#'some' is a very loose term for Tony

[bucky-h0e]

The Many Lives of Bucky and Alpine | Main Masterlist

This is a multi-series fic. Based around Bucky and Human! Alpine and the different lives they lead. The main story is Serendipity - this follows the 'canon' timeline, however the other variants will have their own canon events and timelines as well. Bare in mind that Serendipity will most likely get the most updates because of this.

This is a long-term, on going project - if you would like to request something, please do! Just be a little patient with me :)

Each timeline is separate from one another and has their own 'plot' and attributes, you don't have to read them all! Sometimes I will update with an Alternate Narrative - this will be marked clearly and is not vital to the timeline - just a bit of fun!

Remember, these are NOT shipping fics!

○○○○

Serendipity

Neighbour!Alpine and Bucky. This follows The Falcon and The Winter Soldier's events; post, pre and during.

Bucky Barnes now faces a difficult task indeed, navigating the 21st Century whilst making amends for his actions as the Winter Soldier. Left alone to his own devices, he fears he may continue the life of solitude, pushing away all who try to help. But what happens when a stubborn 106 year old meets a similarly stubborn (and downright bizarre) 21 year old? And for God's sake, what is her real name?

Read Here

○○○○

You Feel Like Home

Half-Romanian! Alpine and Bucky. This starts just after Captain America: The Winter Soldier and through Captain America: Civil War; post, pre and during.

On the run from both HYDRA and SHIELD, James Bucky Barnes finds shelter in Bucharest and creates 6 rules for himself to ensure his survival.

One: Make no noise.

Two: Stay out of sight.

Three: Use only cash. Spend only when absolutely necessary.

Four: Follow the news reports. Any mention of his name, MOVE.

Five: Do not get attached to his neighbour's neglected, sick daughter.

Six: Stop breaking rule number 5.

Read Here

○○○○

The Winter Soldier and his Angel

Avenger! Alpine and Bucky. Follows the Captain America Sequels, with Alpine as an Avenger and Steve's ex-handler.

Alpine Doe. Codename: Angel. Bought from the Red Room by a man who wanted his own version of Charlie's Angels. Hired by SHIELD under Natasha Romanoff's insistence after assisting them in bringing the scumbag in. Placed as Steve Rogers' handler and guides (drags) him into to the 21st Century. Now she fights alongside the Avengers, mainly Steve, and feels like she owes everything to them. She when Steve's once thought dead best friend shows up to kill them, she'll stop at nothing to reunite the two. She just wished he'd stop trying to stab her.

Read Here

○○○○

Bucky Barnes: ex-Winter Soldier, now DILF.

Biological Child! Alpine and Bucky. Loosely follows The Falcon and The Winter Soldier with some minor (major) changes.

James Buchanan Barnes is no longer the Winter Soldier. Steve Rogers is considering retirement. Tony Stark retired and is expecting a second child. Natasha Romanoff is on a well deserved holiday. The World has not ended. Finally, Bucky can begin the journey to find himself once more. The same self that used to be quite the ladies man, not that he was complaining. Of course, that is until an mildly annoyed woman knocks on his door with a positive pregnancy test makes him realise just how much the super-soldier serum had affected his body and DNA.

Read Here

○○○○

Pimp My ... Buzz Wagon?

Medic! Alpine and Bucky. Follows Captain America: The First Avenger.

The Howling Commandos are a very special breed indeed. Not only are they almost singlehandedly helping tilt the war effort to favour the allies, they are also somehow managing to get home safely despite the wounds that come with the territory. Annoyed at their lack of concern because Steve Rogers "...can heal a lot faster now!", Agent Carter recruits a medic to join the group. Whilst the less super-soldiery of the group have no real big complaints, Bucky Barnes can't help but argue with the fact that their new medic is an underaged girl.

Read here

○○○○

For You, I'll Set This Place Ablaze

HYDRA Prisoner! Alpine and Winter Soldier! Bucky. This one roughly follows the plot of Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

HYDRA is irritated. Wiping the Asset's mind is becoming tedious. They need a killing machine, with some level of cognitive function, not a mindless fool incapable of executing simple missions. Slowly but surely, the Asset's memories come back - each time quicker than the last. They are desperate. Perhaps, there is another way to make him behave. Their plan? Give him what he desires. A family. A support system. Make him believe the child is his. She knows no better. Give him something to cherish and to protect. Then rip it away when he fails. Soon, he will learn. HYDRA will always prevail. HAIL HYDRA.

Read Here

[larcenywrites]

Okay, but Imagine

I feel like there were some things that had to of course be glossed over when he suddenly just came back with a gd electromagnet in his chest. Like even he can't be that easy-going all the time

Imagine Tony being self-conscious around you at first about that new edition in his chest

Warnings: self-appearance sensitivity

💠No one could have prepared for what happened, and nothing could have prepared you for finding out about it

💠Hell, Tony couldn't even prepare how to tell you about it. How can you just drop a bomb like that? Had he even come to terms with it?

💠The closer he gets to home the more anxious he gets. He's only just realizing how visible and physical of a reminder this is. At least he can hide any of his upsetting thoughts from you, but... this is just there

💠Suddenly he's thinking of all the possible ways he could cover it or hide it, at least for now, even though he's literally in a car that's mere minutes away from you.

💠He just knows you're going to worry, and freak out, and be weirded out

💠And a little scared you might be mad, too

💠He acts aloof. He's brushing it off. Nothing bothers him! This is a mild inconvenience, it was just a price to pay. Always cool and collected!

💠And it does seem to help calm you down... eventually. It'll take some getting used to, but if he's not freaked out then maybe you should just trust him, right? Well, not when he can barely answer any of your questions about it

💠But there's not much you can do now that it's, ya know, the only way for him to be alive right now.

💠He's feeling bad about so many things now that aren't his fault. Now you have one more thing to add to your list of worries, you basically have to sleep next to an overpowered nightlight, and it's right where you used to lay your head, or where you'd playfully push on him to shove him back when he was being a little too frisky at a bad time. It's where you'd scratch your nails down his chest during sex or to tease him beforehand.

💠He just feels like that's all ruined now. That it's in the way. He hates to think that those activities would make you uncomfortable now, or that you'll be disappointed that it's not the same.

💠It shouldn't matter, but he's always been a little obsessed about the way he looks. And this is... very different. Does it make him look weird? Of course it does, he thinks. And why would you even want to look at it? Or touch it? Or deal with it at all? Because it's weird

💠Sometimes he stares at it while he's brushing his teeth, or is trying to find a shirt that dims it the most and it suddenly going through everything in his closet and ultimately throwing them on the floor in frustration because nothing makes it disappear except for thick or loose hoodies that he's definitely not going to be able to wear around the house while its still summer and he's definitely not going to be able to work in them. Nothing makes much of a difference

💠He's suddenly wearing shirts to bed when you know that he gets too hot at night when he does that, and when you ask, it's because it's "too bright". When you tell him you don't mind too much (especially if he's uncomfortable) he remarks that it's too bright for him, not you

💠He's suddenly sleeping on his stomach and you know he hardly ever does that because sometimes he wakes up complaining about his old man back. So when that old man back does hurt, he's turned away from you and on his side, which... isn't necessarily uncommon but... even when you're trying to cuddle into him he never turns to you.

💠It's obvious that something is up, and you can probably assume that its a mix of that miniature arc reactor combined with the trauma that he pretends to brush off. Hell, he can't brush it off when it's now just a glowing orb in his chest that's ironically keeping him alive. He couldn't get rid of it if he wanted to.

💠You'll leave him alone for now because what should you say? Or do? Or ask? Would you make it worse?

💠But after a close two weeks of this, he can't keep it up. It's tiring. He can't decide if he cares anymore or maybe he's just being stupid and that just starts a whole different argument with himself

💠He's in bed, earlier than normal this time, and actually shirtless. A sight you always love to see but this time it's different.

💠He's not going to talk about it. Especially after trying so hard to pretend he didn't care all this time. But you know, and he knows you know.

💠But if you can't talk to him about it...

💠Your hand on his shoulder startles him out of his thoughts, and it's too late to hide under the covers. Your touch gliding over his chest is nerve-wracking and comforting. You're kissing his cheeks, and his hair, and his nose and he can't decide whether to relax or panic when your on his neck.

💠When the lips on his collarbones leave, he knows where you've gone next. He doesn't look. He can't feel it. But he knows. He can feel when you slide your hand over it.

💠Admittedly, touching it does still freak you out but that's not the point right now. Your touch is lingering and gentle over that ghostly blue glow. Cold metal. Unnatural.

💠And yet you're holding it dear, what's keeping him alive. And it finally clicks for him that that's all you care about and it's all that matters. Because he's still him and even after all this chaos he's still yours

💠He brings a hand over yours and holds it just a little closer. Your soft smile when he finally looks up at you lets him know that it'll be okay.

💠And for the first time ever, he’s relieved that you know what’s going on in that head of his.

[sunflowersoldat]

All is Fair in~ Saviors and Sovereignty

Chapter 19: Saviors and Sovereignty

Previous Chapter

Main Master List

Series Master List

Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under the pressure?

Series Warning: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: 18+ Only! Violence and threats. Emotional trauma, Bad language words, mentions of death and physical trauma, stalking.

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: SURPRISE! Early chapter! 👀Still kinda feel like crap, but I finished this early and figured with busy season approaching I could spoil you guys a little bit. Enjoy!💕

You had torn out of the woods on your bike, like a bat outta hell, there was no way you were taking the chance of them catching you, not this time. 

You entered the casino basement, where the training room and safehouse were located, throwing your helmet down onto the mat, watching it bounce, you let loose a scream into the void. Could one thing, one thing, go right, just once?!

The doors behind you opened, Zemo slowly sauntered in, his brows raised, hands hooked into his front pockets, “You know, I always knew you would be the strongest of them, the one willing to do anything for that one cause.” he strolled around the room, “I’m sorry they broke you.” 

Your eyes flicked to his, ready to rebuttal, you were not broken, but he continued, “They did. They broke you a long time ago in that alley. Then again when you massacred all of Hydra.” You closed your eyes as the memories flooded you, the feeling of their blood coating your hands, their screams in terror as they slowly realized there was no escape, no mercy. 

“Again when your brother made you believe Steve killed your parents. And when you were faced with the decision to kill Steve and couldn’t do it. When Steve’s men beat you within an inch of your life. And finally, when Barnes tossed you into the Upper Bay without a second thought.”

He finally stepped onto the mat, a mere foot away from you, meeting your chilling gaze, “Yet here you are.” he cocks his head, “Stronger than ever, my champion, my lethal warrior. Swift Justice.”

His words sink into you, like the icy ocean pulling you under, you feel their weight like the crushing waves, pushing the breath from your lungs.

He takes a deep breath, “We will need that ruthlessness you have unwillingly mastered…”

“My swift Death, my Wraith, I have only a handful of favors to ask, then you will be free.”

Your face hardens, eyes boring into his, that was all you had ever wanted, your solid voice cuts through the room, “Name them.”

He nods slowly, pulling a cigar from his pocket, lighting it. “I will, but first, I will do you a favor. Your brother has taken possession of someone very important to you. Get him back.”

—

You didn’t hesitate as you sprinted for your bike in the garage, the only way Zemo would know about anything Tony did was if an Ace was involved, and that could only mean one thing, Steve was going to die.

The icy air nipped at your skin, and tore through your hair as you sped to your brother’s tower, he wouldn’t take anyone to the manor, no he would make an example out of Steve. You couldn’t let that happen, on one hand he was innocent, he never ordered the hit on your parents, he would die for a crime he didn’t commit. The crimes against you were a different story, and you would handle them on your own terms.

You came to a tire-squealing stop in front of the tower, making your way to the main breaker. You cut all power to the building, if either of you were going to survive this, you needed to have the upperhand. 

Get in. Get out. No killing. The less damage you do to your brother and his men, the easier this will be to smooth over in the future. The main priority was to get Steve out alive. You could figure the rest out later, besides, Tony isn’t going to listen to you, not after he finds out you are alive, and his world gets turned upside down. You will be lucky to escape with minor scratches.

Putting your mask into place, you check the weapons and suppression grenades on your belt, before heading into the pitch black building, only the pale light from the moon filters in through the endless windows. For the first few floors, you take the stairs, taking Stark’s men out as you go, wanting to keep the element of surprise. As you crest the stairs to the 6th floor, you take the guard down, disarming him, putting him in a choke hold as a familiar figure meets you halfway down the hall, on their way out. You stand straight, after laying the guard on the floor, your arms crossed over our chest, his eyes widen when they land on you,

“Wade.”

“Fucking shit!... H-hi D-deathypoo… uhh, don’t mind me, I was just taking part in a little Bossnapping…” he rubs the back of his neck, his face hidden under his mask, but you can tell he was uncomfortable, “It’s like kidnapping, but for Mob Bosses–”

You sigh deeply, rolling your eyes, you know he was only doing his job, you can’t hold it against him, “Get out of here, before I decide to kick your ass.”

He lets loose a sigh of relief, scrambling past you, he stops at the top of the stairs, “I made sure the kid wasn’t harmed… and I brought Steve in myself, it was the only way to ensure he took the least amount of damage…”

The weight on your heart lifted slightly, “Thanks, Wade.” you can hear his steps receding, then become louder again.

“Oh, one more thing, Stark’s men are terrified of us, cutting the power was a good move, they are freaking out, use the theatrics to your advantage… also, your escape route is on the roof. Best of luck kid.”

When you turned, Wade was gone. Theatrics huh? You could do that, turning you headed straight to the elevator, pressing the button for your brother's penthouse, four floors from the roof, you smiled under your mask, show time.

—

The man had only worked for Stark for a few months now, his job had been boring, mostly. Today though, they had gone to war, they stormed Steve Rogers’s Penthouse trying to bring him in. When that didn’t work, one of the Aces had been hired to help, they stormed the mansion outside of town and took all of Steve’s men by surprise, hell they even took the big man himself. Now they were standing guard, he wasn't really sure why—

The lights cut out, his coworkers immediately turned their flashlights on, and sweeped the floor, before huddling closer to the door, “Stay frosty. Don’t know where they’ll come from.” his superior officer commanded.

“Who exactly are we defending against?”

“What the fuck kind of question is—”

The elevator dinged, cutting off the officer’s reply, their flashlights aimed at the doors as they opened, smoke filled the hall, an eerie glow emanating around it from the moonlight in the windows and their flashlights. Next to him the other men emptied their clips into the void, but he didn’t.

The smoke unfurled deeper into the hall, his knees buckled as the figure emerged from the smoky elevator. 

What came out of the elevator wasn’t human, it wasn't alive.

He was frozen in place, his gun clattering on the floor as his knees slammed into the tile, his hands raised in surrender. The other men had ran meeting this apparition head on, he could hear their screams in pain, the gunfire died completely, the distinct sound of bodies hitting the floor made his stomach churn. Shutting his eyes he prayed whatever this spirit was, would grant mercy on his soul.

His eyes cracked open, downcast at the floor, a black pair of combat boots stood in front of him, “You are the messenger. Tell them, the Ace of Spades is dead, a Wraith now plagues this battlefield.”

His whole body shook, but he managed to nod his head, not daring to look at this unnatural being, it may look of flesh and bone, but it had inhuman abilities, and the voice of what he could only describe as the voice of an Archangel; powerful, determined, without fear.

—

Tony knelt in front of Steve, tapping his cheek harshly to wake him from his unconsciousness, “Hello, Steven.”

Steve's head fell back against the chair, his face a stoic mask, as he quietly stared at Tony, “I told you…” Tony struck him, Steves face snapping harshly to the side, “I fucking warned you.” he struck him again, causing Steve’s head to snap in the opposite direction, “You will pay for her life with your own.”

Blood trickled down Steve’s nose, his temple, and his lips. His eyes swollen messes, but Tony didn’t feel better about you, and everything you had gone through. He would bring justice to your name, he would bring this man sitting in front of him to his knees, make him beg for mercy, and it still wouldn’t be enough. “This is your pound of flesh, Rogers. And it isn’t even the beginning—”

The lights in the penthouse flickered out, Tony’s gaze snapped between Happy, Nat, Brock and Jack, before he reached down to grab Steve’s collar pulling him closer, “Your men will not save you. But I wouldn’t mind an audience, while justice is served.”

Tony waited a moment, the backup generators should come on soon… 

They didn’t and now the screaming and gunfire was right outside the door to the penthouse, the thud of bodies against the wall shook the door, keycards were still required to open the doors. The elevator and doors were the only things on a completely separate grid, for emergencies like this, only someone with an ‘all access’ keycard could open that door. Unless they blew it down—

The keycard terminal beeped, blinking red, then turning off, before blinking again, then staying bright red. The security system for the penthouse echoed through the room, "Sir, it seems as though someone is trying to use your sister’s key card to access–" the security system cut off abruptly, as the access terminal turned from red to green, the door opened slowly, "Welcome grrzzzkkssrrrrrsskkkk." The security system voice distorted as it announced the intruder. 

Tony growled, the fucking bastards dared to steal his sister’s keycard?! He would make them suffer–

Tony’s eyes narrowed as a figure clad in a black tactical uniform stepped into the room. Tony didn't scare easily, but as he stared at the figure, his blood ran cold, his hands began to shake, what stood in front of him was a myth. On top of their uniform, the figure’s eyes were the same milky white, of a walking corpse. Their mouth is covered by a skeletal mask with a smeared handprint across it, an eerie glow emanating from it in the moonlight. Next to him, Steve squirmed in his seat, mumbling through his gag.

Natasha slammed the butt of her pistol into his face, "Shut it Rogers! Does a little assassin scare you?"

Steve's body sagged, as his consciousness slipped from him.

Tony lifted his gun to the intruder, "He's mine! Tell your employer to fuck off!”

—

Your eyes slide from your brother to Steve, whose head is hanging limply, from the blow of Nat’s gun. You stepped closer, "Oh, my employer didn't send me. You happened to take something of mine, brother…" you step even closer, when you are a little more than four feet away, you can see each cut & bruise along Steve's skin, and your blood boils. You love your brother, but if he lays another hand on Steve, you would cut off each finger that dares touch his skin.

Your eyes flick back to Tony as your voice hits his ears. His mouth drops open as he stumbles closer, dropping his gun to his side, 

"Squirt?! H-how, you're.. You're supposed to be dead, how did you survive…" he trails off, his face contorting, in thought, then relaxing, as if he has answered his own question. Honestly, you didn’t know how you had survived either, that’s twice you have gone to the brink of death, only to come back stronger.

Tony’s brows knit together, “You were the Ace of spades? All this time… I thought you were my helpless little sister, someone I needed to protect..." he stares at you in disbelief, eyes widening. "All these assassinations, the Spades has credit for, Erskine, the Hydra masacare? The warehouse fires? Those mercenaries that moved in 6 months ago… they didn't just leave, you took care of them didn't you?" he ran his hand through his hair. He was reacting the way you thought he would, he was spiraling, you needed to get Steve out of here before it was too late.

"The Ace of Spades is dead. They call me Wraith,” you tilt your head towards Steve, “and he is mine."

Tony straightened, scowling, "The Fuck he is! He has affected me just as much as you, I get to have a hand in his death.” he steps back from you, closer to Steve. The rest of his security does the same, you notice they tense, their grips tightening on their weapons.

You roll your shoulders, “Tony. You know my reputation, my capabilities.” you motion to Nat, Happy, and the two other men in the room, Brock and Jack. “I can take him by force…” you lower your hand, hovering over a blade on your belt, “Now, we can do this the easy way, or…” you shrug a shoulder lightly.

Tony flinches at your insinuation, taking another step backward, while everyone steps toward you. He lifts his gun to Steve’s head, as Steve’s eyes flutter open, drearily,  “Leave, Squirt. I don’t want them to hurt you.”

Steve’s eyes meet yours briefly, sorrow flashes across them, he knows the choice you’ve made. Your eyes flick back to Tony’s “I'm sorry brother.”

Before anyone in the room can react, you are already in motion, one hand pulls the pin on a smoke grenade, the other flinging a knife at Brock, embedding it in his shoulder, between his tactical vest and shoulder padding. Then slamming into your brother, you break his hold on his gun, throwing it across the room, and the two of you flip over the bar. Your fingers locked onto one of his pressure points, rendering him unconscious, momentarily. Gunfire erupts behind you, you know none of them has dared shoot Steve, your brother would kill them if they robbed him of that honor. Reaching for your belt you grab a flashbang, pulling the pin and tossing it over the bar, the moment the metal collides with the floor you are in motion. 

You disarm them one at a time, working through the blinding flashes of light, you don’t kill, you merely render them useless, and unable to chase after you. You need to move fast, the trick you used on Tony won’t last long. You knock Happy and Nat out of the game as gently as possible, as for Jack and Brock, you don’t skimp on their punishment, as you slam into Brock first, ripping the blade from his shoulder, holstering it. You spin, your arm colliding with his chest as you wrap your leg behind his. He crashes onto the floor, a swift kick has him unconscious. Somehow, Jack manages to get behind you, flinging you against the wall, attempting to pin you, a dark laugh leaves your lips as you stomp your foot down on his, he releases you, giving you ample time to grab his head and bring your knee up to smash into his face, he falls limply to the floor. 

The room is still and foggy as you sprint to Steve, whose chair has toppled onto its side, breaking him partially free as the blood from the wounds on his face trickles down to pool on the floor, you slip the knife from its holster and cut him loose. Cradling his face, you tap his cheek, trying to rouse him, he groans, his eyes slowly opening, before shutting again. You curse, “Come on Stevie, I’m gonna need your help here…” he doesn’t respond as you haul him to his feet, he has just enough consciousness to keep his feet under him, but all of his weight is on you as you basically drag him to the door.

“We gotta get to the roof Stevie. To the roof, then we are safe.” You expected him to be heavier, with his hulking frame and dense muscle, he should be, but surprisingly you aren’t struggling to keep him upright and walking. You don't understand, but you can't dwell on that right now, you need to get him to the roof. 

As you make your way to the elevator, you unholster your pistol, ensuring no one surprises or follows you. You smash your hand onto the call button, you wait, your eyes darting around the dark halls, noise from Tony’s penthouse pulls your attention behind you, a figure stumbles out as the elevator arrives. You don’t give them time, pulling Steve into the small space with you, punching the close door button furiously, then pressing the button for the roof. 

Next to you Steve is groaning with each movement, but maneuvers himself as close to you as possible, the near silent whispers that you can decipher leaving his lips have your heart stuttering in your chest; ‘I’ve missed you Angel.’ ‘Please don’t leave me.’ ‘I’m so sorry.’

You pull him along with you shushing him gently, as the doors open, you are greeted with icy wind as it whips around the two of you, the escape route Wade promised you was a parachute sitting neatly by the ledge, you make your way to it, slipping it over Steve’s shoulders, you tighten the straps securely around him.

The metal stairway door shatters open, your brother bursts through the door, and you whirl around, placing Steve behind you securely, still helping him stay on his feet.

“Why Squirt?!” Tony’s voice breaks as he stumbles toward you, gun raised at the man behind you.

“I’m sorry Tony. I can’t let you kill him.” your heart squeezes as you take in the betrayal, the anger and hatred swirling in his eyes, but can’t bring yourself to back down. You can’t, won’t lose Steve.

Reaching back, you wrap your hand around the strap across his chest, your head turned towards him slightly, his bleary tear filled eyes meet yours, “Do you trust me?” you whisper.

Your words register slowly, his words slur as he answers, so softly the wind almost whisks it away, and your heart breaks, “I used to…”

“It’s time I earned it back…” you whisper.

You turn back to Tony, as you shove Steve over the ledge, a tear slipping from your eye, betraying family is never easy.  “I’m sorry brother.”

Tony surges forward, multiple shots fired from his gun, “After everything he has done to our family, he deserves to die!”

It's too late, the shots whiz past you, one grazing your side as you and Steve go over the ledge, falling, the air ripping at you as you wrap yourself around Steve, who has lost consciousness again. You reach for the strap, pulling the string. The parachute unfurling above you, jarring you as your arms strain to keep yourself attached to him.

As you land on the ground, screeching tires fill the air as two black SUVs come to a halt, multiple doors fly open and men pour out, a few faces you recognize, Sam, Peter, Scott… Bucky, his face contorted in immeasurable anger and hatred as you scramble to get Steve onto your bike, the men yell, but a single shot rings in the air, landing on your vest, nearly knocking you to the ground, but you steady yourself, barely giving yourself enough time to recover. You throw yourself onto the bike, wrapping Steve’s arms around you securely as you speed away, down alleys, and back roads, until you are sure they can’t follow you, only then do you head for the Casino. 

To safety.

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @captainson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal @calwitch @buckysteveloki-me @curlyladylazarus111

[inklver]

just because i feel like it:

some random thoughts about the art i made for ironstrange week + the very rough thumbnails for each piece (putting this under the read more so this doesn't take up too much space bc this is a Very long post)

day 1 - red/wrath

first fanart for this fandom! there are a few things i don't like about this piece (questionable anatomy, use of values could be improved, + stephen's hair makes him look like a wet cat /hj) but i do like the lighting and the theme of red spider lilies. i've always wanted to draw them and i love their symbolism of death and final goodbyes—feels very fitting for these goofs :b

i started working on this a good amount of time in advance, and i'm glad i did—this was one of the only pieces i used a painterly style for despite it being my preferred style; it takes me a lot longer than lineart + color, so i didn't get the chance to use it again throughout the event (with the exception of day 6)

day 2 - nervous/orange

i struggled with the anatomy on this one—i don't draw back views often (or, at all really) so the first panel was pure pain. the second panel wasn't much better; it took several attempts to pose the hand in a way that looked somewhat natural. pretty pleased with how this turned out all things considered, though! my only qualm with this is the rushed shading, but that's what happens when you're a slow artist on a time constraint :,)

day 3 - yellow/cheerful

i think this may be one of my favorites from this event. i'm very very happy with the lighting and overall atmosphere of the piece :)

i realize now that i used flowers as a theme for every color prompt—anyways, like i said in the tags of the original post for this, i very loosely referenced yellow primrose (symbol of happiness, warmth, & love, conventionally given to those in long-term relationships or someone who has always been there for you through thick and thin)

day 4 - intrigued/green

i ended up liking this better than i expected to! i had to play around a lot with the lighting/color scheme before i was satisfied with it, though that's on me for not having much of a plan for it beforehand (with most pieces, i already have an idea of the color scheme when i start working on them). not much else to say about this one except surgeon stephen my beloved <3

day 5 - blue/serene

this was the first time i've properly drawn a kiss and holy hell how do ship artists do it. that shit is so difficult. i struggled a lot with the anatomy and ended up changing the poses a bit; i also flipped the composition because 1. it looked slightly better that way and 2. i could include tony's ring <3

and yes stephen's mug says 'cunt' (with the handle being painted in black to form the 'c'—very much inspired by jacksepticeye's mug); for tony's i had to search for funny mug designs lmfao

i was going for a very domestic/warm atmosphere, which i think was more or less accomplished, so i'm pretty happy with this overall :)

also, not really pertinent but i was listening to sweater weather on loop while drawing this so. make of that what you will.

day 6 - grief/indigo

ah, this piece. definitely my favorite of the 7, love how this turned out despite ripping my own heart out a bit while making it :,) listening to hyacinthus on repeat didn't help

my initial idea for this—the thumbnail in the top left—was going to be one of them bleeding out in the other's arms, but i had another idea that i felt more drawn to so i chose that instead (this was a very last minute change so the thumbnail is pretty much just a couple of stick figures pfft).

i decided to go back to the painterly style since it felt more fitting for this & i'm glad i did, although it was a little rushed towards the end when i was adding in the final details (the butterflies are pretty much just lasso tool + glow layer). this was also my first time drawing stephen's robes and. man that was a pain to figure out. get a simpler outfit stephen.

day 7 - purple/disdain

had to end the event on a happy note! this was very rushed but i still like how it looks, though the bg petals are a bit janky.

the prompt 'purple' immediately made me think of violets, which were used as gifts for newlyweds so. here we are (they also happen to be symbolic of faith, mystical awareness, and spiritual passion—pretty fitting for our favorite wizard)

i didn't dedicate as much time i should've to actually making the violets look like violets instead of some generic flower but again, slow artist under time constraint. i did spend a lot of time with the expressions in this one though! i really wanted to convey a sense of pure joy and love, and i'm very happy with the result in that regard :)

something that i noticed was that it had become a lot easier for me to draw these two by this point. suppose it makes sense considering i'd literally been drawing them nonstop for 2 weeks lmao, but it was still pretty cool to see how quickly i managed to finish a sketch i was happy with, compared to when i was working on the first few days (good lord was it difficult drawing stephen in the first piece, especially at that angle)

anyway, prepare to see more of them in the near future because the brainrot is far from over. if i am this attached to them without having seen the majority of marvel movies featuring them (i'd literally only watched ds1 until yesterday when i watched im1—yes i started shipping them without knowing who tony was, i don't know how either), i think i'd be a puddle by the time i catch up on everything :D

whoo that was a lot—if you've read this far, thank you and have a cookie 🍪

[darsynia]

Trust Fall | Ch7a

ARC reactor image by Eury Escodero

Story Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Tony/OC, 'terrorists made us fall in love;' IM1 timeline. In this chapter, Tony creates the ARC reactor, shows them his schematics, and Emory offers him something heartfelt, despite her situation.

Length: 2,901

I’m shy as hell about saying this but if anyone wants to be tagged or ask me to write something please do! Tags: @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon

Excerpt:

“Stop that,” she says, leaning over and picking up the battery. She uses both hands, not because she has to, but because it’s easier. “You’re planning to defy like 100 terrorists to build this thing to get us out, presumably being the person standing there taking bullets! It’s not selfish to put yourself in harm’s way. You don’t have the practice the rest of us have with self doubt, I’m guessing. You should go to bed instead of indulging in it. It’s possible to overdose, trust me.”

Tony looks at her like she’s spoken some kind of alien language. Emory supposes that she might have, at that.

“You’re the expert, I presume?” he asks, reaching over and sliding two fingers into the space left between her fists on the rope for his battery. She would have sworn he’s conducting the actual charge of the damned thing through his hands by the way their brush against her sizzles.

“Board certified,” Emory says. “I was already pretty good at it before my best friend turned into a diva and started teaching me how to really doubt myself. Her latest master class has been to insult what I look like on the off chance her fame-seeking boyfriend might look at me instead of her.” To her horror, just mentioning this brings up every single awful feeling she’d crammed down and tried to forget in those moments, and Emory can feel her eyes well up with tears. “I never realized how bad it was, at the time. Fuck, what a pep talk.”

Chapter Seven: 115 117 110 108 105 103 104 116

The next night, Stark spends a half hour connecting wires to various outlets and stringing them to the cylinder. It’s hard work, and he’s stripped off the white shirt and only has on an olive-colored t-shirt with a cut-out for his battery apparatus. The more time he spends in the cave, the less he looks like the sleek, suited, snooty Stark and the more like a scruffy laborer. More like a Tony, than a billionaire.

Emory likes it. They’re only able to do sponge baths, really, and the water never gets her hair clean, but his shorter hair fares better. She still remembers running her hands through it when she kissed him back.

She sits and unabashedly watches him set up the power to the thing he’s built. When he’s done, he’s got a dial, and he sits down with the palladium cylinder resting right in front of him. Before he turns it up, Tony looks over at Emory and jerks his head to ask her to come over.

The leap her heart gives is concerning. This dirty, stressed-out version of Tony Stark might loosely be described as ‘hers,’ in the very weakest sense of the term, but if they live through this mess, he’ll be gone forever.

That fact doesn’t stop Emory from standing up and coming over. He smiles at her, and she smiles back, giving in to the way it feels-- like that firm, reassuring squeeze he’d given her hand when they were standing outside surrounded by however many hostile, demanding men she couldn’t even see.

As she stands there waiting for Tony to turn the dial and see whether the thing he’s built works (it will. She has the utmost confidence), Emory realizes that in that memory of him squeezing her hand, she can see him clear as day.

Tony turns the dial slowly, and to her surprise (but not his, she can see), the thing starts to glow a clean white-blue. He’s mouthing numbers, probably a calculation of how long to subject it to the energy source, but Tony’s radiating a calm, assured happiness.

“That doesn’t look like a Jerico missile,” Yinsen observes, leaning over to look closely.

“That’s because it’s a miniaturized ARC reactor. I have a big one of these powering my factory at home,” Tony tells him. His voice is deeper than normal, Emory notices, probably because he’s very pleased. “This should keep the shrapnel out of my heart.”

“But… what could it generate?” the older man asks.

“If my math is right-- and it always is--” Tony says, flicking an insolent gaze over at Emory as if daring her to point out how conceited he sounds. “Three gigajoules per second.”

She has no idea how much that is, but it’s got to be a ridiculous amount for the size of the thing. Emory wonders if she’s just watched him make the kind of scientific breakthrough that could make him a legend, if it weren’t achieved in these circumstances.

“That could power your heart for fifty lifetimes,” Yinsen says, sounding stunned.

“Or something big for fifteen minutes,” Tony says, his smile showing everywhere but his lips.

“That’s what those pages are. The thin ones you’ve been poring over,” she says quietly.

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Come look.” He gets up, careful not to pull on the wires that are still attached to his ARC reactor. He picks up his battery and starts toward the taller table that he’d hidden his plans on.

“Wait a sec,” Emory says.

“Hmm?” Tony says, turning fully toward her.

“What you did is truly amazing,” she tells him. “I can’t give you a Nobel prize or any kind of accolade, but--” She breaks off, walks over and realizes she’ll have to ask his assistance for what she’d like to do, because she flat-out can’t reach. “Lean over?”

Tony gives her a strange look. “Something in my hair?”

“Not exactly.”

He leans over, exactly as she was hoping he would. Her adrenaline is spiking, because the idea she’d had was a lot less intimidating when she’d thought it up than it is now, with Yinsen across the room and Tony completely in the dark about her intentions. With a fortifying deep breath, she comes close and lifts herself up to press an unprompted, un required kiss to his lips.

At most, Tony expects Emory to give him some sort of trinket she’d found in the cave, a kind of joking prize for what he’s been working so hard on. At least, maybe a hug? So when she lifts up and kisses him, he’s unaccountably touched by the gesture. For one of the first times in his life, he doesn’t seek to turn a short kiss into something more, despite wanting to. It is over too quickly for him to do much anyway.

She offers him the tiniest smile and rushes over to where Yinsen is standing, leaving Tony no chance to say anything.

It’s evening, late evening. They’d all gone to bed as if they were going to sleep, then gotten up to power the reactor. That kiss was for the two of them and no one else. It’s yet another generous action by Emory. Tony wonders if he has any right to hope that the kiss is something she wanted instead of something she did just for his benefit. It would certainly ease his conscience, as well as the sense of guilt Yinsen seems to approve of… but it might also be personally gratifying. He wants her to want to kiss him.

Tony scrubs his free hand through his hair and processes what’s just happened for a few seconds longer before he heads for the table the other two are standing in front of.

“You said you’re hoping to power something other than your magnet?” Yinsen asks.

“Yeah. This,” Tony says, handing him the stack of pages. He knows neither Yinsen nor Emory will be able to make much sense of them. When the older man smiles and shakes his head, Tony takes the proffered pages back and lays them down on the table again. “Take a look,” he says, flattening them down so the transparencies work to show the whole suit, layer against layer.

The schematics had made no sense to Emory when she’d seen them in Yinsen’s hand, but once Tony runs his hand against them to show the whole design, it looks amazing.

“I could totally see you wearing that,” she says.

“I have to build it first,” he says, scratching the side of his head. He does seem pleased, though.

“I’ll have to get started on the plans for mine,” Yinsen says pleasantly. “Good work, and goodnight.”

Emory can see Tony let out a rough breath as he watches the interpreter make his way back to his cot. “I bet he’s a ball-buster as a dad,” she says quietly.

“I’m going to get you both out. The arms have flamethrowers, for fuck’s sake.”

She feels a pang of compassion for the frustration in Tony’s voice. “He might be right a lot, but that doesn’t mean all the time. He’s human, just like we are.”

“No, he’s right this time too. We don’t have the caves memorized. One person sneaking up behind us can kill both of you. I’ll come up with something.” He’s leaning over to look at the schematics, and she can see he’s using the critical eye that Yinsen has installed in his brain. The expression on his face is bleak, compared to the pride from earlier. She can’t stand it.

“Stop that,” she says, leaning over and picking up the battery. She uses both hands, not because she has to, but because it’s easier. “You’re planning to defy like 100 terrorists to build this thing to get us out, presumably being the person standing there taking bullets! It’s not selfish to put yourself in harm’s way. You don’t have the practice the rest of us have with self doubt, I’m guessing. You should go to bed instead of indulging in it. It’s possible to overdose, trust me.”

Tony looks at her like she’s spoken some kind of alien language. Emory supposes that she might have, at that.

“You’re the expert, I presume?” he asks, reaching over and sliding two fingers into the space left between her fists on the rope for his battery. She would have sworn he’s conducting the actual charge of the damned thing through his hands by the way their brush against her sizzles.

“Board certified,” Emory says. “I was already pretty good at it before my best friend turned into a diva and started teaching me how to really doubt myself. Her latest master class has been to insult what I look like on the off chance her fame-seeking boyfriend might look at me instead of her.” To her horror, just mentioning this brings up every single awful feeling she’d crammed down and tried to forget in those moments, and Emory can feel her eyes well up with tears. “I never realized how bad it was, at the time. Fuck, what a pep talk.”

She tries to pull her hands off of the battery rope, but Tony captures both of them with the hand between them.

“Whatever she said about you is a lie,” he says firmly.

“You don’t even know what she--”

“I don’t have to know. I know what women like Rory are like. I spent some time with her, remember? Everything is a competition. I’ve heard you sing. I’ve lived with you for two weeks. She pales in comparison.” 

Emory’s breath catches. She suddenly feels completely inadequate to the quite frankly romantic thing he’s just said, even though she’s sure he’d just meant it to be encouraging. His expression is earnest, though, his grown-out hair backlit by the fluorescent light behind him, no hint of amusement or teasing in his eyes. As much as she fights it, his words are having an effect, but not the one he’d intended. Emory struggles to direct them to her brain, rather than her heart, but they’re slipping through, and she kind of wants to let them.

Tony reaches out with his free hand and tucks the wild red hair she’s been using to hide her tears behind her ear. It’s a compassionate, gentle touch, and it ramps up her misery in a really odd way. That gesture is something she desperately wants to keep, and she knows she won’t be able to. If Tony Stark is going to act like that here and only here, she’d rather he didn’t.

Finding him stupidly attractive is one thing, but she doesn’t want to care about him this much. There’s no hope in it. It’s that thought that ramps up her emotions, pushes the tears out of her eyes. How ironic that he’d told her to be selfish, and he’s the one she’s being selfish over? Not that she’d ever tell him.

The silence between them has stretched out far too long.

“Thank you. But she and I are just different people, no value judgment required. And Rory might not have been so awful if I didn’t enable her for so long,” Emory says, yanking her hands free so she can wipe away her tears and scrub her hands dry on her shirt. “So there, there’s your lesson on self-doubt and recrimination. Here’s hoping I save you from spending so long giving someone what you think they want, despite your better judgment!”

She scurries away, a hand over her mouth to stop herself from calling back and apologizing for ruining such a lovely moment. There’s zero chance he saw it the same way she had, and letting him know she did would be embarrassing.

“Emory!” Tony whispers after her, but she climbs into bed and pulls her blanket over her head.

Emory wakes in the morning to the sounds of a welding torch. Tony’s wearing an honest-to-God leather jacket, with safety goggles that make him look like some sort of a steampunk hero. It’s kind of hot, which is ridiculous. She sits up and pulls on her day shirt, and he turns off the torch and leans over to examine what he’s just done. When he straightens back up, she sees something glowing in his chest.

“Oh, Tony, that’s gorgeous,” Emory says as she stands up. She worries for a split second about using his name, but his reaction doesn’t seem annoyed.

He looks over to her and reaches down to pat the reactor in his chest. “You think?” His words aren’t arrogant, as she might have thought, but rather… proud and pleased, even a little questioning.

“Definitely. Kind of hot, too,” she admits, safely across the room.

“Hah,” Tony says, setting down the welding torch and jogging over. “I’m not tethered by that battery anymore. Go on, touch it.” He pulls the unbuttoned part of his white shirt aside, so she can see the ARC reactor in its housing. “A familiar phrase of yours?” Emory teases.

“None of those women would have lasted a day in here,” he says, taking her elbows and backing up into the camera’s line of sight. The fact that she knows that’s why he’s backing up ramps up her awareness of him, because Emory knows what’s coming next, what he clearly wants to do.

“That’s unfair, you know. People can survive all sorts of things,” she says. Inside her head, she’s telling herself to stop looking forward to something that’s just their own version of keeping her alive. It’s not working. Especially not because when Tony stops moving, he looks down at her with anticipation as obvious as what she’s feeling shining in his eyes, and she’s taken aback by it.

Abruptly, she hears the sound of the sliding view window on the door, and Tony’s eyes widen in concern.

With her heart in her throat, nervous as all hell, Emory runs over to the table as if trying to get away from him.

“You come back here,” Tony shouts after her, catching her right where she’d intended, the table where he’d started welding, his plans clearly sitting in plain sight. The terrorists start opening the door, and Tony lifts her up to set her right on top of the pages. The gratitude and respect in his eyes adds kerosene to the flame that’s been building in her heart.

The lead terrorist says something in a pleased voice, and Yinsen sidles over to translate.

“We see with happiness that you have begun to build in earnest. Our gift of the woman has clearly motivated you,” he says in a dull monotone.

“I’m… reinvigorated, thank you,” Tony says, his hand heavy on Emory’s shoulder, the other held high just like hers are.

The terrorist laughs, says something else.

“To reward this, we have ordered some clothes for her. You will like,” Yinsen translates.

“You really shouldn’t have,” Tony says. Emory kicks her foot against his leg, safely out of sight from the three men and their guns.

The expansive, cruel laughter of all of the terrorists after the bearded man’s next words makes Emory’s heart clench in fear. 

“Ah, but you won’t need to take her with you when you return to your company, so we will just resell them! Everybody wins!”

Tony’s hand starts to squeeze the join of her shoulder, but she can’t see his face, so Emory holds still as they watch the men leave, locking the door behind them. As soon as the latches clang, she lets out a sound of pain. 

“Shit,” Tony says, pulling her shirt to the side. “I basically used your shoulder like a stress ball.” It hadn’t been hard enough to bruise, she doesn’t think, but there had been something soothing about his defensive reaction on her behalf, so even if it did, Emory decides the connotations wouldn’t be terrible.

“All things considered, I’m great,” she says quietly.

“There was no nuance to the language that might hint at what kind of clothing. If it is indecent, Emory, I will object under the auspices of religion,” Yinsen assures her.

“Oh God, I hadn’t considered that. I figured it would just be traditional clothing, whatever that is. What if they-- oh, God,” Emory says, picturing the sorts of things they could find online. They’d said they were ordering clothes…

“I’m confident in my ability to fake a fetish for women in oversized men’s clothing, come to that.”

“They may not be for you at all, Stark,” Yinsen said darkly. He nods at the camera.

“Okay, I’m going to go cover myself with a blanket and read that book of yours. Its dystopian, alien-overlord-run world is actually a nice change, right now,” Emory declares. “Help me down?”

“Gladly,” Tony says. He lifts her up with a care she attributes to the precious schematics he’d sat her down on top of. “Rain check?”

She’s so disturbed by the interaction with the terrorists that the words don’t make any sense at first. Then Emory realizes what he has to mean. “Oh! Yes! Of course! I mean, yes. Less with the enthusiasm. Okay, I’m going to--” and with a hand clapped over her mouth, she runs back to her cot.

“That’s a yes, then,” he calls out after her with amusement in his voice. Emory peeks over her book at him a few minutes later to see that he’s returned to welding.

Next chapter, Yinsen tells Emory and Tony about the serum he'd bought from a shady scientist. Now that his family is gone, he offers it to Emory to prompt powers that might help them escape...

[not-close-to-straight]

Reason number 8 on the list of 1000 reasons why I adore Julia @latelierderiot

I once sent her this design (and I use that term very loosely):

And she created THIS from my bullshit:

Drop some love to your favorite fan artist yall, they’re out there doing the Lord’s work.

PS: did you guys know Julia has designed all but one of my bookmarks?? She created custom bookmarks for Pirates Heart, Time Falls Away, No Time Between Us, Time Stands Still, the Broken Wings Verse and this ^^ one that I use in my Tony centric fics!

[kiyaar]

1, 12, 15 for tonynat cnc!

1: Give a 5-word summary of this chapter/fic.

Jesus god, I hate writing summaries. But I'll try. for you. Post CACW, Nat has some Red Room-related trauma shaken loose in the course of fighting Buck. She approaches Tony wondering if BARF can help her because she feels like a liability in the field and sideways from herself. This turns into asking Tony for the very intimate and specific favor of standing in and doing some hardcore rape roleplay via BARF to work out her very real past traumas because Tony is one of the only people I think she would trust to a.) handle it with the competency required, b.) play the role believably and c.) not judge her for her traumarama. Obviously this evolves into codependency, increasingly risky scening and boundary erosion. And like. A lot of porn. 12: What emotions do you expect your readers to feel? This is hard for me to answer - I don't write thinking "I want to elicit x specific response with this," or prescribe a feeling, I more. Feel the feelings I have and intend to impart some of that on the page. I like it when people tell me what they feel about my stuff after the fact. Maybe I want people to feel claustrophobic about this. Definitely I want them to feel horny. And I want readers to have the thought that. this is incredibly fucked up and click next chapter anyway. 15: In as vague of terms as possible (to avoid spoiling), how do you anticipate this chapter/fic to end? I don't know. I only have the beginning and the middle of this one. It's a love story! It's a fucked up love story. One of them has to go back to Avenging or decide that maybe Avenging is bad for them. One of them ghosts, maybe, after all of this Heavy Heavy Shit and I leave it open-ended for a part 2. I promise no children, engagements, or happily ever afters.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Tom Skinner Interview: Vessels for Music to Be Heard

Photo by Alex Kurunis

BY JORDAN MAINZER

From the now-defunct jazz greats Sons of Kemet to best-ever Radiohead-adjacent project The Smile, Tom Skinner has not-so-quietly been one of the most versatile drummers of the past half-decade. Though he previously released his own music under the moniker Hello Skinny, earlier this month, Skinner shared his first album under his own name, Voices of Bishara (Brownswood/International Anthem/Nonesuch). The record doesn’t just exemplify Skinner as a player, but encapsulates his imaginative spirit as a listener and reinventor.

Throughout the COVID-19 lockdowns, Skinner listened repeatedly to Abdul Wadud’s 1978 solo album By Myself, privately pressed on Wadud’s label, Bishara. The Arabic name loosely translates to “the bringer of good news;” as lockdowns were lifted, vaccines administered, and live shows returned, it felt an appropriate word to reflect the genesis of what would become Voices of Bishara. A few years back, Skinner was invited to do a Played Twice session at London’s Brilliant Corners, wherein artists improvised in response to a classic album played through the venue’s audiophile system. That night, the album was Tony Williams’ Life Time; Skinner chose cellist Kareem Dayes, tenor saxophonists Nubya Garcia and Shabaka Hutchings, and bassist Tom Herbert. They had such natural chemistry that Skinner was inspired to write an album’s worth of new music, which he and the other four recorded live. 

Voices of Bishara is far from a traditional jazz album, though, as Skinner returned to the recordings and edited between the instruments like his favorite disco and house producers would do. The result is an album with a tremendous sense of clearance, contrast, and opportunity for the individual players to shine. The muted, melancholy “Bishara” starts with just cello and bass before saxophone and rolling drums enter. “Red 2″, a response to Williams’ “Two Pieces Of One: Red” from Life Time, is shadowy, though Garcia’s flute shines through. Cello and chirping saxophone converse on “The Day After Tomorrow”, with Skinner’s drum rolls underneath the sighs of the woodwinds. “The Journey” and “Voices (Of The Past)” have a bit more of a groove and sway to them, Skinner’s drumming limber and snapping like a more traditional jazz or even boom bap beat. Voices of Bishara is more a retrospective of Skinner’s artistry and curatorial voice than a debut, let alone an assured mid-career album.

I emailed Skinner some questions about Voices of Bishara last month, touching on the album(s) that inspired it, responding to existing music, and composition. Read his responses below, edited for clarity.

Photo by André Baumecker

Since I Left You: Why do you think you found yourself listening to Abdul Wadud's By Myself during COVID so much? What about it resonates with you?

Tom Skinner: There’s a purity to the record. It’s a very direct and deeply personal piece of work. When you’re listening to it, it’s just you and him, no overdubs or studio trickery beyond the odd edit here and there. He’s talking directly to you, and I found that very refreshing and inspiring. In terms of the pandemic, looking back on it, I think maybe I took some solace in that level of intimacy at a time when we weren’t able to interact with other people as much as we were accustomed to. It’s also just a fucking cool record, and his playing on it is absolutely incredible. It’s loose and free with some pretty far-out improv on there but also incredibly melodic and rhythmically very interesting and groovy, too. Somehow, he manages to encompass all of my favorite things about music in one clear and concise statement.

SILY: What was your first experience or relationship with Tony Williams' Life Time?

TS: I’ve been a fan of Tony’s playing from the first time I heard him on the classic Miles Davis quintet records of the 1960’s. His own records from that time, though, always seemed a little more challenging and experimental. I first heard Spring (his second for Blue Note), and it definitely took me a while to appreciate what was going on, but as an aspiring young jazz musician, it was inspiring to hear how he was pushing himself and the music into new directions on those recordings. The thing I love about Life Time in particular is the unusual instrumentation and the fact that each track features a different combination of players. Tony doesn’t even play on the final tune. Even by today’s standards, that feels ahead of its time.

SILY: When playing for the Played Twice session and this album, why did you specifically choose Kareem, Nubya, Tom Herbert, and Shabaka?

TS: The personal connections and friendships between myself and the people I work with are at the heart of all my projects and collaborations, and this record is no exception. I have known everybody on the record for a long time, and we have a deep and rich history of performing together in different contexts. Getting this specific group together came at a time when we were all playing regularly at Brilliant Corners in various combinations, often for the Played Twice sessions. What attracted me to this particular combination of personalities and players was the scope for orchestration that it presented: Kareem’s cello and Tom’s double bass is a small string section, and Shabaka and Nubya’s tenor saxophones are the wind section, with the added possibility of them doubling on either clarinets or flutes, respectively, and then me on percussion. I also wanted to allow the musicians as much space and freedom as possible within the framework of the songs and, although there are “featured” players on certain tracks, the music was written with a collective and egalitarian approach to improvisation in mind.

SILY: "Red 2" is about a quarter of the length of "Two Pieces of One: Red" and a bit more shadowy in spirit. How did you go about coming up with your version of it, and how did you approach the differences with the original?

TS: I wasn’t approaching it with the original piece in mind at all, and I definitely didn’t want to recreate what had already been done. I wouldn’t really call it a cover, either. With our "version" of “Two Pieces of One: Red”, I wanted to try to break it down to its base elements and focus on only a very small section of the original piece, almost like a sample or a loop that you might find on a hip-hop record. In that sense, the repetition of it becomes a compositional device, too. We then used this as a jumping off point for improvisation. In addition to this idea, I wanted to play around with the sound of the recording, using hard edits between the different instruments and microphones to accentuate an almost jarring sense of space and perspective in the music.

SILY: "Voices (Of The Past)" certainly has a more retro jazz feel to it, and the drums could almost be a part of a boom bap 90's hip hop song. What voices of the past were you referencing on this track?

TS: That’s a very good question and, if I’m honest, I’m not sure I really know. Perhaps I was referencing the music I grew up listening to? Specifically a steady diet of early 90’s hip hop during my teen-age years. That’s when I got heavily into jazz, too: Miles, Coltrane, Ornette, Monk, all the classics. When you’re young, you learn very quickly and soak up so much information. All that music is digested and becomes part of your DNA. So, in a way, I feel that, subconsciously, all those things are probably filtering through. 

On a deeper level, though, as musicians, when we play, we are channeling the spirits of our ancestors and forefathers. The music exists all around us, and we are vessels for it to be heard.

SILY: "Quiet As It's Kept" is the most stark track on here, comparatively speaking. How important is it for you to use empty space in your compositions?

TS: Extremely important. Silence, a rest, or a pause are as important, if not more important, than any note that’s written or played. I’m trying to tap into that more and more with my approach to playing the drums and compositionally, too. Space is the place.

SILY: Why did you decide to release this album under your name as opposed to Hello Skinny?

TS: Initially it wasn’t the plan to release it under my own name. I was just going to call it Voices of Bishara. But, for various reasons, it made more sense to release it as Tom Skinner. At first, I wasn’t keen on the idea. I’m used to hiding behind another name--like Hello Skinny or whatever--and stepping out like that felt a bit daunting. But gradually, I came around to the idea and soon came to realize that releasing music under my own name actually gives me a lot more artistic freedom. This way, I’m not tied to any particular sound, style, or group. From one release to the next, I can essentially do what I want. That feels very liberating for me going forward.

SILY: What's the story behind the album art?

TS: The album artwork and design are by the supremely talented Paul Camo. We’ve known each other for many years but only started working on projects together quite recently. This is the second sleeve he’s designed for one of my projects, the first being the Okumu, Herbert, Skinner Trio album Undone: Live at The Crypt released via Vinyl Factory in 2019. 

I didn’t give Paul any specific direction; rather, I was more interested in him having complete freedom, to see how he reacted to the music creatively and allowing that to dictate the direction we took. Talking regularly with him and throwing ideas around was a very important part of the process as a whole in creating this record, and I feel like the artwork informs the music as much as vice versa, to the point where he’s now become a part of the group! Paul is a fantastic DJ and selector with a vast knowledge of all music but with a keen ear for deep jazz and improvised music. He performed with us on CDJs and samples at Church of Sound back in September. He has a regular show on NTS called We Are… which is well worth checking out. In addition to that, he runs Margate Radio (Margate is a town on the Kent coast where he is based) and is very active in the local music and art scene there.  

SILY: Are you playing these songs live?

TS: We played one show in London at Church of Sound in September, and hopefully, we’ll get a chance to play some more shows next year. There are some potential opportunities on the horizon.

SILY: What's next for you?

TS: A tour across the US with The Smile that will take us right up to Christmas. I’ve started writing material for a second Bishara record. Plus, there are a few other album projects and collaborations in the works.

SILY: What have you been listening to, reading, and watching lately?

TS: Music (in no particular order): Sam Gendel, Armand Hammer, billy woods, Elucid, Low, Ingram Marshall, Robert Stillman, Loraine James, Joe Lovano’s Trio Tapestry, Julius Hemphill, Earl Sweatshirt, Coby Sey, Mica Levi, Moin, Aaron Dilloway, Lucrecia Dalt, Ohbliv, Jaimie Branch, keiyaA, Henry Threadgill, Tara Clerkin Trio, Charles Stepney, Rotary Connection, Jeanne Lee, The Beatles, Broadcast… I could go on, but we’d be here all day. 

Books: The History of Bones by John Lurie and The Passengers by Will Ashon.

Film: The Hand of God by Paolo Sorrentino.

[caffeineivore]

The warehouse looks much like any of the others in the shipping district downtown, and J swipes his key-card to access the freight elevator taking him to the ground floor. Ruth changes the passcode to access the main doors every twenty-four hours, but she’s good about sending it out in a timely manner. Then again, she’s practically a legacy Barkeep, the third generation to keep The Distillery in business. Organization and efficiency were her strong suits, even if smiling and friendly chitchat were not. 

“Well good afternoon, handsome. The Gang’s all here, as they say. What’s your pleasure today, sugar?” 

The voice who greets J is feminine and mellifluous, though the southern drawl is an affect, likely carried over from the last shipment down in Atlanta. Marianne Ainsworth, code-named Gin, is as dazzling as she’s deadly, a golden-haired goddess honing a wicked-looking blade the length of J’s forearm. Gin hails from London, where her very posh and proper family thankfully has no idea of the details of her daily life during her “studies abroad”. 

“The occasion calls for Whiskey,” J says with a trace of apology, watching Gin’s lovely face twist into a bit of a sneer. “I’m sorry. I know you two don’t always mix well together.”

“We pulled off the Boston order quite expediently, but of course, he decided to act like a right pillock immediately after the delivery.” Gin’s tony accent only peeps through when she’s annoyed, and nothing annoys her quite so much as Whiskey. “I’m sure he will be out in a moment, just finishing up inventory from the last shipment.”

Almost on cue, a tall man with a sheaf of white-blond hair and a face so stoic it could have been carved from granite comes down the corridor. “I was merely double-checking the notes on your tab, Marianne. No need to get your panties in a bunch.”

“Don’t flatter yourself that you have any effect whatsoever on my knickers, Cal.” Gin bares her teeth, then sheaths her knife and backs away. “I’ll let you lads talk shop. Perhaps Tequila will be up for a jog. I could do with a workout partner.” She sashays off down one of the multitude of fluorescent-lit corridors, and J raises an eyebrow. 

“A jog? With TEQUILA?”

“Well. We’d be utilizing the term ‘jog’ very loosely. It might involve lock-picks, fire escapes, rooftops and perhaps a bank vault. Tequila just came back into town from Los Angeles around three in the morning and he’s undoubtedly very jet-lagged, so in the very least they will limit their scope to a ten-mile radius and bring no more than two weapons a-piece.” Whiskey raises storm-grey eyes to J’s face. “But, what’s the order this time?”

“Top shelf, single malt, neat.” J takes the guest check slip with Whiskey’s order scrawled across the front out of his pocket, and turns the sheet over to reveal a newly stamped QR code on the blank back-side. Whiskey unlocks his phone and scans it, then reads through the file in silence, without a single flicker of reaction aside from a brief quirk of one eyebrow. 

“I see. I’ll need transport, identification and cash. Whose tab?”

“In-house counsel of Serenitas Industries. A real prim and proper lady, soft-spoken and elegant as a maiden aunt, but I doubt that she’s made it as far as she did in the ranks by networking and looking pretty. The customer just got himself engaged to the CEO’s daughter and heir, and that’s just bad business all around. They don’t want anything flashy, though, you understand. Very wealthy, old money, powerful people.”

“And Damien Cabot just had to stick his nose in the worst possible place.” Whiskey exhales slowly. His reaction is almost non-existent, but something about it troubles J, though he can’t put his finger on it. Whiskey, however, offers no explanation or insight, and turns away before J can ask any questions. “I’ll give Ruth a call when I’ve made some progress. Drive safe.”

Summarily dismissed, J drops the guest check slip into the paper shredder by the main door, and leaves out the same route that he came. 

[imbecamiel]

New Tag Game: Rec Your Own Fics

I was tagged by @chimaerakitten for this one - thanks! :D

Rules: If you’re tagged, make a rec list of your own fics that you’re most proud of. The ones you personally want people to read because you know they’re good. The ones you get extra excited when you get comments on them because people are responding to what you know is your best work. As part of the list, say why you’re proud of them! Participant’s choice on how many that is and where you draw the line on pride, but the more the better. Bonus points for fics that you like to reread yourself or fics that have low engagement because they’re in a small fandom or an unpopular ship/trope. Then tag however many people you feel like to continue the game. (If you want a guide number, try for seven or however many fics you listed)

Secondary rule: If you get tagged and you’re not a fic writer, consider doing the same for art you’ve done or meta you’ve written that you’re proud of.

Tertiary rule: This is the time to be the opposite of humble! Hype your own stuff! Share why you’re proud of something. Do some self love! And please give the game a chance even if you haven’t written much or are just starting out etc etc.

Down for the Count (DC, Batfam)

This one was inspired by some great fanart by @terracyte

I've loved Batfam for quite a while now, and I am absolutely delighted this was enough to break my writing brain loose from the stranglehold Life Stuff has had on it the last few years. I can still write! \o/

The Joke (Marvel, MCU)

I.e. "What if Steve Rogers, one, could wield Mjolnir from the start, and two, was under the mistaken impression that everyone else's talk about Thor being the only one capable of that was some kind of running joke."

By far the most popular thing I've ever written, a fic I still get kudos on very regularly 10 years later, and it's incredibly satisfying to see a fic I'm extremely fond of myself enjoyed by others so much.

Birthday (Marvel, MCU)

Tony's just created JARVIS and feels the need to tell Rhodey about it immediately.

This one's basically the polar opposite of "The Joke" in terms of popularity. It's never gotten much attention, but it's funny and I think it's well executed and I like it.

Strike (Marvel, MCU)

Like "The Joke" this kind of hits the sweet spot of one of my favorite things to write - things that could easily be cracky, but are written with a lighthearted but genuine tone. In this case, in the immediate wake of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, when everyone was delving into all the angst potential, my brain went "yeah, but... what if they also went bowling?"

Out Of The Cold (Lord of the Rings)

Pre-series sickfic/hypothermia fic where Aragorn falls into a frozen lake rescuing a child.

Much of my LOTR writing happened in the verrrrrrry earliest days of my discovery of fandom as a teenager. So many good memories. This one's not recent-recent, but much more representative of my current writing abilities and it still makes me very happy when I go back to reread it.

Tagging: @cairistiona7 @hollyhock13 - and anyone else who sees this and feels like participating, please do consider yourself tagged!

[anxiouskilljoy]

Plans.....

plans. literally just VAGUE - very VAGUE - plans for what I hope to write about in the future. future is a loose term.

marvel cinematic universe reader insert: "WILD"

my aim is to have a chronology of events, but each piece/fic/chapter/part could technically be read as a standalone

therefore this universe will technically be infinite

canon-compliant FOR THE MOST part - but major divergence + tweaks to accommodate the readers character

majorly self-indulgent LOL

snippets of other fandoms (dont worry mcu is still central - you can pick and choose what you want to read)

okay ill jot down some pretty integral aspects if you really want to know, but I highly rec avoiding spoilers.

PLS STILL LOOK AT TW THOUGH

***FIC SPOILERS AHEAD***

TW - angst, sibling separation, death, murder, mental/physical illness, pain, trauma, violence, near-death experiences, on the run from the law, toxic relationships, torture, heartbreak, alcohol, drugs, manipulation, illegal activities, catastrophes, sex, end of the world scenarios, marriage, if its in the mcu - it will be here.

key aspects -shieldagent!reader -avenger!reader -famous!reader -y/n has animal abilities/powers that basically mean they can communicate with animals, use animal abilities (e.g. flight, heightened senses etc) and shapeshift into animals -this can be "switched on and off" at will but y/n tends to have it "off" by default -y/n revealed to be long lost sibling of Tony Stark - BUT no one has ANY idea about this, not even y/n or tony until it is discovered -long story short y/n was separated at birth. and some science. it will make sense. i promise. it explains everything - even why you dont look/behave like you are a stark. just trust me. it will make sense. -stark!reader -classic avengerfic staples like: communal living, found family, missions, fame, illegal activities, near-death experiences, trauma, backstories, like i said, if its in the mcu - it will be here -multiple romantic/sexual relationships for reader -multiple names/aliases -other fandoms WILL be integrated - however they are just additions -i think thats all i shall reveal 4 now...i'll get more specific along the way...

***FIC SPOILERS OVER***

N E wayz. its gonna be a big project. i hope u stick with me.

ANY tips, advice, expertise, encouragement, know-how, guidance, etc, would be greatly appreciated!!

-killjoy ;)

[kits-shrine]

“Sorry for worrying you, Sei,” her voice was thick and muffled, “everything just sort of hit me all at once, and my everything said nope, so here I am.”

~~~

“Very interesting. Luck is a very loose term around here. It depends on who you're dealing with cause what’s lucky to you might not be to me, and as for wishes. Well, it’s not the wishing itself that’s dangerous; it’s who grants it and what you own them afterwards. Nothing’s free after all, just like your amulets, the cost of those are Ziz’s friendship, and trust break those and we have a big problem.”

His tone wasn’t threatening, but it held an unspoken promise. Tony may act the part of a playboy, but for the two women in his life he held dear, well, give them his dying breath. It ate at him every day that he couldn’t take away the pains their pasts carried, but he’d do everything in his power to keep them safe now. And much to his shame, that hadn’t gone well with Ziz recently.

“Anyhow, we need a few things from the farmer's market for dinner. Do you two want to go with me?”

"s'ok." Seishin quietly assured her. "ya had a really rough couple days at least. it's alright to fall apart a little. i gotcha." he squeezed her hand again comfortingly.

````

Tamashii nodded in understanding while Yurei perked up happily "Would You Like Some Yakisoba?"

[gatorbites-imagines]

hi! i dunno if your requests are still open but if they are i was wondering if you could write headcanons for dr strange and/or tony with a male so whos sorta like a eldritch god/horror? if not i understand but thanks anyways(:

Marvel x eldritch horror male reader

  How did you know non-human reader fics were one of my favorites?

I sprinkled in some Steven Grant cuz I am obsessed with him, even though I haven’t watched the show yet, hope that’s okay lmao. I don’t know much about DID so I tried not to mention it much, and used what I know, so hopefully its alright.

I loosely based the readers main appearance of an oc of mine who is something like an eldritch horror themselves ^^

 I may have gotten carried away, but enjoy anyways.

Tony Stark

-          You meet when Tony is trapped in space with Nebula. You were just floating through space like always, taking in the sights and whatnot when you saw the ship and felt living organisms inside. One of them feels near death though, so you worry.

-          You haven’t interacted with many humans in your eternal life, so you panic and slither your everchanging form into the ship towards the dying being. Feeling around you with your smoke like mass, and using your abilities you can tell he is dying from lack of oxygen, so you make some.

-          He’s still falling unconscious, but not dying this time. So, you grace his mind just enough to get an impression, and take the form he would find most pleasing to look at. You end up taking him into your now only two arms, and holding him as he rests.

-          Things pass like in the movie, except you easily reverse what Thanos did and take the stones away from the ugly grape and fling him into the void.

-          Now that the threat is gone you grow close to Tony, and take great interest in human culture. You could learn it all immediately if you pleased, but having Tony show you and explain it made what would be your heart warm up.

-          In the beginning Tony, and all his companions, thought you were some type of alien that took human form, like the Skrull. So, it was kinda awkward to explain that you weren’t just that, you were what they called an eldritch horror.

-          Tony needed some time to come to terms with it, especially the fact that you were far beyond science. But after a while he seemed to just accept it, giving up that he couldn’t ever figure you out. Though he does try to at times still.

-          The two of you start dating, and it takes some time to get used too, mainly for Tony. You grow more comfortable letting your human go and just being more yourself. Though you keep your form mainly human.

-          You help out the Avengers at times, but mainly leave it to the heroes to go save the world. Though you will swoop in if they’re in life threatening danger.

-          You pick up cooking, though it isn’t very successful in the beginning, but tony seems to be very supportive, though he isn’t that happiest to be the taste tester as some of the dishes he swears are cursed.

-          You get better over time though.

-          The relationship is announced to the public, and you have to keep your human form when out and about for obvious reasons. The world is led to believe you have shadow based powers and have lived alone for most of your life, which makes up for you not understanding many parts of society just yet.

Stephen Strange

-          You meet when Stephen is doing magic work, maybe he has to cross over to the shadow between realities or universes to collect something or fight someone. He catches your attention by entering your domain, which normally no one can enter.

-          You keep your attention of the cloaked man, as he moves through your darkness with ease that surprises even you. His cloak flinches back when you reach a shadow up to pull on it, which confirms that it is alive.

-          The magic-user walks around your domain for a long time looking for what he’s after, but can’t seem to find head nor tail in the eternal darkness. You feel what’s almost akin to pity, like what you feel when you see a kitten stumble and fall. So, collecting a tiny part of your mass, you take a human-like shape.

-          The shape is like if you took shadows and dark mass and shoved it into a human shaped mold. You hadn’t really met humans before and you didn’t want to dig through his mind, so you took the next best option.

-          Stephen gets ready to fight when you appear, but when it becomes obvious, you’re friendly he tells you why he’s there and what he’s after. You offer to help him which he hesitates with at first, but ends up accepting. With little work of your powers, you’ve moved the two of you to what he needed

-          The two of you fall into talks, you mainly asking questions which he only seems to answer out of politeness as this is your realm, but as time passes, he becomes more friendly. He’s on edge around you in the beginning, but it lessens up.

-          When he leaves you vow to visit him regularly, which you then do. You pull apart the curtains of reality and step into whatever room he’s in, and as time passes you start to take a more human form as you learn about them. Though you keep certain features about yourself, like having more than two arms and smoke-like clouds rising from you at times, though Stephen doesn’t seem to mind at all.

-          The sorcerer grows to really apricate your company, and he treats you much warmer as time passes.

-          You dating is never really said in words, at some point you just start staying with him for longer, you start holding each other and kissing. Its only when Wong tells you to take your sucking faces somewhere else it clicks for the both of you.

-          Your relationship continues as normal, doing sorcery things, reading books, traveling places. Though now there’s more physical affection.

-          Stephen is very interested in the special brand of magic you use, though you explain it isn’t magic and just more you are bending reality to your will. He’s still very interested though.

-          He takes time off from being sorcerer supreme to spend time together, the two of you especially like traveling to other planets or alike to explore or go on holiday.

Steven Grant (Marc and Jake too i guess)

-          Unsurprisingly you meet Steven because of moon knight business. You first spotted him when he entered the afterlight as it is partly your domain, but before you could interact with him, he left again. You’re intrigued by the man, so you keep one of your many million eyes on him.

-          You let small parts of yourself start to slither into the human realm by poking holes in the fabric that is reality. Normally you would just have shoved a chunk of yourself out there, but the god that follows Steven around would notice immediately. Not that you couldn’t win with ease if the god wanted to fight, but you didn’t feel like it.

-          You had planned to grace over his mind for a shape when he slept, but he so rarely did. It made the small part of yourself you had put under his bed jolt as he got right back up, after he had gone to sleep. Flexing your abilities, you figured out there were not one, not two, but three people in the body, one of them being Steven.

-          Now you have always been an eternal everchanging being, so it didn’t weird you out or anything, you simply noted down for later to pay attention to who was fronting and that was it.

-          Weeks pass like this, and you’re comfortable just watching and observing. That is until Steven apparently gains control of the body in the middle of a battle. He’s lost and doesn’t even realize he’s in a fight until he almost gets punched.

-          Steven appears not to be much of a fighter, but you stay still until one of the people he was fighting pulls out a gun, which you now know is a weapon. You collect all the small shadows you’ve had cross over and mash them together to take form. You take a human form, the only thing showing you’re less than human nature are your eyes, which turn pitch black.

-          You make quick work of the goons, going as far as to crush the gun in your hand and flinging the people across the street and into a dumpster.

-          The god that follows Steven around immediately gets confrontational and curses at you and wants you gone, but you ignore him to crouch down to Steven and ask if he’s alright, lifting a smoke covered hand, where the smoke slithers around and seems to heal whatever bruises and cuts he has.

-          It takes some explaining and calming Steven down to explain who and what you are, and why you are there. He blushes when you explain how you found him so interesting and sweet you couldn’t help but want to stick around.

-          Khonsu seems to stop his cursing and threats when he figures out you are far beyond even his level of power, though the two of you don’t seem to realize. You don’t even notice when he seems to leave, giving you major side-eye.

-          One thing leads to the next and you’re spending a lot of time together, though its just you and Steven since you leave when you notice the other two fronting. You don’t want to make them uncomfortable or anything, and you and Steven thought that since Marc and Jake kept a lot of secrets in the past from him, its okay until you two know each other more.

-          When you start officially dating you end up introducing yourself to Marc and Jake, who both seem quite uneasy with you, but when they hear how you and Steven talk about each other they begrudgingly agree.

-          They won’t admit it, but they start to like you too, and get red in the face when you compliment them or hug them.

-          You and Steven talk about his interests for hours, and you can tell him many things that Khonsu doesn’t know or hasn’t told him, you even go as far as to tell him about how you have your own realm and alike. You visit it at some point, though there isn’t much to see as its just darkness and void.

-          Steven helps you learn the ways of the human world, though he struggles with it himself too, so you lean on each other for support. Though most days it can become quite a lot and you’ll just go home and cuddle in bed until Steven falls asleep and either Marc or Jake takes over, the man blushing when they realize they’re in your arms.

[paragonrobits]

Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes is in a very interesting spot in terms of its relation to both the comics and the MCU because it takes a fair amount of cues from the innovations of the MCU’s earliest movies (which were made around the time that this show was) without using the MCU as a strict model, and one thing I realized that what EMH does in particular is take the characterization and elements of the earliest comics and reinventing them.

For example, in terms of MCU stuff, it takes a lot of cues from there: Nick Fury is black, Black Widow and Hawkeye are explicitly agents of SHIELD, Iron Man takes on a leadership position... but a lot of the quirks of later elements are not present here. Instead, the show primarily focuses on much older elements from the comics, dating to at least the Silver Age but primarily using the earlier takes on the characters.

This in general gives us some pretty unconventional vibes since most of the characters evolved away from those attributes; this is scraping off all that in favor of using the earliest bits as a model. But it uses later elements all the same, reinventing these original approaches to the characters.

So while Nick Fury does have that ‘very obviously modeled after a young Samuel L Jackson’ look, his personality is in line with his earlier Marvel characterization. He’s a somewhat authoritarian hothead whose default volume level is a few notches shy of 11, very aggressive, and has very little patience for people not instantly obeying him. In contrast, the MCU Fury is much more of a diplomat.

Again, Iron Man. He’s much more of a leader here, taking the lead in a lot of ways that would be familiar to veterens of the MCU. The thing is, in the comics, Tony didn’t often have that. he was a supporting leader; he rarely took charge of a team, supporting other characters who took the role more eagerly. Given how often he went off on his own, it made him a weird example of a loose cannon that is ALSO a team player. He’s prone to jokes but he’s not as reflexively snarky as MCU Tony, and he’s genuinely quite cheerful and tries to get everyone to stay on each other’s good side.

Thor is... more or less comics Thor. There’s very little influence of the more comedic, jovial and easy going guy he would become in the MCU, and I would actually say that this weakens his character a bit, since I’m honestly not much of a fan of this particular take on him.

Wasp and Hulk have probably some of the most interesting elements here. For Wasp, this show implies that she’s actually a mutant and the source or inspiration of the Pym Particle research, but she keeps quiet about it because this show is implicitly in the neighborhood of Wolverine And The X-Men and there’s death squads hunting down mutants all over the place. Early Wasp is... painful to read, let’s be honest. This show reinvents her to possibly be one of the BEST depictions of the character, as a fun-loving adventurer that just REALLY loves beating up supervillains, whose sort of a heart of the team that everyone likes and keeps them together. Let’s be honest; the reason they didn’t let her go giant outside of one climatic scene is probably because if she could do that freely, she’d just be smashing and hollering and having the absolute time of her life. (No wonder she and Hulk get along so well.)

Hulk himself is a very interesting case, because the particulars of his characterization make him a mix of his very original characterization and some more recent takes on his character, and those not familiar with his history are likely to be startled. Because this isn’t a simply-spoken, childish and panicky Hulk lashing out at the world. In the first few minutes of him officially appearing in the show, he’s talking in fully functional, terse and threatening lines, all the while a supervillain taunts him on trying to be a hero when the humans will always fear and hate him more than any supervillain.

This is a smart Hulk; not like the Professor Hulk of the MCU, but a vicious, brooding and extremely unpredictable monster that still wants to be a hero. He’s temperamental, hotheaded and rough; he snarls at people when he’s fed of up of boring small talk, he growls at people to scare them, and grins happily when they stand up to him. Weird if you’re used to the bellicose brute from the movies?

Yeah. But if you know his history, you know this is VERY similar to his original characterization.

When the Hulk first premiered, he was a very different character. He always transformed when the sun went down. He was smart, calculating, and again, vicious. He was, in fact, more of a potential menace than his enemies, openly plotting to kill all humanity, held in check only by Rick Jones’ pleading (and even that had its limits) and Bruce’s schemes to counter him. All of this, in EMH, is combined with later characterizations that gave Hulk more compassion, more of a heroic inclination, but tended to emerge with later Hulk alters. So we get a Hulk that is eerily similar to both the Green Scar of Planet Hulk and the Devil Hulk of Al Ewing’s run.

(This last bit probably isn’t a surprise; the Devil Hulk of that run was explicitly an examination and exploration of the early Hulk, and giving that early Hulk more character, heroic qualities and landing a bit more firmly on the positive side of the ‘is he a monster or hero’ side of the big question around him, is probably going to get you a very similar character regardless of whether or not you’re actively trying to imitate the Devil Hulk or not.)

[lemonpeter]

🧡Day 1: Inc*st🧡

Really starting off strong huh lol anyway, this is very background heavy (I don’t know what happened but now I’m obsessed) and I hope y’all enjoy 🧡

Warnings: inc*st, nff, father/son (but they don’t know), Peter is 18 and an intern at SI, brief substance ab*se mention (and impaired s*x, not between starker)

***

Tony never wanted kids. The thought of someone depending on him in such a way made him feel sick. So he always did all that he could to ensure nothing would happen.

There was always room for accident, though.

***

Tony never wanted kids. The thought of someone depending on him in such a way made him feel sick. So he always did all that he could to ensure nothing would happen.

He never had sex without multiple levels of protection. And he was famous enough that people rarely tried to argue against it. Sleeping with him at all fulfilled what they wanted.

So things were perfectly fine. He never had an issue, he was always completely safe with his partners.

Except for this one night.

He was in a self-destructive episode, in the downward spiral before he hit rock bottom. Mixed every possible substance that shouldn’t have been mixed, impairing him until he wasn’t sure which way was up.

And he had a woman spiraling right along with him.

Her name was…Mary. Mary something. She was a scientist in some field, but he didn’t catch anything else. Or he just didn’t remember it. It didn’t matter anyways, they were both just wanting to ignore what was around them. What their lives had served them.

And maybe he forgot to ask if she was on birth control when he sloppily kissed over her neck.

Maybe he fumbled with the condom to the point where she whispered, “We’ll be fine,” and he believed her.

How it happened didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it did.

Tony didn’t even know.

He didn’t ask for her number the next morning, he just hid out in the bathroom, emptying his stomach of its entire contents while he waited for her to leave.

She was gone by the time he could see straight.

Thank god.

He never heard from her again.

Mary Parker and her husband died six years later and he never knew.

He didn’t know that they had a son. Or she did, at least. There was no way for him to know that the son had been passed along to his aunt and uncle when no other relative was found.

He never knew that Mary Parker had a son. And that her husband wasn’t the one who got her pregnant.

She never crossed his mind again after she left him.

***

Enter Peter.

Tony had new interns come in every year, typically college students that needed the credits, but sometimes someone special would come along.

Peter was a high school senior, but he was one of the smartest people that Tony had ever come across.

Tony had a job lined up for him as soon as he graduated if he wanted it. Not that he’d told him that yet.

He swore that he wasn’t a stalker. He had to prove to Pepper that he wasn’t giving too much attention to one intern over another, and for him that meant that he needed to stay away from Peter personally.

No matter how tempting it was. There had to be a family history of such genius, right? That kind of brains didn’t just occur at random.

But he didn’t look into him at all. He wouldn’t even let himself google search his name.

Oh, but he wanted to. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Peter Parker.

Although maybe he could just do it the old fashioned way. Minimal favoritism involved.

He spent months working with Peter. They became friends. Close friends.

It got to the point where Tony couldn’t help the smile he had when he looked into those warm brown eyes.

He felt it happen, it was official. Peter Parker had his heart.

It didn’t matter how wrong it was, he couldn’t help it. The young man had completely gotten hold of him.

And he hoped that it was mutual.

***

“Peter, can you stay back for a second?” Tony was still standing at the lab table, eyes scanning over the coding that they’d put in place during the session.

Like that was actually what was on his mind.

The young man looked up with wide eyes. Very deer-in-headlights. But it was so cute on him.

“Y-yeah! I actually needed to tell you something, so yes, I can definitely do that.”

Peter sounded a bit nervous which made Tony pause. Maybe his confession could wait a while. Maybe forever. Whatever was on Peter’s mind was infinitely more important to him.

“Okay, you first. I can follow up.” Tony tucked his hands into his pockets, leaning back against the table.

His cheeks burned. “No- no, you can go first. Don’t worry.”

The older man let out a breath. “Peter, you say what you need to. I can wait.”

Peter looked at him, face flushed. He hadn’t really meant to blurt out that he had something to say. He’d thought about it, sure. But he didn’t know-

His brain couldn’t keep up with his body and suddenly he was leaning up, pressing his lips to Tony’s.

The older man froze. It wasn’t what he’d expected at all. But then he relaxed into it, kissing back.

Who knew that they both had the same confession?

But it wasn’t supposed to be happening.

Tony pulled away once he finally got control of his senses again, raking a hand through his hair. “Pete, I’m supposed to be the adult here. I can’t be a good role model if I’m….”

When was he ever a good role model?

“Let me start again. I’m an adult. Kid, I’m old. Old enough to be your dad. And you’re…how old?”

“I turned eighteen in august,” he supplied helpfully.

At least it was legal.

“Eighteen. That’s a thirty year age difference.” Jesus, he was creepy. Falling for an eighteen year old. He couldn’t even buy alcohol for himself.

Peter blinked up at him. “So? I like you, Mr. Stark. I don’t care how old you are.”

Tony sighed softly. “You’re gonna be the death of me. And it’s Tony. If this is what’s happening, call me Tony.”

Even though it had been his plan to confess his feelings anyway, the guilt was still eating at him. He had fallen for a teenager who was just barely legal.

“What is happening, Mr.- Tony?”

Tony leaned in for another kiss, sighing softly. “What do you want to happen, kid?”

“Oh. Well, um, not to be blunt, but- I just- I mean- I really want you.”

He was cute. Innocent. But Tony could tell that what he meant was a bit less innocent.

“Are you sure? You realize this is a bad idea on...a lot of levels, right?”

Peter huffed softly, looking up at him with a stubborn expression. “I don’t care. We can be sneaky.”

Tony snorted. ‘Sneaky’ wasn’t really how he’d describe it, but he had to remind himself that his terms were a lot different than Peter’s. Different generations and all that.

He was horrible.

“Okay, kid. We can take this upstairs-” where there was no one to walk in on them. “-and talk about what exactly you’re thinking.”

“How about we don’t talk about it and we just...do?” Peter gave him a shy, devious smile.

“Uh huh. We’ll see.”

Tony grabbed his wrist gently, glancing in the hallway to make sure that no one was coming before he dragged him to the elevator.

Before he could get another word out, Peter’s lips were on his again. And this time there was more heat behind it.

He kissed back, eyes slipping shut just as the elevator doors did. Their lips pushed together insistently and he felt Peter’s tongue clumsily swiping over his lip.

He suppressed a laugh and parted his lips, allowing Peter to lead.

It was all so curious and clumsy that he wondered just how many times Peter had ever kissed anyone. If any. But that was a question for later.

The elevator dinged softly when they reached the penthouse and only then did they pull away from each other.

Tony led Peter out, instantly heading for his bedroom. Bad idea or no, he’d imagined such a scenario so many times. He didn’t want to waste any time.

“Tony?” Peter spoke up, eyes on the bed. “I know this is really straightforward, but I’m glad you, like, don’t hate me. I’ve thought about this...a lot.”

“You and me both,” the older man murmured. “Something I feel like we should cover before anything else...how far are you wanting to go?”

Peter chewed his lip. “Not to rush things, but I really really want to go all the way.”

“Well, not to rush things, but I want that too.” Tony gave him a small grin. “Do you have a preference?”

“Hmm?”

The confused look that he got made him feel guilty again. Just how much had Peter ever done with anyone else?

“Top or bottom, honey. Receiving or giving, pitching or catching, whatever you want to say. What do you want to do?”

Peter blushed, deciding to distract from the question at hand by pulling his shirt off.

It worked. Tony’s attention was instantly elsewhere, his eyes focused on his trim waist but hard muscle.

“Jesus, kid. That’s...wow.” If he wasn’t hard before, he was definitely getting there from seeing just what his innocent little intern was hiding under loose clothing.

“Like it?” The young man grinned to himself, one hand sensually sliding from the v of his hips up to his chest.

Perfect abs. Round, firm pecs. Jesus, Tony was entranced.

But he remembered what he’d asked. “Peter, top or bottom. What’s your preference?”

“I- I don’t...know.”

There it was.

Tony looked at him, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip quickly. “You’re a virgin.” It wasn’t a question. He knew it for sure. It wasn’t surprising.

Peter got defensive. “I’ve done some stuff.”

“Uh huh. What ‘stuff’?”

He refused to look at Tony, his eyes on his hands as he played with the button on his jeans. “I’ve given oral. Guys and girls. And I’ve gotten, like, a couple handjobs and blowjobs.”

Tony closed his eyes. “I shouldn’t be your first. This- Peter, this is such a bad idea. You should be with someone your own age.”

Peter made an indignant sound, popping the button on his jeans and unzipping them out of protest. “I don’t want someone my own age. I want you.”

He said it with such finality.

Tony stepped closer to the bed, his hands cupping Peter’s face gently. “You promise me you won’t regret this?”

“There’s nothing that could make me regret this.” Peter unbuckled Tony’s belt, slowly pulling it out of the loops before dropping it to the floor.

Tony nodded slowly, not fighting when Peter pushed his slacks down. It was really happening.

“Holy shit-” Peter’s eyes were wide. His eyes were fixed on the way that Tony’s dick was straining at the front of his tight boxers. There was a nervous look in his eyes.

“Good or bad?” Tony teased a little.

“Good. Good, oh man.” Peter reached down and squeezed himself hard. “So big….”

That was nice to hear. “You think so? Do you think you could take it, sweetheart?”

Peter’s fingers ghosted over the length slowly, making it twitch in its confines. “I...I want to try.”

Tony nodded. “We’ll make it fit. Let’s finish getting you undressed.” He pulled his own shirt off and tossed it to the floor before getting onto the bed next to Peter.

He finished pulling the young man’s zipper down and helped him shimmy out of his jeans. Peter’s thighs were gorgeous, Tony was nearly drooling over them. But he couldn’t get distracted.

“May I?” He met the young man’s eyes, his fingers slipping into the waistband of his boxers.

Peter nodded, breathing hard as he laid back more.

Tony slowly pulled the piece of clothing down, biting his lip when he watched Peter’s cock drop against his hip once it was no longer covered. “So hard for me, honey. Look at that.”

The younger man blushed darker. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, Tony….”

“God, me too. Me too, kid.” He pushed his own boxers off, unable to keep himself from wrapping one hand around himself and stroking slowly.

Peter watched him with wide eyes. “Okay. I want you inside me. Now.” He kicked his boxers away, grinning a little.

Tony laughed softly at his eagerness. “We have to get you ready first. Hold on, let me show you….”

Turns out that Peter was incredibly responsive to everything and by the time he was open enough for further activities Tony had already worked him through an orgasm.

If Peter was that responsive to just his fingers, he couldn’t wait to get his cock in him. And the young man was still raring to go.

Tony grabbed a condom - habit, it wasn’t like they were preventing anything - but Peter stopped him.

“Why can't we just do it…without?” He asked shyly.

“I mean…we can. But you’ll have to clean up and that can be annoying.”

“I want…I want to feel you. Is that okay?” Peter hid his face in his hands, embarrassed by the admission.

Tony nodded, biting back a smile. “Yeah. That’s okay.” He set the foil square down on the nightstand before moving back to the young man.

He got between his legs, hands sliding over the strong thighs he was met with. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, kid. I hope you know that.”

Peter smiled up at him, spreading his legs further. “Thank you, Tony….” He leaned back more, laying his head down. “Now hurry up,” he joked.

Grabbing the lube and slicking himself up, the older man shook his head. “Impatient,” Tony chided, laughing softly. But he was already moving to position his cock at the man’s hole, the tip brushing over him.

They both moaned softly, laughing a little at how in sync they were.

“Fuck me, Tony…please?”

The older man nodded, slowly pushing past the tight muscle with a groan. Even though he’d prepped him, Peter was still tight. Just perfectly so.

Peter was tightly gripping the sheets, popping a couple threads even, with the first movements.

It seemed like his effort was in vain, but he really wanted to try to last.

Tony bottomed out, hips pressed flush against Peter’s ass.

The younger man was whining low in his throat at the feeling. His cock twitched between them. He knew that if he was touched at all before he could calm down a little, everything would be over way before he wanted it to be.

“Need me to stay still?” Tony asked. He could tell that Peter was struggling.

He nodded quickly, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yes. Fuck.”

“Okay, honey. Don’t worry, we can take this at whatever pace you want.”

Peter nodded, trying to get a hold on how he was feeling.

It took him a couple minutes, but eventually he signaled Tony that he was okay. And he could start moving.

So he started slow, but Tony started thrusting when he was given the okay.

Peter moaned, mouth falling open around his noises.

He tightened around Tony’s cock, squeezing down with every movement. Then he cried out when a particularly deep thrust hit something that made him see stars.

“What was that?” Peter gasped, hips rocking up wildly.

Tony groaned, laughing a little through it. “I’m going to, fuck, I’m going to assume that was your prostate. Feels good, doesn’t it? I should have showed that to you when I was fingering you.”

“Do it again!”

The older man snorted, aiming for the same spot again as he picked up his pace. He held one of Peter’s legs, lifting it just enough so that he could get at a deeper angle. “I can try.”

From the increasingly louder noises he received, he assumed he succeeded.

He was so lost in the feeling of Peter that he missed how close to the edge his partner was getting. All that registered was how incredible (borderline painful) it felt when the younger man squeezed around him like that.

Then Peter was crying out louder and thrusting up as he spilled onto his stomach.

Tony swore under his breath. “God, Peter.” He watched him, subconsciously speeding up as he chased his own high.

“Tony!” Peter moaned, eyes squeezed shut as he rode out his high. It was the best orgasm he’d ever experienced, alone or otherwise.

But he slowly opened his eyes, wanting to watch Tony cum.

“I’m close too,” the older man moaned, speeding up again.

Peter moaned louder, feeling himself being pushed up the bed with the quicker pace. “Cum, Tony, please, want you to fill me up.”

He wasn’t so sure about dirty talk, but it could only be but so bad because Tony went still moments later. Peter felt the cock inside him pulse briefly before there was a smooth warmth spreading.

The thing itself felt odd, but thinking about what was happening almost made him cum again.

Actually-

His hand flew to his own dick and he quickly jerked himself off before he was cumming for a third time. It wasn’t nearly as good as the other two, but it was still incredible. Especially thinking about how good Tony still felt inside of him.

He opened his eyes when he heard Tony chuckling. “What?”

“You’re insatiable. And I’m amazed that you can just go again that fast.” The older man closed his eyes again, catching his breath.

He was almost in shock that it had actually happened. He had sex with Peter. After thinking about it for months, dreaming about it, it happened.

He slowly pulled out, laying next to the young man. He knew they were both messes, covered in sweat and cum and lube, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to hold Peter close before they had to go back to real life.

Tony gently wrapped his arms around him, just gathering him close while he pressed a kiss to the man’s temple.

He found out quickly that Peter’s dazed, relaxed post-sex state would only last for so long.

It was only minutes before the man was talking, whispering about anything and everything. And Tony happily listened.

He hummed softly, holding the younger man close to his chest. One hand gently carded through Peter’s soft curls as they talked quietly.

“My mom met you one time,” Peter murmured. “Before I was born. But she would never tell me about it. Just told me that it happened.”

Tony snorted softly. “Yeah, well, about when would that have been? I had a reputation for a reason.” But the confession started pulling at a memory. It couldn’t quite come to light, though.

“Ew.” The young man grinned at him. “But I guess you’re right. I don’t know, she was kinda weird about a lot of stuff. Not just that.”

“What do you mean?”

Peter sighed softly and Tony frowned. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. But Peter started answering anyway.

“I don’t know who my actual dad is. She never told me. I vaguely remember her telling me that Richard was the only dad I needed, but nothing else.”

“You would have been so young,” Tony whispered. “Maybe she just figured it could be a conversation for another time.”

“But she wouldn’t tell anyone else. My aunt and uncle knew that Richard wasn’t actually my dad, but they were never told who was. And I guess it just…died with her.”

The older man nodded. “You could always do a paternity test, right?” Why was guilt pooling in his stomach?

Peter shrugged. “That’s assuming that my dad has done one too that we could match. And sometimes….” He trailed off.

“Sometimes what?” Tony kissed him gently, trying to soothe him.

“Sometimes I’m not sure that I want to know,” he confessed.

It made sense. But something was still trying to pull at Tony’s memory. Forming an idea slowly.

Although he wasn’t sure that he wanted to know the answers.

But he couldn’t just leave a question unasked. No matter how dark the potential answer.

“Peter…when did you say that your mom met me?”

The young man snuggled into him more, shaking his head. “I didn’t. I think it was…the year before I was born or so. Why? Do you remember?”

Tony tried to mentally do the numbers. He’d spent most of that year in a fog, but that had been the theme of that era in his life. But maybe…

“Are you okay?”

The older man closed his eyes, frowning as he tried to remember.

Parker. Had he been with a Parker? He couldn’t remember the occasion at all.

Maybe that was for the best.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m okay, was just trying to see if I remembered her. I’m sorry.”

Peter leaned up to kiss him gently, shaking his head. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not a big deal, really. Sometimes I just wonder about that stuff.”

Tony tried to assure himself that it wasn’t a big deal.

Maybe it was best to not have all the answers.

He had what he wanted. That was all that mattered.

[9tzuyu]

closest to me

prompt: coming out to natasha as nonbinary

note: totally meant to write this months ago, but whateverrrr. and yes, i am aware that not all nb people use they/them, this was just my own little work :p.

warnings: being scared to come out to ur sexy redhead russian of a gf :[

i’d tag but i also don’t want to somehow trigger someone :[

thank u moli for proofreading i love u to the moon and back.

. . .

you’d come out to two of your close friends, ones you knew wouldn’t judge you. they’d taken it just as expected, but that was no surprise when you’d known them your entire life. your shared opinions and thoughts were what brought you together in the first place. 

your friends immediately began using your correct pronouns, and you’d never felt more right in your life. it was refreshing to hear yourself being referred by they/them rather than she/her. their constant support made you feel normal again. after so much struggling, things were finally being put into place.

but there was one person, one very important person whom you hadn’t come out to yet, and that was your girlfriend.

natasha.

the thought of having the conversation alone with her was terrifying. granted, you knew she’d never be anything but supportive, but all the what if’s came flooding through with each attempt you made. 

your fingers trembled as you fiddled with the silver chain around your neck, a nervous habit you’d seemed to form over the years of wearing it. 

god you wanted to tell her so bad.

but as you stood in the kitchen, natasha’s hands around your waist, you began to panic all over again. the familiar fear of judgment wrapped around your throat. 

you didn’t know natasha the majority of your life like you did with friends, so you weren’t really sure what her exact opinions on different pronouns were. sure, she was part of the lgbt community, and of course she was supportive of trans people, but it still made you wonder how she’d feel about pronouns that weren’t he/him or she/her. 

“what’s on your mind, baby? i can practically hear the gears turning in your head.” 

you sighed. natasha always knew when you were lying, so you couldn’t make something up off the top of your head. she wouldn’t force you to talk either though. she’d give a push, but nothing more until you were certain you were ready — or in some cases, when she knew it was becoming too much to bear on your own. 

“just dumb stuff. i’ll get over it soon.” 

natasha nodded against your back, containing her concern for now. “you know i’m here.” she whispered, taking one of your hands away from your necklace.

“want to go downtown? we can look at some of the new shops that just opened up” 

you smiled, “sure.”

for the next few weeks, you weren’t seeming to find any relief though, and natasha picked up on it. she tried her best to make things easier for you, but none of it seemed to work. 

time and time again you reassured her that nothing was wrong, that things would clear up on their own, but another month down the road and natasha could still sense that something was eating away at you.

it’d gotten a little more obvious now. you didn’t go out as much with her when she was with her friends. the constant referral to you as something, or someone, you weren’t was a steady reminder of how outcast you’d originally felt when coming to terms with who you are. 

“she/her” felt like a slap in the face every time you heard it. the words were exhausting, damn near agonizing to hear. but day after day you tried to suck it up out of fear of being rejected by one of the very special people you loved most. 

it wasn’t until one sunday night when natasha came home to you crying in your shared bed when she’d finally had enough. her worry was through the roof and seeing you struggle so much pained her. 

she dropped her keys on the nightstand and crawled into bed behind you, securing her arms tightly around your figure. 

“talk to me. whatever it is, i want to hear about it.”

but that only made you cry harder. you couldn’t help but feel more alienated than you already felt. why were you crying over such a stupid little thing? you could already hear the false words slip from natasha’s lips.

“hey, baby. shh, shh, you’re okay.”

you turned your body to face natasha, teary eyes looking into hers. “you might hate me, or think i’m weird, or a freak, or that i’m just confused.” 

your girlfriend gently combed through your hair with her nails. “i could never think those things about you. please tell me what this is about because i have no idea and i just want to help.”

her steady hand movement rubbing your arm while the other twirled your hand between her fingertips eventually brought you to a more reasonable state. 

“you know how trans people typically go by their opposing pronouns?”

“mhm.”

“well... i don’t- i just- god this is so frustrating!” you frowned, unconsciously grasping at the chain around your neck.

“are you trying to tell me you’re trans?”

“no, no, it’s not that. well, i don’t think so, depends on who you talk to. some people like me consider themselves to be classified under the trans umbrella, but not everyone.” 

natasha hummed once more while tracing small shapes against your skin. 

“what do you think of nonbinary people? like, you know, those who don’t use she/her or he/him?” 

she shrugged, and your heart sank for a brief second before she spoke. “i don’t have a problem with it. why?”

“i don’t like being referred to as she/her. my pronouns are they/them. i’m not a man and i’m not a woman... will that ever bother you?”

a smile broke out across the redhead’s face. “doesn’t bother me one single bit. i love you for you, y/n. not for who you think you’re supposed to be.” 

relief was all you could feel. as cliche as it sounded, the weight of the world felt like it had been lifted from your shoulders. you didn’t have to worry anymore, not while natasha was around.

“is this what’s been bothering you for so long?”

you reached over and grabbed a loose red strand, it was your turn to play with her hair. “yeah. i knew you wouldn’t judge, but-”

“what if.” she confirmed and you nodded. 

“does anyone else know?”

“just my two friends i grew up with.”

“no one else?” you shook your head, looping a red curl around your finger. “nope.”

“is that why you stopped hanging out with me, tony, clint and the rest of them? because everyone referred to you as she and her?”

“yeah, felt like a punch in the stomach every time i heard it. made me feel weird, not normal i guess.” you mumbled, almost embarrassed by the confession.

natasha placed a long kiss on the top of your head, rubbing your back for extra support. “they would never judge you, i’d cut them off in a heartbeat if they did. if it helps any, i can ask how they feel about it? poke around some and let you know what they say? then when they don’t have a problem with it, which they won’t, you can come out when you’re ready, yeah?”

you nodded again, although it was slightly hesitant. “sounds good.”

“forgive me if i mess up a couple of times. i’ll try not to make a big deal out of it and just correct myself.” another kiss was delivered to your head.

“oh! last question. promise.”

“yes?”

“when im around other people and you’re not with me do you want me to use they/them? i don’t want to out you when you’re not ready.”

“i swear you’re perfect,” you giggled. “but you can use they/them both when im with you and when i’m not. just try to keep it casual? please?”

“anything for you, sweetheart.”