#Steve forces himself to disagree

[livwritesstuff]

So Steve and Ed are fine with their kids cursing (for a few reasons, but selfishly because they themselves don’t want to stop their own cursing for the sake of their kids) and in general this works out fine. However, they do have some ground rules that were shaky at best initially with Moe but by the time Hazel came around, it had solidified into a system that was at least semi-functional.

Rule 1: Curse words can only be used in the house (the first rule, the one that established the whole system, and was created after 2yo Moe dropped many f-bombs at a gymnastics class much to displeasure of all the other parents)

Rule 2: You must know the meaning of a curse word to use it – their dad is, after all, an accomplished writer and he will not have his children using any word incorrectly, even if it is profane

Rule 3: No cursing at anybody – “go to hell” is one of very few phrases the girls learned from someone other than their dads (they’re pretty sure Robbie had snuck out of bed one night and eavesdropped on a not-so-kid-friendly movie Ed and Steve were watching), but one that was nixed from their vocabulary the second it dropped from one of their mouths

Rule 4: No angry-cursing – this one is sort of an addendum to the third rule that developed as the girls got older and started to actually bicker with each other, and any follow-up conversations about it are usually accompanied by something like this:

Steve: If your insult requires a curse word, it’s not a good enough insult 

Eddie: *face palms*

The rules are easy enough to enforce, but a little trickier to teach, mostly because Steve and Eddie both find it absolutely hilarious to hear their daughters cursing (honestly it’s another big reason why they allow it), even if the way they’re going about it goes against the “rules”. Most notably, when Robbie was 4 and trying to get Steve’s attention from another room, she had confidently yelled “Papa, get the fuck in here!!!” and Steve had been practically doubled over with silent laughter, managing a straight face long enough to tell her to never say that again before he had to remove himself for five whole minutes.

[lovebugism]

steve finds out reader hasn’t slow danced with a guy before… like maybe she never went to prom with a date and he makes it really sweet for her

when steve finds out you've never slow danced with anybody, he takes it as a challenge (fluff, established relationship, 0.8k)

Languishing on Steve Harrington’s couch, you rest your full weight against his shoulder like you’re trying to melt with him there. You vaguely hear him shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth while you stare unblinking at the black-and-white film playing ahead of you.

“Slow dancing is, like… really weird,” you observe in a quiet murmur, features all twisted in confusion.

“Whaddaya mean?” the boy beside you wonders through his mouthful.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a lazy shrug. “It’s just, like… swaying in place… really awkwardly.”

“It doesn’t have to be awkward.”

You wave your hand at the television across the room, where a couple of Old Hollywood actors dance like both of them’s caught the plague. “Look at that and tell me that’s not awkward!” you argue and turn your chin to look at him. 

Your faces are much closer than you thought. The tip of your nose threatens to brush the chiseled bridge of his. The proximity leaves you wishing it had.

Steve scoffs with a boyish scrunch to his features. “Well, those two have, like, zero chemistry! You gotta slow dance with someone you like, you know? Like, really like,” he explains, gesturing wildly with his hand and jostling you slightly in the process. “Then you got yourself a good time, alright? You’re pressed all close, holding each other’s hands, dancing through the sexual tension—”

“It’s weird,” you insist with a scrunched nose.

“It’s nice!”

“Let’s just agree to disagree,” you shrug.

Steve shakes his wild head and shoves another handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Yeah, I can’t do that,” he says, muffled through the food in his cheek.

You snort a quiet laugh in return.

“So you’re saying you’ve never slow danced with someone before?” he wonders with his mouthful, then swallows. “Like, ever?”

Your face scrunches like it’s obvious. “No.”

“Not even at prom?”

“I didn’t have a date at prom!”

“I didn’t either!” he tells you, which you think is only half a lie. Nancy had just broken up with him then — whether he was too heartbroken or too lazy to find another date is still up in the air, really.

Your eyes narrow in a challenging squint. “The entire female class of 1985 was your prom date.”

“I’m just sayin’,” he insists, laughing quietly to himself. “You’re missin’ out here, babe.”

You scoff and reach for the bowl in his lap, stealing a handful of room-temperature popcorn for yourself. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”

—————

The sound of vintage violins swells distantly in the otherwise quiet house as the film credits roll. Lit only by the amber stove light, you dump uneaten and unpopped kernels into the trashcan in the kitchen. A record crackles in the room over. A song floats gently on the midnight air.

Everybody loves somebody sometime…

Everybody falls in love somehow…

Your brows furrow when Steve appears in the doorway, rocking his hips back and forth and snapping his fingers to the languid beat. He sings the words quietly to himself, hardly trying but still sounding sort of decent anyway. “Something in your kiss just told me... My sometime… Is now…”

“What are you doing?” you wonder aloud, biting back a chuckle.

“Dancing,” the boy answers.

Your brows furrow as he approaches you — hips still swaying, fingers still snapping. “…By yourself?” you question slowly.

He cages his plush bottom lip between his teeth and shakes his head. With wide, warm palms, he smooths his hands over your sides. “Mm-mm,” he hums and squeezes your hips. “With you.”

His touch urges you to sway alongside him, but you tense almost immediately — a virtually immovable force. “No, Steve!” you scold through giggles, shoving him away with a halfhearted hand. “Steve, don’t!”

“C’mon!” he shouts over your protests as his chuckles entwine with your own. “Just dance with me! It’s not gonna kill ya!”

You make a faint grumbly noise of disapproval but don’t fight about it any further. With your face still scrunched in a childlike pout, you let him take one of your hands into his larger one and rest your other against his chest. With a palpable hesitance, you follow his subtle side-to-side movements.

Something in my heart keeps saying…

My someplace is here…

“This is so cheesy,” you giggle to yourself.

“But it’s nice, right?” Steve presses with raised brows. 

Rogue chestnut hairs fall over his forehead, and you fight the urge to push them back. Your nose scrunches in a silent answer, and he laughs. You can feel the golden sound rumble in his chest. 

“You don’t have to say anything… I know you like it.”

You roll your eyes at his smug grin. “Only ‘cause you’re such a good dance partner,” you tease with a knowing squint in your eyes.

His gaze swims with honey as his rosy lips quirk in a lopsided smile. “Don’t make me blush,” he jokes in a quiet murmur, already leaning down to kiss you. 

Steve swallows your laughter with a pink, petaled mouth pressed against your lips — tasting faintly of popcorn, cheap beer, and adoration.

The song crackles quietly through it all.

—And although my dream was overdue…

Your love made it well worth waiting…

For someone like you…

[piratefishmama]

Fake it till you make it | Part 4

‘Boundaries’ were harder to settle on than they'd expected them to be. Eddie didn’t seem to want to put anything on the “strictly no” list. Even when Steve suggested sex should be on there Eddie just wiggled his brows and claimed a week in a cabin with him might change things.

Steve found that hilarious enough to laugh at (much to Eddie's adorable pout) but also too fair to disagree with.

They were two healthy, queer, adult men! What was a little consensual nookie between fake boyfriends?

Plus he couldn’t tell if Eddie was joking or not so he put that on the mental ‘maybe a boundary’ list that may or may not be tested.

Steve wasn’t about to completely rule it out either! He had a healthy libido and Eddie wasn’t unattractive. He… actually was pretty damn attractive.

Nice eyes, nice hair, nice lips, nice voice, nice han— anyway, they had a whole week together in a romantic chalet, pretending to date.

Anything could happen. Especially if they didn’t rule anything out. And ruling it out only made it seem more exciting, like it was dangerous. Best to just not rule it out.

“What about kissing?” Steve pondered aloud, a small frown on his brow

“If I’m not ruling out sex, Harrington, I think kissing should be fi—"

“No, dumbass, not ruling it out, I mean… it’s gotta seem like a thing we normally do right? An you gotta stop calling me Harrington, it’s Steve. Boyfriends don’t call each other by their last names.”

“I’ll have a mental list of pet names prepared before the day ends, don’t you worry, Stevie, but what do you suggest? Are you thinking we should practice?” Eddie leaned forward a grin stretching on his lips that almost seemed predatory, like he was expecting Steve to stumble through a rebuttal, expecting him to back down or to apologise, but no, Steve wasn’t some simpering maiden who’d bashfully turn him down.

Steve was an experienced ladies man with a reputation for being… for lack of a better term, a bit of a hometown slut.

Even if he had no practical experience with men, that didn’t stop him from exuding confidence as he moved onto his haunches and crossed the very short distance between them, forcing that mischievous little shit right back into his spot as Steve basically climbed from his hands and knees into Eddie’s lap, watching in satisfaction as all that mischief just kind of…

Drained from his face.

Drained and replaced with wide-eyed rosy cheeked surprise, his hands extended out either side of himself to avoid touching Steve’s body. Adorable.

“Maybe we should.”

“Ah—uhm—heh—y-yeah I mean—m-maybe not here though, yeah?” He talked a good game, he put on a damn fine front, but Eddie Munson wasn’t exactly swimming in cock. Wasn’t even paddling. Or wading the cock waters.

No he was mainly just suffering in queer silence on dry land with just good ol leftie and a few skin mags to make himself feel better. Although the image of Steve Harrington in his lap? Oh yeah that’d do him for a few months.

Sad that it ended so fast though, with Steve backing his perfectly plush ass right back into his seat quickly after, holding his hands up in mock surrender, accepting the stuttered rejection like a champ.

“Wherever you feel comfiest, man, but I suggest we figure that shit out fast, we don’t have long before this trip an you’ll have to meet them before we go so we’re going to have to be comfortable with each other, especially if it’s an environment where we have no excuse to not be comfortable.” If they were in public? Absolutely they’d have many excuses readily available.

The chalet? Not public. In fact it was quite big, the only reason he was so sure his parents would bring someone for him was because it was big enough that they could do their own thing for hours without crossing paths. Sure the bedrooms were close to each other but there were other rooms to fuck around in.

Damn thing had two Jacuzzi’s and a sauna. Not to mention a home cinema to fool around in.

They’d be hoping that he’d spend some easily obtained alone time with this mystery person. God he’d be being pimped out by his parents. How had his life come to this?

“You want me to meet them before we go?” He was just expecting to turn up on the day and be ‘Steve’s new boyfriend’ that they’d never met and would just have to accept would be in attendance. In that scenario he assumed Steve would just get the okay from them to have him come and that be that but—

Clearly his imagination was not even remotely true to real life. “Uhh… yeah, they’ll wanna know who they’re spending a week with, Eddie, c’mon, fake dating starts like… now…”

“So can I charge you from now?”

“Dude that’d be double—”

“Aren’t you rich?”

“I work minimum wage at Family Video for crying out loud, no I’m not rich. My parents are rich, I make enough to keep the lights on and keep my fridge stocked while they’re away. C’mon man… I can do a week, I have savings that’ll cover a week but two weeks? That’s fourteen-hundred, dude, I can’t—” Two weeks was stretching things uncomfortably far. Like… going into debt kind of far. He couldn’t ask his parents for money because they’d wanna know what it was for and for him to get a receipt and Eddie didn’t do receipts. Or refunds. “I might actually starve.”

“… Fine.” He almost argued, you live in a McMansion Steve, I live in a trailer park, but then… Steve did actually work at Family Video, wouldn’t just do that if he didn’t have to, who’s to say his parents paid for anything for him? Who’s to say they didn’t pull the ‘you’re an adult now, son, we’ll let you live here but you have to pull your own weight’ shtick parents were apparently so fond of? God what if they made him pay rent?

Eddie really didn’t know anything about the Harringtons.

Steve clearly didn’t go to college, so… maybe his dad wouldn’t hire him for a role he wasn’t qualified for? Unlikely but not impossible if recent discoveries concerning Steve Harrington were to be used as a reference point. Couldn't assume anything about him. “Fine?”

“Yeah, fine. How about, instead… we stick with my original rate an call it a flat seven hundred, fifty per day, an we start now? We can head to the trailer park an figure shit out there, deduct today so it’s only six fifty cause we’re brainstorming. My uncle may be home, but he should be asleep now. He works nights. We should be fine… unless you wanna head to yours and go in blind, take a ‘we’re figuring things out together awkwardly’ approach to it?” That’d track, he could do awkward, he could probab—

“Nah, they’d never think I was awkward at dating, even though you are a guy.” Of course they wouldn’t. Their lady killer son would never be awkward about dating… he wasn’t either, that was the kicker. He’d got all the way up in Eddie’s business not five minutes ago and looked comfortable doing it, like he actually would have practiced kissing in the back of Eddie’s beat up old van.

Holy shit he could have been making out with Steve Harrington in the back of his van.

He said not here, yeah?

What the shit was his problem?!

Was he actually completely insane?

He was going to be a virgin forever.

“You good there, Ed?”

“Huh?” He squeaked. Eddie Munson did not squeak, but yet, there he was. Squeakin away. “Oh! Y-yeah yeah, just coming to an abrupt unfortunate conclusion, yep, I am a-ok completely and totally oooone-hundreeeeeee— okay I came to a very real realisation that I could have been basically making out with you for ‘practice’ in the back of my van in the bushes where nobody could interrupt us and that could have gone anywhere cause it’s comfy back here yet i decided to tell you ‘not here, yeah?’ like a perma-virgin so— yeah.”

“Jeez… maybe you could pull off the awkward boyfriend thing.”

“…So about that fourteen hundred.”

Part 6

[frankthesnek]

I have seen a lot of content here and on other platforms talking about how much people hate Steve's ending in the Infinity Saga, and I wanted to give my two cents. So buckle up folks!

Fisrt off, just to get it out of the way, I personally do not like Steve's ending. I don't like it because of the canon implications. They make a big deal about not changing things by getting the stones and returning them when they are done.... then Steve stays behind, and I'm sorry, but that opens the potential for SOOOO many plot issues canonically. Anyway, on to all the reasons I DON'T TAKE ISSUE WITH his ending.

The two things I see used most often as reasons to why Steve's ending sucks is 1) it's not in character for him, and 2) he abandoned Bucky waaaahhh! Let's talk about both.

1) not in character? Completely disagree, because pure and simple Steve is not the same person at the end of the Infinity Saga as he was at the start of his story.

An important thing to remember is that Steve was young when he became Captain America. He was only 25, which is like... the start of actual adulthood. He got the serum, and from that moment on, his life was not really his own. Let's look at how his life goes after becoming Cap:

Steve becomes a show pony for the USO (not what he wanted or thought he would be doing).

Steve ends up in the middle of war (yes, he wanted to protect his country. That doesn't mean you enjoy war).

Steve willingly sacrfises himself for the greater good.

Steve comes back to a new world where everything he has ever known and all the people he ever loved are gone.

Steve ends up fighting wars, again.

Steve is young and ends up in pretty much back to back situations where he is the leader in dangerous situations, something that yes he excels at... but here's the thing, just because you can do something doesn't mean you should/are prepared to. I'm not saying Steve is a bad leader (he's not), but Rhody says it best in Civil War, "Steve that.... that is dangerously arogant." Steve IS arogant. It's not intentional, just a result of power and leadership at an early age.

By the end of the Infinity Saga, this arrogance has been checked and is gone. Steve has grown, aged, seen, and experienced so much more. He has experienced not only other people's failures but his own. He has grown into his power and learned with it. We see this process as we move through the movies. At the start, he wants to have a life and settle down someday. Then he becomes Cap and at first he still wants this but, as time goes on he questions if he can ever do that because he doesn't think he can walk away (Steve says this himself in AoU). Then in the end Steve has done his time, served his term of duty and realizes he CAN walk away (I personally feel this comes a lot from Steve seeing Tony make that shift too late in life and lose his family before truly getting to experience them).

Long and short of it, Steve at the start would not have gone back. Steve as the man he is at the end, would have.

2) but he abandoned Bucky! Steve wouldn't do that, right? Yeah, yeah he fucking would. I get that it seems bitterly unsatisfying for him to just leave Bucky after everything Steve went through to save him and get him back.... but here's the thing if anyone understands Steve's struggles and what he's been through, it's Bucky. Bucky lost his life too. He went to war young, got captured and reprogrammed, was forced to do horrible things, and lost the world and people he knew and loved.

If anything Bucky would have been the one to encourage Steve to do what he did. Picture Steve going to Bucky and being like, hey I have this crazy idea, and I need you to talk me out of it. Would Bucky talk him out of it? No, Bucky would encourage it because he KNOWS first hand what Steve has lost.

Bucky clearly knows what Steve is planning when they say good bye in that last scene. Just like how Steve was willing to put everything on the line to save Bucky—Bucky was willing to let Steve go live the life he deserved. Really, that right there is what it all comes down to in the end. What did Steve deserve? After everything he has done, he deserved happiness, and that's what he got. Bucky wasn’t gonna talk him out of that because he loves Steve, and that can mean letting people go, just like it can mean fighting for them.

Anyway, just my thoughts. The end.

[talesofadragon]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝

Synopsis: The Kingdom of Brooklyn needs a queen, and the Royal Council needs a noble princess. As for newly crowned King Steven Rogers, he needs a love that rebels against conformity, granting him the solace he yearns for. So what happens when all he needs is not what his kingdom wants?

Pairing: King!Steve Rogers x Chambermaid!Reader

Warnings: None.

Genre: Angst | Fluff

Word Count: 6.1K

Author’s Notes: Requested by the sweetest @crazyunsexycool. Thank you, Val, for this wholesome idea! To all Marvel fans out there, go check out her incredible work!🩵

All Masterlists | Steve Rogers Masterlist

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 and deceiving word in history will evermore be art. At first glance, it’s enticing, delicate, and memorable. A barrage of emotional responses to the tragedies and the grievances of life. Whether in color or in monochrome, in words or emotions, art is a melodrama that lures you in, pulls you toward its undertow. Until there comes a time when you realize that all these stories were never quite this scintillating, they just were. 

“Your Majesty.” 

Steve shakes his head as the voice registers in his mind. It takes him a fleeting moment, about five seconds, to realize that he stands within the confines of his chambers. The vibrant rays of the morning sun cascade through the windows, casting an ardent glow. Another five minutes elapse as Steve blinks away his confusion, his gaze withdrawing from the withered pages of his sketchbook, evidence of the relentless assault of his charcoals and ink.

“Maiden Katherine,” he acknowledges the chambermaid in his room. Her eyes are downcast, evading his cerulean hues. “Pardon me, what was it that you said?”

The young woman gasps, though covers it quickly with a cough. Her errant gaze lands briefly on Steve before it strays away once more. “Your Majesty, I was merely asking if you needed anything more.”

A fleeting furrow emerges between Steve's eyebrows, and he casts a swift glance around the room. To his surprise, he finds it immaculate, untouched by the tumultuous night he had spent, forming dents in his rugs and battling wars within the confines of his sheets. 

As Steve turns his gaze toward Maiden Katherine, a gentle smile graces his lips. Unable to discern the woman's face due to her position, he finds himself succumbing to a glimmer of hope, however fleeting and insubstantial. Within the recesses of his imagination, he relishes the liberty to conjure an image of someone entirely different, a figure who embodies the yearnings of his heart.

“No,” he says, somewhat resentfully. Because his needs are conditional, and what he truly desires cannot be attained beyond the realm of his mind. “That will be all. Thank you.”

Maiden Katherine dutifully bows to her king, leaving him to his own devices. As soon as the door closes, Steve reaches back to trace the somber outlines of his sketchbook. Once more, his mind veers away from the confines of his chambers, transporting him to a realm far brighter.

SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO 

King Joseph and Prince Steven are a juxtaposition.

The King is the valiant moon. The Prince is the selfless sun. The former breathes preservation and prowess, while the latter longs for equilibrium and benevolence. And no matter their dualism, King Joseph sees otherwise, constantly building bridges upon bridges to force his son to concede and meet him. Not in the middle, but where he stands—light years away. 

Steve, though ten years old, has a keen sense of understanding. His mother, Sarah, never misses a chance to remind him that he’s a whirlwind for this world, and he couldn’t possibly disagree. 

When, like today, the pressures of the crown seem too hard to grapple with, Steve decides to step away. Not forever. Just a little while, until he’s able to face them all again. 

He’s at the Royal Gardens, a place he hasn’t visited since last spring after his allergies restricted him to his room. Now, almost a year later, he comes back, disappointed to see that his favorite tree has grown faster than he has. 

Steve approaches it, hands on hips and lips pursed in thought. How am I supposed to climb it now? he asks himself. He wishes Bucky was here, but he knows his best friend has sparring lessons, so he tries his very best to follow his own lead and climb it. 

He tries to climb, and he manages to pull himself up, but three branches and a half are more than enough to steal his breath. He sighs, seeing that he can’t climb higher. His hands ache from the effort. 

Just as Steve contemplates his next move, a small voice calls out, “What are you doing up there, silly?” Startled, he turns his gaze downward, meeting a pair of eyes that feel both familiar and unknown. 

“Who are you?” he asks the young girl in the blue dress. He knows she’s not a princess from the fabric’s quality, though her charming face suggests otherwise. 

“I asked you first.” 

Steve laughs at the girl’s spirited nature. “I am sitting.” She narrows her eyes, unsatisfied with his response. “I like sitting up here. The tree overlooks the castle grounds. It’s nice.”

The girl hums, accepting his answer. She looks up and then around before meeting his eyes again. “Do you care for some company?” 

Steve would normally say no. Aside from Bucky, he doesn’t like to spend time with anyone. But the little girl seems nice and curious, something he decides that he likes about her. So he nods his head.

He watches the faint smile on her lips as she holds tightly to the nearest branch and places her weight on it. Within a couple of seconds, she perches herself on the branch facing him.

“Hi.” 

“Hi!” she giggles, kicking her feet in the air. Now that she’s closer, he can see that she’s much smaller than him. A few years younger too. He watches her lean against the tree’s trunk, gazing around with pure wonder. “You’re right. It is quite nice here.” 

Steve shares a laugh with her before speaking again. “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N,” she announces confidently. He likes it. Both her name and her attitude. “And you?” 

He bites the inside of his cheek. Steve has been conditioned to answer this question in one way only: Crown Prince Steven Grant Rogers of Brooklyn. But he’s scared that if Y/N hears this, she might jump down and leave him alone. 

He thinks she’s adorable and kind. Definitely someone Bucky is going to like. So, instead, he says something else. Something he’s never said to anyone. “I’m Steve.” 

“Nice to meet you, Steve! How old are you?” 

“I’m ten,” he replies apprehensively. He knows that he looks much younger because of his height and weight.

Y/N seems to disagree, marveling at his answer. She beams, kicking her legs higher. “I’m six. Is it nice to be ten? My momma says the number ten is a two-digit number, so it’s bigger than six.” 

Steve barely blinks before a soft chuckle escapes his lips. He leans forward a little bit, making sure not to fall. Y/N is sitting there with anticipation governing her features, eagerly waiting for an answer. 

“It’s nice. I can retire to bed a bit later than usual.” That seems to satisfy Y/N, who claps excitedly in response. “I have never seen you before,” Steve then remarks.

Y/N hums. “My momma is Queen Sarah’s new chambermaid. I came to the castle with her.” 

“Oh.” 

Y/N nods. “And you? Does your momma work here, too?” 

“Somewhat, yes,” Steve replies. A comfortable silence stretches for a while, both kids hidden amongst the tree branches, listening to the humming of the birds and the voices of the wind. 

The birds fly around, some even landing atop the tree and catching Y/N’s attention. She marvels at them, then she suddenly stands up, looking at Steve. 

“It must be nicer up there for the birds to sit. Shall we go see?”

Steve hesitates. His blue eyes fill with apprehension as they count the number of branches left. There are six in total, two more than there were last spring. The tree is not too far from the ground, yet high enough for Steve to break his bones if he decides to venture up. 

“I can’t climb that high,” he sighs dejectedly. 

Y/N cranes her head to study Steve’s face. “Do you want to?” she asks to which he nods. “Then of course you can. You simply need a little help.” 

She says it so lightheartedly and surely, it makes Steve’s heart soar. Y/N braces herself and climbs one more branch. She extends her hand, palm open for Steve to take. He hesitates, knowing he shouldn’t and that his father will surely scold him for his actions. 

Y/N shakes her hand once, silently asking him to take it. Without thinking much, Steve does. Two minutes later, he finds himself atop the tree with two birds and a new friend. 

PRESENT DAY

Steve exhales loudly, his gaze fixed upon the tree etched within the pages of his sketchbook. He traces the delicate curves with his eyes, although he knows them by heart. Every intricate detail is etched into his memory from the countless days spent perched upon the tree’s branches alongside Y/N.

With a wistful glance, he closes the sketchbook and casts it aside, a reminder that before this artful piece and the memories it holds existed, there only ever was an unadorned tree.

“Your Majesty, I can say with absolute certainty that if you continue to wear that expression, it won't be long before the entire court assumes the Robe Bearers have skillfully concealed a stick within your regal attire.” 

“Bucky,” Steve grumbles. Though when he catches his reflection in the mirror, he relents, knowing his best friend, and Lord High Constable, isn’t all too wrong. He raises his hand to dismiss his attendants. They bow and exit, leaving the two men alone. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be anywhere else?” 

Dramatically as always, Bucky covers his heart with his palm. He looks down, seemingly wounded, before his cobalt blue eyes lift. “I am deeply wounded by your implicit dismissal and your forthright irritation, My King.” 

Steve rubs a hand down his face. He has endured twenty-seven years with this man, and sometimes, he wonders if befriending Lord James Buchanan Barnes was a good idea. He knows him all too well now. And if those remarks are any indication, Bucky is, without a doubt, mere seconds away from asking him what’s wrong. 

So Steve speaks his mind before the questions begin. “Must I attend this ball?” 

“You are the King,” Bucky replies. “And tonight you shall not only be celebrated but you shall also—”

“Subdue to the Royal Council’s wishes and secure the future of the throne.” 

Steve’s words have a bite to them. They’re sharp and terse, accentuating the resentment he feels toward this ordeal. He walks away from Bucky, attempting to gather his wits before saying anything else. He sits down on his large bed, one hand on his knee and the other holding his chin. 

“Do not think of it this way.” 

“How else must I think of this when I have no say?” 

“Perhaps you don’t have the freedom of choice when it comes to the matter, but you still have a choice, Steve,” Bucky reminds him. He joins his side, sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. He taps him on the shoulder, letting his hand linger there. “The Council has dictated that you shall marry, but only you shall choose who.” 

You couldn’t be more wrong, Steve says to himself. He looks away, the words a sharp slap to his face. He’s never been one for conformity, and Bucky knows this. He’s aware of Steve’s rebellious tendencies and audacious disregard for the Crown's decisions.

Steve knows what this kingdom needs—what queen it longs to have. So why should it be one of noble descent when it could be one of noble spirit? What significance holds the nature of her blood, when in truth, we are all blood in nature? 

“If the choice was truly mine, I would choose no one but her.” 

His eyes are still errant, following a pathway of their own. Though he can’t see it, he feels Bucky’s heavy gaze on him. 

“I should have known you were thinking of Y/N back then,” Bucky comments. He nudges Steve’s shoulder with his until the King concedes and gives the Lord his full attention. He remains quiet, though his eyes say it all. “When are you never thinking about her?” 

“How is she faring?” Steve asks. Each letter is spelled with a plethora of emotions. Carved with longing and desire. It has been a considerable length of time since Steve last laid eyes upon Y/N. Ever since his father banished her to a distant corner of the castle, accompanied by strict instructions to avoid any form of interaction with Steve.

“Well. Though it is beyond evident that she misses you terribly. The mention of you is the only thing that seems to brighten her day.” 

The answer draws a small smile on Steve’s face. He nods, his mind already taking a trek on its own accord, reminiscing the days Steve had spent with Y/N growing up, picturing her dulcet smile and the light that inhabited her eyes. 

Steve has forever been a captive of duty. The blood coursing through his veins tethers him to the crown while unwavering loyalty anchors him to his kingdom. His spirit, alas, was never truly his own, and his heart had long been barricaded by the Council. However, within his mind, a sanctuary exists where his thoughts could roam, untamed and unrestrained, as they collide and soar amidst the vivid memories of Y/N and the alluring freedom she perpetually bestows.

He is on the cusp of replying. With what, he isn't quite sure yet. The mere thought of Y/N has left him momentarily speechless, his mind struggling to find the right words. But the insistent knock on his door reverberates louder than any words he could muster.

“Enter,” Steve says as Bucky straightens and stands up. 

The door opens and in walks Peter, one of the new guards in Brooklyn. “Your Majesty.” Peter bows. “Lord Barnes.”

“What is it, Peter?” Steve asks. 

“His Majesty, King Father Joseph, is requesting your presence.” 

Something within Steve throbs, an ache that resonates through his being. His father possesses an innate knack for impeccable timing, a seemingly supernatural ability to intrude upon Steve's most cherished moments.

Reluctantly, Steve pushes himself up and follows Peter to his father's quarters. He treads the well-worn path, the bitterness seeping through every step. The portraits lining the walls and the chandeliers adorning the taupe ceilings are all too familiar, etched into his memory from countless prior journeys.

His footsteps weigh heavily upon the carpet, each one echoing his disdain for the impending encounter. He takes in a deep breath, steeling himself before the guards deliver a resounding knock, heralding his arrival. With a measured breath, he crosses the threshold and enters the room.

Upon doing so, the pain within him heightens, intensifying to a raw and poignant state. It feels as if every fiber of his being wants to claw its way out from within. His gaze fixates on his father, who lies weak and feeble on the bed, attended to by hovering nurses. Yet, within Steve's mind, contrasting images begin to form.

He envisions himself from years past, confined to his own bed, accompanied by illness and fragility as constant companions. But gradually, the image takes on a bitter-sweet memory.

SEVEN YEARS AGO 

Steve shakes, uncertain whether it's the cold air or his nightmares that make him tremble. His room feels empty and lonely since his mother's departure, and his father is too busy to give him a second thought. Bucky is off with the troops, stuck in endless meetings. The looming war hangs heavy in the air, and Steve's father has made his choice of soldier, and it's not him.

Steve hates it. Hates being so useless. He cannot even fight for his kingdom, so how is he supposed to rule it one day? He huffs an exasperated sigh, turning around in his sheets. He shuts his eyes, partially because he wants to sleep and purely because he’s trying to force himself not to cry. 

It’s not working, though, as he feels the world closing in. The ceiling’s shadows are suddenly creeping closer, and the walls are wailing as they speed ahead. The door to his chambers squeaks, and he thinks it’s flying off its hinges. But in an unexpected shift, the world around him takes on a different hue, one that brings a soothing and calming sensation he didn't anticipate.

“Stevie.” His eyes snap open, and in that instant, he becomes aware of the rapid pounding of his heart. 

“Y/N?” 

“I heard you weren’t feeling your best.” Y/N smiles sheepishly. She moves a strand of her long wavy hair away, taking a tentative step closer. “I thought, perhaps, you needed some company.” 

Steve wants to say a lot of things. But seeing her in her long blue-green dress made him fall quiet. He’s always loved that color on her. It’s his favorite. 

You look beautiful, he tries to say. I have missed you. How are you faring? But nothing of the sort comes out. 

“You will be in trouble if you get caught,” he hears himself say. Instantly he regrets it. But Y/N doesn’t seem to mind. 

She shakes her head and moves closer. “Being with you is no trouble at all, my prince," she murmurs, settling down beside him and clasping his hand in her own. Steve occasionally wishes his hands were larger, more powerful. He feels a pang of shame for the thoughts that have crossed his mind, imagining the different ways his hands would hold her and explore every inch of her being.

His temperature rises at the thought, and even Y/N feels it. She hovers over him, pressing her lips sweetly to his forehead. His eyes close involuntarily. One of his hands weekly clutch Y/N’s own while the other fists her dress. Steve moans under his breath. “You are burning up,” she says with concern lacing her tone. She moves away, and Steve instinctively reaches for her. She sees the worry in his eyes, deciding to brush it away by running her fingers through his hair. “I will not leave, Your Highness.” 

“Y/N,” he grumbles weakly. 

Y/N smiles, reaching for the bowl of water and the wet rag left behind. “I will not leave you, Steve. I promise.”

PRESENT DAY

“Steve,” King Joseph calls. 

Steve is engulfed in a whirlwind of internal battles, ignited by his father's actions that have shattered everything. Promises that were never his to break have been torn apart, and as a result, Steve decides that he's unable to forgive him. He feels no trace of mercy toward him. No trace of love.

The coronation ball is a spectacle of extravagance, opulence, and sheer absurdity. The entire Brooklyn Court has gathered along with monarchs from neighboring kingdoms. 

King Stark graces the event with his Queen and their young Princess, joined by King Thor, Queen Sif, and Prince Loki. Steve's gaze catches sight of his trusted Lord Chancellor, Samuel “Sam” Wilson, engaged in conversation with his father and the King of Wakanda. 

And though he cannot see him, he knows Bucky must be lurking in the shadows, sharing a hidden moment with Princess Romanoff.

Steve lingers for a few moments before revealing his presence. He stands atop the banister, peering down at the chaos he is about to face. His gaze sweeps across the room, longing for a glimpse of someone familiar, although deep down he knows it's merely a futile hope.

With a heavy sigh, he descends the stairs, fully aware that his destiny lies in wait.

"Announcing His Royal Majesty, King Steven Grant Rogers."

The music begins, and the doors swing open. Steve steps forward, discomforted by the weight of all the attention upon him. He offers nods as others bow and curtsy, attempting to keep a smile on his face. Reaching the throne, he settles into it with more haste than necessary. As soon as he is seated, his subjects rise from their positions.

"Thank you all for joining us tonight," he declares, projecting his voice with a hint of implicit hesitation. “We’re honored to welcome you to Brooklyn Palace. Please, do enjoy yourself. May this merry occasion pave the way ahead for our kingdom.” 

The crowd cheers enthusiastically, chanting Steve’s name and singing his praises. They raise their hands in the air and clap without restraint, though Steve doesn’t hear them. He’s out of tune with his senses, his consciousness hauntingly distant. Suddenly and prematurely, he’s thrust back into the moment. He doesn’t know how to react when Princess Sharon enters his line of sight.

“Your Majesty,” she curtseys. Steve has always noticed that she overdoes it, lowering herself far more than necessary. Sam once remarked she did it to appear meek and subdued—traits many men apparently seek in a woman—Bucky, on the other hand, remarked that she was desperate for attention. 

“Princess Carter.” 

“Sharon, Your Majesty,” she rectifies while meeting his eyes. “You may call me Sharon. If you please, Your Majesty.” 

To his ears, it’s more of a plea than anything else. Which is why he doesn’t recede. Engaging in idle conversation with her isn't what he desires, for he can already discern the thoughts swirling within her mind, mirroring the thoughts of many other women in the palace. His father had made it unequivocally clear that Steve cannot rule without a queen by his side.

“Your Majesty,” Sharon’s voice beckons. Steve gazes at her, failing to mimic her enthusiasm. “Are you not going to ask me to dance?” 

No, he feels the need to say. I do not wish to dance with anyone. But the musicians are getting ready and his father is pinning him down with a glare. 

Reluctantly, he extends his hand and picks Sharon’s. “Of course.” Steve kisses the back of her hand. Carefully, he leads her to the dance floor, front and center, waiting for everyone to join. 

Bucky stands to his right and Sam to his left. Facing them are Princess Natasha and Duchess Wanda, respectively. Kings Tony, Thor, and T'Challa join next, accompanied by their Queens. 

Gradually, the room transforms into a parade of eager guests, lining up in anticipation of the forthcoming dance. A cacophony of music erupts, and the rhythm permeates the air, setting the stage for a whirlwind of movement. 

The men bow with a flourish, while the ladies curtsy in graceful synchronization. In the timeless tradition of the dance, they take a bold step forward, closing the distance between them. Steve's hands, steady yet tinged with anticipation, find their place upon the small of Sharon’s back, guiding her with gentle precision.

He sweeps across the dance floor, leading Sharon in elaborate and pristine circles. Her gaze on him is imperturbable, features soft under the lights of the chandelier. Steve cannot understand how her eyes can be so alight—they’re looking at him as if he was the present and the future when he is, in fact, counting the musical notes, anticipating the next switch in partners. 

The dance is Steve’s “seven minutes in heaven,” as Sam so eloquently worded it. Though, in reality, it’s a vicious torment. This dance offers Steve the chance to dance with four women—three for two minutes and one for no more than a fleeting sixty seconds. And luckily for him, Sharon’s two minutes are now up. 

He spins her to the right, fueled by a sense of anticipation at the thought of stealing a precious moment of respite. She leaves his arms, and he breathes deeply for a moment before Princess Shuri joins him. 

"Your Majesty, do me a favor and grace us with a smile. I would hate for my brother to be proven right. He is constantly rambling about how my mere presence seems to unsettle everyone around."

Steve offers Shuri beyond what she has asked for. A heartfelt laugh tumbles from his lips, and he’s elated to know that the music is far louder than his unrestrained chortle. 

“Your presence is welcome and cherished, Princess Shuri.” Steve dips the princess, ensuring she doesn’t fall. He brings her back on her feet and continues with the rest of the choreography. “Tell T’Challa you are the single spark of joy and delight this evening has brought.” 

“Oh, I will most certainly tell him that.” 

With a final smile, Steve releases his grip on Shuri, allowing her to navigate her way toward Loki's outstretched arms. Though her departure may lack grace, it’s far more captivating to watch than the arrival of yet another noble lady, who is now nestled in his arms. 

Princess Carol’s face is stoic, and her movements feel robotic, pre-programmed. The silence between her and Steve is tumultuous as the prince leads her through the dance. He’s grateful for her aloofness, granting him the chance to focus on something else other than an unnecessary conversation, or worse yet, a proposal. 

His blue eyes meander, traversing the room with a wandering gaze. In the midst of his observation, he catches sight of Princess Natasha and Marquess Barton engaged in a dance. Their movements may lack the refinement of the other nobles, but they appear unperturbed, swaying to a rhythm that is uniquely theirs. Steve notices Natasha intermittently locking eyes with Bucky, exchanging playful winks and smirks that stir a bitter sensation within him.

He thinks he will never experience this. Never be given the chance to love with all his heart and not his mind. To love for love and not the kingdom. To live for his love to rule and not to rule for his love to die.  

Princess Carol slips from his grasp with unexpected swiftness, leaving Steve momentarily stunned. His attention lingers on her abrupt departure, forgetting the need to steady himself. 

As Steve's palm rests open, a hand slips into his, catching him off guard. His arm instinctively reaches out, hastening to steady the woman who has joined him. The sudden touch electrifies his senses, igniting a rush of anticipation within him.

Blue orbs lock onto a wistful masterpiece, refusing to blink and allowing the moisture to gather, lending a subtle glassy sheen. Steve's steps falter, his footing shaken. Only now does he realize that he has been granted six minutes to breathe and a single dance partner that has stolen his every breath.

At this moment, Steve grasps the true might of the human mind as the dance fades into the background though his feet glide effortlessly across the floor. His heart races with joyous abandon, his thoughts sprint in a frenzy, and his eyes struggle to keep pace, captivated by the dazzling radiance emanating from the figure in front of him. 

Steve's eyes fixate on the familiar turquoise dress adorning the woman’s figure, a sight he has imagined countless times in his most indulgent thoughts. Yet, reality surpasses any fantasy he could conjure. With fervent intensity, he absorbs every detail of the woman before him, noting the familiarities that stir his heart and the subtle differences that ignite a sense of curiosity.

He towers over her now, his height surpassing hers by more than an inch. His presence is imposing, a protective and ardent force. They stand close, near enough for her to catch glimpses of green in his eyes and for him to feel the softness of her bodice against his chest.

Time passes, maybe a minute, or perhaps more. He doesn’t know. Because with her, time is a paradox, too complex to comprehend. Or perhaps, plain unnecessary. 

He notes that no one is dancing, noble men and women retreating to the ballroom's margins. They're entranced by Steve and his partner. Their glances multifaceted, both welcoming and unnerving. But he doesn't pay attention to them. Not when the musicians are still playing, granting him an infinity of respite.

He clutches the woman tighter, lifting her up in the air. The light catches the tiara on her head, the one he had specifically requested for her as a gift on her sixteenth birthday. She had once refused to wear it, claiming she wasn't a princess. And she was right. She's not just a princess; she's a queen.

There is so much to say. Too many questions to ask. And yet, Steve can only whisper one thing as he sets her down on her feet, his lips lingering close to her ear.

“You are divinity in human nature, and I have evermore longed to confess to you this.” 

Y/N says nothing, but the gasp that tumbles out and the fingers that trace Steve’s elbow speak of it all. “You haven’t changed,” she notes. He shakes his head and gives her a disbelieving look as if to urge her to look at him again. “You are just as warm and just as kind. Just as beautiful,” she enunciates, whispering the last part. 

The words reach his ears, carrying with them a genuine sincerity that resonates deep within him. He releases a soft exhale, a breath that caresses her face. Her delicate lashes gracefully meet, pulling his attention away from her magnetic eyes to her angelic smile. 

Steve is captivated by every aspect of her presence, his senses entranced by the enchantment that surrounds them both. “I have longed for you,” he admits. Immediately, Y/N's eyes burst open, revealing a clash of waves within her irises—a turbulent ocean of swirling emotions.

“I’ve heard, and I’m here to satiate your longing, My King.” 

"Prince," Steve corrects briskly. As he holds her waist, Y/N places both hands on his chest. He tenderly caresses her bottom lip. "Don't cease to see me in a different light now, princess."

“I am not a princess,” Y/N refutes. “As for the last half of your sentence, no matter who you become to the world, you will always be my prince, Stevie.” 

In that brief moment, her eyes reveal a vulnerability that tugs at Steve's heartstrings. “Y/N, tell me you are truly here. Tell me this is not yet another deceiving portrait my mind has conjured.” 

“I am real.” 

“How?”��

“Queen Mother Sarah,” she admits. Her voice carries a tinge of sadness at the memory of the late queen. “Before her demise, she called for me. You were away at the time, fighting the war against Hydra’s army. She made me swear to attend your coronation ball. To be by your side once more.” 

Oh, mother. Steve stands in disbelief. Though his mother passed seven years ago, her presence lingers within him. A constant source of comfort and guidance. He can't help but compare the stark contrast between his mother's love and his father's hostility, fueling a mix of emotions within him. The dominance and aggression of his father's actions only serve to heighten his appreciation for his mother's enduring tenderness and thoughtfulness, even in the realm of the afterlife.

“I needed to be by your side, even though I know I will be in trouble.” Y/N’s voice shakes him out of his stupor. She’s biting on her lower lip, her long hair hiding half her face. “Your father will surely order me farther away.” 

“Let him try,” Steve challenges with determination, causing Y/N to wear a wearied expression of disbelief. With tenderness, he adds, "I'd like to witness anyone daring to separate the future Queen of Brooklyn from my embrace."

King Joseph seethes with a fiery intensity, teetering on the edge of explosion. Anger courses through his veins, overwhelming his senses in the wake of what he has just witnessed. With resolute determination, he guides his son towards the Council chamber, his mind already brimming with scathing words, poised to unleash his fury upon him.

“Of all of the women in this court and beyond, you have decided to entertain a chambermaid for the better half of the evening!” 

“She is not a mere chambermaid, father. You know well who Y/N is!” 

"A mere distraction," the King counters vehemently, his fist slamming down on the dark oak table with a resounding thud. "A disgrace," he continues, his voice filled with simmering indignation.

“A queen.” 

"Never! Over my dead body, you imbecile!" King Joseph retorts, his voice laced with venomous defiance, unwilling to yield to his son's audacious declaration.

"So be it then, father!" Steve roars with fiery determination. "All you have ever cared for is for Brooklyn to be the nexus of the Grand American Dynasty, no matter the cost, no matter the price! Your vision is so narrow that you fail to see the alternative paths, the possibilities beyond the ones you have carved for yourself."

“The avenues you traverse in your thoughts are nothing but insignificant alleyways leading to nowhere, boy!” 

"They are mine. All of them belong to me alone," Steve asserts with unwavering conviction. "They are the boulevards of my childhood and the thoroughfares of my future. They are paths carved by a woman who has treated me far better than my own father ever has!"

“She is insignificant!” 

"How dare you! You have waged wars and battles, leaving me to mend the relationships you have severed. You have sowed fear and wielded despair in your son and your kingdom, and I will not allow you to condemn me or my future any longer."

“Steven!” 

“No! You will listen, and I will lend my ears no longer. I am the only heir to the throne. You and the Council be damned if you do not willingly allow me to marry the woman who will rule Brooklyn with far more grace and vigor than you ever had. Mark my words, I will take matters into my own hands and fight for love and justice, even if it means defying the entire kingdom.” 

“You would never," King Joseph says, his voice seething with anger and contempt, his eyes blazing with fiery defiance.

Steve smirk. It’s dark and vindictive, sending shivers down the spine of his father. “Watch me,” he whispers, his voice laced with a chilling determination.

He marches out of the chamber and onto the grand ballroom. His heart thumps in his chest, louder than the mellifluous sounds of the musician's instruments. 

He moves through the crowd like a lion king walking through his kingdom. His gaze locks on Y/N, standing beside Bucky and Sam. As their eyes meet, a mixture of surprise and anticipation reflects in the depths of her gaze, mirroring the emotions pulsating within him.

As the world around them fades into a blur, leaving only the two of them standing in the spotlight, Steve's years of etiquette training and courtship knowledge seem insignificant. Despite his mastery of courting rituals and the art of conversation, Y/N possesses the uncanny ability to shatter his carefully crafted facade. With a mere glance, she erases the learned scripts from his mind, leaving it a blank canvas, ready to be painted by her presence alone.

He doesn’t count his steps though he suspects they’re brisk. He reaches out and tugs at her hand, drawing her closer. Steve lets go of his thoughts and his constraints, deciding to focus on her. His lips are fierce as they suddenly clash with hers, and the sound of their lips moving together seems to echo louder than the

The kiss becomes a clarion call, a declaration of war and surrender in a single act. It symbolizes the culmination of suppressed emotions and unspoken promises, a deluge of feelings too long restrained. It ignites a storm of passionate responses, an uproar of joy and relief that reverberates through the room.

In that fleeting moment, it embodies Y/N's tenderness and longing, intertwining with Steve's defiance and resolve. The kiss bridges the fractures of their past and ushers in the promise of a shared future.

Like an art piece, it's crafted with meticulous detail and profound meaning. Its evocative power lingers in the air, leaving a trace of its essence. The kiss is not just a mere gesture. It's an effervescent expression of their love, unique and incomparable.

At this moment, Steve and Y/N claim their own narrative, painting their own masterpiece of connection and desire. It's an art piece that captivates all who witness it, leaving an indelible mark on their hearts and memories.

“I need a queen,” Steve breathes in haste. I need you, he’s trying to say. I breathe you. 

And Y/N laughs, delicately and boldly. She presses her palms against his cheeks, the warmth of her touch fanning the flames of Steve’s love. 

“Let me be everything you need and more.”

Steve Rogers has my whole heart, and I was unbelievably happy when Val overflooded my inbox with requests!! Still got one Mob!Steve and Professor!Steve one shots to write, which I'm super excited to start with. Btw, how the hell does Val know all my favorite tropes?

Anyhow, I was so excited, so I powered through this one. The others? Might take anywhere between 3 to 5 business months to release them. But Sab will try her best to release them sooner.

Don’t forget to send in your Marvel/Harry Potter requests!

Can’t wait to share more!!

[ihni]

The hospital room is surprisingly cozy, for a hospital room. The walls aren't white, but a light green. There's a small plant in a pot on the windowsill, and a pile of newspapers on the table by the wall. One of them is open on the crossword page. It's only half done, a pencil lying on the page, forgotten, as if whoever tried to solve it gave up halfway through.

There's a chequered blanket on the bed, and an unmoving man lying under it. He's been there for a long time. The nurses don't mention the blanket, or the newspapers, or the plant. They know not to fight a dying man's family on the little things that might bring them comfort.

And the man in the bed is dying.

Neil Hargrove is dying.

He hasn't managed to eat at all for three days. Hasn't woken up for the last twenty-four hours. They've got him on a drip, but no one expects him to last much longer when he can't even drink. His mouth doesn't close anymore, and his jaw hangs open as if dislocated. His breath smells sour. Something rattles in his chest when he breathes, and his breaths are increasigly labored.

Billy sits in a chair by the bed, head in his hands, watching his father as he slowly withers away. Neil's hands are lying on top of the blanket, the skin of his hands like paper that has been out in the rain and then left to dry. The hands that have caused Billy so much pain now look like the fingers would snap if someone applied just the slightest bit of pressure. They look out of place, on the red and brown woollen fabric of the blanket. Soft, almost. Old. Alone.

Billy is sitting close. He could reach out, hold his father's hand as he dies.

He doesn't.

A knock on the doorframe and a rustle of someone moving behind him. Billy doesn't turn around.

"Hey," Steve says. "Have you been here all night?"

Billy doesn't answer. It's obvious that he has. He's still wearing the same clothes as he has been wearing forthe last two days, and he doesn't want to think of what his hair must look like by now. Besides, Steve would know if he'd left - they share a motel room while they're in town, after all.

A sigh, then, "Any change?"

He doesn't ask if Neil is doing better. Everyone knows how this is going to end, and it's not with Neil Hargrove's miraculous recovery.

"No," Billy says.

A coffee cup appears by his side, and he takes it, grateful. A hand lingers there, hovering as if the owner wants to touch but doesn't know if it would be welcome. Billy takes it (like he didnt take Neil's) and presses a kiss to the knuckles before giving it a squeeze and pressing it against his cheek. Steve gets the hint, and strokes his fingers over Billy's skin. His touch is comforting and gentle, like Neil's has never been.

Billy closes his eyes and allows himself a moment to feel the crushing weight of reality. Just a moment, before he opens his eyes again. Takes a sip of the coffee, and turns his attention back to the shell of his father, wasting away in the hospital bed.

"You sure you don't want to take a break, babe?" Steve asks. He's careful about it. Not demanding. They've already fought about this, several times. "Half an hour? Just to go back to the motel for a quick shower?"

Billy hears what Steve is trying hard not to say.

Steve doesn't think that Neil Hargrove deserves Billy being here. Thinks he deserves to die alone and forgotten in this hospital bed, after all the pain and suffering he put his family through. And it's not that Billy disagrees with him. He knows his dad is a piece of shit. But this is more than about what Neil deserves.

It's about Billy. And Neil is Billy's only living blood relative, and even though he has been a bastard for most of Billy's life, even though he has caused Billy so much pain and anguish ... he is still Billy's dad.

And he is dying.

And Billy needs to be there.

"I'm sure." He swallows, trying to force the sudden tears back. Fails. Attempts a smile that feels like a grimace. "Thanks."

Steve sees through him. Hugs him from behind, and doesn't say anything as Billy cries silent tears at his dying father's bedside. Billy is grateful for the silence. He knows what Steve wants to say, knows it all too well. Feels an echo of it in hos own heart, and knows the truth of it.

Neil Hargrove is a bad man. He doesn't deserve Billy's tears.

But Billy sheds them anyway.

He's crying, even though Neil hasn't even died yet, and he's not entirely sure what it is he's mourning for. He's pretty sure it's not the man himself.

Perhaps he's mourning his own ruined childhood. Perhaps, a father he never got to have. Or maybe the relationship they could have had, had Neil Hargrove been a better person.

He about about his past self, and his mother, and the father he wanted so desperately to love him. He cries about everything that happened between them, and everything they never had. He cries about the man behind him, who is leaning his head against Billy's back, with his arms around Billy's chest, holding him gently and making him feel so safe, so loved, so cared for.

As his father slowly dies in a hospital bed an arm's length away, Billy cries about it all.

His father is close, his powerless hands within reach where they're resting on the blanket. But Billy doesn't reach out for him. Doesn't reach out for the man who may have raised him, but never loved him.

Instead he lets himself be held by the man who does.

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

This is why all his promises fall flat in every movie. He kept saying he had learnt his lesson, that he won't make the same mistake again, he goes back to being with Pepper… but time and time again he reverts back to his old self. He never learns anything. It got to a point where he would promise to never do the same thing again and I just laughed. Sure buddy, you won't.

The Ultron fiasco is taken by the entire team as a whole, in fact in Agents of Shield they have a scene where some Shield execs claim the team had created Ultron - not just Stark or Banner, the entire Avengers team - and if Shield believed that you can bet the public did as well. So Stark never went out to admit he had made that mistake, and what he does in CW is even worse.

Besides the Accords and the attempted murder on Bucky, when Friday told him Zemo had impersonated Bucky to frame him for the bomb in Vienna, does Stark share that with the public? No, he does not. And the media were all going hard on Bucky for that, saying his name and showing his picture on the news. It is heavily implied in Black Panther that it was T'Challa who told the media that Bucky was innocent. What does that say about Stark? That he's so vindictive that he's okay with letting the public think Bucky had committed a crime he had not? Well, what am I saying… he let his team rot in the Raft.

He tries to force the team to sign the Accords but the very moment he disagrees with them he violates them. He tells Clint: "You broke the law, I didn't make you. You read it, you broke it" mere minutes before he chooses to break that law himself. And he has the audacity to tell Steve he didn't inform Ross of where he was going otherwise he would get arrested. Hypocrite much?

We get countless people asking for Wanda or Bruce or Bucky or even Steve to have to pay for the consequences of their actions as if Stark didn't return to his million-dollar compound after levelling an entire country, as if he didn't go back to his luxurious life after violating the Accords he had previously signed, as if he hasn't been allowed to walk free after making a fortune out of war profiteering, as if he wasn't treated as a hero despite creating Edith, as if he hadn't gone back home free as a bird after committing attempted murder on an innocent man.

[metalheadcowboy]

Turning a Harringrove Cowboy/Farm AU I wrote A LONGGGG time ago into an actual multi part/chapter fic, so here's the first part, enjoy!

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

It was the spring of '84 when Steve Harrington first decided he hated Billy Hargrove with every damn bone in his body.

The beginning of that spring had been particularly rough in many ways. 

Steve's second senior year of high school was going quite a ways away from great, it seemed like no matter what his old man was pissed off about something or another, the calving season had only just started and it was going straight to shit. Oh, and on top of that, it was hotter than a witches tit outside, a record high in southern Indiana that year, great.

"Gah lee," Steve huffed as he fell flat on his rear, wiping the sweat off his forehead, with the part of his arm that wasn't covered in cow crap and god knows what, "That 'as one big son 've a bitch." The force of his collapse knocked his Stetson hat clean off, but he was quick to recover the rather expensive item he’d received for Christmas not too long ago. 

He slowly collected himself, pushing the medium tan leather down upon his dark, messy waves. He couldn’t help but blink his eyes a few times as he practically panted like a dog to will any form of cold into his body, "Yeah, 'll least this one's livin'," his dad remarked, and he couldn't disagree with that. Seemed like they'd had more still born calves than live ones this season.

" 'Ts only March, we've got a few months," The teen reminded, manifesting at least a shred of hope for the coming weeks. It wasn't that they didn't have calves other times of the year, they were just few and far between. Now was the time when they started raising a good sized herd to sell of at the beginning of next spring to support them most of the year round, besides the practical penny change they made selling their cows milk local, "Good job, mama," he praised the brown and white blotched animal next to him, already akin to new motherhood, licking her almost identical oversized calf like she knew nothing else.

Steve willed himself up off the ground onto shaky knees, this day had been one of his longest in a while. School on top of all the heifers seeming to want to calf at the exact same time. But as he looked past their property line, out into the marvelous bubblegum pink and creamsicle sunset, he found some sliver of peace.

Only the voice of his father snapped him out of his blissful moment of zoning out, seemed like he was doing a lot more of that lately "You best go wash up 'fer dinner, you know your ma ain't gon' have you at the table lookin' that way." He was right and Steve knew it, but he couldn't lie, a hot shower did sound pleasant on his aching joints.

He gave a quick "Yes sir," ending what was probably the tamest conversation they'd had in weeks, before making the short, yet long trek back to their homestead. He could see the lights on in the kitchen and living room, and as he got closer he came upon the silhouette of his mother washing her hands in the kitchen sink in the small window next to their side door.

He trotted up the last few stairs, smiling as he walked through the door to someone just as happy to greet him, "Well, look what the hot mess express brought in, my word sweetie," she said with no real malice, grinning at him like he was her pride and joy, which he was.

"Hi mama," he replied plainly, chuckling softly as she came over and pulled his nearly six foot frame down to her 5 '2 height for a kiss on the side of his head.

His chuckle turned into a full chested laugh when she made a fake gag of disgust, "You smell just 'bout right rank, son. You sure the heifers weren't the ones hackin' it up at your stink?" she teased and Steve just shook his head.

"Had my arm so far up one of 'em I'm prolly 'bout half cow any how," The brunette boy mimicked the struggle sticking his arm up the back end of a cow, to which Annette Harrington grimaced, "That's why I let you boys do your thing and I do mine," she gestured to the kitchen, which is what first alerted Steve to the smell of freshly made chicken pot pie sitting ready on the ceramic countertop. 

His eyes immediately lit up with pure delight, like a kid on Christmas morning, except he was nineteen and to some sad extent pot pie was the highlight of his week, “Mama you didn’t!” he exclaimed, about to go in for a big hug before remembering what he was covered in. 

Mrs. Harrington just shook her head, “Alright, go get cleaned up, the pie ain’t gon’ grow legs.” Within an instant Steve was racing off to his bedroom to grab a pair of pajamas and then to his bathroom to shower. 

And to say he was right would have been an understatement. Steve swore the hot stream of water that cascaded down his spine sent him into seventh heaven, easing out his jammed knee and stiff elbow with ease. 

He enjoyed his escape for about as long as the hot water lasted, a mere few minutes, but that was long enough for him. When he stepped out of the shower he shook his hair out like a wet dog, letting the towel he scrubbed his head with next catch the excess. Shortly after, he grabbed the comb up next to his sink, swiping the steam off the mirror to give his unruly mop a good brush through before quickly throwing on the pajamas he had grabbed prior. 

Steve practically burst through the bathroom door, following the promising scent of dinner, blatantly stopping in his tracks when he found something that was definitely not chicken pot pie. 

“Oh, Steven,” Oh boy, “We have someone we’d like ‘fer you to meet.” The smile on his moms face was sickeningly different from that she had on when welcoming him in from his chores. A lot less genuine and a lot more plastic, but still warm in the way it always was, it was just her nature. 

Steve didn’t say anything for a few seconds, taking in the atmosphere, his parents, that boy. He would be lying if he said the golden-haired figure standing between his folks didn’t look straight out of one of the magazines he’d seen the few times they went into the city. 

Striking icy blue eyes, rimmed with lashes that damn near put any woman’s to shame. Thick brows somehow shaped to perfection, lain a top skin so perfectly sun kissed and freckled with intent. Steve had to force himself to shake these thoughts, knowing how damn stupid he must have looked gawking like an idiot. But that didn’t push away the confusion he felt as his heart seemed to pick up at the statuesque mystery man standing before him. 

“If they’d ‘a told me we were having’ company I would’ve thought to dress a ‘lil nicer ‘n this,” he remarked, cheeks burning a bit with embarrassment, feeling almost stark naked in his pajama pants and plain white t-shirt. He huffed out a short breath when the guy in front of him gave him a rather unconvincing pity laugh, parents following suit, “Ain’t no skin off my back, ‘m sure we’ll see each other in worse,” the radiant boy replied, once again leaving Steve baffled, but maybe that’s just what he did. 

“Names Billy by the way, Billy Hargrove” the boy- Billy extended his hand for Steve to take and he did, taking the few steps forward to give his hand a proper shake before returning the favor, “Steve Harrington, pleasure’s mine,” he replied simply with a short nod of his head. 

His father seemed pleased enough by this interaction, though Steve could never really tell, he always had this sort of stone cold thing going on. 

There was a beat of somewhat awkward silence before Annette interjected, “How about some homemade pot pie?” she offered, with a prompt clap of her hands, sending her boys and their guest to the dinner table. Normally Steve would have been beaming, ready to talk and talk and talk about anything and everything under the sun, but suddenly he wasn’t exactly in the mood. 

“Well, Billy we really are glad to have ya here,” Mr. Harrington continued in the tone he only used around guests or, really, people he was trying to impress. The sickeningly sweet, layered on false happiness and enthusiasm that made Steve’s stomach hurt, “Yeah, ‘ll y’know my old man’s been rearin’ to get me out of the house since the second I stepped foot outta school,” Hm, so he was older, “Since I graduated early ‘n all, couldn’t happen fast ‘nough.” The lanky boy nearly spit out his water, choking in an awkward way to where it came halfway up his nose and made his eyes water. 

Steve coughed it out a bit before bringing his napkin up to his face, watery eyes of shame blinking themselves dry, “Y’ alright there cowboy?” Cowboy, Steve looked up at the smirk on the other boy’s face and had to hold back a sneer. The last thing he needed tonight was to get into it with his dad while they had company over. 

“ ‘M fine, thanks,” he mumbled, feeling the short- lived rage in his stomach settle when his mother brought the meal over just in time, “Shall we?” she chimed in a sing-song tone, that wasn’t anything like his fathers, hers was genuine. Because if there was one thing about Annette Harrington, she didn’t have a mean bone in her body for anyone, unless they messed with her family. 

Steve tuned out the prayer, forehead pressed solidly against his hands clasped so tight his knuckles were about ghostly white. He was just wondering when this Billy guy was going to leave so this night could be over. But of course, just when the brunette thought the topic might change, of course, even after the prayer, his father, John, had to dwell. 

“I’ll say that’s right impressive, y’know Steve here’s held back a year, he’s ‘sposed to have graduated by now, but,” Mr. Harrington shrugged as he dug into his dinner. His son sat there halfway gobsmacked, halfway offended, but he should’ve expected such. 

Steve scoffed, “Only ‘cus you got me doin’ half your work every day. I barely got time for anythin’ else,” he mumbled under his breath just loud enough for the table to hear as he stared down at his mashed potatoes. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel his fathers eyes boring into his skull like laser beams. 

Steve’s mom just looked at him with a disappointed expression, but didn’t interject because she knew good and well it was true, “ ‘F that’s whatcha really think ‘n you’ll be happy to hear you won’t have to do it no more.” Steve’s eyebrows practically shot up his forehead and through his hairline. 

What the hell was he talkin’ ‘bout?

“Huh?” Was all he could manage before his dad excitedly cut off whatever he was planning to say next, “Well what else do you think we got Billy here for, looks?” This gave everyone but Steve a good laugh, he didn’t see any reason to be laughing right now. 

“ ‘N just what ‘o you mean by that?” He was so blinded by anger that he couldn’t even think about eating the pot pie his sweet mother had made, but he’d get over that guilt. He couldn’t say the same for the fury burning deep within him. He looked over at Billy who looked smug as ever, chewing on a bit of his food, sneaky eyes peeking out of the rim of his rather ratty looking Resistol. Oh what he would give right now to punch that smug look right off that pretty boy face. 

John Harrington gave Steve the look, his signature look that said ‘I dare you to go testin’ me, boy’ and if there was ever a time for that it would be now, “Steve, you’ve been slacking lately ‘n we both know it, son.” Steve went to open his mouth but got cut off, again, “ ‘N I figured having Billy stay here ‘n work with me ‘d give you the time off to do sumn else. Like helpin’ your mom ‘round the house, you did always seem… better suited for those things.” 

This couldn’t be fuckin’ for real, “John-,” his mom tried to scold. 

There’s no way his dad just basically called him a sissy, not after-

“I had my hand up a cow’s ass ‘fer you today, ‘n then you’re gonna go sayin’ that- that bullshit?” Steve burst, knowing he would no doubt have to pay for these words later. He felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes, not from guilt, not from shame, but of pure, unfiltered rage. But what really put salt in the wound was looking over at Billy, whose subtle smirk had far faltered, turning into something more innocent, more regretful. Like this wasn’t all his own damn fault in the first place. 

Everything’s so unfair, this is so unfair. Not only did he feel hurt, but he felt embarrassed, having his dad say those things about him, basically calling him a sissy, in front of his own mother. 

“Steven-” he heard his father try to reprimand, but Steve refused to take it. Instead, he stood up abruptly, the straightening of his knees sent his chair flying backwards against the wall. He would have cringed at the sound if he weren’t so genuinely pissed. 

He was able to hold the tears in until he turned around, then it was like the dam just… burst. He felt a whine work its way up his throat, but he willed it back down, swallowing what last bit of pride he had left down with it. 

Could a sissy do that? Maybe Steve didn’t want the answer to that. 

He didn’t know what was going on, he’d never felt this was, this upset, this angry. He didn’t understand. He practically glid to his room, socked feet moving so fast he wasn’t sure whether or not he was actually taking real steps. And, frankly, he didn’t care, just wanted to be away. 

When he made it to his room, he closed his door behind him and flopped down onto his bed, stomach down, choking on his own hushed sobs. It made him feel like a child again, pathetic, small, lonely. He turned on his side and curled in on himself a bit, clinging on to whatever little bit of comfort he could. 

Through wallowing in his own self pity, he barely heard the faint mewl coming from behind him. He just groaned, hoping maybe if he ignored it long enough it, or rather she, would go away. 

“Meooowww.” He should’ve known better, it was his fault for locking her in there with him anyways. 

“Oh, Ginger,” he sighed, stuffy nose making him sound all nasally. And it was as if that was the permission the rather plump orange tabby needed to jump up on top of him like he was her human pillow, “Cain’t a man even have a few seconds alone.” To that, of course, she meowed at him in protest, ever the chatterbox. 

Steve quickly accepted his defeat to the tubby cat when she somehow still gracefully jumped off his ribs and onto the empty spot in bed next to him. The pale light of bright stars shining through his window, reflecting off of Ginger’s big round saucer eyes were the only thing giving his room any light. But it didn’t matter because soon after he shut his own eyes, focusing on the purring of the seemingly content cat next to him, half wishing to disappear, half wishing to go back out there and beat Billy to a pulp. Even if only for existing.

Billy, stupid Billy and his stupid white teeth and his stupid pretty eyes and his stupid everything.

Fuck this dinner, fuck this day, and most importantly fuck Billy Hargrove.

[apomaro-mellow]

Part 2 of Eddie and his bats

Eddie and Steve disagreed on a lot of things. It came with the territory of being so different. Most of the time it showed in flirtatious bickering. Now that they were dating, it had a 99% chance of ending with their tongues down each other's throats.

But there was still that 1% that was an honest disagreement which brought them to their current situation. One where they were standing across from each other, five feet too far for Eddie's usual liking, opposing forces.

"I'm not backing down on this", Eddie said. "Steve, I can feel him. He's gaining his strength again."

"All the more reason we need to tell everyone and we need to go", Steve argued.

"I didn't tell you just so you could go blab to everyone. I told you so you could cover for me while I take this guy down."

Steve's face hardened. "You? Take down Vecna all by yourself? Eddie, I get that you're like a vampire now but-"

"Not like a vampire. I am one. Blood and all babe."

"You still can't do this alone. You shouldn't."

Eddie tried giving him a pleading look that conveyed all he was thinking without saying it. But Steve wasn't moved.

"Steve...." He took a step forward. "I don't know if I can lose you again."

"....Eddie..." Steve looked broken for a moment before he got angry. "You didn't lose me! I lost you! Or did you forget me telling you not to be a hero and then dying immediately after?!"

Eddie was at a loss for how to respond at first because that's exactly what happened but in his defense, he got better.

"I got...better?", he said, less confidently than in his head.

"I'm not losing you again", Steve was soft in his voice but firm in his will. "And I think you'll find you're outnumbered."

Eddie was about to ask what he meant when he looked down and saw three fiercely loyal bats standing at attention on Steve's side. It looked like if Steve said "jump" they'd ask "how high?" and if he said "attack" they'd leap to action.

"It's four to one", Steve grinned. "You wanna call on more or are you ready to admit defeat?"

With a huge sigh, Eddie dropped to his knees, then scooted over and hugged Steve around the waist. "I yield."

Steve patted his head and then stroked his curls. "Good boy."

At those words, Eddie looked up at him in such a way that Steve's stroking turned from that of simple adoration to something more meaningful.

"You know when you look at me like that it gives me ideas."

Eddie didn't stop looking.

Their argument ended there.

Obviously Steve won but that night Eddie counted himself as a victor as well.

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

Now Eddie had control over a lot of bats. Like, a lot of bats. So even though he was connected to all of them, it wasn't like he was able to keep exact tabs on each and every one of them. He felt odd things sometimes. Little nips that didn't make sense but he didn't think about for long after feeling them.

Not until he noticed a couple of bats with shiny little trinkets. One night, Eddie was standing underneath the stars, blanket ready for some stargazing when he saw the new twinkles and called the bats to them.

".....Who gave my bats piercings?"

"Do you like them?", Steve asked.

Some bats had earrings, others had eyebrow piercings, or others. Eddie had questions. How? Where? When? But none of those reasons were as important as why. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve and pulled him close. At this point about a dozen demobats had some sort of decoration.

"It's so metal, babe."

Steve looked pleased as peach at that. And while Eddie had no clue where he'd gotten the idea to adorn the demobats, or even how he could've done it, he absolutely loved it.

Tag Team:

@swimmingbirdrunningrock @cherixxx69

[livwritesstuff]

okay so when i was writing this, i had a whole scene written about how steve is a video game guy and bought himself the SNES when it came out as a reward for getting through undergrad and loves the mario franchise in particular. i ended up cutting it out for the sake of brevity, but it got me thinking

In 2008, Steve and Eddie give their daughters a Nintendo Wii as a collective Christmas gift, and with it comes Mario Kart.

Now, nothing rivals the Harrington Family Mario Kart experience – there’s ganging up on each other and mocking the CPUs and throwing Wii remotes across the room and relentless trash talk. It is an all-time favorite game to play as a family.

That being said – Eddie is horrible at Mario Kart, even the janky earlier versions. He’s able to hold his own against his seven- and five-year old for about as long as it takes for them to figure out the controls (which is approx. two days for Moe, and Robbie’s right behind her). After that, he’s consistently getting destroyed by not only his husband, but also his elementary school-aged children.

Steve, on the other hand, is excellent at Mario Kart. He went easy on the girls while they were learning but the second they had it figured out and started to become real competition for him, it was over. He is also extremely competitive, something Moe and Robbie absolutely picked up from him, so by the time the Nintendo Switch is released in 2017, Mario Kart had become a very serious family affair (much to Eddie’s chagrin).

Eddie gets one look at Metal Mario and insists on playing as him because…metal. Duh. But then he’s careening uncontrollably around the course, spending more time soaring off the track than actually driving on it, and he can’t figure out why.

Robbie: Different characters have different stats, Dad.

Eddie: What the fuck are his stats then?

Robbie: Pretty sure he’s, like, one of the fastest ones.

So he switches over to Lemmy (because “that’s a kick-ass head of hair”) and comfortably ambles around the course, never placing higher than eighth but also no longer sending himself flying off into the abyss.

Hazel inherited her dad’s lack of proclivity for the game (though she’s definitely still better at it than him – it would be hard not to be). She likes the “cute” ones – the babies, the villagers, Toad and Toadette – and she usually chooses a novelty cart like the carousel horse. She also doesn’t have that competitive need to win, which is good because Moe, Robbie, and Steve can collectively bring the “healthy” tension-level to its max capacity.

Moe’s guiding force in choosing a Mario Kart character is a healthy mix of aesthetic and irony. She usually opts for King Boo. She also maintains that the stats don’t actually mean anything, and that she drives the same regardless of who she plays as

Steve and Robbie completely disagree with this. They are arguably the best at Mario Kart out of the entire family, and they’re pretty much matched, skill-wise. As such, they have very strong feelings about those stats that Moe says don’t matter because they tend to be the determining factor in who actually wins.

Steve is always using new combinations of characters and karts – he has an Excel spreadsheet for tracking what he’s tried out and everything.

Conversely, Robbie has firmly settled on Rosalina and will not change her mind.

Steve: There’s, like, six characters way faster than her!

Robbie: It’s about the traction, Pop.

[samasmith23]

Doctor Octopus unmasking Spider-Man in Web of Death

So here’s something I always found fascinating about the brilliant Web of Death storyline from the otherwise infamous Spider-Man: Clone Saga!

This was actually the first time since the classic Stan Lee & Steve Ditko Amazing Spider-Man era where Doctor Octopus had unmasked Spider-Man, except Otto had completely different reactions when discovering it was Peter Parker underneath the mask.

In Amazing Spider-Man (1963) #12, Peter was forced to fight Doc Ock when the latter kidnapped Betty Brant, but his spider-powers were significantly weakened due to him coming down with the flu. Octavius was shocked that he had defeated Spidey so easily considering that the latter put up quite a challenge when they fought in the previous issue. So when Otto unmasked Spider-Man to only discover it was Peter underneath, he simply assumed Peter was a weakling imposter instead of the actual Spider-Man (a misunderstanding which also fooled Betty and even J. Jonah Jameson).

Conversely in Web of Death, Otto had taken notice of Spider-Man’s drastic change in behavior. He was deeply disturbed by Spidey's grim-&-gritty “I am the Spider” phase, reminiscing on the once good and noble adversary whom over the years Otto had built up a twisted level of respect towards.

So when Otto confirms that the rumors of Spidey dying of an incurable virus administered by the Vulture during the previous story arc Back From The Edge are indeed true, Octavius unmasks Spidey and takes him back to this lab in order to create an antidote that will save Peter’s life.

Only this time Otto actually believes that Peter and Spider-Man are one and the same person, even reflecting back on the time he previously unmasked Peter back in Amazing Spider-Man (1963) #12 and questioning to himself why he didn't believe he Peter was Spider-Man back then.

I really loved this clever nod to the Lee & Ditko era, as it felt like a perfect book-ending at the time to Peter & Otto’s rivalry at the time considering that Peter's clone Kaine would later snap Doctor Octopus’ neck at the very end of the arc.

While many people complained about Doctor Octopus’s death at the hands of Kaine in the Web of Death being too sudden and poorly thought out, I’ve personally always disagreed with that criticism. Not only because the writers J.M. DeMatteis & Tom DeFalco dedicated 4 entire issues to fleshing out Otto Octavius’ relationship and history with Spider-Man (i.e. having him save Peter from death, because in his own twisted way he believed that continuously fighting someone as noble as Spidey provided him a connection to his own past humanity), but also because from a thematic perspective the narrative repeatedly built up Kaine as this shadowy figure watching all the events from afar, acting like a stalking predator waiting for the opportune moment to strike its prey. In essence Web of Death frames Kaine as the looming shadow of death itself. This framing is further enhanced through Kaine’s inner monologues about wanting to preserve Peter & Mary Jane’s happiness whilst seeing Doctor Octopus and his lover Stunner as a threat to said-happiness.

So when Otto Octavius final does cure Peter of the virus that was killing him and announces his intentions to continue fighting Spidey in an endless loop (to satisfy his own warped vision of the connection that he and Peter now share) as he voluntarily allows himself to be arrested, it only makes sense thematically for Kaine to sweep in and finally eliminate the threat to Peter’s happiness.

And while I will concede that the brawl between Otto & Kaine is rather quick, I do honestly really love how their fight is contrasted with scenes of Peter & MJ constructing a crib for their soon-to-be-born child (Web of Death was the story that revealed MJ’s pregnancy), conveying that while Peter had escaped the clutches of death and was finally embracing life, Otto’s nihilistic obsession with continuously fighting Spidey resulted in his own demise.

Plus, having Kaine kill Doc Ock helps to further elevate his threat level as an antagonist to Peter Parker & Ben Reilly, since while the previous villain Kaine killed in the corresponding story Web of Life, the Grim Hunter (aka, the then-late Kraven the Hunter’s son, Vladimir Kravinoff), was a minor d-lister, Octavius was both a heavy-hitter and one of Spidey’s oldest and deadliest enemies!

Overall, Web of Death holds a special place in my heart since this 4-part storyline was actually the very first part of The Clone Saga I ever read in full due to the single issues being available and cheap at the time on ComiXology, and I had heard about Otto’s death in these issues as a little kid through my old Spider-Man character guidebooks and encyclopedias. And reading this arc not only gave me an even greater appreciation for Otto Octavius’s relationship with Spider-Man that I hadn’t experienced in the comics since Dan Slott’s run on Superior Spider-Man (I honestly can't help but wonder if Otto's characterization in Web of Death partially influenced Slott's later portrayal of the character) but the it was also my first official introduction to the writing of J.M. DeMatteis, who’s since become one of my top 5 all-time favorite comic authors!

[paladibun]

Internalized Homophobia Chat:

Disclaimer: this is a gay!Mike POV, so if you view him as bi, you might disagree with a lot of these.

So I was pondering whether Will is struggling with Internalized Homophobia or just dealing with self worth issue due to growing up in a homophobic environment and I realized those two are both different definitions people use to describe IH interchangeably which caused me to look up the actual definition and I found some interesting things that are really making me think. Aka Ways in which Internalized Homophobia Manifests! Taken from this Link

Skipping ones that don’t apply to either because It’s probably going to be miles long.

1. Denial of your sexual orientation to yourself and others.

             We don’t see it too much from both of them explicitly, but it’s definitely a solid for Will, as he can’t even say the exact words to his brother. He denies admitting his sexuality to others.(as most in his place in the 80′s) But as @ pinkeoni argued, we see Will accept himself just not feel accepted, as we see Will grow more comfortable with himself personally.(Turing project, boldness with the painting, acknowledgement of his difference/calling himself different, not having hang-ups about rejecting a pretty girl’s advances, etc) When it comes to Mike, we don’t see actual on screen denial, however, if we have perceived his arc and explanations of his actions, que billion other analyses we’ve already seen about his internal turmoil related to admitting his own sexuality to himself, there is pretty obv. denial. And I think it would be very strange for Mike to be like I’m gay? Okay! 👍 next season if we’re getting inside his head at all. Will’s denial is external. Mike’s denial is internal and likely external(though if he’s coming out at all in s5 the external wouldn’t last long)

2.  Attempts to alter or change your sexual your orientation.

              None of that from Will who probably knew for ages what he is. Mike’s whole season 3 experience was about emulating his heterosexual father, forcing himself to date a girl. I personally think Mike understood what he was at the end of s3, but definitely had hunches and subconscious reactions to the idea with being with a girl causing him to act the way he did.

3. Feeling you are never good enough.

              Oh that’s a definite both of them. Will feels like he’d never get to have a normal life and date like his hetero friends, and Mike feels social inadequacy(that one comic page where he feels like everyone is judging him?) and the his monologue about feeling inferior and insignificant when it comes to El being the big hero which to me reads as feeling pressured to perform the hero roll. (hyper-masculine heterosexual warrior that saves the day) which he simply isn’t. (Also if it reads as nerdphobia instead, its because the Duffers like to present a sanitized GA reading for most minority struggles aka Nancy’s coded feminism talk with Karen being more about personal worth and not actually feminism but the people who know, know. Billy’s racism coded in nonracist terms just implied othering. Robin and Steve’s original incompatibility being about their social groups, not sexuality, Will’s s3 issues reading as him not growing up as fast as others and I’m sure there’s more)

4.  Engaging in obsessive thinking and/or compulsive behaviours.

             This one we could probably attribute to Mike. It’s not explicitly stated, but if you take his projection’ed “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls.” and the way he acted toward Will in s4, there’s definitely at least incredible overthinking going on. 

5.  Under-achievement or even over-achievement as a bid for acceptance.

               We don’t really get to see inside Will’s performance outside him being called a good student and his original report card, but we do see Mike act out and isolate throughout the show. (But personally I attribute it to being just a smidge traumatized by almost losing Will, and in after s3, after pretty much losing Will to a different state. (Mike having a breakdown about it as described in Lucas’ novel))

6.  Low self esteem, negative body image.

              We see the former, not the latter, but definitely more prominently a Will thing. While Will seems to have accepted himself for who he is, he still feels inadequate and like a mistake. He always puts others first and his self worth issues are probably one of his more defining characteristics. Mike, however also has some of these. You only get a glimpse of it in s4 when he talks about himself but I like to assume its not just El related. (Seriously how shitty would it be if it wasn’t a “Mike overthinking and having original self worth issue” from being bullied his whole life.” Like he is an invisible queer man, but it doesn’t mean he feels invisible.(that comic page again))

7.  Contempt for the more open or obvious members of the LGBT community.

10.  Contempt for those that are not like ourselves or contempt for those who seem like ourselves. Sometimes distancing by engaging in homophobic behaviours – ridicule, harassment, verbal or physical attacks on other LGB people.

             Not contempt or anything violent or extreme but...”It’s not my fault you don’t like girls” is externalizing that internalized homophobia.

13.  Attempts to pass as heterosexual, sometimes marrying someone of the other sex to gain social approval or in hope of ‘being cured’.

               Definitely a Mike thing, but again, not as extreme.

14.  Increased fear and withdrawal from friend and relatives,

             Will naturally withdraws as a “my feelings matter less” thing, and Mike is shown to not be as connected to his family in the first place. Season 3, he withdraws from others to pursue El, and withdraws from Will in the beginning of S4.

15. Shame or depression; defensiveness; anger or bitterness.

              Will has trauma-based depression and self worth issues and Mike seems to have just the “regular old teen depression” from the way he withdraws, acts out, and feels about himself. + from almost losing will

17.  Continual self-monitoring of one’s behaviours, mannerisms, beliefs, and ideas.

               It is not easy to say just how much either of them self monitor when it comes to performing masculinity from anything explicit in canon. (Although I would argue Will isn’t performing as much as we see him liking what he likes, not liking what he doesn’t like, not changing his way of dress much from his boyish flannels when s4 was definitely marked as a “coming into oneself” season when it comes to expression. Mike was definitely acting the “actual straight man” when it came to most things in s3, and we see him unclench a little in s4 and shown his extreme with his airport outfit.)

21. Conflicts with the law.

              I know in the show it’s presented as sort of a goof, but both Will & Mike are very comfortable breaking the law. (Mike being rebellious from the start + disobeying Hopper as a hobby and Will passionately fantasizing about cheating in Vegas.)

23.  Separating sex and love, or fear of intimacy. Sometimes low or lack of sexual drive or celibacy.

               That fear of intimacy part. If you read Mike as bi, his whole behavior toward El in S3. If not, the way he acted toward Will early s4. (But I’m sure there are other examples)

25. Thinking about suicide, attempting suicide, death by suicide.

               This might not be accurate, and up to interpretation referencing the Quarry Scene but if you read Mike also having trauma caused by Will’s disappearance, that could be a thing as well. I personally don’t know what to think about that theory, but I do think either or both will show their self sacrificial tendencies in S5 and we will know more about all that.

The conclusion is that they both struggle from Internalized Homophobia. For Will it’s more of a “I can process being gay but the world’s homophobia crushing me and my hopes & dreams” flavor and for Mike it’s a “the world’s homophobia is confusing me and causing me to lash out at others because I can’t process being gay and am making it everyone else’s problem” flavor of IH.

Anyway anyway, thank you for reading I actually found that whole article fascinating and thinking how many people just don’t really think on what the term means(or all of what it means)(including myself) so yeah.

(feel free to correct me or provide counter arguments et cetera)

(another disclaimer that applies to this and any subsequent long posts I might make: everyone is allowed to have differing POV’s and I don’t think less of anyone who doesn’t agree with me & I encourage everyone to have their own unique repertoire’s of specific takes and reading on this and other topics)

[despapillon]

stupid how you managed to make a dick joke out of innocent shot. and hosegate oh no that is awful. Byler is not going to be in relationship. what show have you been watching certainly not Stranger Things more like Gayer Things. Duffer have had an emotional love declaration by Mike and you believe Byler? that is sad. it may not be romantic but to Duffers it is. same men that wrote in Steve talking about his breeding kink to Nancy and framed it as romantic. just because something is the better choice in your eyes does not mean that will happen. after events of show i can only see Mike and El get married. Duffers try to convince he is straight and they intend him to be but Mike reads as deep in closet. fans dw Will is going to get over Mike and find a bf that is give him happiness he deserves. but Mike? Mike will forever be in loveless marriage and he is never ever going to get over Will. in his thirties and beyond that he is going to suffer and not stop thinking about how everything would be different if he accepted his sexuality and chose Will not El. he is going to hate himself for making such a mistake

listennnnnnnnnn. ppl were talking about hosegate so i just made a reference to the rolled up painting shot. i wasnt the one that noticed it first. i only knew it was a thing because of Bylers discussing it. i had the pic saved, as i was preparing a post that i scrapped that was about Will and the allegations he had, including fake stuff spread around that S3 Will would have a p*rn magazine and the speculations that Will is going to sleep around with random men in S4 and my thoughts on this plus the sexualization dramas like Byler sex in the show, Byler kiss not being chaste, writing Byler smut, Mike supposedly checking Will out, hosegate and other phallic imagery. i decided against that and now i think that was a good choice because it would drive some wild.

i never truly meant the rolled up painting thing was intentional i was simply saying what was a regular shot became dirty to me thanks to Bylers influence. i’m sorry i didn’t mean to offend anyone. i still find it funny but i feel bad for making that post. i guess i should have kept it to myself. i had no idea it would come off this inappropiate. though the characters are only 15 (i think) so that is on me for not caring how uncomfortable it could make others.

now onto the rest of your ask. i don’t know if Byler is going to be together. i don’t. i ship it because i like it. when we get the next season we will see. i willingly choose to spend my time on discussing Byler knowing i’m not really that confident in it. nobody is forcing me to do this. i know we may get queerbaited. but i don’t care.

there is that section of Bylers that got utterly destroyed by vol 2 and either converted to M!leven and now mock us for still shipping Byler (there must be a name for that phenomenon because how) or are bitter and lashing out at Duffers because they lost their faith and now Byler bad. i assume you are the second. i hope you are proven wrong because you seem heated about the topic. to the point you sent me an ask about it.

Duffers did make a lot of writing mistakes and choices i disagree with. whether Byler happens or not i do plan on discussing what i had a problem with after watching s5 because i need to see how they will handle the characters’ arcs to make a post as there could be surprises awaiting us. and talk about how i’d handle certain plotlines as a person that can’t write anything coherent.

keep in mind that Montauk, the original ST, drew inspo from It, and if there was a potential season 2 to Montauk, they wanted to straight up go the It route by having the characters grown up and some leave the town then come back when it all gets fucked up again and join forces for the second time.. they do also mention It, and Stephen King as inspiration. you can see it in the current series too. Willelmike is literally a ripoff of the love triangle between Ben, Bev and Bill. Ben’s poem and Will’s painting.. it’s so blatant. and those that watched the movies know how said love triangle ends.

Gayer Things is a great series that i suggest you need to have more faith in.

[extrahorribledynne]

an earthspark trailer breakdown

get it? get it, cuz-

spoilers for the trailer under the cut. you guys know the drill

we open with a group shot of the malto fam in a dank, dark graveyard. this appears to be the same place tarantulas appears in later in the trailer, so my guess is this happens to occur during the same episode. as noted by some others, nightshade appears conspicuously absent from this trailer, including in this shot! i wonder where they are ): also of note is that hashtag obviously has her altmode by now, but jawbreaker is still sporting that baby protoform!

now going a little out of order to compare these images directly- i am not the first person to point this out- but in the first image during what is clearly a flashback sequence, starscream appears to also have blue eyes there. also his first full speaking line! steve blum bringing that old tired bastard energy, we love to see it.

bumblebee and breakdown racing buddies? bumblebee and breakdown racing buddies! if breakdown is velocitronian like in the idw comics that would make a lot of sense. we’ll be getting a full flashback episode about the war’s end it seems, which i’m pumped for. i wonder if we’ll get a look at some decepticons who were totally fine with the war ending, breakdown would absolutely slot into that role.

the real surprise of the whole trailer, mr rantulas himself. we once again see the smoggy graveyard scene that the very first shot of the trailer takes place in.

another flashback shot- megatron has the decepticon badge. the ‘cons are in possession of the allspark here. my wild mass guess here is that shockwave (and possibly the other high rank cons) wanted to use the allspark as a means to completely trounce the autobots and win the war- possibly also by causing some large scale damage to the earth. megatron disagrees with this method and is the catalyst for the wedge that’s formed between megatron and his top three.

we got a shot of the triplets! if you zoom in you can see nightshade in hashtags car... oh, and what appears to be a strange, pentagonal force field surrounding the area.

grimlock is in some arena which has human spectators- the implications of humanity re-creating some of the fighting pits which lead (possibly) to the civil war on cybertron in the first place is... well, it’s a little dark!

fiinally, a lot of people are wondering if shockwave is offline here. i don’t think so, i personally think that he’s in stasis, and the characters have stumbled onto the decepticon warship seen in the flashback shot with megatron and shockwave. shockwave getting put out of commission in some way isn’t uncommon for the character. then they’ll accidentally wake him up...

[thestobingirlie]

The thing that I seriously don’t understand is the urge to sorta demonize the Party and make them say or make them extremely rude and meat to Steve. I just saw a take in which an author says that they like to think that the things that the Russian guards did to him were much more serious and cruel and I wanted to like it but I saw a paragraph in this same post which said that the Party probably were joking about Steve being unable to protect himself during torture and I was like… I don’t want to insult anyone. But I disagree. Because in my opinion, the Party will never do it to Steve. They all understand what happened. They don’t know anything, but they get that it was horrible. In my opinion, Steve in this au (and in canon) could watch the 1981 film the Professional in which the main hero is also recklessly tortured and THAT could trigger him.

And these shovel talks aus… Again, I don’t want to offend anyone. Every author can write whatever they want. I just think that the real person whom they’ll (the Party & the older teens) give shovel talks will be Eddie. Even Mike will say something like “you’re cool guy Eddie but I know Steve longer. Just try not to do or say shitty things to him”. And when they also make Robin mean to Steve in this aus… it doesn’t seem right to me.

the irony is, people aren’t writing the characters as being cunts to demonise them. or even to aid in any kind of character arc. the characters treat people (steve lmao) horribly, and do terrible, ignorant things, and they’re treated like they’re in the right. like they’ve done nothing wrong. and that’s why it gets annoying.

because obviously a lot of the characters are bitchy teenagers, so they are gonna be a little cunty. it’s their duty! but we shouldn’t… like reward that good behaviour lmao. it should be acknowledged that they’re being mean, and they should be aware of that, and grow and change etc.

though i will say, the reason why people in the fandom treat characters like this is because we do see this in the show. we can argue that it’s ooc, and the duffers terrible writing, because they rely on cheap jokes rather than consistent characterisation. but there’s a reason writing the party treating steve like shit is so popular.

anyway!! yeah, i don’t think the party would make fun of steve for the russian bunker. and it would make me upset is they did lmao.

shovel talks are just a popular fandom trope that people love to force on characters even if it doesn’t make sense. if we’re being real, none of the kids would give anyone a shovel talk. they’re teenagers. the only steddie-relevant character i could see giving a shovel talk would be robin. and she’d obviously give it to eddie. (and people that write robin as being mean and cruel to steve are dead to me lmao. they’re actively hurting my heart)

[joy-returns-in-the-morning]

I read a lot of Captain America fanfiction last year. People have written some pretty amazing stuff! But also. I disagreed with Steve's characterization like 90% of the time. 🙈😅😂 With those kind of statistics, am I the one who's wrong??

I don't know but I'm tired of holding it in. I need to complain about this or I'll lose my mind. This is just my own personal opinion of course etc etc.

Anyway here is a list of things that annoy me in Captain America fanfiction

- When Steve is Soo depressed that all he does is mope around crying about Bucky and never does a single useful thing. Look I understand that he's kind of in a rough place, with everybody he ever knew being dead and all and I get that even the best of us can get depressed and there's nothing wrong with exploring this. But I dunno. I kinda just want to read a fic where he's well-adjusted for once.

- There is this trope where after CATWS Steve and/or Bucky go around killing endless mooks in HYDRA bases. I understand it's necessary for them to have something to do but. I just have serious questions about the legality of the situation. If you go to a foreign country and you kill a citizen of that country, that's still murder and, I think, illegal, even if that citizen is a terrorist or a neo-nazi or something. You can't just do that, right? Bucky can get away with it maybe, being in a gray zone of legal existence himself, but not Steve. And either way.... YES they are HYDRA and they are EVIL but nonetheless, they are still human, in the end? How is HYDRA recruiting all these people anyways? That's probably a thing they should be worried about, rather than just blowing up bases, idk.

- That particular genre of Bucky Recovery fic where they spend the whole time doing absolutely nothing but Help Bucky Recover. Like they just sit there in Steve's apartment or wherever. But look we all lived through the pandemic, staying in the same room doing nothing all day is not going to do wonders for anybody's mental health. How can they stand it? Go touch some grass.

- Similarly, when Steve has no life outside Bucky. I guess I'm not really a big fan of codependent relationships in general. But like, okay sure Bucky is your world your home your everything your silly rabbit that's great but personally I think it's sort of a shallow world if all you care about is one person. Take a look around you! The world is full of so many other things worth fighting for. Help Bucky, sure, but that shouldn't be the only thing going on in Steve's life. Get some hobbies man. Talk to your neighbours. Use your clout to make positive political change. Idk. He's Captain America why does he act like he has literally nothing better to do than sit around watching Bucky like he's a freshly painted wall.

- When Steve refuses to accept that Bucky doesn't remember him and hangs around Bucky like a rejected puppy. First of all, I think Steve is intelligent enough to accept that Bucky's not going to be the same after everything. And secondly, I think that he respects people autonomy enough to not force himself into Bucky's life. Give him a little credit, come on.

- When they take in Bucky after CATWS and put him in a blank white room he can't leave, all to help him "recover" and everyone is totally okay with that. Like guys do you not realize how you are treating him? Surely there must be a better way to rehabilitate him. Steve, at the very least, should be advocating for something better. Yeah I get that the Winter Soldier's soooo dangerous but so is the Hulk and they let Bruce walk around just fine. 🙄 They should at least realize what they are doing is kind of messed up

- It's not that I don't think Tony is allowed to be angry that Bucky killed his parents. It's just that, personally, I think his relationship with his parents is a little complicated, and so his reaction too, will be complicated and also likely different depending on the circumstances. People probably feel that because canonically he flew into a rage that's what will always happen, but that doesn't have to be the case!

- when they are in Wakanda and it's treated like some kind of extended vacation home. This isn't a hotel, it's a completely other county with its own issues and cultures and that should be addressed. Similarly, it's cute when Bucky and Shuri become friends but honestly I think she has waaaay too many other things to do that he barely tops her priorities. Like he's not That important. He's just some white dude.

- When Bucky EXPLICITLY asks not to be called Bucky but Steve keeps doing it.

- When Steve is portrayed as this incompetent idiot who always rushes into things without thinking and Bucky's the only brain cell of the operation. I just think that Captain America should be at least a little bit cool, you know. He should be the kind of person you can't help but admire. He should do something good and true every now and then. He's a superhero! I want to see him do something heroic! In some stories he's just so lame it drives me up the wall.