manage to get through the door and he pushes you through it and up against the wall.  Your hip bangs the side table by the door and the vase sitting on it tips over with a clatter.

“Shh… Clint.”  You whisper.  “You need to be quiet.”

“That’s going to be a problem for you.  You’re not going to be able to stay quiet.”  He whispers back.

You drag him into your room.  “Because I’ll be laughing so hard?”  You tease.

He pushes the door closed and pulls his shirt off before wrapping you in his arms.  “Such a smart ass.”  He smirks, unzipping your dress.  He pushes it down off your arms and you start to kiss again.  Moving slowly towards the bed, shedding each piece of clothing one by one.  He picks you up just before you reach the bed and tosses you on it.

You move back and he stalks up after you placing slow deep kisses up the insides of your legs.  When he reaches your inner thigh he’s pulling your soft flesh into his mouth and sucking on it hard enough to leave small bruises.  His nuzzles at your pussy and you spread wider for him.  He flattens his tongue and swipes it up your folds before placing a large open mouth kiss over them.  His tongue swirls around, tasting everything it can reach and he pulls back sucking your clit into his mouth.

Your hips buck up.  “Holy shit.”  You hiss.  He smiles up at you and rolls his tongue over your clit.

You arch back tilting your hips up to his face.  His fingers tease at your entrance before he thrusts them into you.  You gasp clenching around his digits.  He finds your g-spot almost instantly like he’s targeted onto it and when his fingers push against it he curls them like he’s beckoning someone to him.

He fucks you with his fingers as his tongue continues to work your clit.  It isn’t long before you’re a whimpering mess under him.  Trying to keep quiet as your legs shake and your core muscles clench.  You pull his hair and clutch at the sheets as you completely come undone.  Your orgasm hits you hard.  You twist under him, trying to escape it as it surges through you and you drag your pillow down to your face crying out into it.  

He strokes you through it and then reaches for his pants, pulling his wallet free.  You take the pillow off your face and watch as he pulls a condom out of it.

“You think you were getting lucky tonight?”  You ask sitting up and taking it from him.

“If the boy scouts taught me anything it was always come prepared.”  He says smirking.

“Nice pun,”  you say, tearing the packet open.  “But it’s ‘be prepared’.”  He starts laughing and you put the condom between your lips and crouch down placing the condom over the head of his cock and using your mouth to roll it in place.  He lets out a strangled moan and his hands bunch in your hair.  You bob your head a few times, loving the sound of his soft moans, but he takes your jaw in his hand and guides you up to him.  Kissing you hard and pushing you back into the mattress.

You feel his cock press on your entrance as he lines himself up with you and with a roll of his hips, he sinks into your cunt.  You both groan as he fills you and you adjust to him.  He starts to thrust.  You wrap your legs around him, linking your ankles at the small of his back.

He kisses down your throat to your breast sucking your nipple into your mouth.  Your hands roam his skin, running your fingertips up his back at a feather touch before digging them into his firm biceps.

Your skin prickles and flushes with heat.  “Oh fuck, Clint.”  You groan as you feel the pressure of your orgasm weighs you down.

“Me too.”  He groans.

His fingers dig into you, he picks up his pace and you come.  You arch up and just as you let out a cry his mouth is on yours smothering it.  You each moan into the kiss as you find your release.

He comes inside of you, you close your eyes and focus on the pulse of his cock as he empties.  For a moment you just stay like that kissing, as the last of your orgasms shudder through you.

“Fuck.”  You sigh as he slips from inside of you and rolls off.  “I needed that so badly.”

Clint salutes you.  “Happy to be of service, ma’am.”

You go clean up together and dress, you in flannel pajamas with dogs on them, him in his boxers, before climbing into bed.  You rest your head on his shoulder and he wraps both arms around you.  “Just a little warning.  I sleep like shit.”  He says, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“That’s okay.  I’ll sleep through the TV if you turn it on.  Just keep it down for my mom.”  You say, closing your eyes.

You fall asleep quickly, cuddled up to him.  In the morning you wake as the sun comes through the curtains.  Clint is deep asleep on his side facing you and sprawled out on her back between you is Alexis.

“I’m doomed.”  You sigh, pressing a kiss to your daughter’s forehead and closing your eyes again.

// NEXT

[catgluue]

Chapter One: Coincidence

Happy Royai Week! In the spirit of pushing myself to do ridiculous things for no reason, I’m using the prompts as chapters in a longer fic! No promises that I’ll actually complete it this week, but I’m certainly going to try. 

Read on A03

Chapter One: Coincidence

Riza Hawkeye hadn’t expected to see the spring of 1916, and yet here it is.

It’s not quite spring - not yet - but it’s headed swiftly in that direction. The days are getting longer, she’s seeing green return to the trees, and she recalls that this time last year she was glorified secretary to a homunculus, awaiting The Promised Day.

It’s strange how life now is both normal and irrevocably transformed. The team, excepting Falman who chose to remain in the north, is back together but with new ranks and a new office. In his new capacity as Brigadier General, Mustang has merited a private office, which in Riza’s mind only impedes her ability to make sure he stays on task. If anything he’s more distracted when removed from all possible stimuli, and she sometimes invents reasons to check up on him just to make sure he’s not sleeping at his desk. It’s happening less and less, though, and she knows this means he’s able to sleep more at night.

She is too, although her sleep is still punctuated by nightmares. Recently it’s been nightmares of Ishval, which is a refreshing change of pace from the nightmares of the gold-toothed doctor and the General’s stricken face deep under the streets of Central. This is undoubtedly because they’re heading to Ishval as soon as summer is over, finally, to begin the long and futile process of redemption. She both dreads and longs for the penance of rebuilding something they’d once destroyed, knowing that absolution is impossible but hoping to find it anyway, somewhere in the desert.

She’s early to work again today, in part because of another nightmare, and goes to the mail room as a matter of course. There’s letters for the General as always - he actually gets fan mail now, which is a concept she finds so wholly repulsive it’s all she can do not to throw the letters directly into the trash. Mustang, for his part, doesn’t seem to mind, even reading parts of the amorous letters aloud, usually while throwing furtive glances in her direction. She always does her best not to react, unsure why he is under the impression that she cares. She doesn’t.

Maybe a little, only because they distract him from work.

Her heels click against the tile in the mostly empty hallway as she heads to the office, leafing through the mail, and she almost stops when she sees something addressed to her. She has no family to speak of, and her friends are all here in Central. Winry sends her regular letters but this one has a distinct lack of crayon drawings on the envelope. Who does that leave to be sending her mail?

She’s still poring over it when everyone else starts to come in. First is Fuery, a minute or two early, still yawning as he puts his bag down and gives her a casual good morning salute.

“Captain Hawkeye,” he says. “What’s that?” she folds the letter more times than is necessary and places it in a drawer.

“Nothing much. How is your report on the potential for crops in Ishvalan soil?” she asks; a far less prying question. He launches into an explanation as the letter in the drawer of her desk throbs in her mind like a heartbeat.

Captain Riza Hawkeye,

Apologies for interrupting your busy schedule, but I must relay that this past week suspicious activity has been reported on your estate. On one occasion figures were seen near the house but frightened off by the constable. I have of course ordered that a closer watch be kept on the house but it is my opinion that it may be time to sell the property as it’s been in disuse for so long.

Regards,

Ernst Meyell

Mayor

In all honesty she has half-forgotten that the manor house, probably falling down and overgrown, is her responsibility. She hasn’t given the old house much thought at all in years, apart from a nightmare she sometimes has wherein she wanders the empty halls like a ghost, calling out for her parents. She has to think harder to remember Ernst, finally recalling that he’d written to her a few years ago, saying he had taken over Mayorship of Werthem, the small town northeast of East City that Riza is from. As the others trail in and Fuery’s attention shifts, she pulls out a leave form and hastily fills it out, being purposefully vague. The General will know what was going on by the look on her face alone; this is purely a paper trail.

She waits until he comes in, says his hellos, and disappears into his office before slipping in with a coded knock. He doesn’t even look up, the knock telling him all he needs to know.

“Captain,” he says, by way of greeting, eyes still fixed on his pile of paperwork. “What can I do for you?” she slides the request on top of the pile and directly under his nose, before stepping back, hands clasped behind her back. He studies it for a moment before responding teasingly, “You’re getting sick of me already?”

“I need a week to clear out my father’s house before I sell it,” she says, and the tense silence that follows is palpable.

“Is that so? Are you going alone or is Catalina going to help?” he asks, knowing full well Rebecca is far too busy as the Furher’s assistant.

“Just me,” she tells him. “It shouldn’t take long; my father didn’t keep much around the house.” He looks like he considers this for a moment - looks like being the operative phrase here - and leans back in his chair, thoughtfully tapping his pen against the top of the desk, and her ears prick up. Tapping is their way of cluing the other person in that there’s going to be code or subtext in the talk to follow. This is an old practice, from when they still needed a signal, but one they’ve carried on for years.

“You know I’ve been thinking about taking some time off too,” he says casually and she resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“I think you should hold off until I get back,” she tells him pointedly, and he meets her even gaze with his own. He’s steepled his fingers and is peering over them as though they were in a chess match and he’d just made a bold move. “Someone has to run the office.”

“And what makes you think I’ll get anything done with you gone?” He asks, a smile ghosting his lips. They often joke about his lack of work ethic, how ‘useless’ he is without her (and he isn’t useless, only unmotivated) but something about his tone now gives her pause. He sounds almost flirtatious but underneath something in his eyes causes her stomach to knot and she realizes they’ve been practically glued to each others sides for a year.

“You’ll live,” she says sternly. “I’m sure you’ll cope how you always cope and waste time talking to some woman or other. Anyway, will you approve it?” A smile slowly spreads over his face at her implicit approval of a few coded phone calls, and the sickly-sweet feeling in her stomach intensifies.

“All right,” he says at last. “I guess we’ll have to manage somehow.”

-x-

The house is just as she remembers it, and a lump forms in her throat as she walks up to the front door, getting the key out of her pocket and fitting it into the lock with hands that nevertheless remain steady.

It’s like walking into a tomb - everything frozen in time, sheets still over the furniture from when she had placed them there almost ten years ago. She’d been a child then, she thinks, moving through the house and pulling the sheets off furniture, opening curtains to let the light in. Everything of her was pretty much gone from this place - she had taken what few possessions she wanted and simply left the rest. Her father wasn’t a material man but even after his death she’d stayed away from the study. Even now she isn’t looking forward to clearing it out.

So she doesn’’t, not yet anyway, choosing instead to start on the ground floor. She had decided on the train ride here to sell the place furnished, and so it’s only a matter of taking small things, sorting them into boxes to either donate or throw away entirely. Photos, books, knick-knacks. She does not have a box for things to keep.

She gets the first phone call about half an hour after arriving, and as she heads to the phone, still sitting on the table off the hallway, she thinks wryly that someone must have checked the train times. It certainly wasn’t information she’d included in her leave request.

“Hello?” she answers neutrally to be safe, unsure if this is an official phone call or if it’s General Mustang trying to reach his old flame Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth, it’s been a long time,” a flirtatious baritone dances down the line and her annoyance melts away.

“Yes, Roy, it has,” she replies in kind, slipping easily into the familiar character. There’s only a slim chance now that his calls are being listened to - slim, but possible - so she plays along. She, Riza, has never referred to the General by his first name in her adult life, but Elizabeth is another story. It’s almost thrilling, and while she isn’t sure she imagines that he enjoys it as well. “To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing from you?”

“The workload is light this week; my Captain is out of town,” he explains. The Captain in question leans against the wall, holding the old fashioned earpiece up with a smile playing across her mouth. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Not at all,” she replies, tone light and breezy. “I’ve just been doing some packing.”

“Packing?” he replies. “Not moving, I hope?”

“Not me, my cousin,” she tells him smoothly. “I just got back from her place. I was about to take a shower, actually.” Elizabeth is shameless. “Moving is hard work, it turns out.”

“I bet,” he says and she can hear him grinning. “Well if you never need any brute strength I’m available this weekend,” he offers and she knows it isn’t directed towards Elizabeth. “You can save all the unpleasant work for me, I’d be happy to come help.” She’s quiet for a moment, thinking of the study that needs to be cleaned out eventually.  “Elizabeth?” his voice comes through, softer this time. “I mean it. Say the word and I’ll help any way I can.” She takes a shaky breath.

“Thank you, Roy,” she says, and means it. “But I- we’ll be fine. There’s not too much left to do. It was nice hearing from you,” she adds. “Feel free to call me more often.”

“I will,” he says. They say their goodbyes, her managing to squeeze in another use of his first name, and she returns to the work at hand, feeling somewhat comforted by the coded phone call.

The second call comes around dusk, surprising her as she’s leafing through a photo album that had to have been her mother’s. Pictures of Riza as a small child line the album, and stop abruptly when she’s about eight. Her father had clearly had no interest in finishing the book. She makes her way to the phone, wondering for only a second who it could be.

But of course, she knows.

“Checking up on me again?” she purrs into the mouthpiece of the old-fashioned phone, already in character.

“Multitasking,” he says briskly. He wasn’t calling Elizabeth, then, and she feels a flush of embarrassment for jumping the gun. “Captain, we’ve gotten orders to check up on Munin, and then we’re moving on to Werthem on the Fuhrer’s orders. I guess there was a break in at the house of a retired state alchemist and for some reason Grumman thinks Werthem could be a target.” She can hear the shrug in his voice, but without him in front of her it’s impossible to read what he’s thinking. It’s no accident that Grumman is sending Mustang’s crew to her tiny hometown; he would of course know precisely which alchemist lived in Werthem and would have reason not to want that alchemist’s work stolen. “We should be there in the morning.”

“Do you mean you’ll be in town or that you’ll be here as in my house?”

“I’ve got to go, Captain, have a good night!”

“Wait, General-”

There is a click as he hangs up and Riza slams the receiver down, irritated. She wants to believe he’s smart enough not to bring their entire team to her father’s house. She wants to, but she isn’t sure he has that kind of restraint. She spends most of the night cleaning up the ground floor, looking for any traces of him in the tarnished frames and worn leather albums. It’s not until she’s dug deeper, clearing out a disused drawer in the kitchen that she finds a solitary piece of paper with alchemical equations scrawled lazily in familiar handwriting. She means to throw it away, but instead fondly folds it up and tucks it into her pocket.

-x-

Chapter Two: Mortal/Immortal

[triscribe]

WELL THEN

I got an idea, and I absolutely rolled with it:

MCU/Into the Spiderverse Crossover time!

Despite the gunfire still going on, the distant sound of explosions telling him the fight was by no means over, Peter can’t help but stare at the other Spider-man and think, his suit looks so much cooler than mine.

(“Proper priorities, kid. You don’t have them.” That was what Tony liked to tell him a lot, anyway.)

“Uhhh-” The other Spider-man is staring at him, white lenses of his mask stretched as wide as they’ll go. “I can explain.”

Peter wordlessly points at the demonic-alien-monster dude lying prone on the ground between them - the one the other Spider-man had jumped over, tapped on the head, and apparently zapped into unconsciousness.

“How?” He demanded. “Do you have your own version of Widow Bite tasers in your suit or something?”

“Widow what?”

There’s another explosion, way closer than those previous. Close enough to make the ground shake, and a cloud of debris rain down on them. Peter ducks, and when he looks back up, the other Spider-man is gone, vanished.

Apparently literally.

An invisible hand shoves something into his own, and a voice whispers, “Tap the green button when this is all over and it’s safe to talk, I’ll come find you. Until then, I’m sorry, but I kinda gotta lay low.”

Then Peter is, supposedly, alone again. After taking half a minute to try and settle the multiple streams of thought running through his head, he tucks the little fob thing into a pocket on his hip and runs back to the fight.

-Spiders-

Once the dust has settled and all the demonic-alien-monster things are taken down, Tony pauses long enough to check on him before taking off to start coordinating with the Department of Damage Control people, and Rhodey and Vision take off for the closest hospital with the concussed Falcon and “lightly stabbed” Black Widow, and Captain Rogers is coordinating with Doctor Strange and Wasp and Captain Danvers to track where these things came from and whether there are more to be stopped - really, they were all busy enough Peter couldn’t have found a moment to tell them about the other Spider-man even if he’d wanted to.

And, oddly enough, he doesn’t really want to.

So, while Hawkeye’s busy checking over Scarlet Witch and Ant-man’s on the phone reassuring his daughter everything’s okay, Peter slips away.

“Karen? Can you let Friday know that I’m fine and just, hanging out of the way? In case Mister Stark asks.”

*Of course, Peter.*

“And, um, don’t mention anything about the- the other Spider-man, okay? Not just yet.” He jumps, fires a web, and swings up to perch on top of a partially scorched billboard.

*If that’s what you want, I don’t have to say anything. But I am obligated to warn you to be careful, in case he’s not what he seems.*

“Yeah,” Peter huffs, sitting down and letting his legs dangle. “No kidding.” And with that, he pulls the fob thing back out, finds the green button, and taps it.

A few minutes later, the same weird spidey-sense-but-not makes the back of his neck tingle. There’s a muted thump, followed by hesitant footsteps headed towards him along the top of the billboard.

Peter turns his head, and squints when he still can’t see anything. “Man, your suit is way cooler than mine if you’ve got a stealth mode that sophisticated.”

The other Spider-man flickers into view, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his head. “That, uh, that’s not the suit.”

Blinking, Peter tilts his head, studying the black and red patterns of the cloth, and realizes it really is just that - cloth. Shiny, probably reinforced, but without any of the little details that would indicate circuitry woven in like his own.

“...huh,” he says after a long moment. “So, wait, the invisibility and zapping thing - those were both you?”

Chuckling, the other Spider-man sits beside him. “Yeah. I’m weird, I got bonus powers along with the regular Spidey assortment.” There’s barely a pause to allow for that statement to sink in before he goes on. “Um, by the way - you’re a Peter Parker, right?”

What. The heck.

“Please don’t freak,” the other Spider-man blurted, holding up his hands in a wary gesture. “I saw what some of those friends of yours could do and I absolutely do not need you freaking out and bring them down on my head, so- please- don’t.”

Previously frozen, Peter’s breath suddenly seemed to whoosh out of his lungs all at once. “What. The heck.”

“I know, I know. But, I’m from another universe, where your secret identity was kinda, um, revealed? Ousted? Made known to the general public, anyway.” After a moment, he lifted a hand and tucked back his mask, revealing a dark-skinned face that was grinning awkwardly. “So, anyway, I’m Miles Morales. The, not-so one and only Spider-man.”

Peter continued to stare at him. “...well. Uh. Okay then? Can we rewind to the other universe thing, ‘cause I have a feeling that would explain a lot.”

And it does, just not in ways he was expecting.

-Spiders-

“Oh man, you got your hand stuck in her hair? Dude-”

“Oh, trust me, my day got so much worse from there.”

“Worse how?”

“Well, I managed to rip half my clothes off, fell out a freakin’ window and got stuck to the wall-”

-Spiders-

“Dead?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t die, Mister Stark would kill me!”

-Spiders-

“Wait wait wait- there are other Spider-people too?!”

-Spiders-

Half an hour later, both Peter and Miles are sitting with their masks off, staring out across the rubble filled battlefield that had been an otherwise normal town just that morning.

“So how’d you wind up here, anyway?” Peter finally thinks to ask.

“Gwen’s multiversal watch thing works pretty well when she wants to go universe-hopping, but the replica she made for me? Not so much. It glitched, and I think I got swept up with whatever teleporter those freaky dudes you were fighting used to get here.”

“Do you need to fix it to get home? I could probably get Mister Stark to help, his lab’s the best there is-”

“Nah, man, I’m good - that goober I gave you? Which I kinda need back by the way, thanks - it’s a tracker. Soon as I push the red button, a distress call heads straight for Gwen, wherever she is, and she’ll come get me soon as she can.”

“Oh. Okay then. But, why haven’t you pressed it already? You could’ve done that first thing!”

Miles just shrugs at him. “I didn’t really want to leave you hanging with no explanation.”

Peter blinks, and then grins. “Well, thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“Hey man, with great power-” The other boy trails off, looking at him expectantly. When Peter only stares back, he straightens, clearly surprised. “Wait, do you not have that?”

“Have what?”

“The saying! Dude, every Peter Parker I’ve met in the last year has the same saying! The code, the creed, catchphrase, whatever you call it - with great power comes great responsibility?”

Mulling it over, Peter slowly nods. “That- huh. That sums it up really well.”

Miles nods too, a lot more firmly.

-Spiders-

Fifteen minutes after the red button is pushed, just as Karen is informing Peter that the Avengers are packing up to head back to the Compound, a portal bursts to life on the ground in front of the billboard. He and Miles jump down to land beside it, right as another person in white and black and pink comes darting through.

“Miles, I am so sorry, I promise I’ll fix whatever went- whoaaa, hold up, who is this?”

“Pete, meet Spider-woman - Gwen, meet yet another Peter Parker,” Miles grins. Peter waves, a little hesitant, because the girl that his new friend has told him about is just, staring.

“Um, hi there...?”

“Yo, Gwanda, you okay?”

Their concern seems to snap her back, and Gwen nods, almost frantically. “Yeah, yeah I’m good, just- I haven’t been face to face with a Peter our age, is all.”

Miles frowns, but it’s Peter who asks, “And that’s weird, why?”

“Ahh... because, in my universe, there was a Peter my age,” Gwen says slowly, pushing back her hood and tugging off her mask as well. She looks back up with watery eyes, and Peter knows where she’s going with this even before the words come out. “He was, my best friend. And then I got him killed.”

Well. He half knew where she was going.

It doesn’t entirely surprise him when Gwen suddenly darts forward, arms wrapping around his torso as she buries her face his shoulder. He tentatively hugs her back.

After a moment she pulls away again, swiping almost angrily at her eyes. “So, we’ve got to get going, but uh, do you want to stay in touch?”

“Sure,” Peter says, with an honest grin. “That would be really cool.”

“Okay, cool, then I will save this universe’s setting, and we’ll be back! At some point. Once I fix Miles’s watch.”

“Yeah, I’d appreciate not getting stranded again,” the other boy says in a deadpan voice. The other two laugh, and he joins in after a moment. “Seriously though, Peter, you hang onto this, and we’ll come back soon, okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m looking forward to it already!” He accepts the fob again, and waves as the two of them jump through Gwen’s portal. It crackles and fades away a few seconds later, and he’s left alone in the shadow of the billboard. “...man, Mister Stark is never gonna believe this...”

If, of course, Peter ever decides to get around to telling him.

-Fin!-

No idea if/when this will be posted to my fan fic accounts, I kinda want to see if I’m able to churn any more out before I loose that spark of inspiration. Anywho, thanks for reading!

(P.S. I have no idea if Spiderverse Miles gets his comicbook counterpart’s Venom Shocks or not, but for the moment I’ve decided my version of him does. So there.)

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: West Coast Avengers #3: Taking Care of BUSINESS!

November, 1984

This is a sad day for the fledgling West Coast Avengers. It’s a cool cover for the fledgling West Coast Avengers but a sad day.

Not only are they falling before Graviton but they’re falling perpetually.

Anyway, last time in West Coast Avengers: Hawkeye and Mockingbird were sent by the Vision to create a west coast branch of the Avengers. Since Wonder Man, Tigra, and Rhodey Iron Man were California based, they got the nod to be the West Coast Avengers, despite reluctance from Tigra and Iron Man.

Their first case was mistaking as a supervillain and beating up a friend of Tigra who had followed her to the Avengers Compound to make sure she wasn’t in trouble. So. That’s not great. Next, the West Coast Avengers tried to chase down a bank robber named the Blank. This is really overkill for a guy whose only power is wearing a slippery anonymizing force field but he manages to get away anyway. The charger for his force field also dunks Graviton back into the world.

And as you can see on the cover, this isn’t ideal for our West Coast Avengers.

But before that, there was an event that sort of happened between issues. In Avengers #249, Vision tried to contact the West Coast Avengers but only got their answering machine. And that’s because they were dealing with the local worldwide unseasonable winter.

If Avenging and stunt work doesn’t work out for Wonder Man, he should consider becoming the new Mr. Plow.

Anyway, the forever winter is over, thanks to the Casket of Eternal Winters being reassembled and shut over in the Thor book as part of a multi-pronged plan to take down Surtur.

The West Coast Avengers are still dealing with the remaining snow because its not like snow just evaporates! Without turning into water first! Look, it would take too much time, people have places to drive, or something.

The combination of snow everywhere but normal warm South California weather leads to some people taking advantage by going swimsuit skiing, mostly so Rhodey can wryly think that weird is a way of life for Californians as an excuse to not worry about why Wonder Man has been acting weird lately.

Uh, good rationalizing, Rhodey?

Some people who don’t care for skiing decide to instead rob Radio Shack because NOBODY WILL EVER KNOW!

But Mockingbird shows up and starts beating them up when they make the mistake of believing that they outnumber her. They are mathematically right and wrong in every other way.

Hawkeye also shows up to pin some others to the wall with arrows so one of the Radio Shack robbers runs to the getaway car and tries to get the getaway driver to help him getaway.

But cat’s got their car.

It sort of makes sense why Tigra has decided on this for her winter outfit and yet I’m still baffled.

If it had just been the boots, that’d be one thing.

She’s also the only one who has made a winter weather change to her outfit.

Bafflement.

The blond robber doesn’t even try running, saying “What’s the use? Just take me away. I wanna serve my time and forget this ever happened!”

Bad day when some electronics theft gets an entire superhero team on you.

By midday, the West Coast Avengers meet by the Hollywood sign (so that the audience knows that this is set in LA). At this point all of the snow is gone, as if it’s been whisked away. So I guess I was wrong. Earlier the casket hadn’t been repaired but now it has been.

Hawkeye: “Well, whatever happened to [the snow], you can all be proud of the job you did over the past week! You put in a lot of long hours and saved thousands of lives! I’d say we’ve all earned a little time to unwind! That’s why I propose we hold the first annual Avengers barbeque... commencing tonight at sunset, back at the compound!”

Oh ho, I see that Hawkeye is going to be the fun Avengers chairman. Don’t see Vision organizing a barbeque.

The rest of the team is pretty excited about this... except for Wonder Man, who is distracted, answers without any real enthusiasm, and then takes off.

Hawkeye wonders if he’s still upset about the Blank getting away but c’mon that was weeks ago! Surely no superhero ever obsesses over anything!

When the Avengers disperse, Tigra lies that Iron Man promised her a lift as an excuse to talk to him in private about Wonder Man.

Tigra: “Something’s bothering him, and I thought maybe you could get him to talk about it! After all, you’ve known him longer than the rest of us!”

Iron Man: “Uh... not really, Tigra! I hardly know the man!”

Tigra: “What are you talking about, Tony? You fought alongside him dozens of times!”

Iron Man: “Tony -- ?! Ohhh... you think I’m Tony Stark!”

Womp womp.

This is one of the exact things Rhodey was worried would happen if he joined a team with a bunch of people who knew Tony/Iron Man!

Rhodey isn’t about to just reveal his name to her over a case of mistaken identity but he does prove to a doubtful Tigra that he’s not Tony by showing Tigra the skin on his hand.

Iron Rhodey also suggests that Tigra talk to him for reasons of it’s always flattering when a pretty cat girl pays attention to you?

I mean, sure. Yeah. True.

Tigra is also the only person on the team who actually realized Wonder Man was bummed who didn’t immediately dismiss the idea.

I guess its up to you, Tigra.

Meanwhile, in the Santa Monica Mountains, our coverboy Graviton.

He didn’t sit idle during the big snow, oh no! He took over an estate. And then sat idle!

Dammit, it was cold out!

Graviton: I prefer starting my empire in a warmer climate!

With the snow cleared up though, he can get down to business........ of recapping his recent travails.

So, Graviton.

He comes from Canada because Marvel Canada is just like that. He was a researcher in Research City, working on a teleport beam, and accidentally gave himself gravity powers by increasing the power to see what would happen. People at the lab didn’t like him because he kept throwing stuff at them so he took over.

Then he fought the Avengers. He kicked their asses. But the woman he was trying to force to date him threw herself off his floating city rather than date him (its cool, Jarvis saved her) so Graviton accidentally compressed his floating city into a super dense sphere with him as the nougaty center.

He managed to get out of that sphere, but with AMENSIA, and tried to kidnap that female scientist again but was stopped by the Thing and Black Bolt. So Graviton imploded.

He showed up AGAIN and tried to kidnap an entire Bloomingdale’s and was stopped by Thor, who dunked him into an interdimensional void.

Now here’s where it gets slightly weird.

The Beyonder’s construct passing through the void on its way to Secret Wars woke Graviton up and let him find his way back to Earth by homing in on the energy field of the force field the Blank uses.

I don’t know why that specific energy field. We may never know. The scientist who made it walked into the street without looking both ways and got run over.

Graviton is actually fairly pleased about winding up in “this most hedonistic of world cities!” He’s decided he’s all about creature comforts now.

The Blank returns from delivering message for Graviton.

Graviton gets annoyed that the guy is nervous despite having a cool dude who never fails like Graviton as a new boss and takes REAL exception when the Blank points out that the Avengers have beaten him before.

As well he should! Because technically its not true. If you’ll recall my recap, the Avengers didn’t beat him. He imploded. And then when he reappeared to fight the Thing and Black Bolt and imploded again. Now Thor, solo, managed to beat him where Thor, plus Avengers, couldn’t. Don’t ask why. That’s just a rule of comics. Daredevil beat Ultron once.

Among other ways he shows the Blank what’s what, Graviton demonstrates his force field belt ain’t so slick by switching it off through the field. Which, yes, technically gravity could work that way?

Meanwhile, over on ye private Avengers beach because if you’re going to have a sprawling compound, why not get a beach while you’re at it? Tigra interrupts Wonder Man pacing on the private Avengers beach and offers to tell her DEEP DARK SECRETS if he shares his.

Wonder Man: “There’s not much to tell... mostly, I’ve been wondering if I did the right thing in joining Hawkeye’s New Avengers team. I sometimes wonder if I ever did anything right, where the Avengers are concerned.”

He recaps his ENTIRE LIFE STORY to her, as is the style. Got powers from some Avengers enemies, turned against them, died. Came back to life, uneasy as a superhero, quit to become an actor.

He leaves out the part where he embezzled from his own company and was arrested, the part where he was a competitor to Tony Stark, and retcons in that he’s always loved acting. Rather than seeing one (1) movie and deciding he wants to be an actor now.

Apparently, Hercules’ offer to set Wonder Man up with some sweet Hollywood contacts didn’t pan out.

Then Simon worked as hired muscle for some scientific research groups but decides not to go into that.

There’s no ‘see such and such issue of book’ so I can’t tell whether this is a thing that was published or is a noodle incident.

Then a former agent got Simon that gig on the David Letterman show. Remember that one? David Letterman knocked out the villain with a big door knob? It probably made more sense at the time?

Anyway, although the show got pre-empted for a news report in New York, it did air in Cali-for-ni-a and a director reached out to Simon with stuntman work.

And its not the acting he wanted to do but it is acting and being good at it has done wonders, man, for his confidence. Which is why he jumped at Hawkeye’s offer to join the west coast team.

But then he let the Blank escape and now he’s back to feeling out of place on a cool superhero team.

So now that he shared his not so deep, not so dark, secrets, Tigra shares hers.

She knows what he means when he says he feels like a blunderer. Her stint on the New York Avengers team was a disaster (although she managed to get Molecule Man to go to therapy! By calling him a big loser! That’s something!). And she feels like most of her life is just things happening at her without her ever really feeling in control.

She also demonstrates that she can use that little tiger amulet (a gift from the cat people that turned her into Tigra) to look like her old self but she’s more comfortable as Tigra.

Hm.

That’s two whole characters who can technically transform but prefer to stay ‘powered up’ at all times. Tigra and She-Hulk.

It’s almost a pattern.

Anyway, Wonder Man and Tigra both try to be the insecure one on the team complimenting each other and deprecating themselves but Tigra decides fine. Wonder Man is hung up on losing the Blank? They’re going to track down a goddamn the Blank.

SHE MOONLIT AS A PRIVATE DETECTIVE SHE HAS A TRENCHCOAT SHE CAN DO THIS!

Tigra: “All right, Mr. Wonderful, come on!”

Wonder Man: “Where are we going?”

Tigra: “To see a man about filling in the Blank!”

Damn, good turn of phrase. You really do have this private eye patter down, huh?

She takes Simon to the Cat’s Jazz Club, Shroud’s hangout, to see if he has a lead on the Blank but they find the joint has been busted up.

The club employees are reluctant to talk at first but the Shroud shows up and tells them its cool, the Avengers are his friends. Also: he would like to know himself.

Club employee Mouse says that the Galeno Gang hit the club but they had a message that they were under new managment and that anyone that wanted to do crime business in town had to do it with said management.

So they hit the Cat’s Jazz Club because Shroud is pretending to be a crimelord to infiltrate all the crime.

So far, its working out really well for you, huh?

Anyway, Shroud says it’ll be easy to track down the Galeno Gang and find out who the new boss is but Wonder Man insists that he tag along to help. Call it payback for cracking Shroud’s ribs in issue #1.

Shroud doesn’t want all the crime to think he associates with the Avengers but Wonder Man has a STUPENDOUS IDEA!

So at the former home of Lucky Max Galeno, where some people are getting down and maybe even boogieing, the Shroud’s black fog fills the room and out strolls Shroud and Definitely Not Simon Williams.

He used his extensive acting experience to put on a wig and a jacket, that wily Wonder Man!

(Also Tigra is hanging upside down outside the window so its a good thing that Shroud and NotSimon are drawing all the attention)

Simon hoists one of the Galeno Boys and tells him they want to see the boss so the Blank comes out from the back room.

Its a testament to Simon’s INCREDIBLE ACTING TALENT that “he doesn’t look any more surprised than the rest of the crowd” according to Tigra.

The Blank justifies having the Shroud’s people beaten by saying that he had to establish credentials to consolidate all of the West Coast mobs so Shroud tells Simon to rough him up.

I like Simon’s like BOING here.

‘Sick ‘im!’ BOING, hah.

Also, the Blank has been smoking on and off throughout this whole issue but like. How does the force field work if he can just stick things into it? I mean, obviously, its permeable to air since he can breathe and... oh I think I just explained it. Dammit.

The boing stalls out midair leaving Simon hanging there.

Obviously its Graviton. No surprise to the audience. But very alarming to the characters who must think the Blank suddenly has more powers.

Off-panel Graviton hits Shroud with Wonder Man, knocking off the wig which wasn’t even secured in place. Dammit Simon, I thought you were an actor!

The Blank recognizes him as Wonder Man so the cat out of the bag, Tigra jumps through the window and onto the Blank’s back.

Graviton finally shows himself, exasperated with how much hand-holding the Blank needs to do basic things like fight several surprise superheroes.

Wonder Man: “Tigra! Get back! That’s Graviton! He’s one of the most dangerous men the Avengers ever fought!”

Graviton: “Nice of you to acknowledge that, Wonder Man!”

See, all he wanted was some acknowledgement. And to crush Wonder Man under a localized gravity field.

The Shroud tries to obscure the room under the idea that Graviton can’t fight what he can’t see. But the guy just grabs everything in the room and spins it around.

Then he pins Tigra, Shroud, and the Blank to the wall. The Blank because he managed to get captured off-panel.

Wonder Man KRUNKs up from the floor and tries to grab Graviton, alarming him that Wonder Man is fighting through the effects of so much gravity, having to block him with a “column of gravitic energy.”

The Blank complains about being stuck to the wall when he’s supposed to be Graviton’s partner.

Graviton: “Wrong, Blank! Very wrong! At beast, you were a go-between, a figurehead in my plans to organize California’s criminal element!”

The Blank: “D-did you say... ‘were?’"

And then he yeets Blank, Tigra, and Shroud out the window and into the ocean.

That certainly is a way to deal with some party crashers.

Meanwhile, the barbecue is going on without Tigra and Wonder Man.

Imagine being dunked into the ocean instead of eating Hawkeye’s steaks.

Hmm. I like that apron but I can’t help but feel that a modern comic would have a hilarious apron extremely specific to Hawkeye. Something in the genre of Quentin Quire’s shirts.

I also like Rhodey realizing that he’s not going to be able to eat any of this barbecue through his mask and deliberating revealing his identity to his teammates SPECIFICALLY to eat a steak.

Priorities.

Mockingbird points out that Tigra and Wonder Man are late and she can’t reach them on the radio but Hawkeye dismisses her concerns since they’re both so capable.

Meanwhile, Graviton dunks Wonder Man into the pool and holds him underwater so he can watch him slowly drown.

He’s also acquired some sexy swimsuit ladies from somewhere. This is LA so I guess they just spontaneously generated.

How will our heroes get out of their various water-based predicaments??

I assume swimming will be involved.

Next issue is last issue of the limited series and for the West Coast Avengers for a while.

And since the West Coast Avengers show up in Avengers #250 with the limited series wrapped up, expect me to schedule posting the posts in that way too.

Follow @essential-avengers​ because I know the recipe to Hawkeye’s secret steak recipe and I’ll tell you if you follow. Here’s a hint: take meat, set it on fire for a while. Also like and reblog and I’ll tell you how many potatoes Captain America’s potato salad contains.

[ryanmeft]

What Not To Do in Avengers: Endgame

There’s a lot of theories floating around about what might happen in Avengers: Endgame, the just trailer-ized sequel/part II thingy to Avengers: Infinity War, and the end of the line one way or another for a lot of MCU characters. Some of these theories are wishful thinking and some are a little out there, but few are talking about the biggest issue concerning this movie: it would be very, very easy to ruin it. The hype is huge at this point, and Marvel and the Russo brothers need to deliver a movie that feels like it has impact, even if it IS all grown adults in tights punching other grown adults in tights.

To wit, here’s what needs to NOT happen in Avengers: Endgame. Don’t... Return the “really” dead characters to life

At the end of Avengers: Infinity War, Thanos managed to accomplish his most cherished goal: figuring out which insurance provider really does offer the best choices for himself and his family. He was so happy about this that he was all eureka and snapped his fingers, and half the population of the universe died. This included most of the heroes in the MCU. A few people, however, died without being subjected to The Decimation (that’s what Marvel’s calling it, a fact we know because apparently two or three people actually read tie-in novels). Of those, Idris Elba’s Heimdall will certainly not be back; he’s become a big star since he took the role, and a scepter through the chest was his ticket out of a bit part he’s outgrown. Vision will probably return in some capacity; the planned Scarlet Witch mini-series would be kind of bland without him as her partner, and his death came near the end of the movie, anyway.

Loki and Gamora had a bit more dramatic exit. Loki was choked to death slowly in front of his brother Thor in a surprisingly gruesome scene, having just made a brave-but-poorly-thought-out attempt to assassinate Thanos. He’s got a mini-series coming, too, but it really needs to be set in the past: his death was the perfect ending for his popular character, who always made the cold and calculating decision but ultimately died due to an act of emotional anger for his people and brother. Tom Hiddleston’s been seen on set, either because Marvel is faking us out or because a younger version of him is seen via time travel, but to undo his perfect demise would irreversibly cheapen his character arc. A lot of people expected Loki to eat dirt in Infinity War, as he’d been taken about as far in his story as he could be. Gamora was another matter; pretty much nobody expected the death of the second-in-command of the Guardians of the Galaxy (she’s really the boss, of course, but it’s better to let a guy who calls himself Star-Lord have his fantasy). Even as she fell, we were all expecting a last-minute rescue. That it didn’t come shocked audiences, and should be left that way, especially considering her presence factored into the surprisingly emotional finale of IW.

Get too lazy with the time travel stuff…

Sure, the idea that the remaining Avengers will pull a McFly and go back in time to reverse the Decisnappation COULD just be what Marvel and the Russo bros want you to think is happening…but it seems likely it’s a factor. There’s no realistic way to fix what Thanos did, and time travel is the least bonkers unrealistic way, at least by movie logic. Now, pretty much everyone wants a cameo from Doc Brown. Right? No? That’s just me? But you could make a joke with Thor and the clock tower and the lightn…ok, moving on.

Maybe Chris Lloyd popping in is unlikely, but what is indisputable is time travel could really wreck the already sort-of-thin idea that we should care what becomes of these characters on a long-term basis. If Marvel isn’t kind of careful with the rules they set up, what’s to stop the characters from just bobbing around in time and undoing any serious failures? The extent to which the Avengers can toss time’s salad should be controlled within the narrative, so that they can’t just freely re-write the script.

…but don’t spend a ton of time on it, either

The time travel aspects should be both limited so as not to royally screw with the sense any of this matters, and not overly complicated. This will be the last appearance for Iron Man, Cap and probably Thor, Hulk and Robin Hood. While we don’t want their last bows to take a wheat thresher to the continuity, we also don’t want to get mired down in psuedo-science.

Give us a lame explanation for why Hulk is absent

I think it’s fair to say that Marvel has played incredibly loose in the way Bruce Banner’s relationship with his big green inner metaphor works. In Avengers he switched from the equivalent of a premature orgasm to total control when it was convenient to the plot, and “because the script says so” has pretty much dictated when Banner is and isn’t at the wheel ever since. I actually see this as one of the few really lazy weak spots in their characters: Hulk at his best has always been a metaphor for the monster inside, but the MCU has dropped the ball on that one in favor of more rah-rah moments.

In IW, you may recall the Hulk was turned into the equivalent of a stubborn turd, refusing to come out no matter how much Banner pushed. I speculated that it may be due to Hulk’s animal instincts telling him something about the situation Banner’s more controlled mind doesn’t know…but either way, there needs to be an explanation in Endgame, and it needs to be better than “because we said so”. There’s no indication of any more solo Hulk films or series, so this might be the last we see of the Jolly Green Giant. If Marvel were ever going to make his character halfway consistent, now’s the time.

Spend too much effort on the romances

By far, the most consistent example of “We don’t know where the hell we’re going with this” in the MCU has involved characters gettin’ it on. Thor’s Jane Foster got unceremoniously dropped because she was a very meh character and the person playing her realized she was Natalie Portman and had better things to do, while Valkyrie showed promise as a tougher lover for the Thunder God only to be written out of the movies off-screen. Hulk and Black Widow made enough sense but was poorly set up, came out of nowhere, and nothing was made of it in IW. Cap’s thing with Peggy Carter’s niece was forced and a little weird. And if you can tell me the name of Black Panther’s woman, you officially know more about this stuff than a guy who writes about it on the regular; she was so barely there they didn’t even bother to mention her in Avengers, and no one cared. Only Tony Stark and Pepper Potts have had anything like a relationship that makes sense, and they nearly dismissed that with an off-screen explanation, as well.

The next iteration of the MCU, with younger, fresher characters, should put more effort into developing lasting character relationships that aren’t bromances, and in fact could stand to give the female supporting characters a lot more development, in general. For now, though, they should write off the romantic histories of most of the old guard as a loss. I doubt anyone will notice.

Overemphasize Ant-Man and Captain Marvel

It’s always been clear, and the post-credits scene made it more so, that Captain Marvel, who will make her debut in her own movie in March, will be important in whatever plan is in place to stop Thanos. And the trailer for Endgame lets us know Ant-Man, or at least his access to the Deus Ex Machina that is the Quantum Realm, will also be vital. And both should be vital---to get the other heroes where they need to be. Although I like Anty Boy, he’s not the biggest name in Marvel, and Captain Brie Marvel Larsen is likely just starting her arc in the universe; there will be plenty of time for her later. This movie needs to focus on the last stands and swan songs of characters who have been with us almost since the beginning.

De-emphasize Hawkeye

If you’ve watched the trailer, by now you know Jeremy Renner’s Robin Hood (I think I made that joke already), who was totally absent from Infinity War, is back with a new, darker costume and what looks like a serious hate boner. In fact, he seems to have straight-up murdered the holy crap what is this out of a whole bunch of Yakuza goons in the middle of the street, which judging by Black Widow’s expression is either terrifying or shockingly arousing. For many, including myself, it was the most interesting reveal in the trailer, and the conclusion was immediately reached that his wife and children must have been Thanos-snapped. What else could cause the normally unflappable special forces dude to go goth and start shooting down people like dogs? He’s always been the most under-appreciated Avenger (check him in the first movie; he’s way more bad-ass than the others despite having no super-powers). This one needs to give him a proper send-off.

Avoid the consequences

Throughout this column, I’ve been emphasizing that the classic Avengers need to have a proper exit from the franchise. The most important aspect of that is to make sure that exit involves a heavy toll. They aren’t fighting for this city or even that planet, but for the whole of existence. Although most-if-not-all of their snapped friends will be returning, they need to pay the price to get that done; otherwise, this whole Thanos thing is basically a cartoon with no permanent consequences. This is completely essential to doing this movie right. Don’t chicken out, guys.

[cheesebongdynasty]

Food for Fanfic/Fanart

Orphans/Partial Orphans:

Thor: Watched each family member and best friend die in front of him, one by one. 

Is kind of reckless with rage, but mostly holds it together surprisingly well. Tony Stark: Loses parents in college, spends decades thinking it was a car crash (and likely blaming dad for it), then watches footage of their murder with the apparent killer right next to him, and in the same instance, learns the comrade also next to him admit with no visible remorse that he knew. 

20 minute violent meltdown, then makes no further attempt to go after Bucky.

Next time we see him, Tony is helping Rhodey with his legs. Afterward, Tony puts all effort into mentoring and protecting Peter Parker and defending the Earth from Thanos. Improved personality implies that the Siberia incident also inspired him to seek sought long overdue mental help. 

Wanda and Pietro Maximoff: As children, saw parents killed by missiles with Stark’s name on them, spent days looking at one “Stark” nuke waiting for it to kill them. “Recruited” by Hydra shortly after. 

Committed a number of atrocities while working for Hydra... but they were “recruited” as traumatized kids, switched sides relativity quickly in “Ultron,” Pietro gave his life to save Clint and a kid, and Wanda expressed visible guilt over her past. She also had no ill words for Tony after “Ultron” save “You locked me in my room!”, which she was fine with until Hawkeye convinced her not to be

Also, she joined the Avengers despite Tony being a constant reminder of her parents’ deaths, and as mentioned above, she’s stopped giving him shit for that. 

Steve Rogers: Dad died before he was born, mom died when he was a teenager/young man, apparently no next of kin able or willing to take him in, just Bucky.

Took questionable measures trying to follow in war-hero parents’ footsteps, at an age when young men are most vulnerable to testosterone-fulled stupidity, nad in a time period with some limited ideas about masculinity, and with his medical conditions and always getting bullied for them. 

Bucky Barnes: Unless one of his parents has lived to be VERY very old 

Everything bad he did was under mind control, so.....if you wanna blame Buck for that then go fuck yourself. With a cactus. 

Black Panther: Saw dad killed by bomb

"I didn’t kill your father!” “Then why did you run?” Tried to murder Bucky based on shaky evidence, for at least one full day, not listening to Buck the one time he said he was innocent, it’s not like anyone was making much of an effort to convey Bucky’s innocence to BP. In any case, T’Challa learns the truth, stops letting revenge consume him, defeats Zemo, and saves the shit out of our Buck-muffin. 

Princess Shuri: Dad murdered. 

Does nothing bad.

Erik Killmonger: Found dad’s murdered body. Abandoned by Wakandan relatives. Mom somehow out of the picture. Grew up seeking revenge, and the power to “save” his culture, as he saw it. Willing to murder own relatives and countless innocent children to do so. We feel for him but let’s face it, he’s a bad guy. As Okoye said, “Your heart is so filled with hate, it is not worthy to sit on that throne!” Peter Parker: And Uncle Ben, but we’ll get to that later. 

Peter Quill: Mom dying of cancer in the hospital, while he was a child, was his last experience on Earth. Years later, dad admits directly to Peter that he put the tumor in her head, with no genuine guilt. Also, there’s a graveyard of mountains of the skeletons of Peter’s half-siblings killed by his dad as well (though this oddly isn’t brought up much) Kills his evil dad, with a bit of poetic justice (puts a “tumor” of sorts in Ego’s “head”)

Gamora and Nebula: Parents murdered by Thanos; raised and brainwashed by parents murderer.

Worked for the most evil man in the universe, after growing up brainwashed by him, and both still managed to see the error in this and turn against him

The rest of the Guardians of the Galaxy: Very likely, but can’t say for sure 

Did a ton of questionable stuff, because they’re a ragtag bunch of antiheroes with shitty pasts. 

Hope Van Dyne: Mom “died” when she was a kid, relationship with dad crumbled as a result 

Ava Starr/”Ghost:” Saw parents killed in lab accident

Gradually turned evil after Shield (or Hydra?) manipulated her to be their assassin, and living in constant physical pain all her life. 

Loki: Orphaned as a blue baby, didn’t learn the truth for hundreds of years. Then saw adopted mother die.

Did a ton of evil stuff, killed Phil, but...... he’s such a ham, does anyone take him as a serious villain anymore? He’s basically Plankton from “Spongebob,” just looks better in chains. Love or hate him as you see fit, I don’t really care. 

Other Dead Relatives/Surrogate Relatives:

Thor:

Saw adopted brother die, more than once; had to kill his own sister 

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes:

Unless all of their relatives are very, very old. 

Steve Rogers:

Saw BFF/surrogate brother Bucky “die,” twice, right in front of him

Wanda Maximoff:

Saw brother die, and works with the man who her brother died to save, a regular reminder of Pietro’s death

Peter Parker: Uncle Ben

Tony Stark:

Surrogate son dusted in his arms, while begging not to go and then saying “I’m sorry,” leaving Tony coated in his remains

Black Panther:

Forced to kill own cousin

Shuri:

Brother was forced to kill their cousin 

Dr. Strange: 

Dead little sister he couldn’t save 

Peter Quill:

Mountains of skeletons of his half-siblings killed by his dad; also, saw adoptive father die in his arms, giving his life to save his  

Nebula:

Adopted sister murdered by evil “dad” (who also probably killed her parents and possibly siblings) 

Rocket:

Loses entire surrogate family, the one he’s closest to right in front of him, as a kid 

Dead Lovers:

Peter Quill: Was willing to keep his promise and kill Gamora--his last living loved one after losing literally his whole family--to save the universe. Fails. Thinks he can rescue Gamora after all. Learns of her murder with the murderer inches away from him.

Loses it for, at most, one minute. Then gets right back into the fray. Only real question is why the others didn’t anticipate this, and restrain him with their super-strength/magic 

Wanda Maximoff: Was willing to kill Vision, her last living loved one after losing her whole family--to save the universe. Thanos steals this sacrifice, and murders Vision right in front of her. 

Gets dusted right after 

Steve Rogers: Saw his first love dying of old age, and had to bury her 

Hank Pym: Or so he thought for enough decades, it may as well count 

Valkyrie: Saw comrade and lover killed in battle (behind scenes info confirms this was her lover) 

Lost hope in her duties as a Valkyrie, helped the Grandmaster capture and kill innocents... but then turned against him and helped Thor save the world from Hela

Carol Danvers: Probably, according to her backstory

Deaths They Thought They Were Witnessing:

Steve Rogers:

Saw Bucky fall to his “death,” thought he was dead for years

Tony Stark:

Saw Pepper “die” after failing to catch her (and seeing her tortured) 

Peter Quill: Fired to kill Gamora, only for the blast to become bubbles  Everyone in “Black Panther:” Thought they saw T’Challa killed by Killmonger

Hank Pym: Thought he saw wife die before him, spent decades thinking she was dead and losing relationship with his daughter for it  

All Survivors of the Snappening:

Probably 

Physical Torture:

Tony Stark: Water-boarded in a cave, after heart surgery with no anesthesia  Pepper Potts: Roasted alive  Bucky Barnes: Hydra guinea pig for 70 years  Gamora: Part of her indoctrination as a child Nebula: Pulled apart by Thanos to get info from Gamora Dr. Strange: Squidward’s pin cushion  Rocket Raccoon: “Taken apart and put back together” 

Ava Starr: Childhood accident left her in nonstop pain all growing up 

Thor: Electrocuted while restarting that artificial planet to get Stormbreaker 

Physically-Modified Without Consent:

Rocket Raccoon:

See above

  Bucky Barnes:

Winter Soldier transformation

  Tony Stark:

Car-battery in chest 

Gamora and Nebula:

Part of being “adopted” by Thanos

Bruce Banner: Lab accident

Ava Starr: Dad’s lab accident 

Guilt Complexes:

Tony Stark:

Shut down weapons company and became Iron Man after seeing how his weapons were being misused, confessed guilt at public press conference while seated down under the podium; worst fear is teammates and world dead because he couldn’t save them; built Ultron to prevent this from happening; donated huge sums of money to college kids and signed Accords over Ultron guilt; “...and if you died, I feel like that’s on me. I don’t need that on my conscience.” 

Guilt about trying to kill Bucky not directly addressed, but as he’s made no further attempt to go after Bucky, it’s highly likely that Tony has learned more about Bucky’s situation and, having seen Hawkeye mind-controlled and having personal experience with mental illness, probably doesn’t feel great about Siberia. 

Wanda Maximoff:

 “This is all because of me!” at destruction caused by Ultron: visibly horrified by her misfire in CW; says “I’ve caused enough trouble” when Hawkeye is first trying to recruit her; tells Vision he should keep his word to Tony Stark in IW; and is visibly upset at news of Tony going missing on the spaceship (bear in mind, she has seen Tony’s worst fear, and heightened it) 

Bucky Barnes:

 “But it was still me.” “I remember them all.” 

Steve Rogers:

Blames self for Bucky’s first “death” in CA:TFA. Questionable “apology” letter to Tony at least includes phone, and promise to be there for anything, risking capture. Steve probably does feel bad, even if he’s not that great at expressing it with words. 

Bruce Banner:

Need I say more? 

Thor:

Survivor’s guilt is pretty obvious. Also, guilt and humility were requirements for being able to lift the Hammer in his first movie. 

Natasha Romanoff: 

“You think you’re the only monster here?” 

Dr. Strange: Failed to save little sister, and then the Ancient One 

Scott Lang: Feels like a failure to his daughter, more so after “Civil War,” clearly has at least mixed feelings if not outright regret about his role in CW

Hank Pym: Blames self for wife’s “death” 

Ava Starr: ....maybe? We’ll have to wait and see.

Everyone else:

Survivor’s guilt to some degree is clear every time a comrade, mentor or civilian dies. 

I’ll probably update this as I think of more.