#Potts model

[pandainstincts]

[redcarpet-streetstyle]

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Where do we go from here - Part 1

Summary: Two funerals. Two couples. A tragedy like no other. And one big secret.

A/N: Written for @fandom-free-bingo Here’s something different, I hope you enjoy it. Leave a comment, heart and reblog if you enjoyed the story.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, F! Reader x Rhodey, Tony Stark x Reader (eventually)

Warning: 18+ angst, minors DNI, death, infidelity, smoking, mentions of self-harm and suicide. Hurt comfort.

Word count: 2764

Square filled: We deserve much better than we’ve had

Free Fandom Bingo Masterlist

.

Empty.

That’s how you felt. Empty and utterly exhausted. Your eyes were dried and throat scratchy from all the crying, body aching with pain and mind a foggy haze. Forty eight hours it had been since you received the news of the car crash.

James Rhodes. Your husband. Dead.

Pepper Potts. Your best friend. Dead.

You received a call from the hospital while you were wrapping James’ birthday present. A birthday that never arrived. Instead a funeral did. Two consecutive ones. You hadn’t felt grief like this ever.

The service ended, you shook hands and hugged countless people, nodding along as they offered condolences, wanting nothing more than to head home, crash in your bed and never wake up. But you couldn’t. There was another funeral you had to attend, your best friend Pepper’s, you didn’t know if you could go through it all again.

But you had to.

A couple of moments later, you managed to slip away and found yourself sitting on a bench overlooking the graves. The day was actually sunny and bright, wildflowers littered along the gravestones as a gentle breeze blew. What a day for a funeral, you thought sadly.

Not long after you sat, you smelled cigarette smoke in the air before Tony Stark took a seat next to you. Tony was one of your closest family friends, well, he was your husband’s best friend. They practically grew up together, went to school, university and eventually ended up buying houses close to each other too. By way of default, when Pepper and him got married, it brought the four of you closer. She was your best friend and James was his.

It was perfect.

Your mind went back to the last dinner the four of you had at your place, it was only three days ago. Just a day before the accident.

“Here’s to celebrating milestones in friendships!”

James raised his whiskey glass, making you, Tony and Pepper follow suit before you clinked them together with warm smiles. You had cooked a nice dinner to celebrate a year of moving into this home you shared with your loving husband. It may as well have been just an excuse to get together with your friends, which happened too often.

“Thank you for dinner, Y/N. It was delicious. And the blueberry pie too! It is Tony’s favorite.” Pepper announced, making you smile at her husband who returned it, albeit reluctantly. There was something about the way he looked at you, it made you nervous, not in a bad way, per se. It was like he could stare into soul.

“It’s Y/N’s favorite as well.” James chimed in, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

While you cleaned up in the kitchen, Pepper coaxed James to let her take the new SUV out for a spin. She had been trying to persuade Tony to get the same model but apparently he wasn’t too keen on letting his Audi R8 go.

“You think I could sneak in an extra piece of pie?” Tony’s voice took you by surprise as he entered the kitchen.

“Oh! I thought you went along with James and Pep?”

“I mean it was either a piece of pie or Pepper yapping my ear off about how my R8 isn’t exactly ‘fit to be a family car’.” he shrugged, making you chuckle as you took out the remaining pie from the fridge and cut him another slice.

You were suddenly aware of your heartbeat as Tony leaned over to grab the plate from you, the close proximity unfamiliarly welcoming. His fingers grazed over yours ever so lightly, leaving their presence to linger.

What was even going on?

Tony was a good-looking man, there wasn’t a question. He had a handsome face with an impeccably maintained beard that only seemed to suit him best. And his eyes. A light brew of your favorite coffee, the brown doe eyes held as much kindness as they held self assurance. Deep down, you felt an attraction towards the man. It was harmless, wasn’t it?

Only time would tell.

“Y/N?” Tony’s fingers snapped you back to reality, making you realize he had asked you a question.

“Yeah?”

“You went into one of your zones again, didn’t you?” He smiled, taking a bite of the pie and letting out a moan of delight.

“Sorry. One of my zones?”

“Yeah. Your mind tends to wander off when the conversation isn’t interesting for you. I’ve observed.” He wasn’t wrong. The fact that he noticed and pointed it out made your cheeks flush.

“Sorry about that. It’s nothing really. I was just thinking about the time we first got together. I—I mean the four of us.”

“Right. It was a long time ago, wasn’t it?”

“It was at one of your famous parties. I walked in looking to have a good time, you and I had one too many whiskies and the next thing I know Pepper dragged you back to your house and James ended up dropping me home. And the rest is history.”

“The rest is history.” Tony repeated with a small chuckle as memories of that evening played out in his head.

“Sometimes I wonder if…um. Nevermind.” He shrugged, cutting his sentence short leaving you to frown.

“If what? Go on.”

You saw him take in a deep breath, release it slowly before facing you fully after he kept the plate away.

“I wonder if the whole opposites attract thing truly worked out for us. Or we just settled because it was obvious.”

Tony’s words stuck with you long after that night was over. As did the look he gave you. It had longing and hints of regret. Something that reflected in your eyes as well.

You must’ve been crying again because Tony reached out to wipe tears that had escaped, offering you a cigarette which you accepted, filling your lungs with smoke and closing your eyes.

“You know, I spent half of yesterday just staring at my bottle of sleeping pills, wondering if it would hurt less if I just took them.” you murmured, staring into the distance. The void inside your chest seemed perpetual and only growing, there was no relief, no end to this pain.

Tony remained silent, he probably had the same thoughts running through his mind. But you couldn’t tell. He slid closer, placing his arm over the backrest of the bench.

“I need to speak to you about the accident, Y/N. I found out some things that you have the right to know too.” his brown eyes bore into yours, letting you know the urgency in his voice.

“Tell me now.” Shaking his head, Tony stubbed his cigarette and got up.

“Tomorrow. Come home and we’ll talk.”

“But it’s Pepper’s funeral–”

“I couldn’t care less. Trust me. Tomorrow.”

You were taken aback, watching him walk towards his car before driving off while you sat on the bench, a mess of complex emotions.

.

Your right foot was bouncing against the sofa as you waited for Tony, his house felt oddly quiet and dark now that Pepper was no longer around. Safe to say your own home wasn’t exactly in the best condition either. You couldn’t remember the last time you cleaned, or had a proper meal.

He returned with a familiar looking overnight bag, some papers and a phone. As he laid them out in front of you, a pit began forming in your stomach. This couldn’t be what you were thinking it could be. It couldn’t.

“This is what they recovered from the accident. The bag was in the trunk, the phone was found a few feet away and this.”

He handed you the papers first, it looked like a confirmation of a hotel booking, a hotel located just on the outskirts of the town. It was booked under James Rhodes. Why would he check into a hotel when he was supposed to be out of town for a conference?

“I don’t understand..” you trailed off, not really wanting to know the details but Tony handed you the phone next. What you read, broke your heart into a million pieces. The doubts that you tried to push down resurfaced and had materialized right in front of your eyes.

They were chats. Chats between Pepper and James. Your husband and Tony’s wife.

Your eyes burned but no tears came, you felt betrayed, hurt and angry like you hadn’t ever. It was months and months of private conversations between them, you hadn’t even noticed Pepper’s name saved with a heart emoji on James’s phone, right below was your last message to him, checking up on him to see if he reached safely.

You turned to look at Tony who sat with his arms crossed, jaw ticking and hands balled up against his sides. He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head before getting up to stand in front of the window that overlooked their huge backyard.

“Why didn’t���um, why didn’t the cops bring this to me?” you found your voice again but barely recognized it. It was hoarse from lack of use and weak, fearful of what you’d hear next.

“I asked them not to,” he replied quietly.

“Why?”

“Why? Seriously? You think you would’ve handled it well, Y/N? Given the things you said to me, I would be arranging for a third funeral right about now!” Tony didn’t mean to yell, but he did, because he shared your hurt and pain. He immediately regretted it watching you crumble on the floor, clutching the phone to your chest as you sobbed.

Dropping on his knees, he gathered you in his arms and let you cry, your tears soaked his shirt as you wept, body racking in pain while he held you. Your breath was still uneven but your tears eventually subsided, leaving behind a million questions.

“It had been going on for longer than a year, Y/N.” as if reading your mind, Tony mumbled, his voice muffled against your hair.

“I don’t want to believe it, Tony.”

He hugged you tighter, providing you the comfort you needed, wanted even, his presence grounded you, his scent calmed you.

“You’re staying here.” he declared once you separated, wiping tears from your cheeks and making you look up at him.

“I–I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. And you’re going to. You’re hurting, Y/N. We both are. I don’t think I could live with myself with you gone as well. I can’t.” Tony whispered, resting his forehead against yours, pleading you to stay.

He was right. You couldn’t bear the thought of returning to that house which you shared with James, your husband, also the man who had been cheating on you with your best friend for months. Given a choice, you would probably set it on fire to bury all the memories and destroy them. It wasn’t your happy home anymore.

“Will you stay?”

You nodded as he helped you back up, walking you up the stairs that led to the bedrooms.

“Wait, I can’t stay in the–”

“The guest bedroom is on your left. I’ve been sleeping there. I’ll take the other one. I can’t sleep in our bedroom either.” Tony’s lips were pressed in a thin line, fingers trembling before he hid them in his pockets.

Of course. It was hard for him too. You wondered if he had the same thoughts of burning the house down. You two were in the same boat, one that was drowning in a sea of sorrow, betrayal and tainted memories.

And now all you had was each other.

.

Moonlight streamed through the windows as you lay awake, staring at the ceiling for hours, sleep had evaded you. Checking the clock, it stated it was way past midnight, you turned to your side to attempt a small nap if your mind allowed; however a dull crash fell on your ears from downstairs, making you jump out of bed and scramble to the source.

It was Tony.

Eyes brimmed with tears, a half empty bottle of whiskey sitting atop the kitchen counter and shards of broken glass on the floor. As you stepped closer, you saw a broken picture frame as well, one that housed Tony and Pepper’s wedding day photo, both wide eyed and grinning ear to ear, now with a huge crack along the surface.

“Tony?” you treaded carefully, your voice barely over a whisper as you placed your hand on his shoulder.

His tense muscles relaxed under your touch, a sigh leaving his lips.

“She took a pregnancy test, Y/N.” he murmured so quietly you almost missed it. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you heard him. You knew Tony and Pep had been trying for a kid for a while now, Tony wanted a child more than anything.

“Oh my God.” You croaked, rubbing his back in attempts to comfort him as you saw his eyes brimming with unshed tears, your heart breaking for him.

“Now I can’t even know if it was mine. She was fucking pregnant!” He smashed the glass of whiskey on the opposite wall, the two of you watching the liquid stream down in little rivulets, joining the shattered glass.

Tony’s breaths were coming in erratic and shallow, his eyes unfocused, he was struggling to stand upright.

“Tony hey! Look at me, come on. Let’s get you over here.” You supported him until he was sitting on the barstool while you took a seat opposite him. Bringing your hands up to cup his face, you made him look into your eyes.

“Breathe for me, please. It’s okay.”

You sounded unsure but you hoped it was helping him, he was trying his level best to focus on your words but it was hard. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, all other voices drowning as sweat lined on his forehead.

“Tony. Come on. I know you can do this. Focus. Just breathe.” You placed one of his hands on your chest, taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, waiting for him to follow.

It took a few beats but eventually you succeeded in getting him back to normal. He squeezed your hand gratefully, nodding his head to let you know he was alright. You grabbed him a water before pouring yourself a glass of whiskey, neither of you bothering to clean up the mess in the kitchen.

You sat together in silence, pondering over what your lives had become in a span of a week. The alcohol definitely helped, numbed your pain and made you drowsy.

The sun was starting to rise outside, a dull, gray light filtering through the windows letting you know it was dawn. The word exhausted seemed to be synonymous with your daily routine, it was all you ever felt. You took your empty glass and were heading for the sink when Tony grabbed your wrist and stopped you.

“Where are you going?” The uncertainty in his eyes tugged at your heartstrings.

“Just to keep this. Tony, I’m right here.” You reassured the man who followed you into the kitchen, as if to make sure you wouldn’t disappear all of a sudden.

“Will you leave me?” He whispered shakily.

This wasn’t a side of Tony you had ever seen. You were used to the confident, sassy man who joked around and made you laugh.

“I can’t deal with the pain alone. Stay. Please. You’re all I have, Y/N.”

There wasn’t a muscle in your body that protested, not that you wanted to anyways. Laying his head against your chest, he hugged you, holding onto you with all his might.

“Okay, I’ll stay. I’ll stay as long as you need.”

“You will?”

He felt you nod as your fingers carded through his hair, calming his nerves and reassuring him of your presence. He didn’t know how long it would take for you both to recover, but as long as you were with him and he with you, he felt some semblance of hope. That eventually everything could be okay.

“Of course. You’re all I have too.”

[bookwhimses]

Ah fuck it, I need to put something made with my heart and soul into the world, here’s the current draft of first chapter of my Doctor Who fic I’ve been working on for nine months, The First Question. It’s Bill Potts-centric, with an OC, you can read more about it and see an earlier draft of the prologue here. Canon compliant retelling of season 10 up until a certain point but for the fact that the OC’s presence is obviously not canon compliant.

WHAT?

That weirdo with the tangerine is watching her again. He also seems to be pretending to read a book, but Bill’s noticed by now that he just does that, he hasn’t actually turned the pages in a long time. Similarly, he hasn’t taken a single bite of his food, either the tangerine or the white bread sandwich. He just sits there at his usual canteen table, watching. In normal circumstances Bill might be annoyed or creeped out by the male attention, but there’s something so distinctly not ‘male attention’ about it. Maybe it’s the way the tangerine weirdo doesn’t look at her boobs or her arse, he doesn’t unpack her with his eyes. He just watches her like he’s watching a television show. His favourite, even. Watching and wishing he could step inside it.

Now Bill thinks of it like that, that should feel annoying or creepy too. Especially considering how big his eyes are – all doll-like, dominating his face. But somehow he isn’t creepy. It’s something about how he moves his pianist hands, the way he delicately pushes his tortoise-shell glasses up his nose with the tip of his pointer finger, and the feminine cameo brooch he always wears on the lapel of his neat, grey tweed jacket. Bill’s been where she’s pretty sure he is, kin watching kin and trying to figure out a way to pointedly compliment some flag jacket patches without seeming desperate for a friend. He’ll probably get there eventually. Either that or he’s going to find out the hard way that bookish tweed-wearing boys aren’t her type.

Anyway, Bill’s completely occupied with more important matters. She’s sweating behind the canteen counter and elbow deep in chips, way too distracted by Model Girl to spare more complicated thoughts for Tangerine Weirdo. Every day for weeks Model Girl has come into the canteen with her bright green Disney princess eyes, and every day for weeks Bill has given her extra chips just for being illegally good-looking. Things feel like they’re going somewhere with Model Girl. Model Girl smiled at her last Tuesday. Model Girl looks even cuter with a bit of extra softness to her cheeks, Bill thinks – but then she’s distracted wondering if it’s okay for her to think that when she’s responsible for the extra chips and therefore for the extra softness.

Tangerine Weirdo continues to watch Bill from the same table every day, dutiful tangerine perched untouched on his tray like a pet rock, and Bill continues to ogle Model Girl and tells herself it doesn’t count as feeder kink if she’s not deliberately trying to cause weight gain, it’s just a side effect of the situation she’s gotten herself into. Then a week later she’s closing up and she’s halfway through stuffing her apron into her pigeon-hole when an apparition accosts her so suddenly that she shrieks and drops her keys.

Bill dives to pick them up, embarrassed by the sound that just came out of her mouth and irritated that Tangerine Weirdo might be creepier than she thought and possibly has the ability to teleport.

“Can I, um?” Bill scratches at the back of her head, unsure what to say. “Can I help you?”

Tangerine Weirdo then says, belatedly, “I took you by surprise, didn’t I? I do apologise. That wasn’t my intention.”

His tone and his face are both oddly bland, as if he’s reciting his times tables rather than talking to another human being. He’s standing straight and prim, his faithful book held tight against his chest. Bill’s always thought the bright orange-red of his hair looked a tad unnatural, but up close it’s even more jarring and she can see there’s a curl pattern trapped under an industrial amount of hair gel. It looks as if it would make a sound if Bill knocked on it.

“S’alright,” says Bill with an attempt at an uneasy grin.

She waits for Tangerine Weirdo to say something, but instead the silence lingers uncomfortably.

“Problem with the food?” Bill tries instead.

Tangerine Weirdo doesn’t answer this. Instead he extends one arm out, shaking back the sleeve of his jacket enough to check a wristwatch made up entirely of vintage watch faces strung together; he twists his wrist around to read one which lies back-to-front against his pulse-point. Bill is immediately reminded of a nurse.

“You’ve finished work now, haven’t you?” he asks.

“Uh ...” If this is an attempt at asking her out, it has to go in her book of very odd ones. “Yeah. Yeah, I am?”

“Excellent.” Tangerine Weirdo puts on a strange, stiff smile. “The doctor will see you now.”

Bill just blinks at him, even as Tangerine Weirdo begins to usher her towards the back kitchen door with petite shooing motions. “The doctor? Sorry, but, hold on a second ...” She stops. “No offence, mate, but what the bloody hell are you on about?”

Tangerine Weirdo stops. “Ah.” He surprises Bill by smacking himself hard in the forehead so suddenly that she flinches on his behalf. He then continues, as if he didn’t just smack himself in the face, “I do apologise. I’m regrettably prone to this, starting things in the middle. It’s confusing when you have to keep in mind that although the middle is also the present, the present isn’t where you should start, the past is. It’s a glitch, I’m working on a patch for it.”

Even when he’s talking like an Alice in Wonderland extra, his voice and face stay completely neutral, flat, with not a hint of spirit or inflection. Bill begins to wonder if she should call security and exactly how to do that.

“Yeah, I still don’t get the joke,” she says.

“People rarely ever do, probably because I’m not very good at making them. As I said, I’m working on a patch.” Tangerine Weirdo clears his throat. “Now. He really would like to see you.” He walks away, out the door and into the hallway beyond.

Bill follows, feeling stupid and a bit reckless. He’s leading her out through the front of the canteen.

“Who wants to see me?”

“The doctor,” says Tangerine Weirdo without turning around.

“The doctor?” Bill tries to sound it the same way he does.

“No, the doctor.”

“The doctor?”

“The Doctor.”

“The doc – Oh! You mean the Doctor!” Bill finally seizes upon this as the first logical sign of explanation, smiles, realises it actually just raises further questions, and smiles wider. “Wait, the Doctor wants to see me? He …?”

The smile drops from her face. For a second, horrible imaginings are flitting rapidly through her mind. Being thrown out of the university for Stealing Knowledge. Fired from her job. Stuck at home with her foster mum again. No more smiles from Model Girl, no more mad lectures ...

“Why does he want to see me?” She shouldn’t ask if she’s in trouble. That’s the sort of stupid question people who are looking to get themselves in trouble ask. “Am I in trouble? Or is it just a … uni thing?”

“Yes,” is the only reply Tangerine Weirdo gives as he steps outside.

“What – wait. Wait!”

Bill chases him across the Japanese garden, which fills a little square between four wings including the canteen; Tangerine Weirdo is charting diagonally across it towards the front wing. Bill has to hurry not to lose him as he disappears into the white stone building like a rabbit into a burrow. He’s faster than he looks, and he has an odd way of scuttling forwards that reminds Bill of a floor roomba – short, fast steps one after the other continuously. She doesn’t know why doesn’t take bigger steps, he’s got the legs for it. Maybe he doesn’t need to when he can take short ones that fast.

“Yes to the trouble or yes to the uni thing?” Bill pants when she catches up to him, two flights of stairs up.

“I said yes,” he replies, not even a bit out of breath.

“Yeah, but …? To which?”

“I do like you, Bill Potts,” says Tangerine Weirdo, though he still says it so blandly it’s hard to tell if he’s being sarcastic or sincere. “You ask rather a lot of questions. Some of them are even the right ones.”

Bill continues to rapidly reevaluate whether or not she should be creeped out or annoyed by this guy. “How d’you know my name?”

Tangerine Weirdo glances sideways at her at that, as if he didn’t expect the wariness in her tone. When he sees it in her face too he blinks, then takes two steps up quickly to get away from her. She can’t believe he has the gall.

“Do you not recognise me?” he says without looking back. “That’s quite rude. We sit in the same space week after week and you don’t recognise me.”

“I recognise you, yeah,” Bill snaps. “Tangerine, ham sarnie.”

“What?” Tangerine Weirdo reaches a landing and swivels on the spot. A real expression has finally broken through the blandness; he looks genuinely confused. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“The canteen. That’s what you order, like, every time.”

“You’ve memorised my canteen order? I’m not entirely sure I’m comfortable with that, Miss Potts.”

Bill stops on the stairs, frowning up at him. “Listen, mate, you’re the one coming in there every day, staring at me. Pretending to read your little book.” She motions at the book tucked under his arm. “It’s proper weird.”

His face, still baffled, goes smooth again. “Oh, of course.” He smacks himself in the forehead again, this time hard enough to make a loud …? Clanging noise…? “The staring. Yes, that’s also a problem. I’m working on a patch for that too. I do apologise. To be perfectly honest …” He pulls Advanced Quantum Mechanics out from under his arm and slides the book up out of its book jacket, revealing a completely different front cover emblazoned with zeros and ones. “It’s a rather slow read. No, I wasn’t actually aware you worked in the canteen until today. I was performing normal human canteen activities in there up until now. To answer one of your questions: because I have an excellent memory.”

Tangerine Weirdo nods at her, as if that bizarro speech sorts it all out, and then rounds the corner to the next flight of stairs.

“Wait.” Bill flies up the stairs after him, her trainers squeaking on the floor as she takes the turn sharp. “Which question does that answer? Did your forehead just clang? How did you do that?”

“Oh, you’re never satisfied,” Tangerine Weirdo observes aloud. “Perfect.”

“Come on, mate,” Bill groans, jumping a couple of steps to keep up with him, “gimme a break, please. You working on a patch to make yourself make sense?”

Tangerine Weirdo laughs as if it was startled out of him, then covers his mouth with one hand. He glances back at Bill and slows down slightly to lead only by one step.

“I attend his lectures too,” he says, after a moment.

“His … the Doctor’s?” With that, Bill connects a few of the loose cannonballs that have been this conversation so far. “Riiight, you know me from the lectures. ‘Cause he’s always getting people to do that thing …”

“Name, rank, species. Yes, he never stops thinking that’s hilarious.”

“I dunno,” Bill smiles, amused. “I thought it was sort of … a cool thought exercise. Having to define yourself on the spot like that.” She snickers, batting Tangerine Weirdo in the arm. “Were you there the day he threw someone out for making a transphobic helicopter joke? That guy really thought he was gonna get away with it …”

“Many times has the law student who thought he could get away with the transphobic helicopter joke found himself sorely mistaken,” says Tangerine Weirdo. “Though not the first one, unfortunately. You should have seen the Doctor when I explained it to him afterwards. That was quite a long one. I had to use a slideshow. He hated it.”

“I don’t remember seeing you at them,” Bill says, half to herself. “Though, to be fair, I’m usually kinda wrapped up in the lecture itself – wait, do you know the Doctor? Like actually know him, know him? Are you like his assistant, or something?”

Tangerine Weirdo jumps up two steps ahead again with one long-legged bound. So he does use them when he wants to, Bill notes.

“I’m his PhD student, in a manner of speaking.”

“Okay … In what manner?”

“In that I literally am his PhD student. Just not with this university.”

“Like a transfer student? Is that a thing?”

“Oh, the university has no idea about me,” Tangerine Weirdo says as they reach a long hallway.

Bill looks around. She’s never been in this wing before, not except to pass through on the ground floor in the main throughway. She’s never been up here. Everything’s plush red carpeting and panelled wood walls, the kind of corner of the University that really screams the word ‘university’. She’s not surprised. She can’t imagine the Doctor having his office anywhere else.

She gives Tangerine Weirdo a sidelong glance. “The uni has no idea about you?”

He stops in front of a door abruptly. Bill could swear she hears something, almost like a spring squeaking.

“No.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “I may as well be a ghost. You’re not the only one stealing knowledge.”

Bill’s stomach swoops with nerves. “Listen, I …”

“Oh, don’t worry,” says Tangerine Weirdo, still with that totally flat affect. “You’re amongst kindred spirits here.” He puts one hand out to shake. “Freddie Markiv, PhD candidate, mother of two, and general dogsbody.”

Bill takes his hand hesitantly. It’s warm.

“You forgot ‘species’,” she jokes.

Freddie drops her hand and knocks on the door, then swings it open. “We’ll get to that later,” he says. “Middle first. The Doctor will see you now.”

Bill steps through the door, and her life changes forever.

⁂

“I don’t mean to sound rude or anything, but what’s he actually doing here?” Bill asks the Doctor a fortnight into her private tutoring. “He’s your student too, yeah? But I never see him studying?”

Freddie has just stepped out of the Doctor’s office after half an hour of … well, from what Bill could tell, nothing but sitting in the alcove over by the stained glass windows and scrolling through what looked suspiciously like Tumblr on a bulky white laptop. Every day, Bill comes to the Doctor’s office at six o’clock sharp, five minutes before, if she can manage it, and every day Freddie is there. Bill would describe it as loitering, but Freddie’s posture is too perfect for that word to feel completely right. He’s never doing anything that seems like actual work. He wanders in and out of the office, sometimes carrying a tangerine that Bill never actually sees him eat, and he sits in chairs off to the side or lingers around the raised level where the Doctor has his mini-library. Bill never catches him looking at her or at the Doctor, but she always feels his eyes on both of them. It feels like being chaperoned.

“He’s not studying the same thing as you,” answers the Doctor, turning a page on her essay ‘Cosmic Far Ultraviolet Background’.

“But I’m not studying a thing,” says Bill, “I’m studying everything. Far as I can make out, anyway.”

“Freddie’s not my student.” The Doctor turns another page. Bill doesn’t know how he reads so fast. “He’s my PhD candidate. They’re basically indentured servants crossed with familiars. They don’t count as students.”

“Okay, but how come he’s never reading anything or writing anything? It’s not like he’s making tea for you or doing errands and stuff either.”

“He does errands, just not in here. When he’s erranding he’s out … doing the errands.” The Doctor rubs his temple and squints down at the essay, trying to refocus and reading aloud, “‘... really, in darkness we see ourselves as we really are. When left alone with ourselves, we exist in a state usually philosophically unreachable. It does come with one paradox: we are our own witness. However, perhaps in this state we’re able to truly strive for’ – you’ve split an infinitive here.”

Bill leans over the desk to peer at the line. “I’m guessing that’s a bad thing to do?”

“There’s no such thing as an absolute good and bad, in grammar or anywhere else in life. Anyone who says otherwise is a blithering moron.”

“But is it bad here?”

“It’s emotive,” he says flatly.

Bill isn’t sure if that’s good or bad either. “Yeah?”

The Doctor raises an eyebrow at her, picks up his marking pen, and writes a spidery ‘97%’ on the front of the essay.

⁂

“If Freddie’s not studying, what’s he hanging about in your office for?” Bill asks a week later. “Is it just while I’m here or is it all the time?”

“I never said he wasn’t studying,” says the Doctor, not pulling his nose out of the bookshelves he’s currently scanning. “Where is it, I know I had a copy somewhere …”

“So what’s he studying?”

“There!” The Doctor grasps at a leatherbound book as if he’s catching a live fish from a pond. He flips it open with a grin which quickly falls off his face. “No. No, wrong edition.”

“Doctor?”

“Don’t worry, it’s here somewhere! I was reading it just a second ago …” He mutters to himself, running his fingers along the spines, “1972 … or maybe ‘73 …”

“Is he a physics student?”

“Who, Tolkien?”

“No,” Bill rolls her eyes, “Freddie!”

The Doctor peers down at her, bemused. “What are you shouting for? What’s the to-do?”

“What’s Freddie studying?” Bill asks again, forcibly reminded of the six-months volunteering stint she did in the old folks’ home.

“Him?” The Doctor’s bemusement deepens. “Why do you want to know what he’s studying?”

“I …” Bill shifts from side to side with a sheepish grin. “Just curious, I guess. I’ve seen him reading that book on quantum mechanics.”

Freddie has been reading it again lately. In fact he’s been doing nothing but ‘read’ that book. Bill’s still yet to see him actually turn a page. She doesn’t know how someone can stare at something for so long without going barmy, because he’s obviously not really reading it. She wonders if he’s reading Advanced Quantum Mechanics or the one covered in what she now knows is binary code.

The Doctor gives up on the hunt through that particular shelf and clambers down from the ladder. Bill expects him to answer her question, but he just passes her right on by and goes on down the steps to the main area, heading for another bookshelf. Bill follows him uncertainly, not sure if she’s stepped on a nerve somehow. It’s impossible to work out what’s going on in his head, and half the times she’s thought he was mad at her it turned out he was figuring out what to have for dinner or something. Once she thought she’d pissed him off with too mouthy a rebuttal about Kant and after she apologised he admitted he’d been thinking about a triple chocolate milkshake. And also that he agreed with her about Kant.

“Is he … a lit grad?” Bill guesses.

“Lit grad is your next guess?”

“Yeah, I dunno. All that tweed, innit?”

“We all had a tweed phase.”

Bill laughs, “You had a tweed phase? What?”

The Doctor looks like he regrets admitting to it. He goes back to digging through the shelves. “I was young, taste-impaired, I had no idea about real fashion.”

Today he’s wearing a pair of green and blue tartan trousers with Doc Marten boots, a slumpy maroon hoodie, what looks like about five t-shirts layered on top of each other, and a frock coat he could have stolen from Harry Houdini. He looks like he walked backwards through an alternative teen clothing store with his arms flung out.

Bill wants to make a smart remark about who the hell has their tweed phase when they’re young and then has … whatever phase this is when they’re old, but she doesn’t dare. Yet. She does say, cheekily, “Are there photos? Can I see them?”

The Doctor blanches and swings away to another shelf. “Absolutely not.”

“Aw, come on!”

“Believe me, you wouldn’t even recognise me. Check that stack over on the table there.”

Bill stumps over to a table under one of the windows and starts sorting through the books piled there. She doesn’t see the promised signed first edition of The Hobbit anywhere, which is a shame because she’d been looking forward to bragging rights over getting to hold it. Not that she really has a whole lot of people to brag to about it.

“Is he doing philosophy, then?” she asks.

“You’re not still asking about Freddie?” The Doctor doesn’t sound angry, just exasperated. “He’s just doing his PhD. I’m supervising him. That’s it, that’s all. Nothing else to see. Why are you so interested in what exactly he’s studying?”

“‘Cause he’s always around and he’s the only other person I ever actually see you with,” Bill replies honestly. “Like, I never see you with other staff or anything. Or any other students. Or, I don’t know. Friends, family.”

The Doctor goes still. He turns around from the shelf he’s searching and Bill is nervous for a moment that she has actually upset him now.

But he just cocks his head at her in a way she can’t read. “How would you know you were seeing me with family if you saw me with family? Can you psychically tell when people are related? Is it a superpower?”

Bill feels a bit silly. “No, just … you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.”

He’s wearing the expression she’s starting to recognise as the one he wears whenever he’s waiting for her to elaborate on an argument. It does also bear a worrying resemblance to the one he wore the day she made the mistake of mentioning Derren Brown, but Bill decides to take a gamble.

“When you see people with family you can tell. Not right away, obviously, but you can’t hide it for long. Body language, the way you talk to each other, nicknames, all that stuff. Even if it’s family you don’t get along with, still shows. It’s like trying to pretend you don’t know how to ride a bike. You can’t hide familiarity.”

The Doctor looks bemused again. “Who tries to hide it? I’m not hiding anything.”

“I don’t mean …” Bill shakes her head, “bad wording choice. I just mean I’d know if I saw you with family. When you love someone like that the way you act around them’s instinctual, it just oozes out of everything you do. At least, that’s what I’m told.”

She tries to say it like it’s a joke but the Doctor’s eyebrows still bunch together faintly. Bill feels stupid again. She should have kept that last bit to herself. Maybe she should just go back to sorting through the books.

“Anthropology,” the Doctor says after a moment in his usual abrupt way.

“Sorry?”

“Anthropology. That’s Freddie’s discipline.”

“Oh …” Bill tries not to look disappointed or worse, confused. Somehow that just doesn’t fit.

Freddie’s so remote. Bill’s met anthropology students, they’re some of the most frequent attendees of the Doctor’s lectures. Some of them are remote, yes, but not in the way Freddie is – ‘removed’ would be a better word for it, the way they stand off to the side of every bubble enthusing about how interesting everything that’s going on inside it is. Freddie is … distant. He’s outside the bubble, with his back turned to it, holding a tangerine for some reason.

“What’s his thesis on?” she asks.

The Doctor, who’s gone back to his book search, stops to make a spluttering noise of disbelief, “You’re never satisfied!”

“Yeah, he seemed to think you’d like that in a student,” Bill says, remembering back to the day Freddie showed her up to this office.

The Doctor’s expression turns mulish; he goes back to the books muttering to himself.

“So? What’s his thesis on?”

The Doctor gesticulates wordlessly, seems to consider ignoring her and going back to the books, realises she’ll just keep pestering him, and finally says, “Me! He’s writing his thesis on me, that’s why he’s around all the time.”

If anyone else had claimed an anthropology grad was writing their PhD thesis on them, Bill would have thought it was either a delusion or a lie born of a very puffed up, self-obsessed mind. Bill’s known the Doctor for three weeks. She believes him.

“Are you foreign?” is her next question. “Oooh, are you one of those people who look white but are secretly mixed race?”

The Doctor throws his head back and laughs.

⁂

The next day, Bill asks the Doctor: “If Freddie’s writing a whole thesis on you, why do I never see him write anything down while he’s around?”

“Well, I used to have a typewriter, but the Doctor threw it out a window.”

Bill turns her head so fast she nearly snaps her neck. Freddie is standing in the open doorway of the office as if waiting in the wings, holding his Advanced Quantum Mechanics book like a stage prop.

“He did what?” Bill turns back to the Doctor, who’s scribbling in the margins again. Not on one of her essays, this time, he finished marking hers twenty minutes ago and started annotating a worn paperback titled Addie Pray, transferring notes from it to a larger notebook. He didn’t tell her to leave, though, so Bill had stayed. “You threw his typewriter out the window?”

It takes the Doctor a second to surface from his notes. “What?” He blinks, sitting up. “That’s ridiculous, I’ve never thrown a typewriter out of a window. Where are you getting this?”

Bill thumbs over her shoulder. “Freddie said …”

“Oh, that. Yes, I did throw that typewriter out of the window, yes. It was like having someone teach an elephants-only samba class while I was trying to read.”

Freddie comes further into the room, wandering towards the library. “You were the one complaining about my handwriting. I didn’t exactly have other alternative writing options at the time.”

“What about your laptop?” Bill says, twisting and leaning her arm against the back of her seat to face him.

Freddie pauses. “The typewriter incident rather … predates my laptop.”

“By all logic you should have perfect handwriting,” the Doctor chides him absently, putting down another note, “considering your … parentage.”

Bill laughs; he raises his head to her questioningly.

“Pot, kettle,” she lifts her returned essay, covered in crooked writing that crowds the ends of printed lines and spills over the edge down the outer margins like a waterfall, “biro ink black. Are you the reason they call it ‘Doctor’s handwriting’?”

There’s a noise that sounds like a snort, but when Bill glances over at Freddie his face is completely neutral.

“The Doctor told me you’re writing your thesis on him. Any chance I can see a draft?”

Freddie adjusts his glasses. “You would have to ask my supervisor.”

Bill looks back to the Doctor. “Can I see his draft?”

“What draft? He hasn’t got time to write, he’s working on his PhD.”

“What’s your thesis statement?” Bill asks Freddie.

Freddie gestures vaguely and wordlessly at the Doctor. The Doctor does jazz hands. Bill laughs and the Doctor goes back to his annotations with a small smile.

“So you’re basically bullshitting and just spending all your time on research?”

“Like I said, he’s working on his PhD.”

“I’m not just bullshitting.” Freddie looks over at the Doctor, pausing. When the Doctor says nothing, Freddie clears his throat and adds, “I write fifty alternate versions of the same paragraph, waste three days deciding whether or not to kill a sentence, write a fifty-first version pulling material from a completely different part of the thesis and convince myself it looks much better there, and then realise that that completely ruins the spot I pulled that material from, excuse me, I think I left my favourite tangerine downstairs.”

He swivels away from Bill and exits the office as perfunctorily as he entered it. As he goes, Bill notices something off about his gait; it’s unlike his usual smooth roomba walk, almost but not quite a limp. Bill could swear she hears a faint creaking sound with each swing of his left leg. Freddie is gone too quickly for her to pinpoint what it might be.

“Is he always like that?” Bill asks the Doctor.

“Hmm?”

Bill gives up. “Never mind.” Then a new idea occurs to her. She un-gives-up. “Hey, does Freddie have a prosthetic?”

The Doctor lifts his head from his hands in total bewilderment. “A what?”

“A prosthetic. Like a fake leg or something.”

“That’s a really personal question.” The Doctor is scandalised. It’s hilarious.

“I know,” Bill gives him what she likes to think of as her most winning smile, “that’s why I’m asking you, not him. Does he?”

“What on New Earth makes you think Freddie has a prosthetic?”

“He walks funny.”

The Doctor baulks. “Now you’re just being offensive.”

“Not like that, like … sorry, I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Bill says hurriedly. “Just, he has this … specific way of walking, and he’s always making weird noises.”

“You could say the same about that puppy in the Grape you kept showing me yesterday,” says the Doctor dismissively, “and you didn’t seem to find that strange.”

“Vine, and that puppy was adorable,” Bill corrects him laughingly, “and also Freddie’s not a puppy.”

“You’re right,” says the Doctor, scanning the current page of his paperback and taking one last note from it before tossing it to the side. “A puppy would be much easier to train.”

“Do you know what I mean though?” Bill tilts her head at him, not sure if he’s really chosen this thing of all things to be polite about or if he’s just slightly hard of hearing and hasn’t noticed the hydraulic hissing noise that Freddie sometimes makes when he moves. “There’s like, a sound. Sometimes. Not all the time, just sometimes, when he walks, or moves his arms. It’s like creaking, or … whirring, or …” Bill struggles to think of the right thing to compare it to. “One of the homes I lived at, there was this keyboard, yeah? Like a piano keyboard. And if you put it to the right settings, all the keys made special effects noises, like drums or whistles or a bloke shouting …”

“Before you continue, just checking, is this like the chip story or is it going to take us somewhere?” the Doctor says.

Bill laughs at him disbelievingly, “You went off on a whole tangent about the aesthetics of turntables when we were supposed to be doing the solar system yesterday!”

“That’s completely different, vinyls and the movements of the solar system rhyme perfectly. Anyway, I’m the teacher, I make the lesson plans.”

A loud, ungainly snorting noise breaks out of Bill’s mouth before she can stop it.

The Doctor frowns, but there’s a smile playing at the edge of his mouth too, poorly hidden. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever made a lesson plan in your life,” Bill snickers.

“Hey, I’m amazing at lesson plans, I’m great, I learned from the best!”

“Then whoever taught you was completely barmy, mate.”

They get truly off topic from there and wind up talking well after the time Bill’s lesson usually ends. Something nags at the back of her mind but she’s having too much fun just getting to – well, sort of hang out with the Doctor to pay it much attention.

It’s been a long time since Bill got to really just hang out with anyone one-on-one. She’s spent the last four years existing on the fringe of about two-and-a-half different friend groups, and everyone in her life always has someone else – even her foster mum, though Moira flits desperately from one partner to another like if she just cycles through them enough she’ll figure out which one holds the key to her perfect life. It’s nice to have someone to just talk to. It’s also nice to have someone who answers her questions, because people are usually only willing to answer about one-fifth of them, so Bill spends her life rationing out other people’s patience and trying not to be too much of a mess about it. It’s been three weeks but Bill already knows this: the Doctor, even when he’s evasive, even when he’s baffled, answers every question she puts to him, and he never truly loses his patience. It’s different. It feels easy like nothing has ever felt easy before.

It’s only when she gets back to her flat that night and sees Moira sitting up by the telly, watching some rerun of some past year of The Royal Variety Performance, where Elton John is banging away at a piano, that Bill remembers something she had meant to say. Something about keyboards and special effect keys and robot noises.

It’s probably not important.

⁂

Something Bill notices, nearly a month into being tutored by the Doctor, is that Freddie no longer sits in the canteen every day with his tangerine, sandwich, and book. She’s not sure when he stopped, but she certainly can’t remember seeing him since she started her lessons. She means to ask him about it, but he’s rarely been around at all lately and when he is, something about him seems off. To be fair, being ‘off’ seems to be a permanent state of existence for Freddie, but something has been building, trickling over until it feels like a change, or at least something Bill never quite noticed before. He seems almost … angry. Bill isn’t sure why she thinks that, because nothing in his face ever suggests it.

Freddie’s face never suggests anything. He’s studiously neutral at all times, even more so than he was the day he led Bill up to the Doctor’s office. Not even empty or cold, just neutral, all the time, no matter what. Bill had assumed he was just one of those awkward people that open up their faces more when you get to know them, but if anything Freddie’s face seems more closed. In fact, it’s quite possible that that ten minute walk was the most expressive Freddie has ever been in his life. The boy spends all his time looking like he’s halfway through making a sandwich he’s not particularly passionate about. Bill knows some people just have permanent flat affect. But it’s like the anthropology thing. It doesn’t … make sense for Freddie. It doesn’t suit him, somehow, the same way his hair colour clashes with his skin even though it matches his eyebrows. And Bill knows it’s insane, but she has this totally irrational feeling that underneath that exterior of bland, inoffensive Neutralness, Freddie is quietly, secretly seething about something.

She wants to ask him about that too. But again, she’s never really given the chance, not until one day, when she’s sitting in the Doctor’s office, trying to resist the urge to pick up one of the weird stick gadget toys from the pen-holder on his desk and investigate it. The Doctor isn’t there, which has never happened before. Bill is torn between being a bit concerned about that (what if he’s had a triple-chocolate-milkshake-induced stroke or something?) and really wanting to play with one of the stick toys. She expects that if he’s AWOL for another fifteen minutes the concern will weigh out, but right now she’s on stick temptation.

Temptation wins. She reaches for one of the toys, the one with the blue tip.

“I really wouldn’t if I were you,” says a disembodied voice off to her right, making Bill give a little shriek.

“What – hello?” she calls out to the room at large, her brain not quite working. It’s not her finest moment.

There’s a shuffle and a buzzing hum over by the big stained glass windows and Freddie steps up out of a chair in the alcove, obscured from Bill’s view. “I suppose that’s a lie,” he says.

Bill had forgotten how irritating he could be. “A lie? How am I lying?”

“No, that would be me.” Freddie nods at the toys in the pen-holder. “I would probably pick them up too.”

“Where’s your tangerine?” Bill blurts out suspiciously.

It isn’t the question she meant to ask him, but he is missing his tangerine today. He looks oddly incomplete without it.

“Maybe I ate it. That’s what people do with tangerines, isn’t it?” He waves a hand at her outfit, picked out to multi-task for tonight’s lesson and a trip to the pub. “You seem to be wearing slightly different clothes today. Presumably with the intention of some sort of pleasing aesthetic effect.”

How is what he’s saying so bitchy when his face is being so boring? It’s not even coolly remote, or aloof, or snobby. It’s just boring. But that’s alright. Bill considered this. Embarrassing blurting-stuff-out moment aside, Bill has a plan.

“Are you alright?” She springs the question on him like she’s trapping a moth under a glass.

Freddie immediately rewards Bill’s underhandedness with a facial expression: true, vivid surprise blossoms across his face. His blue-grey eyes get even bigger. He pulls it all back very quickly, but not quickly enough, and the fact that he pulls it back at all tells Bill a lot. The Neutralness is a choice.

“Why would you ask that?” he says evenly.

“You seem mad.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Alright.” Bill shrugs. She makes a show of looking around the room nonchalantly. “You seen the Doctor?”

“Numerous times over the course of my life, yes.” Again, snarky words, boring face, boring voice.

Bill gives him a look. “Today, I mean. It’s nearly six-fifteen, he’s never been late.”

“For you,” Freddie replies. He comes over, and Bill edges back in her seat as he leans over her, but all he does is drop Advanced Quantum Mechanics on the other side of the desk with a loud bang that makes Bill wince.

“Yeah, see, things like that, that’s what makes you seem kinda mad,” Bill says as he sweeps away towards the fireplace. She watches him pick up one of the statuettes on the mantelpiece and tap a finger against its head. “Are you mad at me?”

Freddie puts the statuette back down. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“I dunno. Does he do this a lot?”

“Yes, very frequently. Actually, it’s a miracle he hasn’t been late before.”

“No.” Bill turns in her seat to face him properly even though all she can see is the hair-gelled back of his head. “Am I the first student he’s taken on besides you?”

Freddie barks out something similar to a laugh which suggests the answer is a resounding ‘no’, but instead he says, “Yes, you are. And no, that’s not why I’m mad.”

“So you are mad!”

Freddie turns around and crosses his arms, and as he does so there’s an odd noise – three, actually, one of the hydraulic hissing noises that Bill is now used to, then a clinking noise, then a dull thud from somewhere near the floor. “You’ve made up your mind that I’m mad, I’m just going along with it. I’m very obliging like that.”

Bill squints at the floor. She could swear she saw … “Did you drop something?”

Freddie swings forwards on one foot like he’s about to start dancing, but then he just stops there, feet oddly splayed. “No. Did you?”

Bill decides to let that one go in favour of moving on to another question. “Does the Doctor live here all the time? What does he do? When he’s not lecturing and stuff?”

“Yes, a lot and not much,” replies Freddie.

“‘Yes’ he lives here and he gets up to a lot and not much?”

Freddie cocks his head. “I thought you were getting high essay marks.”

“How are you so mouthy while looking at me like that?” Bill bursts out.

This time, Freddie surprises her. He looks, just faintly, just a bit, chastised. “Oh. I … er. I actually … I suppose the face is making it come out …” He stands straighter and says, very slow and stilted, “I did not mean to be impolite. I do apologise, I’m working on a patch for it. Would you like to see a magic trick to make up for it?”

“You what?”

“A magic trick,” Freddie repeats. “Would you like to see a magic trick?”

“What?” Bill regards him warily, not sure if she does want to see a magic trick, not when it’s offered in such an ominously polite way. “You gonna pull a tangerine out from somewhere I don’t wanna know about?”

“Not a tangerine, no.” Freddie readjusts his stance and starts to raise his arms.

“Wait, if the ‘somewhere I don’t wanna know about’ is involved then I really … don’t …”

Bill trails off, stunned, as Freddie faces his palms together, presses his right-hand fingertips against his left palm, and – with a look of conscious effort – slowly begins to pull something long and silver out of his palm. First he just has it by the fingertips, then he’s grasped the end of the object itself, then he’s wincing slightly, as if it stings, and then out it comes in one last pull and a blast of blue light. There’s a metallic clink from Freddie’s left palm but he closes it into a fist before Bill can see the source of it. He raises the object he pulled out of his hand. It’s one of the stick toys from the Doctor’s desk.

Bill whips back around to look at the pen-holder. The blue-tipped one, the exact one she reached for, is missing.

“How the hell …?”

She looks back at Freddie. He’s not smiling. And yet, somehow …

“You’re really pleased with yourself for that one, aren’t you?” she says.

“You’re not?” Freddie shrugs. “Alright then …” He lifts the toy up in the air and proclaims loudly, “With this magic wand, I will turn off all the lights in this room.”

Bill grins. “Go on, then.”

Freddie waves his other hand and presses something on the side of the toy; it makes a buzzing sound that immediately reminds Bill of the robot noises always coming from Freddie – that’s it, that’s what she’s been trying to put her finger on, they’re robot noises, and she’s just about to exclaim that when all the lights go out. It’s dusk outside, and some weak evening light is still filtering through the windows, so it’s not nearly as dramatic as it could have been, but Bill still lets out a yelp because she really hadn’t been expecting that.

“Okay,” she nods, getting a hold of herself, “remote control lights. Nice.”

Freddie makes a very small, displeased grunt. “It’s not a remote control. It’s magic.”

Through the shadows, she can see him waving his hand; there’s another flash of blue and a buzz, and the lights all switch back on. He’s standing in front of the fireplace still, but now there’s a strange look on his face. It’s an actual look, for one. It takes Bill a second to place what else is strange about it, but then she realises that he’s actually making direct, sustained eye contact with her. He’s never done that before, not even and perhaps especially when he used to come to the canteen. He opens his mouth.

“Where do you eat lunch?” says Bill curiously.

Freddie blinks, shutting his mouth and jerking his head back. It makes him look like a pigeon that just flew into a concrete pillar. “What?”

“You must eat your lunch somewhere else now,” she says, “‘cause you don’t come to the canteen anymore. Why do you not come to the canteen anymore?”

Freddie stares at her. “You … told me it … You found my presence in the canteen disturbing.”

“Did I?” Bill thinks back. “I don’t remember saying that.”

Freddie looks at her and looks at her, and Bill looks back at him, still curious, trying to wrap her head around the expression on his face. She’s not sure how to describe it, even to herself. It reminds her of how he used to look at her in the canteen, all brimming over with wistfulness and something else. Whatever it is, it pins her to her chair.

“I … I eat … somewhere else on campus.” Freddie takes one hesitant step towards her, then another, as if she’s an animal that might spook at any moment. “I could …”

His big eyes flicker, and Bill recognises something in them. “You wanna hang out?”

Freddie’s gaze drops to the toy in his hand. Deliberately, moving as if in a trance, he turns it around and reaches it out towards her, the handle offered out.

“It’s not a remote control,” he says quietly, “it’s …”

The door swings open with a loud clatter that brings Bill crashing back down to Earth. The Doctor comes sliding into the room, actually skidding to a halt, his arms full of what look like takeout containers.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” he cries. “Had an early dinner, I lost track of …” He stops, taking in Freddie, who’s hurriedly stuffing the toy into his jacket pocket. “What are you doing here?”

“Filling in, opening act, making an idiot of myself, take your pick,” Freddie mutters. He gestures stiffly at Bill. “Half an hour. I expect someone was dying? Good evening.”

With that collection of barely coherent half-sentences, he stalks out of the office. The Doctor watches him go, then swings around to shoot a guilty ‘oops, I’ve upset Mother’ look at Bill. She snorts, which seems to encourage him.

“I’ll just …” He lifts the takeout containers, nodding towards the door that leads off into his private rooms. “Sorry.”

“It’s cool,” Bill smiles, “but you know this means I get to be at least forty-five minutes late at least once with zero notice and you can’t give me shit for it.”

“Duly noted,” he says sheepishly, and backs off into his rooms.

As he shuffles and bangs about behind the door, Bill tries to peer through the crack, but as usual she can’t make out much beyond more wood panelling. She casts her eye down at the floor in front of the fireplace instead, where Freddie had been standing. She spots something silver glinting on the maple floorboards. She feels an intrigued smile pull at her face, the dopey open-mouthed one she can never really hold back when something catches her fancy. She gets up and picks the silver thing off the floor.

It’s a metal nut, octagonal, similar to the kind she’s used to seeing in IKEA furniture kits. On one edge there’s a smear of what looks like oil. It has a strong but not unpleasant smell unlike any oil Bill’s ever smelt before. It almost reminds her of … God, what it is? Damp earth? Resin? Smoke?

Bill presses the nut between her palms. It’s still warm.

⁂

“Do you ever leave campus?” Bill asks the Doctor later that night, as she’s pulling her bag onto her shoulder.

They’ve wrapped up on string theory and fairy floss, and Bill has a list of required readings jotted down on a torn piece of the Doctor’s fancy University-issue stationery. The Doctor is getting up from his chair and stretching; he raises an eyebrow at her.

“Why wouldn’t I leave campus? Do you think teachers only exist on school grounds? Do we turn into little puffs of smoke if we ever step off the boundary line?”

“Obviously not,” Bill rolls her eyes. “I just meant more like, do you go out? Where you were just before, did you meet up with someone? Have a hot date?”

The Doctor laughs a slightly odd laugh. “Not exactly.” Seeing Bill’s questioning look, he elaborates, “I try to vary where I eat. I once accidentally spent an entire decade only ever eating in my bedroom in front of the telly, I think it did something to my brain. Now everytime I see Alan Davies I crave Mee Goreng.”

Bill imagines the Doctor picking a random spot on campus to eat dinner at, alone. It’s depressingly easy. She can visualise him with his feet tucked up on a bench in the gathering dark, surrounded by stir-fry.

“You had six boxes of takeout,” she says. “What you doing eating six boxes of takeout alone in public like an insane person?”

“I order for leftovers!” He starts to shoo her towards the door. “Hadn’t you better be going? It’s getting dark out.”

“It’s already dark out.”

“There, you see, you’re already running behind.”

Bill relents, though she does stop to say, “I was gonna ask if you wanna come to pub night?”

The Doctor looks just as stunned as Freddie did when Bill asked if he was alright.

“It’s supposed to be open mic night, so I thought you could bring your guitar,” she says when he doesn’t reply. “I always hear snatches of stuff but I’ve never actually heard you play a song all the way through …”

The Doctor hesitates for a long moment before saying softly, “No. No, not tonight, I think.” He adds with a gentle smile, “But thank you for inviting me.”

Bill, who had kind of expected that answer, smiles back. “Suit yourself.” She heads for the door, and she’s only taken two steps before an idea starts to percolate in her head, a whim forming into an urge she tries to dismiss as stupid. By the time she’s stepped over the threshold the urge turns itself into another question and launches itself out of her mouth: “Hey, do you think Freddie would wanna come?”

“Freddie? You want to invite Freddie to pub night?”

Bill supposes the Doctor’s right to look a bit sceptical. It’s easy to imagine the Doctor scoffing down Mee Goreng on a bench like a weirdo, it’s hard to imagine Freddie socialising in a pub like a normal person. Pubs are colour and noise, music and lights, lager and chips. Freddie is elbow patches and plaid wool ties.

“It’s not really that I want him to come,” Bill admits, just to the Doctor, just because she knows he won’t tell a soul. “It’s just … he seems like maybe he doesn’t have a lot of people?”

The Doctor makes a psshh noise, “People, he’s got all the people he wants. He’s not really a people person.”

“Yeah,” Bill laughs, “he doesn’t really seem like one.”

They bid each other good night and the Doctor shuffles off to his private rooms. As Bill heads down the corridor away from his office she can hear him string out a chord on his guitar, followed by a trio of plucked notes that fade into the nighttime ambiance of the university – the warm enveloping quiet and Bill’s footsteps on the stairs down to the ground floor.

It’s a nice night for it, that kind of fresh-aired autumn night where everything feels like it’s in vivid clarity, so much so that every crisp browning leaf seems to bely its own age, seems more to be coming alive. Bill’s mates meet her at the front drive and together they walk down to the bus stops that run around the edge of campus. They take the 550 six stops to what Trish has been calling “the gay pocket of Glenndale Street”.

From what Bill can see through the window as the bus pulls up, it’s pretty much what she expected: an artsy strip of shops and eateries, by day probably bustling with people with undercuts looking for vegan burritos and good coffee. At night, strings of lamps hang across the narrower openings to residential streets leading off the main drag, and the shop windows and cafes are dark, leaving the clubs and restaurants to glow with activity.

Trish has been trying to drag Tom there since term started, arguing that the music scene is as good as his native Liverpool, and Tom’s very vocal doubts have only made her more determined. And because Tom is going and there’s going to be drinks, Jon is going too, and that means Jon and Trish have to be in the same room for a whole night, and as always that means …

“Thanks for coming,” Tom says to Bill in an undertone as they get off the bus. “I know it was short notice.”

“It’s not like I had any other plans to drop,” she says. “And I figured you might hear the music better if Trish and Jon weren’t trying to kill each other next to you.”

“One day I’m gonna work out how you chill them out and stop bothering you so much,” Tom jokes. Then he hastily adds, “Not that I only invited you for peace keeper duties, obviously, it’s – it’s been ages, been meaning to catch up.”

Bill waves a hand. “It’s cool, I get it, I’ve been pretty busy …”

“Here it is!” Trish calls from up ahead. “Come on, come on!”

Trish has pulled up at a shopfront with darkened windows. Bill, Tom, and Jon squint to look inside.

“Uh, you sure?”

“Trish. This is a bookstore.”

Trish breaks into a lazy grin. “Your faces. Nah, that’s just what it is by day. Pub’s out the back. Come on!” She leads the way past the front door and the big windows as if heading to the restaurant next door.

“There’s a pub out the back of a bookstore?” Bill says. “How the hell’s a whole pub supposed to fit at the back of …”

Trish turns left and disappears into the wall between the bookstore and the restaurant. Tom calls out and they all scramble to follow Trish: first Tom, then Jon, and then Bill, who finds herself standing before a cramped opening to a long corridor of violet stars.

They’re not actual stars, Bill realises after the initial jolting wonder of it. It’s a long and very narrow brick alleyway, about the width of two adults squeezed side by side, and a tarp covering has been put up to shield it from the rain. Under that tarp are lines and lines of purple fairy lights, illuminating the entire alleyway all the way down to where Bill can see people moving about beyond the opening at the end. The sound of live music drifts up the alley, and as Bill gets closer and closer – because she started moving down that corridor of stars without even realising it – she can hear the hum of gathering voices and the clink of drinking glasses.

The backlot is huge. It doesn’t feel huge, it feels cosy and tucked away, but it must be huge all added up. There’s a half-inside, half-outside area where the alleyway meets up with the open double doors of the pub, a sort of courtyard scattered with busy tables. The pub itself seems built directly into the high stone walls that surround the lot, and its peeling, partially exposed brick facade faces back towards the bookstore. A pink neon sign over the door reads St Sebastian’s.

Trish is beckoning Bill through the front doors; she pulls her over to a table half backed by a booth seat, tucked away off to one side towards the front. Jon and Tom are already seated there.

“You sure there’s not a less shit table going?” Jon says, raising his voice partially to be heard over the sound of pub-chatter and music, and probably partially because he’ll take any excuse to raise his voice in conversation with Trish. “We can’t hardly see the stage even. You know Tom likes watching the acts.”

“Everywhere’s packed! You wanna do better?”

“I like it,” Bill puts in. “It’s kinda cosy. Anyway, perfect excuse to come back a second time! If we do a Saturday night we can come earlier, I won’t have tutoring on.”

“Tutoring? At St Luke’s?” Trish looks at her with interest. “I thought you didn’t apply?”

“I didn’t …” Bill grins, “and then I kinda got in anyway.”

Tom and Trish exchange a look and Trish stands. “Okay, Ms Mysterious, I’m getting us a round and you’re telling me all about it.”

She disappears to the bar and Jon leans back with a sigh. He tries to peer around Bill at the obscured stage. “This is opening act stuff,” he complains.

Bill tunes into the music behind her. It’s a low and melancholy voice over electric guitar: “I don’t believe my will’s quite free, I’m half machine, at least half steam; Aquinas, call on me, how many angels on the head of your pin?”

“Hey, no hating on opening acts,” says Tom, “Trish did an opening act last week at the Spinning Wheel down in London.”

“Another one? You know what they say. Always an opening act, never a headliner …”

“Anybody in stilettos can answer that old thing: it’s one for the right foot, one for the left, half an angel per pin at best …”

“I like them,” Bill says in the invisible musician’s defence, swiftly moving onto, “also, Jon, you are keeping your head pulled in tonight, right?”

Jon lets out another long sigh. “Yeah, yeah, alright. But this place had better be as gay as Trish promised.”

Tom subtly indicates a passing woman with a teased up, magnificent blue mohawk. “Pretty sure it’s gay, mate.”

“It’s in the name, innit?” says Bill with enthusiasm. “St Sebastian. He’s that twink with the arrows in him. Martyr and gay icon.”

Jon chuckles at her, amused, “Since when do you know about martyrs?”

“I did this essay, sort of a philosophy one. Light and blindness, martyrs, that kind of thing.”

As soon as Bill gets talking about it, she finds herself unable to stop. Jon at least is interested. Tom isn’t really a philosophy essay kind of guy, and Bill knows she should shut up, but it’s a good ten minutes later when she wraps up, “Yeah, so, basically, all about the subjectivity of morality. Thought I was gonna completely flunk it because it turned out so far off from the brief but my tutor liked it.”

“What was the brief?” asks Jon.

“Three thousand words on a worthwhile death.”

“Keeping the conversation light over here?”

Trish has returned with a tray of their drinks. She sets them down around the table, though somehow Jon’s ends up just slightly out of his reach. Bill passes it to him.

“Bill reckons this place is named after some dead gay guy,” says Tom.

“Yeah, St Sebastian’s in the back and Sappho’s in the front. That’s the bookstore. It’s a nice place, they do coffee and stuff during the day.”

“So it’s basically Dead Gays Central.” Jon raises his eyebrows. “Wow. That shit’s problematic.”

Even Trish laughs at that. “You’re an arse.”

They fall into conversation and rounds of beer from there. Bill tells them about her tutoring with the Doctor and the span of topics they’ve covered thus far, philosophy and physics and high fantasy fiction. She describes the Doctor himself to them as best she can, all strange, charming, tartan-wearing six-foot-something of him, always spouting lyrical about the nature of reality and finding a way to squeeze in some offbeat joke about cabbages. She tells them how he’s somehow gotten her properly enrolled at St Luke’s and that she has a sneaking suspicion he might have changed her whole life.

Bill’s not totally shocked to find out that Trish thinks it’s the most sinister thing she’s heard of since Trump announced he was running for President in the US. It’s not the first time someone’s speculated on the Doctor like that – Moira said something stupid about it just last week when she found out about the whole thing. If Bill forces herself to be objective, she gets it. If one of her friends told her they’d been personally selected by a much older uni professor to have private lessons every weekday afternoon in his office, she’d also be telling them to ring some sort of helpline. But they haven’t met the Doctor. They don’t know him. They haven’t seen his big sad eyes or the old photos on his desk. They have no idea how gentle he is. Bill doubts even the Doctor knows that.

Tom is less weirded out by it, or at least more willing to accept Bill’s judgement. Jon thinks it all sounds much more exciting than waiting tables and claims he wants to sneak onto campus to infiltrate the Doctor’s lectures too, to see if he gets ‘specially chosen to be an X-Man’. He asks if the Doctor has room for another student.

“Yeah, not bragging or anything, but I don’t think he picks people out that easily. Actually I don’t think he’s ever picked anyone out before me, at least that’s what Freddie said.”

“Freddie?”

Bill rolls her eyes almost reflexively. “The Doctor’s PhD student. He’s the only other one around. Pretty sure he hates my guts.”

“What’s his problem?” says Jon.

“No idea,” says Bill, “but apart from obviously having one he’s …” She’s not sure what he is. Strange and not charming? Boring? Fascinating? Creepy? Annoying? “Not really worth talking about.”

The conversation moves onto things that are worth talking about: Trish’s continuing search for a booking agent, Jon’s most recent entertainingly awful customer service stories, Tom’s new flatmate’s predilection for seafood and how the entire flat smells of salmon on a semi-permanent basis now. At some point at the bottom of her second glass of beer Bill reaches that comfortably buzzed out state where sound and light permeate her awareness like refractions on the surface of a rippling pool of water, not quite hazy, but fluid. Her friends continue to talk around her, as they often do, and she listens to the music weaving around her from the stage far at her back. The lyrics murmur about street lights on wet pavement, a city reflected twice over, smoke and street corners.

“They used to know me here, haven’t used that name in years, been a woman too long for that song now …”

Bill is turning over the metal nut she found on the floor of the Doctor’s office, watching it glint in the gold and rainbow hues of the pub lights, turning blue and then red, silver and then gold. She raises it to her nose to smell again, trying to place that scent. Before, she thought it was damp earth, now she catches something else, something like lightning and rain. There’s a word for that. The smell of a storm coming, that sharp, almost smoky tang. Ozone. Ozone and damp earth. There’s a word for that too, Bill remembers. Or she remembers, but can’t remember. Something about an expensive bottle of perfume she saw in a shop years ago. It had a name Bill fell a bit in love with. The beautiful redhead on the packaging didn’t hurt either.

“I’ve been lost and I’ve found out high supply just brings your cost down, they don’t want you involved, just want you around …”

Bill raises the nut up to the light and sees that the inside of it is strangely shaped, different from any metal nut she’s seen before. She wonders silently at the way the negative space inside it looks just like a star. It’s oddly beautiful.

“Walking in, I gotta step over a pretty thing leaning her head on her own shoulder …”

She peers through the hole, as if it might show her the pub in a whole other light, one wilder and stranger and a little bit impossible.

“I don’t ask if she’s alright, ‘cause I think she’d lie tonight that her ride’s coming, her ride’s coming, her ride’s coming, her ride …”

Bill makes eye contact with someone on the other side of the star. It’s a girl all the way on the other side of the pub, a whole ten feet away, which somehow feels like a million miles. She’s … Bill has never been a poet, so Bill can’t possibly describe her. Her hair is blonde. Her lips are red. Her top bares her shoulders and her collarbones are a delicate expanse of pale skin. With the way her head is tilted, one eye catches the light just like the nut that Bill is peeking through, mirroring the star all the way down to the iris in a gleam of gold.

Bill doesn’t want to lower the nut from her eye. She’s scared that somehow the girl will disappear, that the moment Bill drops her hand to the table there’ll be nothing there but an empty space. Still, with a shaking hand she lowers the nut. And the girl is still there. She’s looking back at Bill, straight into her eyes, and Bill can feel every single nerve ending in her body as if each one is a lightbulb bursting.

“... need another round, Jon, come on, cheapskate!” Trish’s voice rings distantly into Bill’s ear.

“I’ll get them in,” Bill mumbles, finding her feet, which suddenly feel very far away from the rest of her.

Across the pub, the other girl is standing too. She’s moving towards Bill like a perfect mirror. Bill is supposed to be heading for the bar, but she finds herself veering left, drawn like a magnet into the girl’s path as she heads straight towards Bill. Is the girl going to talk to her? Is she going to ask her to dance? Is there dancing here? Bill doesn’t know if people are dancing, she can’t remember if she saw them. She can’t sense anything outside this pull; she feels the way she imagines the ocean tides feel about the moon.

They come to a halt, face to face in the middle of the pub. What Bill had thought was an optical illusion seems, impossibly, to be the truth – there is a golden star in the girl’s right eye, glowing as if Bill put it there herself by holding the nut to the light and shining it towards her. Her other eye is hazel, all the colours of the deepest forest. Bill stares at her, unable to move past her, unable to ask her name, unable to move. Even if this place is called St Sebastian’s, she’s not sure it’s gay enough to witness what she’s thinking about right now.

The girl stares back, straight into Bill’s eyes, as if their boring brown is just as hypnotic as her golden star.

There’s an unholy screech to the far left and the girl startles like a rabbit, mumbling an apology and darting away past Bill. Dazed, Bill still stands there like an idiot in the middle of the floor, slowly catching up with time as it starts moving like normal again, realising that the unholy screech was made by the guitarist on the stage, presumably having spectacularly fumbled a chord. Bill weathers the irrational urge to climb up onto the stage and kill them. Then she gets over it and turns away to get the drinks.

She spends the rest of the night alternating between kicking Jon or Trish under the table and glancing over at the booth where the girl with the star in her eye had been sitting. The girl doesn’t return, and the women sitting there eventually leave. Bill swallows her disappointment along with the last of her beer an hour later, as they’re all getting ready to leave.

She asks Trish if other students from St Luke’s ever come here – Trish is in her third year already, she ought to know – but Trish is too sloshed to give a more helpful answer than, ‘oh, yeeeaah’ and bob her head. Bill sighs. They’ve reached that time of the night. All Trish wants to do is sing ‘That’s Amore’ at the top of her lungs and find weird ways to interact with Jon. Because it’s Jon, as always, who helps Trish up when she nearly faceplants off the steps out of the pub.

“You’re such a fuckin’ lightweight,” he says to Trish softly, steadying her at the waist as if she’s made of glass. “Can’t take you anywhere.”

“You’re an arse,” Trish tells him for the second time that night, “and your hair is fucking stupid.”

And as always it’s Tom who follows behind them quietly with his hands in his pockets, with Bill the only one standing at the right angle to see the look on his face when he watches them ahead.

Later, in her bedroom at Moira’s house, Bill takes off her jacket and starts emptying the pockets, only to find that the nut is gone. She’s left it at the table at the pub. Or possibly she dropped it when she stood on the floor in the girl’s thrall. She feels a pang for the loss of it so soon, cursing her stupidity. As ever, too busy gawking at a pretty girl.

But, God. What was the nut? Probably some useless piece of IKEA metal that fell out of Freddie’s pocket. And what was that girl? Possibly the love of Bill’s life. Possibly an entire universe.

Either way, definitely a girl worth losing a puzzle piece over.

[jackiequick]

Meet more of the family, Miss Stark & The Youngest Barnes | Marvel OC

———

Liv Stark ⌚️

Full name: Olivia Charlotte Stark-Vega

Nicknames: Liv, Vi, Lottie, Lola, Clary, Char, Charlie, Miss Vega, Snark Central

Age range: 5-18

Height: 5’1

Relationship status: Single

Background: American with Peruvian, Polish and Italian descent

Father: Anthony Stark

Godmother: Elizabeth Stark

Godfather: Jason Underwood

Brother & Sister: Rei and Morgan Stark

Step-mom: Pepper Potts

Uncles: James Rhodes, Happy Hogan & rest of The Avengers

Abilities: A bit of geek and hacker due to her love of technology, basic hand to hand combat since she enjoys boxing and her witty personality. She’s young so she hasn’t gotten plenty of skills yet.

Personality: Liv has a smart touch, gentle soul, sweet, charming and easy going. She is a bit of a bitchy girl and stubborn about everything she does. If she wants to do something, she will probably sneak out to get it done. She got a some of anxiety and a nervous twitch (which would grow over the years since Liv is afraid of being alone and in the dark about a lot of things), this creeping fear and sadness that will take over her if not careful.

- However Liv is very accident prone, she’s always getting hurt one way or another, giving everyone an heart attack since the age of 9 since she’s always been a active little girl. So in result she give Tony and something for Rei to roll his eyes about.

- From an young age, she has always been into tech, jewelry and over all. Wanting to build and grow a her own little things, she was a Stark it’s a given! She watched a lot of movies so she got creative with her ideas.

- Random fun fact, one of her favorite movies is 10 Things I Hate About You, just because she likes Kat Stratford’s aesthetic and attitude. But it’s many Action Movies and Rom-Coms that she will watch with Pepper, that she enjoyed. It’s where she gets her inspiration for things.

- She adored the idea staying in the lab, tinkering and cleaning up the inventions that were made. She practically lived in there, staying home to help and learn. It caused never want to leave that house in general, having a bit of mouth on her after hearing the adults always speak their minds (so don’t be surprised this girl start rambling and throws out whatever bullshit that appears in her thoughts), but it allowed her to be a safe within those four walls.

- It didn’t take long for her to start filling up a notebook with designs on how to incorporate technology into fine jewelry (aka The Stark Watch, necklaces to tracking and security measures, bracelets to be use for defense purposes and rings can be transformed into gauntlet). 

- She’s always been bit of business women! Wanting to create products to help people, keeping an eye on things from behind the scenes, represent and model for Stark industries and such. 

- But she was still so young, so her parents and siblings didn’t want her to grow up so soon in the spotlight of it. She’s a kid! And she understood that, it bothered her but she understood why. So she stays hoping her time could come where she can help out the group.

—> Because little did she know that theses little gadgets and gizmos that would be incorporated into the ideas her father and older brother would use as fashion purposes in the future with their own suits. Aka they’re Iron Man suits!

—> I know you may be wondering about her family life, well Liv raised well per say. She had to move around a lot as a child, especially since Tony never wanted the public attention to be on her just yet and her mother wasn’t sure that she would taken care of. It took convincing from Pepper and Jason to let her stay home with them, so everything was fine after that.

Her relationship with her father was an nice one. When it comes to parenting his kids, Tony was a rather dramatic, embarrassingly loud at times, a little cocky and stubborn parent per day, so it’s a bit difficult to get him to calm down and talk softly with him. Tony cares a lot about his children, having Rei and Liv to take care of but he was always busy with the company having to arrive home late, events he had to attend and ending up being tired.

Other than that, he tried to make time for his son and daughter, bringing them to the lab and everywhere he could. Even if he got in trouble afterwards. Tony always tries to inspire his daughter to do what she loves and experience things, be caring, make sure she was alright too and etc. But they make it work!

Ohh, did I forget to mention how annoying and protective Tony can be as a parent? He will take everything very seriously or not serious at all, acting out if something goes wrong and he tends to be questioning his motives. Even blaming himself if something bad were to happen to his family. Tell Tony Stark you have a crush? He sends JARVIS to keep an eye on you. Ask Tony for something like a new backpack for school? He buys you something else.

In his defense, he does everything with so much love (even if he doesn’t always portray it in the best way).

Her relationship with Rei however—you wouldn’t think it but rather wholesome, since she’s the little sister he never exactly wanted. They were completely opposite to one another, he’s grumpy and she’s easygoing, he rather work alone in silence and she rather work with music blasting and etc. But as much as Rei may be annoyed and want to throw his little sister out of the house, deep down he cares about her, even though he didn’t show it to her very often and he’s very protective of her ever since he was a child.

Rei and their father, always trying to keep Liv out of harms way and safe at home. Even if they tend to fail at times.

Since Tony was always busy, Rei tends to be one to look out for Liv and keep her in check, being her personal bodyguard for everything she does. If it was up to him, Rei would wrap his baby sister in bubble wrap and not let her leave the house!!

When they were kids (and even now) Liv would follow Rei wherever he went and wanting to copy him, be like her big brother because he always around the corner with something snarky to say to her and a huge potty mouth (it resulted in her having a huge attitude as well). She will always be the one to encourage Rei’s designs for suits and talk to dad about something.

He talks and she will absolutely love to listen to him (even if 85% of the time she has no idea what he’s talking, cause he’s smarter than her at a lot of things.)

Sometimes you will find Liv in a moody way shutting everyone out of her room and just curled up in a ball, similar to brother and to be honest, it concerns Rei a bit when it happens. But he would probably try to snap her out of it, even not he will let her be in her moody moments. He knows how it is

At the end of the day, no matter how different they were with one another and the paths they choose, they cared in their own way. Even if when they’re public, they act like they don’t know one another.

—> As for her relationship with the Avengers and Young Avengers! Ooof let’s stick to first impressions, shall we?

She met all of them when she just a child, joining Rei and Tony on a simple basis day with the group. She first started watching her father talking with Bruce Banner, and she took a liking to him very much seeing how nice, gentle and reserved he can be. But there an edge to him, that she found to be cool.

As for when she met Rick, it was when him and Rei were chatting. Her first impression of him, to her the young man is that he looked like a old school Disney Channel Star with a nice smile and warmth, with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

So when she saw Bruce, Rick, Rei and Tony all work together in their own separate labs blasting music so loudly..the only thing Vi said, “Oh no, there’s 4 of them!”

When she met Natasha, she just cool and rather chill per say acting like the nonsense agent with a soft side. Romanoff’s daughter on the other hand, she was just curious about her and Vi liked that.

Same thing goes for Clint and his daughter, they were just cool people. She was always amazed with the skills they had, and a part of her always knew that Clint Barton was a family man. And she was right, when they appeared at the Barton’s Barn years later.

Meira and Luna were just so relaxed, gentle and sweet girls. She adored how they acted with their teammates and siblings, especially Meira since she was a little sister just like her. Sweet and snarky.

Ethan was just super chill and suspicious of everything, Rei didn’t like him and carried Vi alway from from very quickly. Cole was just so mischievous, snarky smile and tossing jokes every day, making Vi laugh or snort. But a part of her respected him greatly, cause she heard he was VERY powerful.

Liane, well she didn’t like her right away. She annoyed Olivia very quickly and she sent painful glared toward the girl who tried to make friends with her. After a while she softened toward Ms Felton, but it took a long time cause she saw Rei didn’t like her either.

——

Daphnia Barnes-Wilson 🪫

Full name: Daphnia Ramona Wilson-Barnes 

Nicknames: Daphne, Nia, Daph, DD, Sparky, Daffy, Fifi, Birdie,

Other name while on the run: Davina, Robin

Age range: 7–20

Height: 5’7

Relationship status: Single

Parents: Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson

Background: American with Mexican and Chilean Origin

Aunt: Sarah Wilson

Uncle: Steve Rogers

Sister: Laurie Wilson

Brother: Benjamin Barnes

Abilities: Marksmanship and Acrobatics, having took some gymnastics classes. She’s also a bit of a fast learner so she’s fluent in English, Spanish, Russian, Portuguese and some French.

Personality: Gentle, a little broken due to being let down a lot in life, warm-hearted, clumsy, a bit shy and humorous at times. But if she’s anything like her fathers, she’s stubborn enough, a little self-sacrificing, and willingly to help no matter what.

- Sam and Bucky have been together for a while now, since their chemistry was a challenging one it always hard to settle down and figure out what they want. However a house, family and future for their kids was always one of them.

- They already had Laurie and Benjamin, so they thought two kids was enough as it is. But things took a small turn when they stumble at a orphanage in Brazil for a mission and met this no named little girl who gave both of them the most honest smile.

- Sam has always been one to have a big heart, so wanting a big family was always part of that. So his heart spoke before his words ever could, wanting to adopt her. Bucky Barnes on the other hand was a little hesitant—well more like worried—about the whole thing, he always wanted a little piece of normalcy and he got it with Sam and their kids. But adding a 3rd? That was a lot of responsibility, but he caved as soon as he hung out with the girl.

- To be honest, they saw a bit of themselves in her. So she was adopted when she less than 10 years old and brought into a family of oddly comforting heroes. They named gave her a name and did everything they could to make her feel comfortable. Welcomed.

—> So Davina (or Daphne) as they called her grow up with her parents and siblings. As loved as she was, she always felt alone and feared that it will all be taken away from her. Especially with the fact that her parents were heroes themselves, there was always a chance that they can end up hurt or worse, if not careful.

- But Bucky always made sure to tell her and every single one of his children, “Don’t worry, I’ll always come back home to you guys, no matter how long it takes.” And Sam would tell them, “You’re our kids, we will always love you and be there to tuck you in bed whenever we can.”

- Sometimes they would be gone for 2-3 days, maybe a week or a whole month leaving the kids in care of family and friends. Laurie was the oldest of the siblings, so they could handle themselves very well and or sneak off to join the fight ending with them in trouble. Benjamin being the second oldest, so he rather stay behind during the fight and stay with his sisters and friends.

- Speaking of fights and travel, when if plenty say battle isn’t place for children. Sometimes Sam and Bucky had no choice but to bring there kids with them to places like Wakanda, Stark Tower, France and or let’s say Germany for instance. Even though it was a hassle to bring children along for the ride, it was an interesting learning experience and a way to test out their kids

- And to be honest, Daph and her siblings enjoy it a little too much. Cracking jokes, running around, exploring different places and meeting interesting people, and creating new ideas among one another. It was a field trip for them sometimes.

-> And if your wondering, yes Daphnia is team #HateJohnWalker! When she found out, she was ready to take her baseball bat and wack his head with it, demanding the Shield back with a glare. Bucky couldn’t be more prouder of her in that moment laughing, meanwhile Sam rolled his eyes unable to believe what he heard.

- Random fun fact, she played baseball before she was ever adopted and had really good aim, depending on where she was hitting. It was a trait her siblings carried on as well, especially Benjamin even if he was more reserved one, he had a great aim.

- She always loved any sport that involves movement and play, soccer being one of them (since she lived in Brazil for a while). She liked to think she was rather talented when it came to that, even if she was a problem when it came to being around other kids, having a small temper and glaring at other people. Mainly, it was her insecurity that she hid underneath her own glares. 

- Matter a fact all the kids were talented in their own way ever since they were younger. Daphne when she was very little, believed at the time that she didn’t have any good talents and wasn’t as smart enough as it is. Until Sam took her out to the shopping and noticed that she stopped in front of small gymnastics building with wide eyes, softly grinning at the sight. She pleaded for him to let her walk in and see the girls, he nodded letting her watch. As she did, Daph realized she wanted to join in on the fun and dance as well. Sam couldn’t stop himself and called Bucky for his opinion on it.

- She started her classes soon enough and enjoyed it for the most part, her body was rather sore after some classes. So she wasn’t too happy about that part. When Bucky told Nat about it, the Russian spy came in shocked and said, “If she wanted to learn some acrobatics, why didn’t you come to me or Lydia? Barton would’ve showed her!” 

- Bucky just rolled his eyes and replied, “Cause she wanted that to be her own thing. And it doesn’t hurt to have some normalcy around her, Romanoff. I think it’s a good thing..” And Bucky was right about that, since he loved seeing his husband and children happy, enjoying themselves and having a break from the hero world. Hell, he goes to every talent show, buys items needed and participates in whatever is needed. Even if he’s not too happy about it at first.

- Of course as much as acrobatics were her own thing and all she ever wanted to do, so she can have that skill set. That didn’t stop the idea of having good marksmanship in her left corner, she was already good with a baseball bat and Bucky was more than happy to show the basics of how to hold/use a gun to his kids. Sam wasn’t too pleased about that idea though saying, “They’re too young!”

- And to be honest, Daph was pretty good with a gun. Swinging it swiftly and tossing the gun in her hands, holding it up to her target (which was an old target board hanging outside nearby the trees). However that didn’t mean she didn’t play around with the gun at first, holding in her hands and pretending to be a spy. “Barnes, but you can call Agent Daphnia Wilson, at your service.” She said with a giggle, humoring herself.

- Daph was always a little silly, cocky and daring. Not thinking first and asking questions later kinda gal—oops! So it lead her to getting in trouble sometimes, breaking certain curfews if she out at the movies with a friend (like with one of the young avengers), being a little lazy about things and running away from her problems like a champ. But by the end of the day, she was good girl.

-> Speaking of Young Avengers and Older Avengers. You’re probably wondering who’s her favorites are and first impression were of the teams huh? Well, here are your answers.

Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff were a given to being liked by her, due to her parents being friends with them. I mean come on, they are basically Captain America, The Black Widow and the rest of Cap’s Quarter.

Moving down the list Thor was always a silly man to her, hearing stories how he speaks in old English and is very noble when it comes to the things that he does. According to the stories from Sam, he was a rather loud fella with a good heart.

Clint Barton, she took a liking too finding his simple ways of life and honest charm to be a nice thing to see. Plus Clint has a similar murder stare to Bucky, so it was funny to see their resting faces when they’re in the same room together.

The man, the myth, the legend himself (or that’s at least what people like to say) Tony Stark was always one of a kind. She was very nervous to meet all of The Avengers, one of them being Stark having seen how the persona he displayed on TV screens and the stories. But in reality, Tony was just a genius goof with snarky humor, so it lighten up her mood.

It was like Bruce Banner sensed her nervousness from a mile away since she appeared in The Tower. He noticed the child behind Sam Wilson holding her jacket, leaned down to her level to kindly introduce himself to the girl and watching parents reactions. Soon enough, with Bucky leaning against the wall with a nod of encouragement, Daph started talking to Bruce with such softness and gentleness.

As for the rest of them, she met them some time later. The Young Avengers. She met the Stark siblings, Rei wasn’t in the lightest mood having no like the idea of meeting Barnes or Wilson’s kids but Olivia gave her a warm welcome and waved at her before rushing off to meet her friends at the mall.

Natasha Romanoff’s daughter Rochelle was kind enough to show her and her siblings around, chatting with them knowing it felt to be the new kids. Daph liked her reddish hair and kind smile.

Liane was something else, having been on a rambling mess when she met Daph and trying to figure out what to do with her plans. Laurie laughed as her sister snicker at the blonde, meanwhile Benji just rolled his eyes confused wanting to get away from there.

Meira was and will always be a delight to meet, since Daphnia met her that same week in The Tower’s kitchen and taste testing her new batch of cookies. They were delicious.

Speaking of food, when Daphnia met Rick she got the same warmth and kindness she remembered from being Bruce. But this time it involved snacks and jokes around his week at The Tower, she was all ears listening to him as they entered the kitchen to find some chicken nuggets.

Cole and Luna, it was more magic and fun spells when she came to see them. The two were casting some spills, when she got caught in one of them being turned into a little mouse by accident. Cole laughed as Luna worried, but they turned her back to normal soon enough.

Ethan was the 3rd sibling she met, and she thanked all the Stars and Stripes that it was a simple meeting. He was watching a movie, being Monsters Inc. when she met him the guy joining The Young Avengers for a movie night.

———

I hope you liked it and thank you for taking your time to read this!

If you want to know anything about theses OCs, let me know in the comments below.

Please like, comment, share and reblog if you like.

Tags: @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @msrochelleromanofffelton @mallowbee4 @mandylove1000 @gaminggirlsstuff @whitewiccan @rooster-84 @parisparker269 @sherloquestea @starkleila @meiramel @blueboirick and etc



[hannahhook7744]

Disney Descendants Random Headcanons (Part 1);

(No Kids/some kids Born Pre D1 Addition since I don't have the full list yet).

Let me Know if I'm missing any characters because I'm well aware I'm missing more than a few.

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

Akio (number 42): He is the son of Tomiko (from Elena of Avalor).

Ally: Her dad is Pinocchio, making Pin her younger brother.

Amber Dearly: She's a waitress but still does beauty pageant events when they're in season.

Anthony Tremaine: Jacob Lathyn (The Baker from Cinderella 2) is his dad.

Anxelin Fitzherbert: She's Goth.

Arabella: She's morally gray (and had ill intentions when she stole her granddad's trident).

Ariana Rose: Grows less jealous of Audrey over time and cuts contact with their grandmother. Is very popular in college.

Artie Pendragon: Somehow ends up with a pet dragon. No one knows how it happened.

Audrey Rose: Goes on to be the CEO she always wanted to be.

Aziz: He takes after his mother in looks and personality.

Bashful Jr.: He goes by Bash and is very popular in school.

Beezlebub (The Cat): Beelzebub is the Lucifer's least favorite kitten.

Ben: Likes building miniature models and wanted to be in a band with Ben and Lonnie when he was a kid.

Big Murph: He lost his eye as a kid when rough housing with the Gaston Twins.

Bobby Hood: He's Tiger Peony's boyfriend and a sports commentator at school.

Bobby Radcliffe: is a good friend of Artie Pendragon and is very shy.

Bonny: Is the medic of Uma's crew.

Carina Potts: Wears a cooking pot as a hat.

Carlos de Vil: He becomes Henry's mentor and gets Beelzebub back.

Carter: The 'nice' twin.

Celia Facilier: Goes on to be a very successful business woman (in whatever you think she'd go on to do).

Chaca: She's Li Shang Jr's girlfriend and Kuzco is very protective of her, much to her and his wife's bemusement.

Chad Charming: Redeems himself sometime after d3 and leaves to find himself.

Cheerful: Is emo.

Chip Potts: Babysat Ben a lot when he was younger. Has 13 siblings. He works at the castle.

Chloe Charming: Learned a lot of what she knows in ROAR from Lonnie.

Claudine Frollo: She had red hair and is left handed.

Clay Clayton: He's a party animal and is very hard to take out in a fight.

Crabby: is actually quite pleasant to be around.

Crocodile Descendants: They love tormenting Captain Hook and wrestling.

Cubby: He handles Neverland Academy's finances.

Danny Darling-Cooper: He's good at tourney and ROAR.

Derek: He's a selective mute and carries a bell around to get his friends' attention when they're arguing.

Derelict (Electric Eel): He's the friendly eel.

Desiree: She's one of the most wild pirate kids. Even when compared to her crewmates.

Diego de Vil: His most popular song is titled 'Kill the Beast'.

Dhandi: Is Jordan's adoptive older sister (since Eden is Jordan's bio mom).

Dizzy Tremaine: She joins Evie's business when she graduates and her jewelry becomes very popular.

Doc II: Goes by Raphael.

Doug: Evie helps him meet his favorite band (The Dragon Players) on his 21st birthday.

Dude (The Dog): He is jealous of Beelzebub.

Eddie Balthazar: He is always tired.

Eliza: She becomes more of a rebel as she grows up and is always backing Jane up when FG gets difficult (like most parents do).

Elle: She's adopted.

Emir (number 26): He's Aziz's younger brother and is a lot like his dad, personality wise. He does not like his mom's cousins.

Evie: She is Dizzy's half sister.

Finn the Mer-Boy: He works at neverland academy but also remains as Neverland's Protectors (kicking entitled tourist out when they cause too much non fun trouble/damage).

Freddie Facilier: Is banned from being alone with Jordan because those two are just as bad as Ally and Cj when alone together.

Gaston Jr.: He relates a lot to Luisa Madrigal. He also walks with a limp after a failed escape attempt he and his father attempted (he nearly drowned).

Gaston The 3rd.: He's the smart twin.

Gesundheit: Cannot for the life of him spell his name.

Gil: Has stolen a penguin from the zoo with Jay, Chad, Harry, and Carlos before.

Ginny Gothel: Is allergic to flowers. Her middle name is flower.

Gordon: Is a mechanic.

Hadie: Has a villain phase as a teen that no one takes seriously.

Hamish of DunBroch: He works with bears.

Hana: She is the royal party planner in her kingdom.

Hap: He's a hippie/hipster mixture and has a van he customized himself.

Harriet Hook: She has a hip high rose tattoo and broke Anthony Tremaine's nose once when she was 12.

Harris of DunBroch: Will not hesitate to bite people in fights even as an adult.

Harry Badun: He is a detective and has made it his job to make everyone behind the isle and every bad isle adult's lives hell. He will also make up outrageous theories to mess with people he doesn't like.

Harry Hook: Is good at art and has Dyscalculia.

Henry: He's a long lost de Vil.

Herkie: He has his dad's personality and strength but his mama's brain and kinda looks like a blend of his parents.

Hermie Bing: She has a variety of circus related skills, loves clowns, has a sweet tooth, and wears very colorful clothes.

Hubert of DunBroch: Loves reminding his sister of how she turned him into a bear all the time.

Hunter de Vil: His influencer career takes off when the barrier is brought down.

Ivy de Vil: She's allergic to hair dye and becomes a great model when off the isle.

Izzy: She's ROAR instructor at Neverland Academy.

Jace Badun: His mom was a strong woman at the Ringmaster's circus. He is the most exasperated person you will ever meet.

Jack/Korak: He prefers 'Korak' over Jack. He takes after his dad looks wise but his mom personality and fashion wise.

Jade: She has tons of scars from the crocodile wrestling.

Jake: Because of him, Princess Pirate, Finn, Stormy, Marina, Izzy, and Cubby all grew up.

James Brown Jr.: He works at a candy shop.

Jane: She's a big gossip and she and Carlos both bonded over this.

Jane Darling-Cooper: She's a teaching assistant at Neverland Academy.

Jay: He sleeps with a stuffed tiger but will deny it if asked.

Jenna: She's Aziz's oldest sibling and is the heir to the throne. She has a pet Elephant.

Jonas: He's Uma's cousin.

Jordan: She's the one who created the secret Agrabah Club at school (along with Aziz).

La Foux Doux: He's younger than LeFou Deux and loves puppet shows.

Lagan (Electric Eel): He's the mean eel.

LeFou Deux: He has a crush on Claudine and is the isle's Santa Claus.

Li (number 85): His parents took creative liberty with his name without checking to see if that spelling already existed.

Li Lonnie: She does eventually get her show. Her successful ROAR career probably helped (: .

Li Shang Jr: His music is decent but few people take him seriously because of the whole 'Lil Shang' nickname thing.

Lil Yaz: He died of appendicitis after d1. He was morally grey/apathic and had eyes for Quinlynn Hearts.

Lina: Jasmine was her favorite babysitter and she in turn, ended up babysitting the younger of Jasmine's kids when she was in Agrabah.

Lucifer: Lucifer often escapes from the saloon and gets on everyone's nerves.

Lulu Brown: She's much younger than her brother, Jim/James Brown Jr. and is a very good at ballet.

Mad Maddy: She has quite the sweet tooth.

Madam Mim's granddaughters: No one is sure how many there are or how they came to be.

Maddox Hatter: He's an inventor and is very close to Red.

Mal: She grows up a lot after the royal wedding and gets back in touch with her artistic side.

Marina the Mermaid: She's the swim coach at Neverland Academy.

Marya Rasputin: She's the doctor of Harriet's crew.

Max La Bouf: He works at Tiana's palace and often caters the events for his family and Ralphie's.

Melody: She's an environmental activist and the go-to cousin everyone talks to when they need someone who will hear them out.

Meriem: She and Korak are married now, and she's very into learning languages.

Mia: She is a sore loser when it comes to the fashion industry.

Miguel (number 44): He's a Madrigal.

Morgie le Fay: Morgie is just a nickname.

Opal: She's Freddie and Celia's aunt.

Othello (The Parrot): He repeats the things EQ used to say to Evie but is a very loving pet otherwise.

Pin: He's very smart and skipped a grade.

Pirate Kitty (Cat): It's Gil's pet cat (seen in a missing poster in d2).

Princess Pirate: Her friends now call her 'Princess' for short.

Quinlynn Hearts: She's the oldest Heart child and she had a crush on LIl Yaz.

Rafi: He gets along the best with his younger brother, Aziz, and works in the royal guard now.

Ralphie: He and Max are Pen Pals.

Rami: He's a party animal.

Red Hearts: Red is just a nickname. She's also in the school newspaper.

Reza: He is very interested in forensics and was adopted by Mozenrath and Sadira. He has two younger siblings and one older.

Rick Ratcliffe: His middle name is 'Perseus'. Yes, after the pug. And he has a habit of saving people from drowning/bodies of water.

Ruby Fitzherbert: She's shy and artsie.

Salima: She's a middle child now.

Sammy Smee: He's an inventor and a book worm.

Scarlet: She's Carter's twin and is considered the 'evil' twin.

Shy: His name is very fitting because he really is shy.

Sleepy Jr.: He's a gamer.

Snoozy: Snoozy is a night owl.

Sophie: She's Snow White's eldest child.

Spotted Hyenas: They like tormenting Gaston but not his kids.

Squeaky Smee: He's a selective mute.

Squirmy Smee: He and his brother look up to Harry a lot.

Stabbington cousins: They're only known by their nicknames by those outside of their family (and for good reason, since they're secretly Westergaards).

Stormy The Mermaid: She becomes a hippie when's older and mellows out.

The Sea witches: They're the daughters of Ursula's sisters.

The Tweedledum and Tweedledee cousins: They all have varying shades of red hair.

The Wicked Step-Granddaughters: The seven that are Drizella's are Hans' daughters as well. If any are Anastasia's, they're adopted.

Tiger Peony: She's a hippie vegetarian who's really into Tourney but doesn't play.

Tipo: He learns to cook from Kronk and helps him out with  Camp Chippamunka during the summer when he's older.

Tyrone (number 32): He's Tiana and Naveen's son. Lotte spoiled him, lol.

Uma: She gets her OWN sea phonies after d3 and she keeps her shark friends as well.

William (number 12): Wendy's oldest son and Jane Darling's younger brother.

Yi-Min: She's good at tourney as well as Swords and Shields.

Yupi: He is Kuzco's favorite 'nephew'.

Yzla: She's good at gymnastics.

Zam: He is the oldest of the kids in Yzma's family and has also caught his cousins doing weird things most often.

Zellie: She's the oldest of Flynnpunzal's kids.

Zephyr: His skin gets a bit darker as he grows up.

Zevon: His dad (and his siblings' dad) is Cedric from Sofia the first. His mom also accidentally turned him into a llama as a baby.

Zim: He still practices chemistry but the idea of being evil bores him.

[blueikeproductions]

Some Chinese trading cards based on TFONE came out, and they show off models of two of the other ancient Primes.

Spoilers obviously.

The movie shows us all 13, but because of the nature of the story we don’t really get a good look at any of them besides Alpha Trion.

These cards show off the designs of Quintus Prime and Micronus Prime.

Quintus takes heavy cues from his Aligned design.

But simplifies it greatly and pushes the design into a clearer Hindu god like direction.

I like to think he sounds like Apu and, per a friend’s idea, did this to the Quintessons:

Because all the Primes had Cogs, they all can Transform (which runs counter to Aligned’s idea of Amalgamous Prime being the first one to Transform and pass down the Cog, but then Aligned contradicts this with Nexus Prime being able to Transform also, so…), but into what we don’t know. Once more Quintus eludes us into what he turns into, though this design has notable wings, so maaaaybe he turns into a jet? At this version looks capable of Transforming, vs his Aligned & EarthSpark designs.

I still kinda prefer the monk design of EarthSpark Quintus, and I still like to think he Transforms into a G1 style Quint ship.

But I’m hazarding a guess the upcoming Age of Primes toy line will probably use the TFONE design as a basis, so maybe we’ll finally learn what he turns into.

The TFONE Quints do loosely resemble Quintus, so maybe this toy is already a hint at what Quintus Transforms into.

Micronus meanwhile looks like this.

He looks like a hybrid of the RiD15 Micronus and ROTB Rhinox.

I like that they kept the RiD15 body type, as I prefer Micronus being a squat, bulky guy like Hey Arnold’s Ernie Potts vs the hard to read skinny design they had for Aligned originally.

Still don’t know what Micronus turns into in TFONE, though the RiD15 design implies he’s a Buzzsaw like Jetstorm and Slipstream.

Funny enough, like how the movie never clarifies if the Quintessons were created by Quintus Prime, Mini-Cons, Micronus’ descendants in modern media, are never referenced as existing on TFONE Cybertron. The Miners are tiny until they get their Cogs, but they’re not supposed to be Mini-Cons, so. -shrugs- Modern media also says the Mini-Cons are native to Cybertron’s moons, a nod to their original creator, Unicron, being disguised as Cybertron’s moon in Armada; so maybe the TFONE Mini-Cons are up there chilling on the Moons, lol.

The movie made the wise choice to keep things simpler for casual audiences, but the modern 13 Primes are themed around certain races, genders, powers, and technologies, and it feels like writers are never sure on what to do with them because of this. Onyx Prime still makes more sense as the main antagonist for RiD15 because of the emphasis on animal type Decepticons, but they used The Fallen for rule of cool and marketable reasons. I feel like Cyberverse could’ve had Vector Prime as a central character due to the show’s habit of flashbacks and time skips over Alchemist/Maccadam, and Quintus Prime to better tie things to the Quintessons. I feel like Liege Maximo would’ve worked well in Cyberverse too but I don’t know what he’d DO either…

Still now that we have a better look at the TFONE Primes, they look cool, and I want to talk about the other designs once we get proper character models, so stay tuned for that.

My current guess now, until we get toys that say otherwise, is the upcoming Primes toys might use TFONE’s designs as a basis, as the intent was to use TFONE as the new backstory anyway. I suspect aspects of Cyberverse and EarthSpark might influence things though, as those who got a good look at TFONE Alchemist say he takes most of his look from Cyberverse Alchemist Prime.

So hopefully we don’t have much longer to see toy wise.

[callie-caje]

The Goodbye Spider-Son Protocol

Summary: Peter has been struggling with the death of his mentor, but even from beyond the grave Tony always knew how to help.

OR

A little fic about Tony leaving Peter a private video message like everyone else got in Endgame.

Read below the cut!

Kudos to the discord for putting up with my angst 💜 @sunsetuniverse @superherotiger @lunasquared

It had been a few weeks since Peter had left the lakehouse with a chunk of his heart missing, he knew time was passing but it was flowing on without him.

He could tell from May's anxious looks and frequent phone calls to Happy and Miss Potts that they were concerned, but he wasn't sure what he could do about it.

One moment he was on Titan with Mr. Stark and then he was dust. The next he was being dragged through a portal to a battle full of aliens and heros and Mr. Stark was on his knees as he snapped.

Peter had heard the click of his fingers, he had felt the vibrations as a sense of rightness seemed to click. 

He remembered pleading with Mr. Stark and Rhodey and Pepper holding him close as everyone gathered around his mentor as his eyes closed and Peter's heart shattered.

He remembered and continued to see it every night when he closed his eyes as Mr. Stark's final moments greeted him on repeat as he dreamt.

--

It had been another few weeks of Peter floating through their new apartment before May suggested he head to the Lake House with Happy for the weekend. Peter knew the adults were concerned, but he didn't have it in him to care. 

The drive was long and Peter could see as Happy kept starring at him in his rearview mirror, eyes full of concern. But, Peter ignored them and continued to stare out the window as the drove down the highway and cars raced past them.

Before he knew it they were pulling off the highway and onto the country roads Peter knew would lead to the lake and the cabin.

Peter wondered if he would view the place differently if it wasn't where he had said his final goodbyes to Mr. Stark, if he had known it before when it's inhabitants were full of life and not missing their final piece.

Alas, he would never know.

--

Peter might not have been enjoying his time at the cabin, but it was certainly better at keeping him distracted compared to his apartment. Here, Morgan was always asking him to play monster or color in her new coloring books.

But, it was once the lights were dimmed and Morgan was in bed that the bearest smile graced his lips.

When he had arrived, Pepper had extended an invitation to Tony's lab and said Peter was welcome to anything in there.

Lab time with Tony was familiar, a comfort, so once night arrived and his eyes had refused to stay closed Peter had decided to see what the lab had to offer. 

Pepper had warned him that it was nothing like the Tower or Compounds lab and that this was more like an elaborate garage, but Peter's interest was still spiked for the first time in weeks.

As he tip toed down the steps and was faced with the glass door to enter all Peter could do was smile. The garage had tools scattered all over with a car Tony must have been in the middle of restoring pushed off to the side. The workbenches were full of blueprints and models with no sense of organization.

Entering his code and stepping inside Peter let out a breath.

It felt in a little ways like coming home.

For awhile Peter wandered the garage and glanced over everything Tony had left incompleted and scattered. As he approached the back wall he noticed it was more than a wall, it was a display. Inside was his first suit stood proudly on display like a memorial. It was full of tears and scorch marks and Peter let a few sudden tears roll down his face.

Why did Mr. Stark keep it, he thought, he could have sworn he'd hrown it away after the fight with the Vulture.

Looking closer, Peter can see that it isn't only his old suit on display, it also looks like a few new ones are too. The whole wall is full of both old and new Spider-Man suits and Peter isn't sure how to feel.

Why had he kept making him suits even after he was gone?

"Friday?" He asks, hoping the AI will be able to provide some answers.

"Hello Peter," She greets him, her steady voice echoing across the unusually silent lab. "You have a message from Karen, would you like me to connect her for you?"

Peter stays quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say. What message could Karen have for him, he hasn't used the suit since the battle.

"Uh, sure," He says, taking a seat on a nearby stool.

"Hello Peter," Karen says, her voice full of her usual warmth but lacking her normal cheer. 

"What's the message Karen?" Perer asks, cutting straight to the point.

"The Goodbye Spider-Son Protocol released a video message from Mr. Stark for you, would you like me to play it now for you?"

Once more, Peter froze. A message from Mr. Stark? He knew that before the funeral there had been some sort of will read for Tony's family, but no one had told him about it so he had assumed it wasn't meant for him. Had Mr. Stark left him a message afterall?

Unable to speak, Peter just nodded his head. Friday must have picked up his movements with her sensors as moments later a hologram is emitted from one of the holotables and Peter is once more face to face with his mentor.

"Hey kid," Tony greets, his eyes seeming to unknowingly meet Peter's. "We have a crazy plan, one that will hopefully end with you in my arms and us marathoning the new Star Wars in no time.

But, just in case I wanted to make a little video should something get screwed up. The most important thing for me to tell you is this: I love you. Getting to know and mentor you was one of the greatest privleges of my life and I cannot believe the kid you have grown into. You are going to go on and do incredible things, I just know it. You are smart and brave and kind and the world is lucky to have you Peter Parker, I'm lucky to have you. You are so increibly good and I hope that never changes. You deserve happiness Peter, please remember that.

And, whatever happens at this battle it isn't your fault, if you are seeing this then I am probably gone, but I want you to know I don't regret it for a second. It's been over five years since I lost you and my heart still hasn't recovered. With this plan I'm going to fix it and bring you back, no matter what it takes.

So, kid, I love you and don't ever forget it." 

With those final words the hologram froze and tears came rushing down Peter's cheeks.

Peter wasn't sure what he was going to do next, he wasn't sure how he was going to tell Pepper about the message come morning, but one thing he did know was the crack in his heart may not have been erased completely, but the littlest bit of it had begun to heal with Tony's final message.

[sketchonista]

Saks Potts SS24 shot at Copenhagen Fashionweek

[shurisleftearring]

Green Eyes

I am so scared posting this but here it is, my first part (maybe). Any grammar or plot suggestions are welcomed, but please be nice. Not sure if I wanna include smut in this story or not idk. Anyways, thanks for reading, and enjoy! :) (Also how the fuck do I work this damn app? I am so fucking confused it’s sad fr)

But I don’t love you anymore, I’m so insecure, never knew that love did this…

Word count: 1k+

Pairing: Shuri x Black!fem!reader

Summary: Five years. It’s been five years since the blip. And even longer since you’ve been in a relationship. Maybe it’s for the best. The last time you were in a relationship, it just ended in disarray. But, when your ex comes back into your life, can you start over and do it again? Or try to move on with an unexpected love?

______________________________________________________________

“Y/n c’mon, you are slow!”

You were always late. You can never make it to anything on time. That’s what you need to change. You somehow wake up 5 hours before and still end up 10-15 minutes late.

“I’m coming damn, hold up.”

“Girl, I need you to make this on time, the board offered us amazing positions at Stark Industries and WE.CANNOT.BE.LATE.” 

At this point you were rushing to get your hair together, your makeup on, and your fit. You had a very boring style, but sometimes you surprised people. 

“Is this okay?”

“Girl, it’s fine. Now c’monn”

“Ok ok damn”

______________________________________________________________

By the time you got there, you had one minute left. You used that minute to scope the place out. Can’t even lie, it was beautiful. All of those good-looking drinks, food, people. You were in awe. 

“Damn, this place is nice!” You said.

“Girl, I know we're in the big money now!” Kaira said.

You and your close co-worker friend get guided to the huge table in the back. When you see the table everybody is already there. You look around and your heart drops to you stomach. It's her. At first, you had no idea who she was, she had changed so much. She dresses more masculine now, she has sides of her hair cut, and she has on grillz. You are wondering where the hell she knows about those. Back when y'all used to “date”, y'all were both young and didn’t know shit.

“Shit,” you whispered.

“What did you say, girl?” Kaira said.

“Oh nothing”

You were freaking out inside. Lost in your thoughts. Your memories of her. You were so lost in your own head that you didn’t notice that she he saw you too.  She almost spat her drink out. She didn’t even recognize you.

“Damn, she's fine. Do you know her Shuri?” Peter said.

“...No,” Shuri said, looking away from your curvaceous body.

“Mm, well I’m going to go over there and introduce myself” 

“Don’t you have Mj?”

“Well…she doesn’t remember me. Our love can wait”

Shuri rolled her eyes and they landed on you. She saw how beautiful you became. Your braces were gone and got a skincare routine. She saw how your body grew into its grown woman body. Your thighs, hips, and breasts were just too mesmerizing.  She was shamelessly  checking you out, not caring who saw. You were trying to look distracted when you accidentally locked eyes with Shuri. Her gaze suddenly made you weak in the knees. You didn’t even notice that you were about to run into a waiter. You ran into the waiter, the gaze broken. She started chuckling, not realizing how powerful her stare was. She guessed that’s how she got all those models so easily. You apologized to the waiter and walked to your seat, trying to get some dignity back.

“Girl, are you ok?” your co-worker friend asked.

“Yeah. I’m good Kaira”

“I swear you always trippin’ somewhere” she said laughing.

You laughed praying that no one saw that. You looked and saw that you were sitting in between Okoye and Kaira.  Thank god you weren’t sitting next to her. But, across from her was even worse. Her staring just got more intense by the second. You tried to focus as Pepper Potts-Stark began. 

“Well, now that we have everyone here, welcome. I hope we get a lot of things accomplished in these upcoming years, as you know the people are still-”

You were tryna listen, but you could feel her stare lingering on you. It makes your stomach churn and do somersaults.

“-Now, to focus on the positive things, I have decided to hire more people on the personal Avengers team. Welcome y/n and Kaira!”

You and Kaira stood up. Everyone clapped and said welcome. Kaira was eating up the attention thankfully. 

“Well, if a pile of paperwork and deadlines to meet is a ‘ welcome’, then I’ll accept it,” Kaira said as people started chuckling.

“Ah, yes, as you can see, the team is very happy to see new people joining, but don’t let them bully you, okay?” Pepper said, winking. 

“Oh, trust me I won’t,” You said.

“We’ll see about that sweetness,” Thor said.

You cringed at that. Men being men. The people at the table saw the discomfort on your face.

“Ok, enough guys. They’ve already experienced your ‘warm’ welcome” Shuri said. 

“Not Shuri defending them. She must like one of them.” Peter said, drinking his drink.

Chuckles filled the room after he said that. He was honestly right but she was too prideful to accept it. 

“Peter do not test me” She looked at Peter and he just drunk his drink and tried to hide his face. 

“Ooo Shuri is going to mess him up” 

“He's always talking he needs to shut up”

______________________________________________________________

A few hours later,  everything was done. You and Kaira signed everything and promised to sign an NDA until your contract expires. Now people were just talking. You didn’t like being in boring places, but that was your life lately. Boring ass places. 

“Girl, I am ready to go, I love networking, but damn it sure does make you tired.” 

“Amen girl, I'm gonna crash at your place, is that okay?” You said

“Yeah, that’s fine. Also, I saw Her Majesty staring at you. Does she know you?” 

 You were trying not to show the sudden panic on your face.

“...Not Really…” 

“Mhm, yeah ok.”

Kaira knew when you were lying. She knew you like the back of her hand. She always knew when you were sad, angry, happy, and when you were lying.

Y’all were leaving, laughing and chatting about how your first day would go. While walking, you notice a nice vintage 1964 Ferrari 250 GTO. Your mouth was wide open. 

“Kaira look!” you said

Kaira looked and her mouth went wide open as well. 

“Shit….that’s your dream car!” she squealed.

“I know! It’s so beautiful!” 

“Excuse me” 

You turned around and were moving out of the way when you saw it was Shuri. Her voice felt like butter, and you could smell her amazing vanilla perfume since she was close. 

“Ooooo” Kaira mumbled.

Kaira was never any help. She was a proud instigator. 

“Oh- Umm we're sorry, we-”

“It’s all good love, you were just admiring right?”

“Right”

Love. You haven't heard that word in a long time. She said so casually like you were still with her. 

But you weren’t. 

______________________________________________________________

6-7 years ago

“Sher please? You've known my friends for a while now. You said it yourself you trusted them!"

“Love, no. Besides I don’t like you hanging around Daniel anyways”

You groaned. “Shuri, we don’t like each other”

“You still like men"

You knelt down to her level. “But not that man. I don't like any men, just you” You pressed your lips on hers, her jealousy slowly drifting away. You loved moments like these. Her being putty in your hands.

“Ok fine. You can go. Only, you have to make sure that you call me every hour”

“Oh my God, you are so obsessive”

“It’s called keeping you safe”

“No one knows we're dating. I’ll be fine” You said, kissing her forehead. 

“Mhm. Still, I want you to call me”

“Ok my love see you soon~” You went out the door and to one of your best friends arms for a hug.

"You ready to go girl?"

"Yes! I am so excited!"

"I'm surprised that Shuri even let you out"

"Haha, now hurry and let's get to this festival!" You squealed in excitement.

[akajustmerry]

I haven't seen chibnall but I have a hard time imagining being worse than moffat. I'm sure it's possible but that man... he was bad. also out of curiosity what's the problem with eccleston? or did you just use his name as a reference for which era was rtd. feel free to ignore this if you like, I hope you have a good day!

hellooo!

look, you won't hear me arguing moffat wasn't bad but believe me Chibnall was worse. He wrote an entire sequence where the Doctor tricks the Master (then played by British-Indian actor Sacha Dhawan) into being caught by the Nazis, knowing what the Nazis would do to him. Like, the Doctor, presenting as a white woman, handed over the Master, her best friend presenting as a Brown man to the most notorious white supremacist regimes in history. And that moment was framed as a successful ploy!! As a "win" for the Doctor.

I'm sorry but, to me, Moffats fucking decrepit cringe Gen X Misogyny did nowhere near as much damage as thoughtlessly portraying the Doctor as someone who will literally use Nazism against a poc and framing it as clever girlboss behaviour. Like, it's not fun that these are the people we have to choose from but one of these things is not like the other.

As for the Eccleston stuff, I was referring to Christopher Eccleston's conflict with the BBC and by extension implied conflict with RTD. The full details of the conflict have never been fully made public but Eccleston has always maintained he quit the show due to the culture created by the show runners and producers. He's said he'd never work with RTD again. Eccleston implied that one of the reasons the relationship between himself and RTD broke down was Eccleston's desire for the Doctor to be a role model whose intellect wasn't inherently tied to being upper class English and had to really fight to use his natural accent. It's worth noting that the we wouldn't have a Doctor without an RP (received pronunciation) accent again until Capaldi. David even mentioned Russell's "enthusiasm" for DT to speak in RP not his natural accent in his interview with Jodie in 2020.

I want to believe that RTD has grown since the mid 00s, and perhaps this time around things will be different. But I think a lot of people point to Moffat as the worst because his bigotry is the most visible and easiest to critique. It's more popular and acceptable to critique sexism against white women than it is to critique racism and classism. But in reality all of these showrunners are white British men who have pulled white British bullshit and I won't stand for Chibnall and Davies shortcomings being scapegoated via Moffat.

Also, this is not a defense necessarily but a lot of people who hate moffat era who did NOT watch Capaldi's seasons and did not watch season 10 with Bill Potts. So their critique often lacks the perspective of Moffat's best season that proves he's capable of writing something genuinely compelling that's not gross and sexiest. Like it genuinely infuriates me when people talk about "moffat who" but they're only really talking about Matt Smiths seasons. Again none of that is a defence but it's just to say that most people who say Moffat is the worst are people who a) are really talking about Sherlock, which, fair enough that was shit b) people who just think 10th Doctor best Doctor and don't actually care about anything after that era in any meaningful way. Or c) people who have a pretty incomplete view of the series was and where it currently is.

omg this is long sorry I hope I don't sound rude I'm not trying to be I just have so many thoughts about this. I hope this answers your question, please let me know if I need to clarify anything <3

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - July 30

 Hi friends!! So someone (hi @till-i-get-back-punk )  commented on last week’s bonus rec list, surprised that I’m @areiton​ so--as a reminder, your friendly neighborhood rec curator is indeed arei! I started the STW because I love reading and was running out of fic recs and occasionally that’s still true---so always feel free to send me new things to read via asks. I don’t do requested rec lists often, mostly because I’m crazy busy, but I’ve been thinking of a series of mini-lists for the holiday season--more on that later. 

Now on to this week’s list--as always, remember to share the love--comment/kudo if you’re enjoying the fic! 

~*~ 

poor flesh and fluttering hearts by deathsweetqueen

Steve blushes so adorably when Tony walks into the kitchen, staring down at the plate of pancakes that he made for himself and the rest of the team.

His brown wings, the colour of burnt umber, shake out before folding around his broad form.

For a moment, Tony is confused and then, he looks down at himself, noticing the way he strode into the kitchen in just a pair of silk boxers, arc reactor and shiny red scars on vivid display.

He shifts uneasily on his feet and immediately hates himself for the action.

Why should he feel so awkward, so self-conscious just because perfect fucking Captain America finds him an absolute mess of a person?

The Way of Things by Sineala

The Avengers have been around a long time, and they have a lot of traditions. But when Steve finds out that the team has a tradition he's never been informed of, he learns that there's something Tony hasn't been telling him, either.

Fixer-Upper by imafriendlydalek

Tony leads the way up the steps to the house, and as the door swings open with a long creaking sound - note to self: oil door hinges - Steve’s eyes widen. He steps inside, turns slowly on his own axis as he looks around.

“Tony, this place, it’s…” There’s a sense of wonder in his voice. Tony smiles inwardly. It is just the kind of thing Steve would like. Steve, who has a keen appreciation for fine aesthetics, who has a healthy - okay, sometimes more than healthy - sense of history and an acute desire to preserve things he deems worthy.

“This place is a dump.”

Well, so much for that, then. Tony shifts his weight to one leg as he takes an appraising look. “It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, yeah, I’ll give you that, but it’s not past saving. Just needs some TLC.”

Steve uncrosses his arms and shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants. “Well listen, you ever want an extra set of hands with some of the work, just give me a call.”

Big Boy Toys by extantecstasy

Steve finally gets fed up with Tony’s juvenile pranks. When Tony models for a sex toy, Steve seizes the opportunity. Or, it seizes him.

Glitch by iam93percentstardust

And I'm not even sorry, nights are so starry

Blood moonlit

It must be counterfeit

I think there's been a glitch, oh, yeah

~

“Ms. Potts, my name is Steve Rogers, and I’m Justin Hammer’s roommate," Steve says.

“Oh, what does that asshole want now?” she asks.

“I don’t think he wants anything—except to make a quick buck and ruin Mr. Stark’s reputation.”

Trust Fall by Sineala

Tony needs someone who cares about him, bandages, a jacket, ibuprofen, dinner, a lasting romantic relationship, a nice time in bed, and assistance committing federal crimes. He gets them. In that order.

Tony Stark vs. the Heteronormative Agenda by sweatervest

Nat leans her hip against the table and folds her arms. “Short of making out in public, I don’t think anyone will make the jump to ‘they’re dating.’”

Steve glances at her and then over at Tony.

Nat follows Steve’s gaze. “You did make out in public.”

“Steve never got his Time’s Square victory kiss,” Tony protests.

--

Or, five times the general public was determined to believe Steve Rogers and Tony Stark were just close friends, and the time Tony made sure they knew otherwise.

through thick and thin by earliebirb

“We should break up,” Tony declares, gazing out of the floor-to-ceiling window of their bedroom. The colorful twinkle of lights of the New York City nightlife is truly a mesmerizing view.

“Why?”

“I don’t love you anymore.”

Steve scoffs, utterly unfazed.

What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve? by ceealaina

Steve’s going to ask Tony out for New Year’s Eve. Really. He absolutely means it this time. He just... has to work up the nerve.

The Emperor's New Clothes by Captain_Panda

No, Tony wasn't "flirting with him."

Tony was trying to drive him crazy. Steve Rogers would not stand for it.

Honey, I Can See The Stars by twentysomething 

"The most he'd ever cared about anything remotely related was his uniform, which, beyond the stylistic, was pretty necessary. But now his suit comes from a lab far more advanced than the basement of a Brooklyn antique shop, and the only decision he really gets to make is if his pants are too tight. (They were, but he doesn't really think they changed them. He doesn't know why, but he thinks that might have been on purpose.) That being said, he doesn't know what he's done to deserve the double take Tony gives him as he walks in the room."

The Most Amazing Things (Some Terrible Lie) by copperbadge

Tony's decision not to reveal his identity as Iron Man to the world was shrewd and calculated. Too bad it's about to backfire on him like a Jericho missile.

It Started with Two Men by Missy_dee811 for tarialdarion

Steve remembers and confronts Tony but there's more to Tony's confession than Steve had ever thought possible:

“Tony, I –”

Tony cut him off with the wave of a hand. “Why can’t you understand that everything I do, I do for you?” He was sobbing now into his hands, covered in blood. It was jarring to see Tony like this. Steve didn’t know how to respond. This didn’t go as planned, he thought to himself. He hadn’t expected a heartfelt confession. In truth, he had expected more lies, more deceit. He felt like the world’s greatest asshole for using his best friend as a punching bag.

Make It Clap by shetlandowl

Steve is a sophomore at BU and Tony is finishing his graduate degree at MIT when they begin their relationship. This story is told as 31 snapshots from their first two years together. The story is told in sequential order, though not always in sequence (i.e., some chapters capture events only hours apart, while some chapters are from events weeks or months apart).

Ice Ice Baby (The Hockey Fic) by youcancallmearrow

Tony Stark is a star center, sidelined by a slip in sobriety. Steve Rogers is a goalie, suspended for a punch thrown off the ice.

When the two meet, they're trying to get their lives back on track, both off and on the ice. It turns out, the saying is true: A burden shared is a burdened halved. At least until Howard Stark gets involved.

(A get together fic full of fluff, supportive friends, dad Rhodey, and hockey! But if you know nothing about hockey, you'll be fine, because neither does the author.)

Tonight we're gonna make it all come true by gottalovev

Steve Rogers is one of the best players in college football and is ready to prove it. The road towards becoming a professional football player? Is totally crazy. Falling in love with Tony Stark, the young quarterback from Stanford, may be even more life changing.

i don't have a choice (but i'd still choose you). by frostfall

There’s a name inked onto his chest, a name written in an all-too familiar scrawl. And it’s— It’s—

Steve doesn’t realize his body is quaking until he’s tracing the tattoo with a shaky finger.

Because of course that is the name etched into the skin. Like a brand, a reminder for everything he has done. An appropriate retribution.

Anthony Edward Stark.

(When Thanos snaps half of the universe away, he unknowingly leaves the other half with soulmarks.)

[yelloweyedthing]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I AM BEGGING SOMEONE TO WRITE AN ANNABETH CHASE FIC WHERE SHE MANIPULATES AN AI MODEL.

Here are some components of coding an AI model that I think could theoretically fall under Athena's (and, by extension, Annabeth's) jurisdiction:

disclaimer this may be fake science

1. A neural network could be "woven"? (idk homegirl has superpowers)

2. The architecture of the way convolution layers are stacked

3. General knowledge, idk

Please please please. Have her hack JARVIS to talk to Pepper Potts or something idc I just want more bamf Annabeth content

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

sweet child of mine

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64672630 by iron_spider Tony has always thought Ben was a better man than him and he’s so grateful he was there to take care of his child but Peter having a role model like that, instead of Tony? Peter is the best but Ben’s influence being the only one in his life is nothing but a good thing, especially with Tony’s wildness and insanity set aside. And Peter deserves the best. And what if that’s not him? What if that’s not Peter’s own father? Words: 7084, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 55 of I love you more than anything (bio dad au) Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Uncle Ben Parker (Marvel), Aunt May Parker (Marvel), Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan, James "Rhodey" Rhodes Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Uncle Ben Parker & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts & Tony Stark Additional Tags: Bio dad au, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Tony Stark Has a Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Precious Peter Parker read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/64672630

[maaarine]

Just Sex? The Cultural Scaffolding of Rape (Nicola Gavey, 2005)

"Annie Potts’s marvelous deconstruction of Gray’s guidance reveals the rather androcentric core of his pearls.

In his model, sex is essential to men’s ability to experience intimacy and relationality:

“When a man is aroused, he rediscovers the love hidden in his heart. Through sex, a man can feel, and through feeling, he can come back to his soul again”.

Although emphasizing the importance of women’s sexual pleasure, its role is in many ways as a means to an end – the logic is that men need sex, and by giving women “great sex” too, men will get more for themselves.

Women, in return, will assure their man’s happiness and sustain their relationship. (…)

The implications of Gray’s message for sexual pressure and unwanted sex are straightforward:

By now, the message should be becoming clear to heterosexual women: not only is sex necessary to ensure effective communication and love in a relationship, but men especially require sex fully to feel, and connect with their innermost beings.

The denial of sex for men thereby becomes tantamount to the denial of existence for men.

Potts continues:

Women also learn that sexual rejection wounds a man’s soul, and “feeling that he will not be rejected is essential for a man to continue to be passionately attracted to his partner”; “a woman”s acceptance of occasional quickies and a positive message whenever her partner initiates sex ensures lasting attraction and passion”. As Annie Potts demonstrates, despite Gray’s paradoxical insistence that a woman must be able to say no (for his example, in the middle of the night) in order for her to not be put off sex, men’s sexual “needs” ultimately take precedence in his advice.

This is necessary because, as Gray wants to argue, sex for men is about more than just pleasure, it is intimately intertwined with, and an essential foundation of, emotional and psychological well-being.

Thus while he bends to the rhetoric of women’s liberation, his message ultimately ends up looking not too different from Dr Eichenlaub’s earlier advice."

[getinthehandbasket]

Stucky Fic recs for GFFA

@gffa do I have recs for you! Disclaimer: these are *all* coming from my bookmarks, which are absolutely filled with porn and other filth. Feel free to roam there as you please. I know you (probably) won't judge me.

First, we start with individual "fix-it" or "fix-it"-like fics.

everest by mcwho Rating: Explicit 904 words Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Drabble, Dirty Talk, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, that last tag undersells it i need something like, Steve Rogers is Fucking Filthy, Name-Calling, Top Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Multiple Orgasms Summary: Three O's in, and Bucky can’t quite remember which way is up anymore. Or, Steve gives and gives and Bucky takes it.

The Life of Bucky Barnes by stephrc79 Rating: Mature 292,199 words Tags: Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Gun Violence, Nightmares, Standard Stucky life issues, recovery bucky, post-CATWS, boys being little shits, sorta kinda NSFW, don't even mention the peen, violence against MC, Blood, past mention of mental instability, past mention of wanting death, but that last one is brief, and this is Recovery!Bucky, it's kind of expected, Spiders, mention of spiders, but only for three chapters Summary: The ongoing story behind the pictures from the Instagram The Life of Bucky Barnes. This work is a series of ficlets that tells the story of each picture. As each chapter progresses, it will encompass one or two of the images, how they appear chronologically. These are inspired works for petite-madame with her blessing.

Thank God for PR by Cimorene105 Rating: Explicit 37,886 words 14 works Tags: too many to list Summary: Steve and Bucky make some startling discoveries about each other on live TV. From there, it becomes a happy struggle to fit even more of each other into their daily lives.

Good Boy by triedunture Rating: Explicit 13,473 words Tags: Collars, Dom/sub Play, Multiple Orgasms, Exhibitionism, Body Worship, Master/Pet, Petplay, Hair-pulling, Hair Kink, Bathing/Washing, Praise Kink, Kink Negotiation Summary: Bucky is still adjusting to life with the Avengers, and Steve is willing to do whatever it takes to make him feel comfortable. Increasingly, though, what seems to make him comfortable is strangely intimate.

Surprise, Steve! You're a gentle dom and Bucky wants to be your pretty pet!

A Fucking Written Invitation by chaya, Desdemon Rating: Explicit 9,563 words Tags: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Pepper Potts, Clint Barton, UST, Dubcon Kissing Summary: "Jesus, Steve, I just had to explain to a ninety-something year old ex-killer that it was normal to have dreams and wake up with unusual physical attributes and, and listen, we have to get him a male GP, a, a man, because when I asked him why he hadn't just called her to discuss this he looked at me like I'd suggested he slap her in the face."

Alternate titles: "It's Just You". "Steve Rogers Can't Get a Goddamned Clue". "SSRIs and You". "Steve, Natasha is Going to Hit You". "Buying a Clue". "Steve's Clue-Field is Barren".

(slight tw for a non-con makeout moment.)

i was found and now i don't roam these streets by hipsterchrist Rating: Mature 15,913 words Tags: Bucky Bear, Team Dynamics, Team Bonding, Friendship, Therapy, Hospitals, Medical, Illnesses, Minor Character Death, Child Death, Teddy Bears, New York City, Canon-Typical Violence, Children, Self-Esteem Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Feels, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier Summary: They’ve decided to start producing Bucky Bears again, now that he’s all shiny and redeemed and fighting for good on this big Avengers misfits team. "He has a little shiny gray arm," Bucky says, wiggling the stuffed arm in question, one of the tweaks made in the new model. It takes Steve a second to realize that Bucky’s got a small smile on his face, actually looks a little bit proud around the eyes.

Or, Bucky relearns himself and how to be on a team, the rest of the Avengers try to get answers, and everyone watches too much Criminal Minds.

Handling Wants by eclecticxdetour Rating: Explicit 5,063 words Tags: Rimming, Barebacking, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Bottom Steve Summary: As the asset, desire was nonexistant. As Bucky Barnes, he's unsure how to deal with being allowed to want.

All the First Times by Vee (Vera_DragonMuse) Rating: Mature 9,694 words Tags: Recovery, rebuilding the self, from the ground up, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier Summary: Bucky starts over and finds new ways to survive.

Next, I offer links to my bookmarks, filtered in various ways:

Bucky/Steve, no other pairings with those two. Includes dark fic, non-fix-it, AUs, etc.

Bucky/Steve, including them in other pairings or OT3s- mostly Steve/Darcy/Bucky in various configurations

All Marvel fics*

All my bookmarks - if you wanna judge me pls do it in your inside-your-head voice lol *the link errored out when I tried to exclude *all* other fandoms that aren't Marvel. If it's still erroring out, let me know and I'll re-include some other fandoms and you can just skip those.